#sorry I’m a grumpy old lady now apparently

[spidey-sense-projections]

Okay guys this is a small thing to scream about BUT can I just give a PSA?

Wherefore means why. She is asking WHY he is Romeo, not where he is.

The memes are funny, but can we please just make memes using a beautiful word correctly? Am I raining on parades? Maybe. But we can make funny memes that are grammatically correct too.

#literacy #english #wherefore art thou #just a psa #pet peeve #sorry I’m a grumpy old lady now apparently

[engie-ivy]

Yes, he's in the hospital and doesn't remember anything about himself, but it's actually not that bad. His memories are sure to come back in a matter of days, and until then, he can spend time eating, sleeping, reading, daydreaming about that ridiculously attractive Healer...

(The aim is Funny and Fluffy Wolfstar)

It's Like the First Time

“Everything seems to be in order,” the Healer Trainee, Aubrey, says. “As we expected. How’s the dizziness?”

“When I’m laying down, it doesn’t bother me,” he replies.

“That’s good,” Aubrey smiles. “The dizziness and light-headedness should gradually disappear over the upcoming days, and then the memories will come back after.”

He nods. He’d be more worried about all his memories being gone if the Healers at St Mungo’s weren’t so certain they’ll all come back in a matter of days. Dizziness, light-headedness, and amnesia; it’s a familiar picture when being hit with a Confundo-charm from a defective wand, which the Healers have encountered many times before and has apparently happened to him during some friendly duelling.

It’s always the same picture: the dizziness and light-headedness slowly lessening, and the memories all coming back at once after two to at most five days. Like, one moment you know nothing, and the next you remember everything.

Well, he doesn’t exactly know nothing. His semantic memory is intact, meaning he has basic knowledge and remembers facts and skills. He knows he’s a wizard, he knows the hospital is called St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he knows the people in the lime green robes are the Healers, he knows that since he’s a wizard he probably went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he knows perfectly well how to perform a wide variety of charms, jinxes, hexes and curses. (So luckily those years at Hogwarts weren’t for nothing)

What he doesn’t know is anything about himself. His episodic memory, memory for any kind of life events, is completely gone. Who he is, what he does, what he has done, who he knows, it’s all gone. His own mum could walk into the room, and he’d think she was the laundry lady. (Luckily, she seemed like a very nice lady, and had thought it rather funny)

The only thing he knows about himself, not because he remembers, but because it’s the only thing they told him, is that he’s someone named Remus Lupin. Apparently, in the past, trying to fill in the gaps has proven to be more frustrated than helpful for the patient and, as the memories will come back on their own anyway, quite unnecessary. Therefore, they don’t tell him much else, and all he can do is wait.

Past experience has also shown that the patient often finds it quite stressful, and even frightening, to be surrounded by lots of people who all know him, and whom he feels like he should recognize, but doesn’t. Therefore, friends and family are only allowed in limited numbers, one new person a day, which started with his mum.

His mum had brought him his favourite novel, saying that he read it so many times, and would always wish he could erase it from his memory just so he could read it again with the same sense of anticipation. Well, she had figured this was his chance. Now, all he can do is lie in bed, read his book, and eat food, which is... Well, pretty great actually.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. How can he worry about anything if he doesn’t remember anything? It’s like having a little break from life and all its expectations and responsibilities. (Though the fact that he’s so happy about having no worries, makes him think that this Remus Lupin normally worries quite a lot)

When a Healer comes to see him, he suddenly knows something else about himself: he’s very, very gay.

The Healer has a classic, aristocratic beauty to him, with his sharp cheekbones and full lips, and his eyes are of a clear grey, that appears silver, which contrasts quite nicely with the strands of raven black hair that have fallen from the messy bun on top of his head. And no one has the right to look that good in lime green robes, which he fills out pretty well with his lean, muscular body.

The Healer gives him a soft smile, and really, if he smiles at all his patients like that, the whole hospital must be diagnosed with palpitations. “How’re you feeling?” the Healer asks in a warm, deep voice.

He wonders whether his semantic memory has failed him after all, as he suddenly seems to have forgotten how speaking works. “Erm...” he says, very eloquently.

The Healer frowns, and looks at Aubrey. “Isn’t the confusion supposed to be gone by now?”

Aubrey looks from the Healer to him and back to the Healer, while a knowing smile appears on her face. “Don’t worry,” she tells the Healer. “He has been perfectly responsive and coherent all day.”

“Has he had some Anti-Confusion Concoction?”

“He’s had a small dose, as the confusion was already wearing off on his own.”

“Are you going to give him Memory Potion?” the Healer continues his questioning.

Aubrey shakes her head. “We have already given him Mandrake Restorative Draught against the spell’s physical effects. Adding Memory Potion might make the dose of Stewed Mandrake too high. As we can be certain all memories will come back on their own, it isn’t worth the risk.”

The Healer nods thoughtfully. “So only a daily dose of Restoration Potion until all effects have subsided, I assume?”

“Yes,” Aubrey agrees. “Based on past experience, that’ll in all likeliness be sufficient.”

The Healer turns his head back to him, and that soft smile is back in place. He opens his mouth to speak, but right at that moment, a bright flash can be seen, and a gazelle made out of shining white light is standing in front of them.

“I’m so sorry to disturb on a moment like this,” a stressed-sounding voice of a young woman comes from the Patronus, that is directing itself to the Healer. “But you’re needed back at the HADA department immediately! We’re having an emergency.”

The Healer curses under his breath. He takes a step towards the door, but then stops to look back at him with a pained expression.

“He’s in good hands,” Aubrey says.

The Healer nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him, before hurrying out the door.

Though his mum was right, and the novel is really good, he has trouble focusing on it from that moment on. He’s constantly interrupted by thoughts of bright, silver-grey eyes. Merlin, he’s seen the guy once, and he’s acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush!

Telling himself off for it doesn’t stop him from looking up hopefully the moment he catches a glimpse of lime-green robes. It’s quite a disappointment when the Healer that walks in to check his vitals is a greying, grumpy man with a face that seems to be twisted in a permanent scowl. Asking him where the good-looking Healer went to seems kind of impolite though, so he just sits and nods whenever the Healer grumbles something unintelligible.

“So, why have I gotten a different Healer?” he asks Aubrey later, trying to sound casual.

“Different Healer?” she asks, not understanding.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling to his great annoyance that his cheeks begin to flush. “There was this older man checking up on me, while before, there was the young man with the broad shoulder, shining dark hair, sweet smile, pretty eyes...” He trails off.

“Oh!” Understanding, and a not insignificant amount of amusement, appear on Aubrey’s face. “Oh, he wasn’t not your Healer, sweetie! He was visiting.”

“Ah,” he sighs disappointedly. So the Healer had only been here for some sort of second opinion, and he probably won’t be back. It was too good to be true, to have a Healer like that around as a nice distraction.

“Healer Black works for the Healing Against the Dark Arts Department,” Aubrey continues.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I know of him. But honestly,” she adds with a wink. “Everyone working at St Mungo’s knows of Healer Black!”

He chuckles. “I suppose he cannot not catch your eye.”

“It’s not just his appearance,” Aubrey says. “Healer Black is the leading expert on healing Dark Arts-related injuries and combating curses from the Dark Arts. He has invented novel Healing Spells and revolutionized the protocol for treating curses. Healers from all over the world consult him on their cases, and patients come to see him from all over the world.”

“Wow...” he sighs again, but this time it’s a more wistful sigh. He doesn’t even care anymore that he sounds like a love-struck teenager. Maybe Aubrey will write it off as a side-effect of the Confundo-charm. He briefly wonders about that himself, but as those bright, silver-grey eyes come to mind again, he knows he’s under a whole different kind of spell.

“Yeah,” Aubrey smiles. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”

“So I guess I won’t be seeing him again then,” he says dejectedly, letting his head hang. He wonders why they’d sent that Healer to come see him in the first place, as he surely must’ve had better things to do.

He hears a choked noise besides him, and he looks up at Aubrey, who seems to be stifling a laugh, with her hand pressed against her mouth. “Don’t worry, love,” she says with obvious amusement in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

The young man sitting next to his bed has been talking about his wife and their baby for an hour straight. Though it really isn’t so bad. His stories are quite amusing, and the man is very charismatic. He has sparkling eyes, and hair so messy, he had immediately checked whether it wasn’t storming outside when the man had entered. He has a disarming smile and a contagious laugh, and is surprisingly easy to talk to. He says his name is James Potter, and he’s Remus Lupin’s best friend.

He has to give Remus Lupin a pat on the back for having made such a nice friend. Honestly, the idea of socializing with new people, trying to make friends, does not appeal to him, and he’s glad to know Remus already has them.

“And I just went to see Sirius,” James says. “Well, more like I was speed walking next to him in the two minutes he had to get from one room to another. He still managed to apologize twenty times though. Normally, I’d say he should be sorry, but the poor guy seems to hardly have any time to eat or sleep.” James shakes his head. “Did you hear what happened? Three children were playing in the woods, and they must’ve accidentally touched an unknown cursed object. They were brought in barely conscious and with a mother completely beside herself. So of course, ‘the widely renowned and highly acclaimed, capable-of-the-impossible Healer Black’ was the only one who might save them. And he has, as they seem to be recovering,” James adds, relieved. “But really, there aren’t many excuses that would justify him not being here, but having to save children’s lives is definitely one of them.”

“Thank Merlin those children are alright. That sounds- Wait,” he says, before sitting up. “Healer Black? You know Healer Black?”

James blinks at him. “Ehm... Yeah?”

“Merlin, that man is so handsome!” he exclaims. “He was here for like two minutes, before he got called away to other patients, but I just can’t stop thinking about him! He already looks perfect, and now you’re telling me that he’s some kind of miracle Healer saving children’s lives?” He sighs. “It’s just not fair.”

At first, James still looks confused. Then his eyes widen in understanding, and his mouth starts twitching like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d laugh at himself too, with how ridiculous he’s been acting over this random Healer. He just hopes he won’t have embarrassed Remus Lupin too much once his memories have returned.

“Don’t worry,” James says, in an amused voice. “Healer Black will come back as soon as he has the time.”

Now, his own eyes widen. “You really think he’d come to see me again?”

James lets out a strangled noise and starts coughing, which he strongly suspects being a laugh quickly covered up by a cough. “Yes,” James replies, suppressed laughter still sounding through in his voice. “I really think so.”

He knows it’s rather pathetic, but as he’s got nothing better to do, he did it anyway. He practiced what he’s going to say to Healer Black when, or if, he comes back.

He’ll tilt his head slightly downwards, so he’ll look up at the man through his lashes, and then he’ll give him a coy smile, while softly saying ‘Healer Black. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard many great things about you, and what you did for those children is truly admirable.’ Luckily, flirting seems to fall under semantic memory.

However, when the moment comes that Healer Black enters the room again, his carefully constructed plan falls apart.

At first, he’s stunned that yes, Healer Black really looks like that, and he hasn’t made it better in his head. Alright, the man has bags under his eyes, his robes are rumpled, and his hair is slightly greasy and so much strands are peaking out of his bun, making it look more messy than what would qualify as a normal messy bun, but he still looks like the most beautiful person in the world. He doesn’t even notice Aubrey and James walk in after Healer Black.

He opens his mouth to deliver his carefully practiced lines, but the words die in his throat as Healer Black... Well, flings himself at him. He literally splays out on top of him, hugging him close and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much,” Healer Black murmurs against his skin.

He freezes. Yes, he has forgotten quite a lot, but he’s still pretty sure this is not the standard operating procedure for Healers to greet their patients. “Erm...” He says, once again ever so eloquently.

Healer Black lifts his head and looks up at him in confusion, but he can’t possibly be more confused than he’s feeling.

James scrapes his throat. “Remus, may I introduce you to Healer Sirius Black-Lupin, your husband?”

“So neither one of you decided to tell him?” Healer Black has crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at Audrey and James.

“I’m sorry, Healer Black!” Aubrey squeaks. “I know I should’ve told him, but it was just too cute, watch him be all smitten with his own husband.”

He isn’t really listening. He’s openly staring at Healer Black. Apparently, he bloody married the guy, so it’s allowed, right?

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, Remus Lupin,” he whispers under his breath. “But thank you, and kudos to you, mate, kudos to you.”

As he looks at Healer Black up and down (at some point he’ll really have to stop referring to his husband as Healer Black, probably), he suddenly really wishes for his memories to come back fast, as there are some things he’d really like to remember.

Though on the other hand, he thinks, biting his lip, maybe ‘Healer Black’ won’t mind freshening up his memory in the meantime?

“Ugh,” Remus groans, hiding his face against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t believe I was practically drooling over you!”

Sirius chuckles while he’s rubbing soft circles on Remus’ back. “You were cute.”

As a reply, Remus just groans again.

“I’m sorry, though,” Sirius says, suddenly quietly. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had been by your side as I was supposed to be.”

Remus lifts up his head to look at Sirius. “Hey, none of that! You were saving lives.” He presses a quick kiss to his husband’s lips. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to be anywhere else.”

Sirius smiles softly at him, and Remus lays his head back on his chest. “Besides, it was a good reminder that I should be more proud of my accomplishment to get Healer Black to marry me.”

Sirius barks a laugh, that Remus can feel vibrating in his chest. “And how exactly was me down on one knee practically begging you to become my husband ‘you getting me to marry you’?”

Remus smiles fondly, happy that that memory is safely back in his head. “And it was nice to feel like having a new crush again,” he continues. “ All exhilarated, enraptured, and in awe.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “I feel like that every time I look at you.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #healer sirius black #wolfstar meet-cute #but not really

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass. 

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control. 

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention. 

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area. 

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all. 

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside. 

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself. 

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong. 

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud. 

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks. 

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top. 

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest. 

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask. 

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders. 

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?” 

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie  @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim 

#happyhoelentinesday2021 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale imagine #valentine's day #soft!ransom drysdale #ooc ransom #he's soft for his girl #that's just how it goes

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

#AP #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #age!gap harry #my writing

[hyukmoon]

moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

to put it short: congrats! Something you should actually say, right? Your best friend and crush is getting married in two days and you feel,... well, not very good about it. So, wait... he's returning the feelings? Damn.

content warning: ANGST in capital letters, I would add lots of exclamation points but im lazy. So yeah, hella angsty. Some good old making out, it's kind of heavy at some point but no smut at this point lol. I don't condone any of the done actions, so yeah, I would've personally handled everything differently, but you know, y/n is kinda wild. Very awkward sometimes, but that's more the situation in itself. ALSO, NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

note: the second thing i wrote and im somewhat excited!!! Yes! Exclamation points. So,... thanks for reading :)

It was a great day. Well, at least seemingly for everyone but you. Your best friend in this world Sangyeon was about to get married to the love of his life, who is notyou and now you just stand in the hotel lobby waiting for it to happen. Funnily enough, the crushing feeling of desperation and fear didn’t seem to set in yet.

The hotel lobby was filled to the brim with acquaintances and other guests possibly confused by the uproar of the wedding guests. So, who were you specifically waiting for? The rest of your friend group, the ones who will most likely clean up after the wedding whatever will be left of you.

A nervous smile swept up to your lips, casually just avoiding every sort of tension that could come across you. Just with the luck of this entire occurrence an older woman started to approach you, demon alike features spreading around her face almost like she knew you were apparently the only single person here. An aunty, that wasn’t even related to you but had all the business to judge.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”, her sweet voice rang a familiar feeling in your stomach. Almost too sweet, making you suspicious of her intent. “I’m here for my best friend, Sangyeon. So, yeah, for the groom.”, you hesitated a second, “What about you though? Do you know the bride?”

“She’s my youngest niece, the only one that still visits, her sisters don’t even care anymore…” You nodded politely, not wanting to anger her now and stepped towards a different direction.

“So, my dear, are you here with anybody?” You already feared that question, the same as always. The eyes of yours started with a panicked expression searching through the room a familiar pair. “No, I am here on my own. I kinda wanted to focus on getting Sangyeon through with it, being there for him.” As a friend.

Possibly this was the first part of feeling despair and fear. People at this wedding were really waiting for them to get married. They weren’t joking, this would change everything.

“Ah, I see. You know, get over him. Well, it is time for you at least, you’re not getting younger. There are quite few handsome men here. I remember the names Juyeon and ah yes! Kevin, get over here!” As far as you were concerned, your facial expression couldn’t possibly look more stunned than a moment ago, yet another one of your good friends appeared, seemingly just as confused.

This only held on for a good second, Kevin knew exactly what to do. “Oh hi, I’m so sorry to steal [Y/N] away from you, but I actually need to talk to them on my own over a gift we both prepared for the couple!”, he grinned at the lady, who was obviously smitten with him. “Yes, of course, hun. Take your time.” She finally hushed into a separate direction.

“So, how are we doing? You seem kinda… stressed.”

“You don’t say”, you sighed, “if I have to go through a conversation like this again today, believe me I’ll-. “

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get the sentiment. Even though I meant more the other situation. Like in, Sangyeon getting married and you sitting here all grumpy because of it.”, Kevin was already aware of your “small” infatuation with your best friend, a man too far out of your reach also funnily enough, the man’s wedding you’re attending. However, your friend in front of you didn’t seem to mind talking about it out loud in a place like the hotel lobby. Your lips tightened up into a fine line.

“I’m not grumpy! I just…I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I know I’m going to be there for him but yeah, okay, I might feel a bit grumpy.” The lobby did clear up a lot now.

“Okay, oof. There’s this dinner with everyone in the evening today, do you think you can get through that?”, Kevin asked hesitantly just as stressed with this additional complication.

“I mean, I probably have to, don’t I? This makes me so sick, ugh. Not gonna lie, my stomach feels like a laundry machine.” You laughed quietly and drifted off again into a place where you didn’t need to think about this.

“What did you really expect though? You know I love you, respectfully, but like, this feels like an incredibly bad move to do.”

“Don’t you think it would be worse if I didn’t show up at all? I’ll just need to go through this weekend and I’m outta here. No one will know anything.” It might feel like a nightmare but at least a nightmare you can actually run away from and not actually have to face at some point.

“Well, I hope you’ll keep your confidence. Because imagine I saw the person, I love getting married to someone else. Oh my, believe me, you wouldn’t find me for the next three weeks.”

“Not very helpful, a good three out of ten. I guess, I’ll just stick to sulking around then.” A dead smile crept up your lips following a stern look from your side at your opposite.

“Seems like a good plan, just stick to me, maybe we will find someone to take your attention away from this, huh?” A sly grin was visible on Kev’s face.

“Ughhh, of course. Let’s do this. It can’t get much worse than that”, you cleared your throat, “thanks, though. You actually make this here somewhat bearable.”

“Awww, come on. We should pack out our suitcases.”

No one can really prepare someone for a moment like this. Most older folk turned into their hotel rooms which left you in a party like situation seeing your closest friends turning it up in a huge pavilion while the future groom sits comfortably on a velvety sofa hand in hand with his fiancée.

The air was quite warm even at this time of the evening, not humid, just warm enough for everyone to taste the end of this era with nostalgia and a slight feeling of energy to experience what’s to come afterwards.

You as well sat down, continuously processing your environment. With a cup of your favorite drink, you felt invincible, nothing able to shake you down.

Now while this wasn’t a preferred environment, this was manageable; you could look your best friend into his eyes and proudly congratulate him on his wedding. You would be able to get over this and continue to be a great friend. Black hair with an intense facial expression made its way into your viewpoint along with a somewhat tipsy Kevin. Simultaneously the lighter hair of your best friend fought his way through the crowd.

Lee Sangyeon, the man lighting up your mood with simple touch of his fingertips was now signalizing for you to head outside towards the veranda of the pavilion. He exuded patience, yet clearly waiting for a response of you. You nodded and brushed cautiously over your evening attire.

“Hii, [Y/N]! Can I introduce this someone to you? This is Juyeon, he might look a bit intense, but he’s really nice to talk to! So, I’m gone for a sec then!” Kevin started drifting off into a different direction where you stopped him in his tracks.

“Could this wait? Sangyeon needs to talk to me. I think it’s important, I’ll come back though in a bit!” You gifted both of them an apologetic face and made your way around the men towards the going to be groom.

Surely it wasn’t exactly clear why he wanted to speak to you, especially on his own. He was still waiting for you after all.

“[Y/N]! What has it been? Like three? Four months? I missed you so much.”, Sangyeon pulled you into his chest abruptly and sighed softly into your shoulder. Engulfed entirely in his figure you never wanted to wake up from this again. Was it now 10 seconds? 15 seconds? Neither he nor you really seemed to let go, taking in all the scents of his that were formerly familiar to you.

“Yeah, I think so. You were probably busy planning this all and I just had to work, I guess.” Trying to keep it short was your main goal, appearing distant maybe. He didn’t mind at all though. Not discouraged from continuing this conversation Sangyeon pointed at the veranda, showing the only speck of space with little to no crowd.

The veranda was close to closed off to the party. Non distinguishable palm trees in the far distance were playing right into your cards for not having to look into his eyes. Magnetically glowing, that’s how he appeared. All happy and smiley about the obvious luck he was experiencing. Now again, he sat down with you in the beach chairs without loosing a word.

“The palm trees are so pretty. You remember me wanting to buy some new plants?”, you tried to invite him to the conversation.

“You always want to buy new plants, which time do you mean?” Sangyeon grinned to himself. “You know what? It’s so weird. Everything feels still so unreal. This wedding, also you at my wedding… So weird.”

“I am literally your best friend, where else should I be? Your funeral? At home? Who else is going to charm the hotel staff for some free capri suns and new towels?” Your mouth crinkled up and you let out a soft laugh.

“[Y/N] … You know exactly what I mean!”

“Noo, not at all. I’m so confused right now, not gonna lie.” Your face finally moved towards his direction, seeing his gentle gaze resting on you.

“Do you remember when we were still in school, and we promised each other we would marry each other if we didn’t find anybody else?” His gaze got more intense with each sentence.

“Yeahh, kind of. I was probably tired and it’s like ten years ago. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I really thought I was going to marry you. For several years, actually.”, he laughed. “I had such a crush on you and then you met your s/o and all that. Ughh, it seemed so complicated back then. Kind of weird to think about what could have happened if I did ask you out or something.”

“True.”, you turned away again standing up and resting against the wooden railing of the pavilion. “But you didn’t so, let’s just drop it there.” The weather as well started rebelling a bit, the wind hugging your figure slightly too tight for your taste.

“Why are you so cold all of a sudden?”, he whispered closely behind you.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow. And you’re telling me about a crush you had on me?”, you croaked.

“I was just being nostalgic, I thought this would be fine with you.” Sangyeon appeared now next to you on the railing, waiting for you to face his concerned dark eyes.

“It isn’t for me. It just feels wrong.”

“What feels so wrong about it? It was a long time ago.”

It is here, the bitterness. Bitterness shouldn’t even be the correct term, the pain of your heart going into a slump didn’t feel like a fitting word. Being reminded again that you will never have a chance again.

“Wait or is it not a long time ago for you?”, The voice of his tried to word his next sentence very carefully.

“I went out with them because I thought you were joking. Then when I thought about you, it was always different. It was too late though, you met her.” Only the close ocean along with the wind were hearable, neither you nor he were able to form another thought put into a sentence.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

“Then what could you have done?”, you interrupted Sangyeon’s rambling, trembling while speaking. Terribly spiteful with a bite that wasn’t too often dripping down your lips.

“This.” Sangyeon pressed a fluttery kiss against your lips. Slender fingers tapped onto the skin right under your chin, signalizing you to look at him.

The now much calmer atmosphere made you snake your arms around his torso. Heat rose towards your head, longing after a second out in the cold again just to see his lovely facial expression. Your lips broke off and touched once more in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His hot breath started sliding downwards your cheek to your neck, physically making you unable to resist his entrancing presence. Also his hands broached over from your face down to your waist, holding you with the lightest touch.

Sangyeon’s lips darted away from yours, catching you staring deeply into his eyes. The silence felt warm now as well, filled with the slow and recovering breath of the participants.

“[Y/N], I think I still feel that way.”, a rosy blush swept over the man’s face you wanted to hear say these things so many times and so long ago.

“No. No. No. You shouldn’t! I shouldn’t either! I have to go.” The reality of the situation caught up to you. This was bad. Incredibly bad. Still the disgusting feeling of hope within this made its way up to your head. Stinging alongside the feeling of remorse, you didn’t think clearly, especially now, next to him.

You darted in the fastest way possible from the pavilion up to the hotel to your room, leaving him there.

Today should be the final day. The hopes that already should have been buried a long time ago, crawled up again and clawed its way into your mind. What if he leaves her for you today? Like in those unrealistic rom coms. Yes, again, it was unrealistic.

Leaving her at the altar and running after you. While all those thoughts of hope and wishes came together you found yourself with a stomachache. His fiancée was an incredibly nice person, sweet and kind along with being a beauty. You shouldn’t even dare to think about Sangyeon that way anymore, she deserved a lot more. Quite honestly, you felt pathetic. Who were you to run into their possible future?

Just because of a simple brush over the lips, his eyes staring into yours like no one else existed but you and his soft hands delicately touching your waist. A tap on your shoulder put you out of your trance, “[Y/N]? Can you go up to Sangyeon’s room? He asked for you.” Kevin’s eyes glanced at you with uncertainty. Neither you nor he knew why he wanted to see you.

Even more importantly, why did he need to see you alone? This seemed like dangerous territory after, basically yesterday. Agony rose again, what if he really was going to leave her?

“Sure, I don’t know why he wants to see me again though.”, you said and left to see the groom’s room. You stumbled more and more over every step closer to the door of the man who’s going to rip your heart and air out of your lungs. The normally soft laid out carpet felt in this moment like you were stepping barefoot over glass. There was the door, brightly painted in eggshell paired with the digits of the hotel room.

Before you could reach the door to knock on it, light brown waves greeted your overtly surprised face.

“You clean up well.”, Sangyeon’s rang in your ears clearer than freshly hung-up laundry in your nose. His previously concerned face curled up into a faint smile.

“Same goes for you”, you tried your best to hide the very apparent frog in your throat, “So, why do you need me?”

“Just needed to see you before going out there, I guess.”, his voice got a lot quieter. It got silent.

Not sure if a said word was necessary, you plopped down on a small, velvety stool. Every whisper was to be heard. An otherness surrounded Sangyeon, like he wasn’t there anymore, and his thoughts took over his being. You scooted closer towards him, just wanting to see him up close for the last time like this, smelling his earthy cologne from this distance.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, your voice went close to hoarse after the question. He was just as silent as before. No sound, nothing. This torment of a weekend was supposed to end with no gratification, not feeling free from this feeling on your chest? Your hand slid over his, the most desperate attempt to get his attention while also experiencing his touch again. Sangyeon jerked his hand back and returned to his absent posture.

“Why do you want to hurt me like this? I am your best friend, and you use me like I’m nothing.” The lack of power you had now made you sink down to the beige teddy carpet. Small tears started swelling up in your nearly dry eyes, kind of contradictory, yet the more tear drops rolled down your cheeks the rottener and hollow you felt.

“You were my best friend until you-.”, he stopped midsentence, “made me feel things again I didn’t need, I didn’t want.” Also his face was wet, ridden with tears making his usually calm and cheerful persona look like a painful insult.

“You asked me here. It hurts, Sangyeon. I can’t make it stop hurting, I don’t know what to do”, you reached for him again, “Could I ever be enough for you?” He returned your former attempts to stroke your face. Cornering both of you, the air trapped you in the toxins of heartbreak and hopelessness.

Once again, Sangyeon’s hand glid over your soft skin and halted on your face. Glaringly staring into each other’s eyes, you were there again. The day before, yesterday. Close to baring the soul of each person present.

“[Y/N], it’s not about being enough. It never has been. I have made a commitment I already broke, I…I can’t do this”, he sighed, “you know I love her.”

“I thought you loved me as well.” Overwhelming nothingness overruled you, almost scaring you about this reaction. You weren’t crying, yelling nor having any physical reaction at all. It was convincingly numb; the resting hurt would come later. Sangyeon’s head dropped in the dip of your shoulder and neck.

This sort of closeness would never happen again. You feeling him breathing into you while having his comforting heartbeat close to yours.

“I do, but I can’t do this to her. I would never do this to her.”, he whispered into your shoulder. A sigh came from his side.

“Then, please. Kiss me, for the last time.” The last part of the sentence left a disgustingly bitter taste in your mouth. This was over, right? His head, which was formerly resting on your shoulder, drifted up and towards yours. Also his expression blank and hollow, like he didn’t know anything.

For the last time, his hands cupped your face in a comfortable manner. As always, he felt homely, but he surely wasn’t yours ever. Not even waiting a good second or two, the light brunette’s face came closer to yours. With no hesitation both of your lips touched tenderly, releasing every sort of affection that could be expressed at that second. You inhaled again his intoxicating scent, in the hopes of having him all over you. His now reddened lips moved closer towards your jawline making you gasp for air.

Also, you weren’t completely still, constantly shifting your hands up and down over his torso upwards his neck, desperately feeling everything, you can for the last time. Sangyeon’s locks tickled you softly while he suddenly latched his mouth onto your neck right below your ear.

“No. Please, I just want a kiss on my lips.”, you said lowly, closely resembling a whine afterwards. He complied pretty quickly, leaving you with no thought but him tickling your bottom lip with his warm tongue. With him being this fast, you didn’t want to keep him on his toes. Entirely engaged in this moment, hands surprised you again on your waist, wandering closer and closer under the blouse you were wearing. You moaned into the kiss, making him take the opportunity to maneuver his tongue into your mouth.

Similarly to you, he was also stunned for a short moment when you grabbed up onto some strands of hair. A sigh left his now plump lips, a need of fresh air arrived onto both of you. Yet this was short lived, his hands captured your chin and attached his lips again onto yours in a matter of mere seconds. A bell rang, close footsteps to be heard across the floor reminding you of the situation you were in.

“Why am doing this? I am so sorry.”, you broke off his lips and took a step backwards at the door.

“[Y/N], we both did this, and it won’t happen again. We just need some time without each other. I think it would be for the best if we don’t spend time together alone anymore.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? I don’t know what to say. I-.”, His lips captured yours again fast with a lot more force behind his kiss.

A strong arm shut the about to be opened door again and hovered over your head. The other one caught grabbed your chin with an almost contradictory feeling to it, the lightest touch just to shove you into his direction. You sighed into his lips, waiting for him to commit with his tongue one more time. Buttery lips pressed against yours and clang inside your mouth. Fiercely did your tongues meet, ending with him sucking on yours. Wet cheeks batting against each other with no intent of separating, your movement still came to a halt.

“You know what? I hate this. I want you to be happy, then if it is with her, I will just y’know…go or uhm mind my business.”, you slurred the last part. It wasn’t really one of your most prideful moments. Still flushed with tears and embarrassment you dropped again against the room door.

“I ask for one condition though,” incredibly hearse was your voice after the crying and even more so because of your follow up, “I do not not want to see you for some time, I don’t want to have to see your face ever again.” Tears weren’t anymore swelling up in your eyes, they never seemed to stop running down with no chance of leaving this conversation with an ounce of self-respect and pride.

It wasn’t even really much of a problem to leave him behind for a bit, it most likely would be for the best anyway, yet while his words should only leave a small mark and feel like a ripped off band aid, you felt alone. A sense of loneliness crept stealthily into you leaving you with nothing but a severe feeling of dread.

“If that is what you want, I’ll respect that.” The room got quieter till you heard the last of his words: “Of course, I still want you in on my wedding though, you’re still my best friend.” Sangyeon’s usual soft and kind smile appeared on his face, seemingly reaching you an olive branch. The former assertiveness and confidence drained through the conversation; you were nothing but a wreck.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

The ceremony was beautiful. Fairy like flowers were hung all across the beach space, making the place more surreal than it was to begin with. Everything light with a hint of light green and an even lighter lavender tone. The air seemed to have evaporated all the tension and sadness from your face. All across the seats were relatives and friends sitting with a nervously happy face. Ironically, he really thought it was going to be you someday.

“You’re [Y/N], right? Everyone always tried to introduce me to you. Now we’re sitting next to each other at Sangyeon’s wedding together! I’m Juyeon by the way.”

#lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon #sangyeon #tbz #tbz fic #tbz angst #the boyz fic #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #the boyz x reader #sangyeon tbz #the boyz kevin #the boyz juyeon #moon kevin #lee juyeon

[lotusthekat]

Every little thing he does is magic

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: G

Relationships: Luz Noceda/Hunter

Characters: Luz Noceda, Hunter (Golden Guard)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Luz discovers more about the boy behind the Golden Guard. More specifically, his caring side.

*Not compliant with Eclipse Lake!

Word count: 1.394

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that I’ve been thinking about this ship in the past few days, so now I wrote a very self-indulgent fic for them. My very first TOH fic for that matter. I hope this isn’t too OOC, haha.

TRIGGER WARNING - implied child abuse

HATE COMMENTS WILL BE DELETED AND BLOCKED.

--

There is… a light.

No. More than one.

The smell of fire and the magic woods welcome her senses, her brown eyes finding a small campfire and several light spells, small balls floating around, protecting her from the darkness of the mysterious forest.

Luz’s head hurts, though.

She grunts, and once she tries to try and stand…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice, at first, alarms her and she’s ready to take Eda’s staff to defend herself. Except it’s not by her side, and when she realizes, Luz is not actually in danger.

A few feet away from her is the Golden Guard – Hunter, she remembers –, sitting by the campfire with a frowning but saddened gaze. His red eyes are dark in contrast to all the light surrounding them, and besides his absent golden mask, he’s not wearing his trademark white cloak, either.

… in fact, said cloak has been covering Luz all this time.

Before the girl could question it, the little cardinal lands in front of her, chirping in happiness.

“Hey, little guy,” Luz awes in spite of her pain, allowing her to sit – with a few struggles. She notices her arm is bandaged by some ripped white cloth, apparently from the cloak.

Unlike the little Rascal, Hunter doesn’t even look at her. He looks like he’s in too deep in the fire, seeing things no one else can.

“Wh… What happened?” Luz asks, unsure.

Hunter refuses to take his eyes off the flames; he seems to hug his knees tighter.

“Kikimora found us in the woods when we tried to escape,” he replies. “Let’s just say, she was less than happy to see us.”

Bits and pieces come back to Luz, having her recall they were on a mission together; as much as she still didn’t trust him, she couldn’t quite refuse when Hunter had gone all the way to the Owl House to ask for her help, in the middle of the night, to fight off the Emperor’s Coven from eradicating the few wild magic there still is.

“Did- Did we at least take some of the wood with us?” Luz wonders, searching for her bag.

Hunter looks down. “No.”

Luz stares at him sadly.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“… it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean? T-They were going to destroy it-!”

“Kikimora almost killed you!”

The tone of anger and frustration in his voice shuts Luz for good. Maybe she’s still a little doozy, but she swears she might even see Hunter’s eyes glowing thanks to the light spells.

He takes a deep breath, however, and looks far away into the dark forest.

“We barely got out of there alive,” Hunter rephrases, his voice noticeably a lot quieter, as if afraid the world might hear. “And then, when she had me cornered, you”— his hands clutch his sleeves —“you jumped in to save me.”

Luz remembers.

She replays the entire scene in her head, and she sees herself stepping in. Despite all the conflicting thoughts, Luz did not hesitate; she yelled and took the blow, and that was the last thing she saw before blacking out.

The teenage girl can’t help but hear the conflict in his words. Hunter sounds guilty and confused. Then she realizes. The white cloak still protecting her, her bandaged arm, the light spells illuminating her view…

No one has ever gone out of their way to protect him.

Knowing Lilith, Luz is aware the Emperor’s Coven is hell. Imagine then, how it must be for a teenage boy who could’ve been a normal student at Hexside, being forced to work for Belos. Luz might only see it through Hunter’s scars and his short-tempered and distant attitude, but… truly, the Emperor is not a merciful man.

It’s all he must’ve learned.

And yet he’s so desperate to get out, that he told Luz about his life, he reached out to her… and now, he’s taking care of her. This isn’t a joke, nor a plan.

Hunter must be very confused.

Luz has… so many thoughts. Strange ones. Quite usual for a human living in the Boiling Isles, really.

The little Rascal flies over to Hunter’s shoulder for comfort. The boy might flinch at first, but he relaxes his body. Luz smiles in support, while the other hides half of his face in his arms.

“Hey,” she says, scooting a little closer to him, “thanks for looking after me.”

Hunter finally snaps his head at her, and his face… becomes as red as the cardinal chirping.

“I-I—” He coughs a little too violently, “W-Well, what else could I’ve done? I couldn’t just leave you there, after I asked for your help! I mean- we still have our truce, remember?”

“Well yeah, but…” Luz gestures at the light spells that join them. “I think there’s some light inside you, after all.”

After a few seconds, Hunter groans, “That was terrible.”

Luz giggles along with the Rascal. The boy sighs it out.

“In any case, we’ll have to stay here for the night. You’re not in any condition to fly all the way back to the Owl House,” Hunter observes her, with a speck of worry. He blushes again and avoids her eyes. “Early morning, we’ll get out of here.”

Luz hums. “Roger!”

“… my name is Hunter.”

“Nevermind.”

He shrugs. “I made sure to leave traps near us. I had to use some papers of yours, though.”

“Wow, someone’s becoming a pro already?” She smirks.

“I-It’s not that hard,” Hunter scoffs, “but yeah… I’ve been practicing when I can.”

“Too bad you can’t come to my glyph lessons. I’ve been teaching Eda.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Owl Lady?”

“Mm-hmm,” Luz grins. “You could learn a lot more from me.”

Surprisingly, Hunter smiles back. “I already do.”

The girl admits, he looks good smiling. Wait.

Noticing that, he returns to his serious persona.

“You should rest now,” Hunter advises, “the healing potion I gave you might take a while to have effect.”

“Okay,” she yawns as soon as he says it. How convenient.

As soon as she lies down, Luz watches Hunter not following his advice at all.

“Well, aren’t you gonna rest too?”

“I don’t need sleep.”

Luz frowns. “Your eyebags beg to differ.”

Hunter hisses silently, like a grumpy cat.

“Hey, we’ve had a long day, some hours of sleep won’t hurt you,” she insists.

“I can’t let my guard down again,” Hunter says firmly. He faces away from her. “I can’t ever lose focus.”

She would’ve teased him more, but it wouldn’t feel right.

“… I’ll be okay,” Luz reassures him. “You made sure we’re safe; they’ll think twice before getting to us again.”

The sixteen-year-old boy holds a very long stare, mentally trying to trust her words. Luz smiles at him with support.

“Right,” he sighs. “You win.”

Luz is, admittedly, kind of surprised he’s complying, but he must be really tired. When does he even get to rest?

Hunter lies down beside her, though he keeps his distance. It allows the Rascal to sit between them, and Luz pets the adorable little bird. As for Hunter, he turns around and she only finds his back.

“Hey, um, do you want your cloak back?” Luz asks.

“You need it more than I do. It’s cold out here.”

“You sure? Aren’t you cold, too?”

“Not really. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Luz hugs the white cape close, and quickly smirks, “I might not give it back though. I’m a known heat stealer.”

Even when she doesn’t see his face, the girl can tell he’s rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. Go to sleep.”

She snorts.

Although the Boiling Isles are not generally peaceful, there’s… quite a beauty to it. Even when she’s being hunted by the evil Emperor himself, this might be one of the few moments of peace Luz’s had since arriving here.

Ironically, with the guy she once hated. She’s not too sure how to feel about him yet… but he’s really just a kid, forced into a destiny that is not his own. He’s really trying to come out of his shell, and it’s pretty sweet.

Luz might lean a little to check if he’s asleep – as it turns out, he’s already sleeping like a rock. Who knows how much he needed it.

She smiles and soon joins him, guarded by his newfound magic.

#the owl house #luz noceda #toh hunter #lunter #abuse mention tw #fanfiction #toh spoilers

[pillage-and-lute]

Hey I have a holiday prompt for you! What if it’s the pairing’s first holiday together and they stress about figuring out what to get each other? Any pairing you feel like! PS Reading your stuff never fails to put a smile on face!💜💜💜

Hi Blondey!

cute shit ahead. Modern AU

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“Yen,” I swear,” Geralt panted into the phone. “It’s an emergency. Please, I need your help.”

“No.”

“Yen please I’m actually begging.”

“You should have thought to beg before Christmas Eve.”

“I’m meeting him tonight, Yennefer, I’m on Wilson Street, with all the shops and I’m so lost, please.”

“No.”

“I’ll set you up with Jaskier’s hot friend. The one from the coffee shop. She’s single.”

“...I’m on my way.”

-- -- -- Across Town, Triss and Jaskier’s Apartment -- -- -- 

“I just thought I’d have more time to get him a gift,” Jaskier wailed, draped dramatically over Triss’ beat up armchair. “And then it was thanksgiving, then finals and it’s Christmas eve and I don’t have a gift.”

“Well,” Triss said, sipping her cocoa and barely looking up from her book. “It’s not noon yet, shops aren’t all closed. What kind of gift does your relationship need?”

“What?” Jaskier looked up from his flop of despair, confused. 

“I mean, if you’d been dating for a month it would be slippers or some scotch or something.”

“We’ve been dating eight months though!” Jaskier wailed. “I love him, Trissy, desperately. I see his face and everything goes all pink and mushy.”

“You should get that checked out.”

“No, I mean,” Jaskier sat up and looked at her. “I think he could be the one. He might be it for me.”

Triss looked up from her book. She’d known Jaskier since university, and his heart had always been so mobile, but there was something shining in his eyes. She shrugged mentally. Put it down to a Christmas miracle, but Jaskier was really in love.

“What does he like?”

Jaskier huffed. “He likes being grumpy.”

“And?”

“Me.” He paused for thought. “His horse, Roach, he loves riding. He loves his goddaughter, and mythology.”

“Lord of the Rings nerd?”

“Oh you have no idea, he’s basically Aragorn if Aragorn had albinism.”

“I know a place,” Triss said, getting up. “Put on your coat.”

“Will it be open?” Jaskier asked anxiously, pulling his boots on.

“They live above the shop,” Triss said, throwing his scarf at him. “I know the owners, I’ll just shoot them a text.”

-- -- -- Back on the other side of town -- -- --

“Okay,” Yennefer said. “And you’re sure the hot barista is single?”

“Triss,” Geralt said. “And yes, apparently she’s been crying about it to Jaskier for ages.”

“Right, let’s go looking,” Yennefer said, looking remarkably cheerful.

The rows of shops were mostly open for last minute shoppers and Geralt and Yennefer fought through them. 

Well, Geralt fought. Yennefer just glared and people moved out of her way. 

“Does he cook?” Yennefer asked, pointing at a cookware store.

“Ramen and box mac n cheese,” Geralt said.

“You said he likes clothes?” A very full store with what could only be called hipster clothing.

“He has lots of clothes I want something...special,” Geralt said. He was trying not to lose hope.

“You really like this one.”

“I do, you met him he’s just...bright,” Geralt said, mumbling a little into his scarf as the wind blew a flurry at him.

“Hey, look at the music shop on the corner,” Yenn said. “I’m down here all the time, I’ve never noticed it before.”

Neither had Geralt. “Is it new?” It didn’t look new. It looked nearly condemned.

“You said he loves music,” Yennefer said, stomping in the direction of the store.

“I dunno, that store looks...”

“He loves music,” she said. “And you love him.”

They entered the store.

-- -- -- Triss and Jaskier -- -- --

“How the hell did you find this place?”

“I told you,” Triss said, matter of factly. “I know the owners. They’ll be down any minute to open it up.”

“They’re opening it up just for us?” Jaskier asked guiltily. It was Christmas eve after all.

“They owe me,” Triss said. “I introduced them. Well...reintroduced.”

“Welcome to The Sword in the Stone, Gifts and Novelties,” grinned a young man with very blue eyes and slightly large ears, opening the door. Behind him a blonde young man grinned cheerfully too, he was wearing a santa hat.

“Hi,” Jaskier said, stepping gratefully inside. “It’s a pleasure, I’m Jaskier.”

“Merlin,” said the young man who’d opened the door. 

“Arthur,” the blonde waved.

“Seriously?”

The pair just shrugged. Well, Jaskier, called Buttercup/Dandelion/Julian/a lot of other things, wasn’t about to tell people what to call themselves.

“I hear you need a gift for that special someone,” the blonde -Arthur- said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he loves fantasy stuff and I just... I don’t know what to get him.”

“Gotcha,” Arthur began to lead him back into the shop. Merlin and Triss were chatting by the door. 

“Were you thinking bigger, got a lovely cardboard cutout of Viggo Mortensen?”

Jaskier pictured Aragorn watching them have sex from the corner of Geralt’s little studio apartment. “Maybe smaller but kind of...niche?”

“Lucky you, this place if full of niche,” Arthur said cheerfully. 

Jaskier looked at the wall full of swords and was that a battle axe? “Yeah...”

“Does he wear jewelry?” asked Arthur, jingling a box full of metal in Jaskier’s direction.

“Not really,” Jaskier said. Then something caught his eye. “Wait...” he pulled something out of the box and held it up to the light.

Somehow...it was perfect.

“How much.”

-- -- -- Yen and Geralt -- -- --

“This place looks closed,” Geralt whispered to Yennefer, looking around at the racks of instruments.

“Not closed dearie, just dusty,” came a cheerful voice from right behind Geralt. He and Yennefer jumped.

“Sorry honeys,” said a little old lady with coke bottle glasses. “Got my slippers on, makes me quiet. She shuffled one foot, clad in pink fluff, off the floor as exhibit A. “Gift from my great grandson, aren’t they darling? Now,” she looked at Geralt with laser intensity. “You’d be needing a gift.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Geralt said. How had she known?

“Ooohoo you need a gift,” said the tiny old woman, “Cause you’s a boy in love.” She nearly cackled. “Follow me honeys!”

Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other, shrugged, and followed. What choice did they have?

“Got a harp,” the shopkeeper called cheerfully. It was indeed a full, standing, concert harp. It had a figurehead on it but the face looked absolutely agonized.

“Maybe not,” Geralt said.

“Hmmm no,” said the lady, shuffling her fluffy slippers. “Bagpipes?”

“He lives in an apartment.”

“That’ll be a no, then,” said the woman, peering at a rack of instruments in the corner. “Aha!” she shrieked, startling Geralt and Yennefer both. 

“This!”

It was perfect.

“I can’t afford it,” Geralt said, feeling hopeless.

“Oh yes you can,” said the little old lady gleefully, if she could Geralt got the sense she would be jumping and clicking her heels. “Nobody wants ‘em these days, this one’s seventy-five percent off!”

Geralt left with a weird shaped package.

-- -- -- Geralt’s studio apartment, evening -- -- --

“Hey,” Jaskier, said, stomping his boots on the mat.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, stealing a kiss. “What’d you tell Triss?”

“Told her I was sending a gift, what’s you tell Yennefer?”

“She’s heading over there now,” Geralt said. “With that movie they both like.”

“Ocean’s 8?”

“That’s the one, and a plate of homemade Christmas cookies.”

Jaskier smiled at Geralt and stole another kiss. “We’re never going to have a moment of peace, now we set them up,” he said. Geralt grinned at him. “Never, but I think we did the right thing.”

They settled in on Geralt’s little loveseat. Jaskier set a wrapped present on the side table. Beside it, on the floor, was a very poorly wrapped mess. Lots of scotch tape was visible. It was quite large.

Jaskier felt panicky.

“Should we,” Geralt said awkwardly. “Do you want to exchange presents now?”

“Sure.” Oh god, Geralt’s gift was so small, and what if he hated it?

“You first?” Geralt said, handing over the odd package.

Jaskier had always been a rip-it-open present person, but he took his time, although there was no salvaging the taped up paper.

“A lute?” he turned to Geralt in delight, face lighting up.

“A lute,” Geralt said. “Is-is that a good thing?”

“Oh my god, Geralt, yes! Oh I love it! I can’t wait to learn it!” Jaskier dropped kisses all over Geralt’s face, careful of his new baby.

He handed Geralt the little package. “It’s not as great but...”

Geralt was a folding kind of person and folded up the wrapping paper carefully, then he opened the box and took out the amulet with the silver wolf’s head.

“Oh,” Geralt said.

Oh. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? Jaskier tried to breathe slowly.

“Jaskier I...” 

Oh no. He hated it.

“It’s perfect.”

What?

“When I was little I thought I’d be a knight,” Geralt said, pale eyes shining. “And I drew wolf’s heads on everything, my crest, I said.”

Geralt was holding up the amulet as if transfixed. 

“Vesemir can show you, he kept the drawings,” Geralt said. Then he slipped the medallion over his head.

“My knight,” Jaskier said. “My wolf.”

Geralt gave a playful growl. Jaskier’s heart thumped a little harder. Geralt must have picked up on something in his eyes because he cocked his head.

“Oh?” he rumbled, low in his chest. “You want a wolf, do you?” He growled again.

Jaskier leapt up, shrieking with laughter and ran to hide in the bathroom. Geralt caught up before he could close the door.

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” he said, dragging Jaskier closer and giving him a bear hug. He growled in Jaskier’s ear.

“And I’ll blow your...how does it go?”

“I’m not sure, wolfie,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt closer by the amulet. “But I think it ends with you eating me all up.”

It was a very merry Christmas indeed.

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Ope! Idiots! With a random appearance from BBC’s Merlin (In 2020? I guess.) and a little old lady. + the magic of christmas.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #modern au #christmas #minor merthur mention

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Back to school - chapter 5

Being sick at home, I have time to update my different stories :D

So, here's another Kira-chapter with a few surprises :))))

Fandom: The Hobbit (still an AU)

Characters : Thranduil x OC (and the others being awful)

Words: 4,5 k (+/-)

Rating: Gen

Warnings: reference to alcohol, silliness, awkwardness and a small surprise :D

Waking up was hard; Kira’s head vibrated with pain.

She should not have opened that aged rum just to numb the second-hand pain; she was not 20 anymore and she now paid the price for her reckless behaviour. “A new day, a new chance.” She told herself as she saw her bleary complexion in the tiny bathroom mirror.

A quick glance on another crumpled sheet of paper Gandalf had handed her informed her that she would have her class twice today. One hour for literature and another one, in the afternoon for “social studies and integration”. If she hadn’t been that miserable, she would have laughed as Gandalf had struck out the words and written “etiquette” beneath the line.

How the ever-loving hell was she supposed to teach those kids etiquette and manners? She had almost been stoned to death for taking them out into the courtyard and now she was supposed to teach them…table manners?

Brushing her hair back in a neat ponytail and slipping into her ratty old cardigan, she opened the door just to almost bump into a pristine white shirt. “Good morning, Kira.”

“Thranduil.” She sighed, recognising the woody, masculine scent, and the melodious voice. “I am quite able to find my way to school on my own.” She ground out, trying to push past the intrusive colleague. One could count on people like him to show up, perfectly styled and handsome as the devil himself, when one was feeling low and looking like a pile of…undesirable and unattractive things that might or might not have exited another organism.

When she turned around, he stood rooted to the ground, an unfathomable expression on his beautiful face. “I thought you might care for some company, even if it’s just me.” He murmured, lower than she had ever heard him speak.

Oh, here’s another one who isn’t loved well, Kira thought and her heart gave an unexpected and involuntary jerk.

“That is very kind of you.” She nodded slowly, seeing his eyes widen. When was the last time someone had called him “kind”, she wondered, feeling strangely sorry for him.

“The kids call me Thrandy.” He informed her as they walked to the unseemly building, earning a few nods and a few fearful looks. The kids call you all kinds of names, Kira thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut.

Her first class wouldn’t start for over an hour, but she had wanted to return Thorin’s file and maybe poke around in the school a bit before having to teach. Only, how was she to get rid of the man who seemed to have become her veritable shadow in the few hours she had been in this town?

“Don’t you have a class to teach?” She asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Yes.” He replied simply.

Without consciously choosing to do so, Kira walked alongside him to his class. She really was not at her best on this morning, otherwise she would have parted ways with him earlier.

“Hi, Miss Kira. Do you remember me? I’m…” – “Thorin’s sister.” Kira supplied readily, with a warm smile.

“Dís, go in, please.” Thranduil ordered and she obeyed with a smirk. “Oh, Kira, you’re early.” Gandalf hastened down the corridor. “I am not late, I am never late, I arrive exactly when I mean to arrive.” He informed Thranduil when the other man cocked an eyebrow and lifted his eyes to the clock fastened to the opposite wall.

“Yes…I had an idea. I will wander around some, except if the bogeyman might come and grab me off the stairs here inside the school as well?” Kira mocked, being met with two very disapproving looks.

“You should be fine here.” Thranduil replied calmly, making his class fall into silence by merely shoving his face, quite creepily if one asked Kira, into the classroom and giving them a punitive stare.

That man had an absurdly long neck, Kira thought, and he looked quite ridiculous, poking his head around corners like a grumpy giraffe. Really, he and Thorin seemed to be in a perpetual contest who could look dourer for the longest time.

“Miss Kira.” Ah, speak of the devil. Kira turned around to find Bilbo with Thorin hovering just behind him; the young boy’s very own dark raincloud. “Bilbo, Thorin, good morning.” She turned on her teacher-smile.

In the long months before coming here, she had almost forgotten how much she loved working with teenagers. They thought themselves so grown-up already, but they smelled like cheap shower gel and half-outgrown dreams.

“Did you have a nice night?” Bilbo asked. “I…Yes, I was very eager to come to work though.” Kira replied. Bilbo was an adorable kid: small with a penchant to growing slightly pudgy maybe, he had eyes that reminded her of the rolling hills of the countryside…and of its bustling, invincible life.

“Yes, I couldn’t wait either.” He gave her a wide grin and let himself be herded into class.

“Was it really bad?” Thorin nodded at the file sticking out from her satchel; a file that might well reek of spilled rum and tears now. “You tell me, Thorin, was it really bad?” She asked back earnestly.

“He’s a troublemaker.” Thranduil interjected, lifting his hands placatingly when Kira spun around, eyes ablaze. “But, there’s a but, woman, let me finish! This one is a pain in the ass, excuse my French, but not all of what you’ll find in the files is 100% true…or fair.” She stared at him in confusion, had he really said what she thought he had?

“I’ve got to go teach. The kids usually go home for lunch, but there is a lunchroom.” Thranduil nodded and went into his classroom without waiting for Kira to collect her thoughts and reply to his surprising admission of fallibility in teachers.

“What was that about?” Kira scratched her head. “I think the dear colleague wanted to invite you to have lunch with the staff?” Gandalf said gently, but his smile was sharp and too radiant to be honest.

Kira blushed, confusion writ plain on her face. “If…my idea works out, I shall have to go home again. I’ll be fine.” She smiled, wondering if her colleague would think that her no-show would be some kind of rejection.

Thorin was still staring at the closed door, apparently aghast that Thranduil would admit that he was indeed not actually the Antichrist reborn. “Thorin, can I beg for your illustrious presence in my mathematics class?” Gandalf prompted the boy with a rumbling chuckle.

Kira watched as he slid his impassive mask back on and trudged into the room as if he was under duress when she had clearly seen the tiny smirk he had given his headteacher before returning to being the sullen boy everyone expected him to be.

“I’ll hand them over soon enough, don’t you worry.” Gandalf grinned at her and closed the door.

Kira huffed, her superior seemed to know everything and have an amazingly good understanding of what went on inside of people’s minds; she had noticed that the previous evening already, but he was so humorous and nonchalant about it, that it had only struck her when she had returned to the void of her apartment.

Resolutely, she struck out for the administration office and returned the file.

“Ah? And? Already scared off?” The same lady asked her casually. “Not in the least.” Kira replied pugnaciously; the more people tried to warn her off, the harder she would doggedly stay true to her course.

“Is there a ballroom here?” She asked. “A what? There’s the festivity room, but it’s never used. Whatever do you need a ballroom for? Do you want them to dance? Dwalin will give you a bloody nose.” The woman laughed.

“Dwalin will do nothing of the sort. He’s a decent fellow.” Kira contradicted calmly which made the woman freeze in the middle of her movement as she was bringing a cup of coffee to her lips.

Her eyebrows rose in slow-motion. “Decent? Dwalin? He brawls like he’s paid for it. Always black and blue.”

Kira’s stomach turned into a block of ice. There were other reasons for kids to be bruised and she would have to look into it. No, his brother had not struck her as someone who would mistreat a young’un like that.

“Let that be my worry. Where is that room?” Kira enquired and took off as soon as she was given the information she had asked for.

Yes, she thought, this would do nicely.

There was even a small kitchen down a corridor. “A small lunchroom, huh?” She muttered to herself.

Table manners, yes, and who knew? She might even get the kids to dance.

Either way, if it was at all possible, she would organise a ball. A winter formal for her kids, for she saw them as her very own and she was fiercely loyal to them already, and all the others.

“Air…We need air and sunlight.” No matter how dark the times were, children needed fun and something to look forward to and she would be damned if she didn’t at least try to provide that for them.

If necessary, she would clean the whole room by herself, decorate it by herself, cook by herself. Kira had a purpose, and she would not be set adrift again, not when she remembered all too well how it had felt to haunt her own life as a shadow of herself.

Dreaming her time away, she had to run to be on time for her class and she nearly bumped into Thranduil again. He was like a moving wall, always in the way, he was the very symbol of the labyrinth she had fallen into.

“Kira…” He started, but then ran out of words. “Thranduil.” She replied in that same cold tone.

“So…Oh, the Silmarillion? You know that they’re borderline illiterate?” He mocked as he saw the book she was extracting from her satchel. “You know that you’re…unfair?” She shot back and pushed past him, which felt like squeezing along a statue of marble. He didn’t budge. She didn’t even throw him off balance. Cocky bastard.

“Hello Miss Kira.” Unisono, the class greeted her, and she could see the astonishment in Thranduil’s eyes as he was still standing in front of her open door, eager to see her flounder and fail, probably.

“Hello class.” Kira replied, her warmest smile on display and then, turning to her colleague, “Was there anything else I can do for you? If not, be so good as to close the door, please? Thank you.”

Kira was unsurprised to find that the kids were not anywhere near illiterate. Yes, their reading skills had to be improved upon, but they listened carefully as she explained J.R.R Tolkien’s early mythology and were willing to read some of the parts as their curriculum for this class.

“Will we have to buy the book?” Ori asked, worrying his lower lip. “There might be a copy or two in the library…but…” He went on, looking intensely miserable.

Kira caught Bilbo’s discreet look and the almost imperceptible shake of the head; his index rubbed ever so lightly across his thumb and Kira understood: money was an issue for some of these kids.

“I’ll see if the school can order them.” Kira replied vaguely. “And we get to keep them?” Ori exclaimed, his eyes sparkling like precious gems in a deep cavern.

Kira looked at her class, everyone but Bilbo looked wretched, but Kira knew that it was not for the same reasons. Having experienced Thranduil’s reaction first-hand, she could understand why Legolas would be afraid to bring home a book his father would think so far beyond his capacities that it would make the boy hate it; Tauriel, Ori and Bombur were probably loath to ask their parents or guardians for money for a schoolbook, especially as their actual schoolbooks were clearly hand-me-downs. Thorin and Dwalin worked hard for their money and should have the right to spend it on fun and extravagant teenage pleasures rather than dusty old books.

“The school will not spend one cent on us.” Thorin grumbled. “Well, tough luck for them, because I have a long wish list.” Kira replied, a steely note in her voice.

“What if the school says “no”?” Tauriel asked, taking into account everything that had been said.

“If the school says “no”, I’ll ask them why.” Kira answered. “Because they think we cannot read.” Legolas muttered.

“In that case, I will buy the rotten books myself and we will read them and that will teach them…No, I’m sorry, but is this a school or a prison? If a school decides that kids are denied materials to learn because they are unable to learn, then the fault lies with the school and not the kids. How about that?” Kira took a deep breath; it would not do to show the students her irrational frustration and anger with the school system in general and this school in particular.

“You’ll get yourself into trouble, Miss Kira.” Bombur commented between two bites of his sandwich.

“Good. I have to prove myself worthy of my class. So, where are we on those presentations?” Kira asked.

The minutes just flew, intelligent questions were asked, and answers were dug out, discussions were sparked and entertained, and Kira could feel herself breathe again. This was what she had dreamt of doing all her life.

“Listen class, I see you this afternoon and I wanted to ask you for a small favour. I want you to draw up, in your mind, your understanding of formal clothing. We’ll meet in the festivity room, and we’ll talk about an idea I had.”

Blank stares followed by excited chatter.

Bilbo’s eyes lit up. “I can wear my formal clothing. If I do, will you?” He asked Kira with earnest joy in his eyes.

“Deal.” She said and they shook hands on it. “No lunch for me then…” She chuckled, not in the least dismayed.

“See you this afternoon.” She waved at her class and made her way out of the school before someone else got it into their head to walk her to and from home.

What had she agreed to? Kira was exasperated by her hair and her sickly pale face, but she had given her word and she would not go back on it.

The long dark red dress shimmered in the midday light as she stepped out of the shower and pulled her hair up in a formal bun; she might as well go the whole nine yards, she thought, and put on make-up.

She felt silly and she couldn’t shake the impression of being watched as she walked back to school, her dress sweeping over the floor with every step.

“Kira.” Jesus Christ, was he everywhere? How many times had he said her name today?

“Thranduil?” She turned around, the flowing fabric billowing around her and almost making her stumble.

“Why do you…You look…Why…?” He would have looked adorably flustered if it hadn’t been for the frown that crossed his forehead as if some moody god had tried to strike out his face.

“Etiquette class this afternoon. We’ll start with formal clothing.” She replied haughtily and tried to walk away from him again, but he took one smooth step to block her path. Now, he was definitely doing it on purpose.

“Ah ok…Erm…Good afternoon.” He snapped, turned on his heels and walked back into the very direction he had originally come from. Did he often just walk to and fro for no reason?

“Miss Kira!” Ah, that was a much more welcome voice, Kira thought as Bilbo caught up with her. “Amazing idea, I am invited to Tho…Dís’ this afternoon and now, I don’t have to go home to change.”

Kira cocked her head questioningly. “That is nice, what is the occasion?” She asked. “Homework.” Bilbo replied.

“You do homework with Dís? In your formal clothing?” Kira frowned mockingly, exaggerating her confusion.

“No…erm…I…I do my homework with Thorin of course, but Dís invited me and I wanted to make a good impression on his…her…their family.” Bilbo spluttered, blushing a dark pink and rubbing his nose in embarrassment.

“Well, that is even nicer. I am glad to hear that you take your homework so seriously.” Kira smiled and let the boy lead her into the school. He was wearing a white shirt and a tawny waistcoat over a very formal looking pair of brown pants. Down to the pastel cravat and the pocket handkerchief, Bilbo looked like the very picture of sophisticated adolescence.

“I think you should not have worried that much.” Kira whispered as they approached the locked festivity room.

“Oh sweet potatoes and gravy.” Bilbo cursed under his breath, or at least his tone made Kira believe that it was meant as a curse.

Thorin looked like he was going to a funeral. All clad in black and dark blue, he reminded her of a raven more than of a boy, and his perpetual scowl had never looked as appropriate as in this moment.

“I look like a fool.” He complained, and Kira was about to tell him that she had never asked or forced him to don his most refined clothes, but Bilbo was quicker and his breathless “You look amazing” was probably also the better answer.

While she unlocked the room, a swishing sound got Kira’s attention and she turned around to see Legolas and Tauriel coming their way; they were both wearing clothes that looked foreign in cut and material: flowing, silky and absolutely stunning.

Kira patted herself on the back for her idea and, a few minutes later, when the whole class had arrived, she could feel excitement and interest burgeon instead of open hostility. Apparently, all of them had agreed to dig out their Sunday best for this class and Kira had to hold back not to stare at them in amazement.

They had never seen each other like that and the fact that they all seemed awkward and ill-at-ease made it easier for them to bond over the shared experience of trying to wear the clothes and not let the clothes wear them.

“You look absolutely marvellous.” Kira declared finally; her voice heavy with pride.

“I look like a clown.” Dwalin grumbled, the dark grey dress shirt taut over his broad chest and his dark hair slicked back elegantly. “You don’t.” Kira contradicted. He looked imposing and obviously uncomfortable, but he also looked very elegant and handsome in his dark trousers and his well-ironed shirt.

“We grown-ups wear our best clothes as an armour and as a reminder of who we want to be and what we want to represent. I see that you respect the weight that comes with formal clothing; your posture has improved, and this is the first time I don’t see any downcast looks and averted faces.”

She sighed: “You deserve to be proud of yourselves just as much as anybody else. This class is an etiquette class…and I want it to be a redemption. Children…we will have a ball.”

“A ball?” Tauriel piped up, her voice strangled with emotion. “A ball. We will have a winter formal.” Kira confirmed.

“Just us? Dís would love that.” Thorin blurted out and then hid behind his disapproving, grumpy mask again.

“No, not just us. We will organise it and the others will come and dance.” Kira smiled.

“We will?” Ori was doubtful. “Yup, we will see where your strengths lie and then we’ll work on everything that goes with it: cooking, serving, making small talk with Thranduil.”

“Are you sure you’re able to teach us that?” Dwalin muttered, apologising immediately when he realised that he said that out loud and that it was an insult that might well lead to ruining the good will Kira had for them.

“I am not, but we will all try. Should we try that?” Kira was worried that they’d refuse outright, that they’d laugh at her, but once again, the class surprised her when they all started talking at the same time.

“I am a good cook. God, I love food.” Bilbo exclaimed. “So do I!” Bombur laughed and ambled closer, already thinking up recipes that would work in that context.

“You’d dare organising a ball?” Thorin was standing right in front of her, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes…I’ve been told that Dwalin would give me a bloody nose for it.” Kira replied, acting braver than she felt.

“Dwalin? Never…He’s a good dancer and he loves it.” Thorin chuckled, a sound like faraway thunder rolling over the land and shaking the ground. “A ball…” Thorin mumbled pensively, his eyes wandering to Bilbo again and again.

Ah, yes, that was a part she had not thought about duly, Kira had to admit: with formals came the whole teenage anxiety-inducing ordeal of asking someone out and buying flowers and corsages.

“Hmmm, there should be fairy lights.” Ori muttered beside her, chewing on the end of his pen pensively. “We’d need a contraption of sorts for that, wouldn’t we?” Kira thought aloud, charmed by the idea and happy to have another one of them on board.

“That can be done. Legolas here is good at climbing things and we are good at crafting things.” Dwalin muttered in a low growl that was much less impressive as his eyes shone with a fierce glimmer of joy.

Kira had the feeling to grow taller by the minute; she was so proud of those kids who had been hailed as Satanists and who had followed her into every single thing she had pitched as a project. She would do her best not to let them down.

“Uh-oh.” Legolas made, standing a few feet away from her and looking around the walls to gauge how tall the ladder would have to be to attach fairy lights below the ceiling.

Whirling around, Kira almost ended up smothered in a dark grey woollen cardigan partially covering the white button-down she had looked at from much too close up this morning already. How many times could this man just manifest right behind her? Did he float? Was she deaf?

“The door was open.” Thranduil declared as if that explained his sudden appearance. “Yes, this is a school. If I locked myself in with a bunch of teenagers, with this bunch of teenagers, I’m sure someone would have called the firemen and the police by now.” Kira rolled her eyes. “Are you spying on us?” She asked with a wink.

“No…Class is over and I…I was curious what you were doing, looking like that…” He looked around and caught the embarrassed gaze of his son. “Oh, you look nice, Legolas.” He commented which made the boy’s ears turn pink with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.” He breathed shyly.

“So…what is this going to be when it’s over?” Thranduil leant against the door he had pulled shut behind him and Kira couldn’t help noticing how tall he was; he had slender limbs and his whole body seemed to flow in almost liquid lines.

Snap out of it girl, he has asked you a question, Kira admonished herself and replied: “A ball. We’re going to have a ball.”

The closed door made her feel claustrophobic all of a sudden; it felt strangely as if she was the one pressed against the hard surface with Thranduil towering over her, the cool, gauging expression in his eyes making her squirm.

“Ah, really? And…will you send hand-written invitation to said ball?” Thranduil cocked one eyebrow. “Maybe we will.” Kira gave back in a stroppy tone. “So, the other classes are invited?” He pressed on.

“Why? Do you want to chaperone?” Thorin chuckled grimly. “As their headteacher, it falls within my responsibilities to oversee this kind of celebration if my class is to attend.” Thranduil answered stiff-lipped.

“Oi, lads, we are going to send old Thrandy an invitation.” Dwalin hooted under his breath, for he had caught the flash of embarrassment in the teacher’s eyes; Thranduil wanted to come, he wanted to be invited.

“Yes, quiet, Dwalin, thank you. Those are things to decide later in the process.” Kira tried to prevent a complete derailment of the conversation into complete and utter chaos.

“You are dismissed, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Kira ushered the children out, confused by the fact that her colleague made no attempt to follow either the stream of chattering youngsters or his own son.

“I had hoped you would come to the lunchroom.” Thranduil murmured as soon as the students had vanished around the corner, flipping a strand of his perfectly smooth almost colourless hair over his shoulder nervously.

“Dude, this,” Kira pointed at her face and her dress, “did not happen in a jiffy. I had to go home and change. Otherwise, I would have come.”

“Ah…yes…well, it would be a shame to waste such a tremendous effort.” As he saw Kira’s face sour, he went on quickly: “Not that I want to insinuate that it would take a great deal of effort to make yourself look lovely, but as you’ve pointed out that you’ve taken pains to create this…” He waved helplessly at her, “I wondered what you had planned for dinner.”

I don’t cook myself a three-course menu, Kira thought, remembering the can of beans in her cupboard; she had not had the time or the inclination to go shopping since arriving and she was not exactly looking forward to the beans.

“Nothing. Why?” She asked, shrugging and retrieving her satchel from the floor.

“If you don’t mind seeing your students AGAIN today, there’s a little restaurant down the street. I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe, we can resolve that issue over dinner.”

Was she seeing things or did his face twitch?

“What makes you say that?” She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“You’ve called me an asshole? I am confident in saying that you do not like me overmuch.” He muttered, visibly annoyed. “True. I am sorry for insulting you.” Kira stood firm, not sure if she fancied having dinner with her stuck-up colleague whose eyes were dancing with dizzying stars like fireflies over a frozen lake.

#Fanfiction #Bagginshield #Kira chapter #AU #School AU #Thranduil #OC #dinner? #upping the cliffhangers #First try AU

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

@itsnottilly

@loveyhoneydovey

@songofcosplay

@titaniumstark

@falcons-wings

@claudiaatje

@srodulvroux

@annathesillyfriend

@lokiandbuckylove

mcu taglist – join here

@babymango-writes

@softieyn

@spencereidisabicon

@whutisthus

@katethecrazy

@swanimagines

@amirahiddleston

@remusflirts

@musicallisto

@skinny-bitch-juice

@teti-menchon0604

@anon-2837282

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad

@heart-eyes-horan

@lxncelot

@amortensie

@claudiaatje

@gimmelovepls

@raven-emxralds

@whovianayesha

@the-jess-life

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson headcanon #the falcon #the falcon x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu mini series #mcu reader insert #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #sarah wilson

[elliewritessometimes]

hello. have you seen this post by @notsomightymightytiger?? that’s my friend!!! and this is completely and utterly inspired by that and completely and utterly written for her. love you stabby friend <3

also known as: the tigers go to disneyland, kateva like to kiss, chess, reese and mattie have an understated bromance and cheerwives can actually be fluffy for once

tw: swearing, theme park kind of things??? aka rollercoasters and fireworks and all that. as always, let me know if i’ve missed anything

(sidenote idk if you can tell but i have never in my life been to disneyland don’t come for me if i wrote it all wrong i tried my best)

---

"We're going to Disneyland."

There was silence in the gym for a solid thirty seconds before all hell broke loose.

"WhAT???"

"Wait, really?!?"

"Oh my God, Riley, you're the best, oh my gOd!"

"Why the fuck did you think that taking us to fucking Disneyland was a good idea??" Kate looked less than pleased at the proposition, a stark contrast to the delighted faces of Reese and Mattie.

Riley smiled brightly. "Team bonding!!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course." Their voice rose in pitch, sarcasm delicately lacing their words. "For the best of the team-"

Chess cut them off, not so subtly stamping on her foot. "Katherine, please."

Farrah had been wobbling on her tiptoes, peering over Annleigh's shoulder. She gave a long-suffering groan. "Annleigh, Clark's not a Tiger, he can't come."

"But-"

"No. It's unfair."

Annleigh ignored her sister and switched her attention to Riley, making her best puppy eyes at the captain. Riley only widened her smile. It probably hurt her face a little bit. "You know what? Fine. Clark can come. It's gonna be fun, right?!"

Annleigh giggled at the answer, sticking her tongue out at a fuming Farrah. Kate was in a similar predicament, being held back by a smirking Chess with an arm around their shoulder. They pulled out their phone as well, already dialling a number, “If Annleigh’s boyfriend gets to come, then my girlfriend should be allowed as well. Otherwise that’s nepotism.”

“Fine.” Riley was steadily regretting her decision to hold a cheer trip. On her left, Cairo squeezed her hand, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Kate gagged in their direction. “You better not, Kate, or I’m banning your girlfriend from Disneyland.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wait,” Reese spoke up, “If Kate and Annleigh can have Eva and Clark, and Cairo and Riley have each other, can I bring my boyfriend?”

“No more significant others!” Riley clapped her hands, ignoring Reese’s pout. “If you can’t get Eva and Clark here in the next eight minutes, we will be leaving them behind! I paid so much money for these tickets and we will not be late.”

The team headed towards the door, being greeted by Eva and Clark already standing beside Cairo’s minivan. They split the rides evenly between the van and Chess’ car (Kate was more than pissed to find that their best friend had been in on the plan all along). 

At one point, Mattie took Reese’s hand. “Hey, even if you can’t bring your boyfriend, you’ve got me, right? Ultimate bromance and all that?”

Reese grinned and squeezed the freshman’s hand. “Hell yeah.”

-

“I want that pin.”

“No, you don’t.” Reese hugged the Belle pin closer. 

Chess held out a hand. “Yeah, but I do though.”

Reese shook her head.

“Look, I’ll give you my Tinkerbell diamond one.” They held out the rare pin in their other hand.

“No! Belle is my favourite!”

“She’s my favourite as well though!”

Cairo sighed. “We’ve been here literally ten minutes.”

Reese linked arms with Mattie, turning on her heel to walk off, “I’m going now and you’re not getting my Belle pin!!!!”

“HEY!” Chess chased after the two, trying so hard to keep up their grumpy demeanour and failing when a smile crept onto their face.

Turning to an anxious-looking Riley, Cairo sighed again. By now, she’d sighed more than she’d spoken today. “Chess does know that they could just... buy their own Belle pin if they really wanted, right???”

“It’s the fun of it, Cai.” Riley looked around, craning her neck. “Where on Earth have the other five members of our team gone?”

“Holy shit.” At this rate, Cairo must have been running out of oxygen from the intense sighing. “It has been. Ten. Minutes.”

-

Farrah wouldn't call herself a Disneyland regular, but she's been a few times before. She remembered a time before her mother had left, when she was still just a little kid, coming to the park for the first time. It had been the kind of magical that only a child can experience, filled with glitter and laughter and something that might have been called family. Her mother bought bubblegum flavoured cotton candy, handing the stick to a seven-year-old Farrah with a smile and a wink. They agreed that it was the first thing that you had to do when going to Disneyland - buy cotton candy. Every time since, Farrah bought the same bubblegum pink sugar from the same tacky stand and ate it with the same wonder as she did the very first time.

Now, Farrah had a new family. In, perhaps, more ways than one. Here, away from home, she's still with her family, maybe a slightly dysfunctional one made up of teenage cheerleaders (and Clark), but still, they are her family in one way or another.

Annleigh returned as Farrah was mulling over all this, a stick of worryingly neon pink cotton candy in her hand. "Figured you'd want to start the day off with your usual sugar rush."

Farrah took the treat with a smile, wondering if Annleigh is only so glad to buy such unhealthy food because at least it's not alcohol. "Thanks."

"Come on, ladies! We've got a whole park to explore!" Clark had apparently already visited a store, a pair of Mickey ears stretched over his head. Farrah rolled her eyes, but followed her sister and brother-in-law (nearly) further down the street because, after all, they are her family.

-

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to fucking Disneyland before,” Eva looked mildly horrified, “Has Chess never taken you?”

“I didn’t really want to go.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. “Why the fuck-”

“Reasons.” Kate’s voice was sharp and Eva backed off, only kissing the top of their head. Kate squeezed her hand in response. “Anyway, come on, show me everything. Mountain rides challenge, right?”

“Ugh, Katie, the queues with be forever...”

“Lucky for you, I’ll be there to while away the time with you.” She winked, laughing when Eva blushed. “Let’s go.”

-

Of all the things to happen at Disneyland, Reese was not expecting to get sneak attacked by a literal cuddly pig. She yelped, reaching a hand to smack it away, nearing the point of ‘this might as well happen’, when a small head poked out from behind the toy. Mattie grinned, “Boo!”

“Jesus Christ, you scared the life out of me.”

The younger girl giggled brightly. “Look what I got!”

“...Is that the pig from Moana?”

“Obviously.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “You should know by now that Moana is the best Disney movie of all time.”

Reese rummaged in her backpack for a second before pulling out yet another pin. “Look! Moana pin. Girl, I would give it to you, but me and Chess are tryna see who can get the most pins by the end of the day. Speaking of, was Chess in the store?”

“Yeah, actually.” She hesitated. “Dude, I hate to tell you this, but they had a Belle pin.”

“Shit.”

-

Perhaps queuing had been a mistake. It had probably been hours. Kate would have known more accurately if they’d worn a watch like Chess always told them to. She was stubborn though, and hadn’t. “Aves...” 

“Yeah?”

“How long have we been waiting?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Oh.” They craned their neck to see over the heads in front of them, realising that they were only a few people from the front. “Oh.”

Eva laughed and took her partner’s hand again, “Told you the queues were long.”

However, in only a matter of minutes, they were seated in an uncomfortable car, the seatbelts just a little too tight to be comfortable and a little too loose to feel actually safe. To say Kate was uncomfortable would be an understatement. She was also maybe a tiny bit scared. 

Eva squinted at them. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m fine.” 

And so the ride began.

Around halfway through, they began the steady climb to the highest peak. Kate turned to Eva, yelling over the shouts of other passengers. “Hey, babe? Remember when I said I didn’t come here with Chess because of reasons? Now might be a good time to tell you that those reasons are that I’m scared of heights.” 

“You fucking idiot.” Eva turned carefully to them, holding their hands tighter, worry and amusement shining in her eyes. The car reached the peak of the ride. “Look at me and don’t fucking think about looking down. It’s okay.” She cupped her cheek. They fell suddenly and Kate's heart jumped into her throat. Eva laughed a little at their surprise. “You know what they say, babe, you gotta confront your fears straight on.”

“I can’t do anything straightly.”

And that was how they found themselves kissing on a rollercoaster, hair slightly in their faces, just as the camera shutter went off. 

-

The team somehow reconvened for lunch, stopping on a bench somewhere as Clark unpacked a multitude of sandwiches and juice boxes. Of course, only Clark, Annleigh and Riley ended up eating the home-brought food, everyone else opting to buy their own trashy, mostly-sugar lunch. 

“How the fuck did you know to bring all this if we only organised the trip this morning?” Kate sounded suspicious, eyeing Clark like he was the imposter. 

Clark looked mildly sheepish. “Oh... We all knew already.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, sorry Kitkat.” Chess stifled a snort of laughter. “We organised this weeks ago. We had a group chat and everything.”

Kate spluttered for a second. “Alright, traitors, who else was left out of this?”

Mattie, Farrah and Reese all raised a hand. 

“This makes no sense. Cairo, I trust you to tell the truth, why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!”

Cairo smirked. “We didn’t tell Mattie and Farrah because they’re children-”

“Rude!” Mattie smacked Cairo on the arm. “I am possibly more responsible than half of the rest of you.”

Riley cut in. “Don’t be silly, Cai. We didn’t tell Reese, Mattie or Farrah because they like Disney the most and we wanted it to be a surprise treat for them.”

The rest of the group made noises of appreciation or fondness. Kate, however, was less than pleased, “What about me?!”

“Oh, we just wanted to see your face when we announced it.” Cairo didn't hold back.

“Fuck you all.” But they were holding back a smile, already moving on to the next thing. “Hey, Farrah, you okay? Why aren’t you eating?”

The sophomore groaned. “I feel sick.”

Annleigh hugged her sister to her side, rubbing her back gently. ‘It’s because you ate all that cotton candy earlier.”

“It was so good, though.” Farrah frowned, regretting her past-self and her need for sugar. 

Clark reached into his backpack, pulling out a pair of Minnie ears, before plonking them awkwardly on Farrah’s head. He grinned. “That’ll make you feel better!”

“Dude, I don’t know, but thanks for the effort.” She fought a smile, reaching up to arrange the ears around her plaits. 

-

Riley had been anxious about the trip ever since it had been first suggested. She’d pored over the plans for hours on end, triple checking each detail with Cairo and Chess. Now that they were here, it was all going well enough. Sure, maybe they had gotten lost a couple of times, and sure, maybe they hadn’t stayed as much of a team as she’d planned, but yeah, it was going fine. Everyone else was having fun. 

“Hey, Rye, you doing okay?”

She nodded with a smile, clutching Cairo’s hand. “Yup! All good!”

Cairo did not look convinced. “Look, you've been stressing about everyone else all day, how about we leave them be and go visit some princesses, huh?”

“Cai... Cai, that would be honestly amazing.” Hesitating, she watched the retreating backs of the rest of the team. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?”

“They’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, they’ve got Clark and Chess and Eva in case anything goes wrong.” The taller girl didn’t hesitate from naming who she perceived as the ‘responsible ones’. 

“Okay.” Riley opened her mouth to suggest a destination, when they were approached by the one and only Peter Pan. 

“Hey!”

“OhmygodCai.” She clung to her girlfriend’s arm. “It’s Peter Pan.”

Cairo snorted, nudging Riley to spark her reply. She watched as the two had what was possibly the purest and most wholesome conversation she had ever heard, sneakily taking photos that she would treasure because of Riley’s true delight. Riley skipped towards her after a couple of minutes, grinning properly from ear to ear. “That was so cool!”

“Amazing, Rye. Who shall we visit next?”

“Oh my God, we have to see Tangled!”

“....Rapunzel.”

Riley paused from where she was dragging Cairo into another set of rooms. “What?”

Cairo laughed, “She’s not called Tangled, babe, her name’s Rapunzel.” 

“Oh. Yeah, right, of course, forgot.”

The other girl only laughed harder. “You're so stupid, Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Riley blushed. “Love you too.”

-

“So you did the mountain rides challenge.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“And somehow, just magically, you two found yourselves making out in every single ride photo.” Chess crossed their arms, grinning at the couple in front of them.

“I- It was noT making out!!” Kate spluttered a reply, hiding her face in Eva’s shoulder. Chess only laughed harder.

Eva hummed as if she was making a difficult decision. “I don’t know, babe, you got pretty into it at one point.”

The senior cackled, high-fiving Eva over Kate's head. Kate continued to hide in their girlfriend's shoulder, only lifting a middle finger in Chess’ direction as a reply. Chess took the offending finger in their hand, pulling Kate up so she could walk between the other two. “Damn, Kitkat.”

“I’m not ever replying to that name again. I have been too attacked to allow it.”

Eva kissed the top of their head, “You came here to have a good time and you’re just feeling so attacked right now.”

“Exactly!” Kate nudged their head up into Eva’s chin, “This is why I’m dating you, meme girl.”

“Ew, gross.” Chess tugged Kate, who tugged Eva, who finally got them walking again. “Come on, lovebirds, it’s firework time.”

-

By the time the fireworks began, they’d been at the park for hours. Farrah still had her Minnie ears on, ones which Clark occasionally tried to steal due to his own ears being lost on one ride or another. Annleigh would only bat his hand away, laughing when he pressed kisses to her palm. 

Kate kissed Eva again when the first firework exploded above them, being caught by yet another camera, this time in the hands of Riley. The photo found its way onto the Tigers group chat by morning, greeted by a pouting Kate begging them to take it down against the protests of the rest of the team (“But you’re just so cute!”). Somehow, she didn’t complain when it even later worked its way onto Eva's Instagram feed. 

Chess and Reese jumped at the first fireworks, too absorbed in counting pins to pay attention to the rest of the world. Mattie wormed her way between them, sneakily stealing both Reese’s Moana pin and Chess’ newly-bought Belle pin. They were too distracted by the light show to notice and Mattie celebrated her little victory by also stealing some of the cotton candy that Farrah had bought herself again, despite her earlier regrets. She supposed some people never learnt.

Cairo stood quietly at the back of the group, showing a still-bouncing Riley the pictures taken with the various characters they’d encountered. Riley kissed her for the final firework, a silent ‘thank you’ for today. 

With the lights of Disneyland glimmering maybe slightly tackily behind the group, Riley took one last picture. It was them, the team, the Tigers, silhouetted in the lights but, if you zoomed in and maybe turned the brightness up a bit, you could still see them smiling. That made its way onto the group chat as well and maybe it still hangs in more than one of their rooms. It was certainly a day that qualified for the scrapbooks.

#KIERA IT'S HERE #sorry it took longer than expected these last few days have been crazy #in other news my cousin is living with us for a while #with that in mind i can't promise a whole lot of content in the next week or so #we never know tho #its not like I was particularly persistent in the first place #anYWAY #proper tag time #we are the tigers #swearing tw #kateva #cheerwives #I refuse to tag characters im sorry im lazy #they're so cute and so at disneyland #its great #I really hope you like it I tried by best #I love yous tabby friends #kiera (yay for gay) #caps tw (for the tags) #I think that's all

[theweasleyslytherin]

i knew you (ron weasley x reader) part 1

masterlist: part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14

summary: Ron inexplicably broke up with Cassiah Black just days before their final year at Hogwarts, leaving them both with broken hearts and no future plans, but too stubborn and too proud to fix things. The centuries-old rivalry between their Gryffindor and Slytherin houses only make things worse, and friendships are truly put to the test. Will they find their way back together before the year ends, or will the end of their time at Hogwarts be the last time they ever see the each other?

warnings: angst, drug/alcohol use, eventual smut ;)

CHAPTER 1 - the first day without you

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Cardigan, Taylor Swift ____________________________________

Ron Weasley was a mess. He had been since he'd broken up with Cassiah that fateful summer afternoon, just days before he and his classmates were returning for their senior year. Now he was starting his final year at Hogwarts single and without his girlfriend, but more importantly, his best friend.

Sure, he had Harry to mess and joke around with, but Harry wasn't much use for anything more serious. It wasn't like he could talk to Harry about stuff the way he did with Cassie. He'd never felt that comfortable with anyone before – even before they were dating, he had always been naturally drawn to her, naturally inclined to trust her with his most troubling of thoughts. Before he and Cassiah were close, he used to sometimes talk to Hermione about that sort of thing, but now that he'd broken up with Hermione's best friend, she wasn't really an option anymore either.

He slumped down onto his bed, across from Harry's as usual, and sighed wistfully. Here he was, about to start his final year, and he had no future plans. All his friends chatted excitedly about what lay ahead for them, but for Ron, his only plan had been building a life with Cassiah. Now, he was completely lost and floundering trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. The worst part was, the only person who he felt comfortable opening up to about this desperate, insecure feeling of the unknown was Cassiah. Not even his brothers were here now.

They had however, given him a bit of home to take with him, or a coping mechanism of sorts. Ron glanced quickly around the room to ensure that no one else had arrived yet – not that any of the boys would care, they'd come to expect this after knowing him for so many years – and pulled a mason jar full of weed out of his backpack. It absolutely reeked as he ground it, and he sighed in relief as he packed a bowl and took the first hit. Thank fucking Merlin for Fred and George.

Just then, Seamus entered the room and gave him a huge, sly, smile before hurrying across the room to slap Ron across the back, "Weasley, my man, never wasting time, huh?" Ron passed Seamus the bowl and the lighter and smiled lazily,

"'Ve had a rough go of it today, mate."

Seamus looked at him, puzzled by this confession, but shrugged it off quickly as just another one of Ron's grumpy mood swings. The thing was, as crushed as Ron was about his breakup with Cassiah, hardly any of the guys knew about it yet – it's not like he was going to owl them about it, Jesus – and those who did know about it had no idea that Ron was going through it. It was his decision, so he figured he had no right to bitch and moan about it.

The boys cashed the bowl between the two of them before the other guys came in, all chattering loudly about their summer, and the excitement of the new school year. Ron had honestly been dreading being around all of his friends and having to think about life at Hogwarts without Cassiah, but now that he was significantly higher than he was then, he was happy to see them.

"Ron!" Harry shouted before pulling his friend into a huge bear hug, or as much of a bear hug as someone almost half a foot shorter than he was could give, "Sorry I lost you after the train, I was with-"

"I figured," Ron stammered, not wanting to hear about Harry's reuniting with his little sister because for one, she was his little sister, and more importantly, it was a reminder of how crushingly single he was. ��"S'alright, then. I'm completely starved though. We should probably head down to the Great Hall for dinner."

"Brilliant," Harry said in reply, and Ron's lips tugged into a sort of half-smile at his friend's typical response. He and Harry and the other guys all headed out of the dormitories, through the common rooms, and all the way to the hall. Ron was feeling completely himself, almost forgetting for a moment about his breakup among the excitement of being home again. That is, until they reached the steps leading to the entrance of the hall.

He froze. The Gryffindor dorms and common rooms were safe. He didn't have to worry about running into Cassiah there – she wouldn't be there unless she was personally invited by him. But the Great Hall? This was the first time since he broke up with her that he'd have to face the very high possibility of seeing her.

Harry eyed him cautiously, and wrapped his arm casually around Ron's shoulder, "It's alright mate. Just walk in and sit down at the Gryffindor tables with your friends, yeah? No big deal."

Ron nodded quickly, embarrassed that Harry had seen through his cool facade.

Of course, she was the first thing he saw when he walked into the room, her brunette hair pulled into a simple low bun. He knew if he looked too long, he'd look right into those beautiful eyes that shine hazel against her green Slytherin robes. Merlin, green really was her color. She was talking animatedly with her friends from Slytherin. They weren't her best friends, that would be Hermione, but that was one of the things Ron loved the most about her. Cassiah could get along with anyone from any house, and she'd be an equally amazing and loyal friend to all.

He felt a wave of nausea rising in him just from thinking too long about the idea of Cassiah noticing him, so he ducked his head and rushed to catch up with the guys and take his seat. His stomach growled loudly, and one of the guys made a stupid joke about his appetite, earning his laughter. He couldn't help but notice how Hermione was sitting not with him and Harry, as usual, but down the table with Ginny and some other girls. Point taken – she was pissed at him. He'd been friends with Hermione longer than Cassie had – he'd actually introduced them – but the two had been fast friends so her loyalty wasn't that surprising.

It still stung, though. Not that he'd let anyone know that.

Dumbledore went through the pomp and circumstance of announcements about the new school year, introduced the seemingly annual new professor, and issued some vague warnings that he knew he could pretty much ignore as a final year. He pretended to pay attention as the first years were sorted, but he was distracted by his thoughts. Cassiah was a prefect this year, and he couldn't help but think about how she was going to do such a good job, and make sure that all the new Slytherins were comfortable.

Finally, it was time to eat and the feast was revealed. Grateful for the distraction, Ron piled his plate as high as he could balance with meat and potatoes and gravy and rolls. Smoking before the feast, he considered absently, was definitely a brilliant idea.

________

Across the dining hall, Cassiah was chatting quietly with Pansy and Daphne about their plans for the night. The other two girls were going to sneak into the Slytherin boy's dormitory and get drunk on Firewhiskey, and they wanted Cassiah to come with them. She'd assumed that she would be spending the night in the library with Hermione, and then maybe sneaking her friend back into her new prefect room for a sleepover, but realistically, Hermione wasn't gonna go for that type of rule-breaking anyway. She snorted – how was she the one out of the two of them to become a prefect? The irony wasn't lost on her.

Firewhiskey sounded pretty damn good right now, though. Cassiah hadn't been drunk since her break up, but hell if she didn't want to be right now.

For the first time since her initial survey when she entered the room, she allowed herself to look around – to look for him. And there he was, red hair making him stand out like a sore thumb. A really handsome sore thumb with a laugh that felt like coming home. His hand-me down robes had gotten a bit too small across his now-broad shoulders over the summer. Obviously, she'd seen him many times since last school year, but the difference was so stark in his old robes. His blue-green eyes were red-rimmed with the tell-tale sign of his favorite habit (besides Cassiah, of course) and his cute freckled lips were busy absolutely destroying what she could only assume was at least his third helping of food. Everyone gave him shit for his massive appetite and apparent hollow leg, but Cassiah thought it was cute. She thought everything about him was cute. And fuck, now she was fighting off tears in the dining hall.

"Don't look," Pansy said into her ear, giving her a squeeze, "You're better than he is, anyways. You're fucking Cassiah Black."

"Yeah, you're right," Cassiah mumbled in return. She cleared her throat, hating how weak and wavering her voice sounded, "We're getting drunk tonight ladies."

Daphne snorted, "First night as a prefect and already a savage. I love it."

________

"Personally, I've always loved single Cass," Draco raised his voice to be heard over the music and slung his arm lovingly over Cassiah's shoulder, the widest of smiles playing across his normally sullen face. "Shots?" he asked her, and she raised her eyebrows at him in response.

"Obviously," she said, holding out her cup and letting Draco slosh a generous amount of Firewhiskey into it. She cheersed him quickly and threw it back, definitely more than one shot's worth of liquid burning down her throat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

"Atta girl," Draco grinned and swigged again from the bottle before passing it to Cassiah, who always prided herself on being able to keep up with the Slytherin guys. It'd been a while since she'd thrown down with them, however, because she always felt guilty partying when Ron wasn't invited, and she'd honestly missed it. She and the guys, especially Draco, had been a lot closer before she started dating and spending all her time with Ron and she felt like she had to choose, and Slytherin parties were always the wildest. Probably fueled by the money and the privilege.

"I love this song!" she announced to no one in particular, and broke away from Draco to enter the circle of students who were dancing drunkenly in the center of the dark room. She grabbed Draco and Blaise's hands, twirling them both around and forcing them to dance with her. Pansy appeared out of nowhere, and Cassiah wrapped her arms around her friends neck sensually and got her to dance with her, too. She really was the life of the party.

"He's missing out on the baddest witch and bitch in our year," Pansy said light-heartedly, laughing over the music, and Cassiah joined her, actually feeling okay for the first time. Maybe tonight would be the first time she didn't cry over him.

Fuck, she wished he was here. She wanted to dance on him with all her friends and show off the dorky couple moves they'd practiced when she visited the Burrow over the summer. They were always the fun couple at parties. What happened?

Suddenly her eyes were prickling with tears again, and Pansy's face crumbled with concern, "Oh, Cass, I didn't mean to make you cry, babe."

"No, I know, I know," Cassiah nodded assuredly, "Draco! Firewhiskey, now."

________

Ron and Harry were up to their usual misadventures, the rules never really having been made for them to follow. They were tucked under Harry's invisibility cloak, creeping down to where the Slytherin common rooms were. They had a plan to screw with Draco, something about swapping his fancy new robes for ones that were a couple sizes too short, and there was no better night to do it than this one. Thankfully, Ron still remembered the password from the nights when Cassiah would sneak him into the Slytherin dorms, and he and Harry were going to put that knowledge to good use.

They crept into the common room, seeing that there was a party going on, mostly with students from their year. Ron glanced around the room, not seeing Cassie thankfully, but spotting an array of substances scattered around the room. And he thought that he and Harry got away with a lot of shit... Ron couldn't even name some of them – he was strictly an herbal man, after all.

"This is bloody brilliant! They'll be so distracted they'll never even know we were here," exclaimed Harry under his breath, and Ron laughed quietly, but it was swallowed up by the music.

________

"I'm just gonna get some air," Cassiah informed Daphne and Pansy before turning away from the small crowd and heading down the hall to the prefect's rooms and bathroom. The Firewhiskey had certainly hit her, and so had a wave of sadness she wasn't really expecting. She contained herself just until she shoved the bathroom door open and then she burst.

It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of her own ragged breathing as silent tears streamed down her face, until a familiar voice sounded and a hand rested comfortingly on her shoulder, "Cass? What's wrong?"

Draco. Of course, this was their bathroom to share.

"I-I don't know. I mean, I do know," she stammered, the room spinning just the slightest bit around her in a way that would not normally be unpleasant. "Everything was so perfect between us and then he rips it all away like it was nothing. I feel so stupid, walking around all year telling everyone that he was my future... it's humiliating. I don't understand what I did wrong to make him do this," explained Cassiah, finally breaking and folding into Draco's arms. She hiccuped as she cried, her tears muddied with black eyeliner as they soaked into his robes.

Draco pet her brown hair softly with one hand while the other rested over her back, rubbing comforting circles, "Oh, Cass. You did absolutely nothing wrong, it's just he's completely mental. I'm so sorry." She looked up at him for a moment, black tear stains on her face and nose red from crying. He pursed his lips together, silently cursing Ronald Weasley's name, and gently grabbed her hand, "Come on, now. Why don't we go clean you up before you head back out there. Don't let them see you sweat."

Cassiah nodded in agreement, following him meekly into his room. It was nearly identical to hers, covered in brilliant green and elegant silver, except his walls were adorned by shelves with Quidditch trophies, and a total lack of family photos.

She sat down quietly on the bed, and Draco busied himself by digging through his bags. He produced a piece of fabric before crossing the room and sitting next to her on the bed, crossing his legs and facing her. Not many people saw this gentle side of Draco outside of his immediate friend group, but he'd always had a soft spot for Cassiah. She found herself wishing for a moment that everyone else could know him like this so that they could understand, but he would never allow it.

The piece of fabric was a hanker-chief, deep green silk embroidered with a monogram on the corner, DM. He reached out slowly and wiped first under her eyes, collecting the salty tears and running makeup that had gathered there, and then wiped gently under her nose. Cassiah allowed her eyes to flutter closed, feeling so loved and comforted by her friend despite her shattered heart.

________

"First room on the left," Ron whispered to Harry, giving the other boy directions as he had been to the Slytherin dormitories before. The door was already ajar, so they didn't need to worry about an unlocking charm or a password, and Ron gave it a gentle push open.

What he saw in front of him made his stomach drop to the floor, and he could practically feel Harry's face burn red with anger on his behalf. Draco's back was turned to them, sat on the bed, but next to him, close enough that Malfoy was reaching out and touching her face, was Cassiah, with tear stains on her pretty pink cheeks.

All plans of robe-related pranks flew out the window, as did the need for secrecy and invisibility, and Ron threw the cloak off of him, completely exposing himself to the pair on the bed.

Cassiah's eyes widened as she gasped, too shocked to see him to say anything at all, and Draco turned to follow her glance. He noticed how her eyes immediately had refilled with tears that had already begun to spill again.

"Weasley! What the fuck are you doing in here? Get out!" he shouted, rising to his feet and marching towards the ginger boy.

"What am I doing? Never mind that, what in Merlin's name are you doing? Taking advantage of a drunk and crying girl?" Ron exclaimed, completely exasperated at the scene in front of him. He was angry at Draco for taking advantage of her, in denial that she might be moving on, and not thinking clearly at all. He reached out and grabbed Draco by the fabric of his fine wool sweater, and was about to shove him as hard as possible.

"Stop it! He wasn't taking advantage of me! And you gave up the right to be concerned anyways, so leave us the fuck alone!" Cassiah shrieked, jumping to her feet and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ron and Harry both stared, completely bewildered, and Draco ground his teeth, "I would recommend that you and your friend leave immediately, Potter, or I'll have no choice but to report you."

Ron retreated back to the Gryffindor dormitories with his tail between his legs, and absolutely fuming. Cassiah had moved on in a matter of days. He was sitting around moping over a girl he saw future with, and she didn't even give a damn.

Well, he'll show her just now fine he is. If she doesn't give a damn anymore, then why should he? ____________________________________

I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Ron is so annoying with his whole "i'm fine it's fine" act but I love him anyways. Plus, I literally live and breathe for stoner!Ron.

Published on my Wattpad (halebscallison) and my Tumblr (theweasleyslytherin).

I love you all so much just for getting to this point!! stay tuned for chapter 2 xx

#ron #ron x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley smut #ron weasley x reader smut #harry potter #hogwarts #ron weasley fanfic #harry potter fanfic #ron x original character #angst #draco malfoy #draco x reader #slytherin reader #ron x slytherin

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Written In The Stars CXXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

Words: 4,022

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Damage Control.

Harry didn't ask how on earth was she capable of doing what she'd done the previous night, but she would often catch him staring. 

He was used to the harmless version of her, for years she'd threatened others and claimed to be ready to hurt anyone who would dare touch her friends, but he always knew those threats were empty, Mel couldn't hurt a fly, not before, at least. 

"Dumbledore will be back before long," said Ernie Macmillan. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her. Apparently, she had a right little tantrum..." 

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office," said Hermione as they started to climb up the entrance stairs. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old —"

"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Malfoy walked up to them followed by Crabbe and Goyle. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff..." 

"It's only teachers that can dock points from Houses, Malfoy," Ernie made a face.

"Yeah, we're prefects too, remember?" Ron raised a brow.

"I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King. But members of the Inquisitorial Squad —"

"The what?" said Hermione.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," Malfoy showed them a tiny silver badge that was proudly pinned under his Prefect one. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points... So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress... Macmillan, five for contradicting me... Five because I don't like you, Potter... Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that... Dumbledore, five because your presence is enough to lower the school's quality — Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that..."

"Don't!" Hermione stopped Ron from attacking Malfoy.

"Wise move, Granger. New Head, new times... Be good now, Potty... Weasel King..."

"You know, Malfoy, if you keep calling Ron your king you might as well bow and lick his shoes," Mel scowled. 

"Why don't you shut your mouth for once, Nutty? Or I'll tell Flint to break your other wrist as well. Did I mention he's the Head of the Inquisitorial Squad? That's right," Malfoy smirked. "You're done for, Dumbledore..."

He walked away, laughing along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"He was bluffing," said Ernie. "He can't be allowed to dock points... that would be ridiculous... It would completely undermine the prefect system..." 

"They can," Mel made a face, "Flint took points from me the other day, though I can't say I didn't deserve it..."

"But he's your friend!" Ernie exclaimed. 

"Yeah, but he has to pretend he's not," Mel sighed.

"Noticed, have you?" said Fred, walking down the staircase with his brother.

"Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," said Harry, trembling with anger.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George. 

"What do you mean, 'tried'?" Ron asked.

"He never managed to get all the words out," said Fred, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!" Hermione gasped.

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," said Fred. "Anyway... we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" 

"'Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?" 

"We've always known where to draw the line," said Fred.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," said George. 

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem."

"But now?" said Ron.

"Well, now —"

"— what with Dumbledore gone —"

"— we reckon a bit of mayhem —"

"— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," said Fred.

"I'm in," said Mel, but Fred shook his head.

"I'm sorry lady, but it's better if you stay out of it this time."

"What?" She frowned. "No! My uncle's gone, I don't have to keep a low profile now."

"Yes, you do. Our friends still need you here, and you could put Erick on a tough spot, we ran into him a few minutes ago and he told us he's the Head of Umbridge's group, apparently breaking your wrist gave him extra points with the toad. He's doing his best to keep most of the squad from doing really nasty things, but he can't ignore you now."

"You mustn't do it either!" Hermione insisted. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?"

"We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Lady Dumbledore and her uncle first. So anyway," Fred checked his watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" said Hermione anxiously. 

"You'll see," said George. "Run along, now."

Fred pulled her apart from the group for a second, his eyes scanning her face.

"Really Mel, you should lay low for a while," He told her. "At least until your wrist heals properly."

"Why are you so worried all of a sudden?" 

"Don't you remember what Sirius said? You have a target on your back, I can't let you do it, out there you're in more danger than in here with that old cow."

Mel hated to admit it, but he was right. She couldn't risk it. 

"I don't want you to get expelled, though," She sulked. 

"I know," Fred smiled. "But you don't need me around anymore, do you?"

"Don't say that!" Mel exclaimed, knowing what he meant.

"We'll talk about it later. Now go."

The twins left quickly, Ernie did so as well, leaving the three of them alone.

"I think we should get out of here, you know," said Hermione. "Just in case..."

"Yeah, all right," said Ron.

"Have you seen Erick?" Harry asked her.

"Not really," Mel said worryingly. "He must be under a lot of pressure, I know it sounds weird, but I'm glad he broke my wrist, thanks to that Umbridge trusts him. He'll try his best to keep things under control, but Malfoy is an animal, he'll find a way..."

"I'm not so happy about him breaking your wrist," Harry frowned. "But having him on our side is helpful..."

"I want to talk to Daphne and the others, see if anyone suspects them..."

"If you talk to them they will, it's better to keep your distance..."

Harry stopped and looked to her left, Mel let out a surprised yelp when she noticed Filch was standing right beside them.

"The headmistress would like to see you, Potter," The man said. "And you too, Dumbledore."

"I didn't do it," said Harry stupidly.

Mel nudged his side, scowling at him.

"Guilty conscience, eh?" Filch chuckled darkly. "Follow me..."

They threw one last worried look over their shoulders to Hermione and Ron before following Filch. 

"Things are changing around here..." Filch commented happily once they got to the first floor.

"We've noticed," said Harry.

"Yerse... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all. You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things... And she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves... Oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge..."

Mel had a few things to say about it, but Fred's worry had done its job and she found her voice losing all conviction before she'd even started to speak.

"Here we are," Filch said as they reached Umbridge's office. He opened the door a bit. "The Potter boy to see you, ma'am. I got the Dumbledore girl as well."

"Thank you, Argus," She heard the woman say. "Tell Miss Dumbledore to please wait outside while I talk to Potter."

"Not at all, ma'am, not at all," said Filch, pulling Mel back as he closed the door. "You stay here."

It didn't take long before Harry finally walked out of the office, Mel did a quick examination and noticed he was perfectly fine, just a bit grumpy. Harry looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge talked over him.

"Miss Dumbledore, please come in."

Harry tried to warn her silently, but Mel didn't understand what he was trying to say. She walked in and closed the door behind her. She froze at the sight of Erick, standing right behind Umbridge's desk. She felt torn between relief and worry, he was there and he would be able to hear everything, but at the same time, he couldn't help her.

"Sit down, sit down! What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm?" Mel said, sitting clumsily.

"Pumpkin juice? Tea? Coffee?"

"I— er... coffee," The girl replied.

"Very well," She turned her back to her and prepared the drink.

Erick stared down at the bandages around her wrist without saying anything, brows furrowed.

"There you are," Umbridge placed the cup in front of her, smiling. "Drink up!"

Mel looked at the cup for a couple of seconds, then at the woman.

"Why am I here?"

"I wanted to have a word with you," Umbridge smiled. "Drink up, dear!"

"I prefer my coffee cold, thank you," Mel replied shortly. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Silly little things that you might want to tell me, now that your dear uncle is no longer in charge," Umbridge laughed in that childish way of hers. "It must be hard, being the only heir, and with all those rumours around you! It's okay, girl, you don't have to keep enduring nonsense, you can do as you please."

What Mel wanted to do was to throw the coffee at her face, but she was intrigued by her attitude, so she remained silent. Umbridge touched her cup with her wand and pushed it forward.

"There, your coffee's cold now."

Mel reached to hold the cup. The drink was obviously tampered with, but she didn't know what else to do, not until she looked at Erick. He lifted three fingers without Umbridge noticing, then he put one down. She then lowered the cup.

"You know, you won't last long as Headmistress," She said casually.

Umbridge laughed. "I don't think you have the power to decide that, dear."

Erick put down a second finger. Mel grabbed a hold of her wand with her free hand.

"Well, no... but I'm not sure you've got what it takes to control the students." 

Erick put down the third finger. Almost immediately he sneezed and stumbled back, crashing against a few of Umbridge's decorative plates. As the lot fell down and smashed into pieces, Umbridge looked back at the mess, startled by it. Mel vanished the contents of her cup and hid her wand up her sleeve. Erick also waved his wand around, fixing the plates in an instant.

"Sorry, Professor," He said.

"That's quite all right, boy," Umbridge replied, though she looked annoyed. "I should clean the shelf more often... the dust tends to gather around quickly..."

"Okay then, let's finish this up," Mel tilted the cup and pretended to drink its whole content in one long sip. She licked her lips and put it down. "What do you want from me?"

Umbridge's eyes shone with hunger. "Where is your uncle?"

Mel straightened in her chair, she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of fun. 

"Which uncle? I have two, you know. One of them isn't really my uncle but feels like it, I love him dearly. I guess he's looking for a job—"

"I meant Dumbledore," Umbridge said. "Where is he?"

"Oh," Mel blinked. "Out."

"Where?"

"Dunno."

Umbridge blinked, staring at the empty cup.

"I'm sure you must know, hasn't he been teaching you his nasty little secrets for years? Haven't you been planning to attack the Ministry since you started school?"

"Oh yeah, every Wednesday we sit in his office with tea and biscuits, talking about how much we hate Fudge and his stupid hat," Mel snorted.

"Watch your words, child," Umbridge's voice trembled. "Very well, you don't know where he is then, I guess he was wise enough not to trust kids... but you certainly know where Black is hiding, don't you?"

"Under his mother's skirts!" Mel replied brightly. Erick had to turn his snort into a second sneeze.

Sirius would often refer to the Black mansion in the very same way, and Mel thought it funny to use his reference at the moment.

"I caught Sirius in the Gryffindor fire in October, Miss Dumbledore! And he was talking to you and Mr Potter!"

"The only thing you caught that day was cinder."

"Enough of your foolishness, girl!" Umbridge spat. "You will tell me the truth now!"

"The truth?" Mel shrugged. "Alright... I struggle to tell Fred and George apart, especially if they have their backs turned to me. I dislike the taste of treacle tarts but they're Harry's favourite so I don't have the heart to tell him his taste sucks, and I'm actually scared of owls so I always try to find a way to make someone else attach my letters — What else..? Oh! Every time I see your face it makes me think of Neville's pet —"

"ENOUGH!" The woman stood up. "Mr Flint, please leave us alone.

"Erick's eyes widened. "Professor?"

"Make sure no one comes to interrupt, dear."

"But—"

"Do as I say!"

Erick hesitated, then he walked out of the room avoiding any kind of eye contact with her.

"You insolent child," Umbridge said quietly. "You've been under Dumbledore's protection for too long, it's given you a false sense of confidence. That's over. You respond to me."

"You think so?" Mel leaned further on the table. "Would you like to try and see if I listen?"

Umbridge smiled. 

"I know the Dumbledores well enough to know they value their well-being too little. However, I also know that the only way to get through you it's through those you care about. Tell me, how long will it take to break you once I start punishing your friends for your impertinence? I believe some of the members in my Inquisitorial squad are quite eager to start..."

"You wouldn't," She said shortly.

Umbridge giggled, leaning closer. 

"I will break every single thing you care about until you decide to speak."

BOOM!

An explosion rose from the first floor, cutting short their discussion.

"What was — ?"

The explosion spread around, the floor trembled. Umbridge walked up to the door and pushed aside Erick and Harry, who'd been waiting outside.

"What's happening?" Mel asked.

They followed the noise, and soon found the source of it. The twins had ignited a bunch of colourful and magical firecrackers. 

Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed with horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harry watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled toward Umbridge and Filch with a sinister wheeeeeeeeee. 

Both adults yelled with fright and ducked and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor.

"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" shrieked Umbridge. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something — Stupefy!"

A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow — she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the painting next door, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

"Don't Stun them, Filch!" shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his suggestion.

"Right you are, Headmistress!" wheezed Filch, who was a Squib and could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom, and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

"C'mon," Harry laughed, "We should go before they decide to punish us for this."

Erick and Mel followed, they walked into a fake tapestry and there they found Fred and George.

"Impressive," Harry said brightly. "Very impressive... You'll put Dr Filibuster out of business, no problem..."

"Cheers," George laughed. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next... They multiply by ten every time you try..."

"Shouldn't you be trying to help Umbridge?" Fred asked Erick with a smirk.

"I suppose," Erick let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Let's see..."

He peered through the tapestry and yelled 'Evanesco!' and soon enough the firecrackers multiplied. 

"I'm sorry, Professor! I'll go get help!" 

He came back and laughed along with the group of Gryffindors.

"Thank you for helping me back in the office," Mel said, gently nudging his arm. 

Erick made a face. "It's the least I could do after breaking your wrist... I can't do much..."

"You can," Harry replied. "Sabotage Umbridge from the inside. Daphne and the rest of  the Slytherins still have her trust..."

"I can't believe they turned out to be more decent than a Ravenclaw girl," Fred shook his head in disappointment. 

"We're not monsters, you know?" Erick raised a brow. "We just happen to have the common sense you Gryffindors lack."

"Yeah, yeah," Mel rolled her eyes, standing on her tiptoes to surround the boy's shoulders with her arm. "Gryffindor dumb, Slytherin smart— You still have to admit you've had more fun with us than all those years stuck with the snakes..."

"You didn't hear it from me, though," Erick smirked.

"Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"

Umbridge's threats now felt empty as Mel watched her running around, trying to get rid of the firecrackers and failing miserably. The teachers were having a lovely time pretending to not know how to get rid of them. You could feel the solidarity around the school, and it was all directed against Umbridge and her Inquisitorial squad.

Fred and George were treated as war heroes that night. Even students from other houses were there, celebrating their doings. 

"They were wonderful fireworks," Hermione admitted.

"Thanks," said George, surprised and pleased about her reaction. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we're going to have to start again from scratch now..."

"It was worth it, though," said Fred, who was writing down the new orders from his classmates. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe..."

"I will admit," Mel sniggered, "I find you really attractive this evening, Fred."

The twin laughed, and to her surprise, a blush crept up his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, a few students whistled and Mel laughed, walking away and following Hermione back to their table.

"Oh, why don't we have a night off?" said Hermione, looking at the way Ron and Harry were pouting at their bags. "After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then..."

"Are you feeling all right?" Ron smiled a bit in amusement.

"Now you mention it, d'you know... I think I'm feeling a bit... rebellious."

"Talking about rebellious," Mel started. "Umbridge threatened me — She'll try to convince me to speak by punishing you, so I'd appreciate it if you do your mischief carefully. I'd like to keep my mouth shut for a while."

"That's new," Ron snorted. 

"Shut it," Mel grinned, throwing him a cushion.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked. "I heard the way she was yelling at you..."

"I've had worse," She shrugged. "I mean, little can beat that one time Quirrel broke my skull, or when Lockhart called me dumb... or when an actual death eater kidnapped me — If Umbridge wants to scare me, she'll have to try harder."

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" Mel exclaimed in the middle of a busy hallway. "We need to talk..."

"Are we breaking up?" Fred asked. 

Several students turned their heads in their direction, sudden interest adorning their faces. Mel scowled at them and dragged him away from the crowd. 

"You should learn to be quiet..."

"Never been good at it," He smirked. "I like the attention too much if you haven't noticed..."

"We can talk about that another day..."

"Right," He nodded, adopting a serious expression. "We're here to get a divorce."

"How do you know I'm breaking things up?" Mel scoffed. "What if I'm trying to ask you on a real date?"

"Lady, I've seen the way you look at me — like I'm a pup you can't bring yourself to give away. It's flattering, I didn't know I had that power," He grinned stupidly. "But you're right, it's about time we end things."

"I wish I didn't have to," Mel pouted. "I'm having fun!"

"But we don't like each other like that," Fred reminded her. 

Mel lowered her gaze before quietly replying, "No, we don't."

"And you don't hate Harry now."

"I never did," Mel sighed.

"And I saw him arguing with Cho last night," Fred raised a brow. "So maybe you'll get a second chance after all."

"No," Mel disapproved. "You know is not like that anymore, the whole point of this was to help me get over Harry."

"Yeah," Fred tilted his head, staring at her with a funny little smile. "Sorry, that's true. It's strange... I always thought it'd be you and Harry, now... I have no idea."

The news about her breakup spread around the school in less than an hour. Everyone approached with words of comfort as if she had gone through the death of a loved one, she was starting to regret her decision when Harry sat next to her with such a grim look she knew she wouldn't be able to accept his condolences without spilling the truth.

"Listen," She stated bluntly. "Yes, it's really sad that Fred and I broke up, but—"

"What?" Harry looked at her in disbelief. "You broke up?"

"...You didn't know?"

"When did that happen?" He questioned in confusion.

"A few hours ago," She said, pushing aside the subject. "What were you going to tell me?"

Harry looked around the hall and pointed towards the empty classroom near them. She got up from the bench and followed him inside.

"What's the matter?"

"Snape banned me from his office." 

"What! Why?" She exclaimed. "He has to teach you!"

"That's not the point," He said, "I saw a memory — He made me promised I wouldn't say but... I need to talk about it with you."

"Why?"

"I saw my father..." Harry paused before adding. "Emily as well." 

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

[nekoabiwrites]

Oh my god, they were roommates...

IT’S @not-so-innocent-bi-sander‘s BIRTHDAY! At least in my time zone~ And I tried my best to make a fic that covers all that Jordan loves :D

AU: Human/College AU Pairing: Prinxiety Words: 3408 Warnings: Panic attack, nudity. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Virgil didn’t think he’d ever see him again and yet, here he was... and he was hot!

--

“Across the hall from your room is our final roommate, Virgil Evans. He pr-”

“Virgil Evans?!”

The loud exclamation of his name had something clicking in the young adult’s mind. The voice was eerily familiar, though Virgil would have sworn up and down that it was just a hallucination and that no one was even out on the landing. The now muffled voices and the thumping of heavy things hitting the ground told him that someone was definitely out there, or at least was before they moved into the empty room opposite his own. There was no way it could be… could it? He went to shake the thought from his head and get back to work, but a sudden excited knocking at his door interrupted him. With a slight shake of his hand, Virgil walked up to the door and grasped the handle to see who was on the opposite side.

Everything stood still immediately once the door was opened. Virgil was, metaphorically, flung back in time by the mere sight of the man before him.

They had both been akin to outcasts in middle school; one a fledgling emo who was too scary and quiet, the other a small pudgy child who was too loud and excitable. Somehow, they were complete opposites yet fit so well together, almost like puzzle pieces. They liked to play make-believe, watch Disney movies, draw and paint. Though, on a deeper level, there was far more in common.

Virgil had been in denial in middle school. He realised that he found his friend absolutely adorable and really cute, and he realised one day during a pretend scene of true love’s kiss saving the day that he actually did like kissing his friend. But Virgil couldn’t say that, it could ruin his best friendship and – most definitely – the rest of his entire life. So, it stayed hidden and Virgil pretended like all of his emotions weren’t there. Up until the day he left.

One day, Virgil was waiting in the usual spot when his friend approached him, looking sad. He told Virgil that his family were moving away, and he was going to have to change schools. It felt as though Virgil’s entire world was crashing around him. A week passed and he was gone. Virgil was back to being alone. He thought he’d never see his friend again. Apparently, he was dead wrong.

“I can’t believe it! It’s actually you! I’d recognise your emo ass anywhere, though I didn’t expect you to get better at it!” His old friend laughed heartily, giving Virgil a once over.

Virgil rolled his eyes and leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, “Didn’t expect you to become a meathead like your brothers, but I guess we were both wrong, Roman Prince.” Virgil put extra emphasis on his last name, which caused a grin spread across his face as the man before him almost inflated with indignation.

“How dare you!” Roman pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, “I will have you know I surpassed them greatly with my grades, thank you very much!”

“Like that was hard.”

“Are you undermining my achievements?!”

“A little.”

They continued to argue back and forth for a few more minutes before a quiet voice interrupted them and both of their heads turned to the new participant in the conversation. “Um, are you two fighting? Please don’t fight, at least not on the first day…”

Virgil ducked his head in embarrassment, “Sorry, Pat… Didn’t mean to freak you out…”

“Yes, many apologies. We weren’t arguing. Just old friends teasing each other as you do!”

Patton’s eyes lit up, “Wait! Are you the friend from middle school that V-”

Immediately, the emo was out of the doorway and in front of Patton, his hand clamped over his mouth. “Patton, shut up!” Virgil hissed, his face already beginning to burn in embarrassment.

A chuckle had Virgil’s stomach churning, “So, Virgil has mentioned me, hm? I guess I am unforgettable.”

“Whatever. I’ll be in my room.” Virgil muttered, slinking back into the dark bedroom. He shut the door in Roman’s face, who tried to get one last comment in. He listened carefully to the sounds in the hallway; the short conversation between Roman and Patton, the footsteps descending the stairs as the door across the hall shut and vague noises of Roman unpacking started. Only then did Virgil allow himself to whisper scream as he collapsed onto his sheets. He asked a question in his mind, ‘How the fuck did he get hot?!’

--

Virgil hoped that, over time and with exposure, his sudden surge of attraction to his old friend would dissipate. Perhaps Roman would have weird habits that would turn Virgil off or maybe his personality – having changed over the years – would grind on Virgil’s last nerve until every ounce of attraction fizzled away. Of course, things were not that simple.

Roman was just as energetic and friendly as he had been years prior, easily making friends with not only the other roommates living with them but also many other students, and even the grumpy old lady who lived in the house next door who always complained about the weird phantom noises they were apparently making at 3am when they were all asleep (or at least, lying in bed). He always had time for Virgil though.

By the end of the first week he’d been living in the house, Roman had somehow gained an all-access pass to Virgil’s room at most reasonable times of the day. To the point that the two would just sit and do work before eventually falling into long discussions – or arguments – about nothing in particular. Some days, they’d simply fill each other in on their lives since they parted ways. Roman was extremely invested in Virgil’s life and what became of the other kids from their school, and Virgil could say the same about Roman.

It was during one of these conversations that Roman asked a particularly interesting question. He was laying on his front, head held up by his hands. There was an open notebook to the side of him, though it was all but forgotten at this point.

“I haven’t heard you mention anything about the topic but I’m very interested, so I’ll ask anyway. How many of the girls did you have throwing themselves at you when you got older? I bet that dark and mysterious vibe got them all, didn’t it?” Roman wiggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning slyly as Virgil choked on the drink in his hand.

The emo put the cup down and smacked his chest a couple of times before rasping out a short “What?! No. The fuck?!”

“Oh… Sorry, I just thought with your good looks and the whole… aesthetic you have going on, you’d have the pick of them all.” Roman said sincerely. Virgil’s cheeks darkened at the compliment and Roman’s eyes quickly lit up. He swung around, throwing his legs off the side so he could assess Virgil closer, “Virgil… I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer me but… were there any… guys?”

The immediate spinning of Virgil’s desk chair told Roman everything. The sly grin creeped back up onto his face as he stood, approaching the chair that now faced away from him. Roman faked a gasp before resting his crossed arms on the back of the chair, “Did I get it right?”

Virgil huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. In a single swift movement, he grabbed the rainbow stress toy from his desk (a gift from Patton) and threw it over his shoulder, attempting to hit Roman’s shoulder with it. However, the tug on the back of the chair and the undignified high-pitched yelp followed by stumbling steps had Virgil thinking he’d missed his mark. It didn’t stop him from laughing after he turned in his chair and found Roman pouting at him indignantly.

“Oh, yes. Laugh it up. It’s just so funny that you tried to assault me!” Roman tossed his head with a sniff, a haughty look upon his face.

Virgil managed to control himself a little in order to respond, “You look like such a jock, but you are way too gay for that. And I hope that this answered your dumb question, Princey.” He picked the stress toy off the ground and held it up for Roman to truly get a look at before putting it back on his desk.

Roman perked back up once he saw the toy properly, “Well, thank goodness for that! I don’t think I could have lived knowing someone as pretty as you was straight.” He situated himself back on Virgil’s bed and went back to looking over his notes, while Virgil stewed over what he’d just heard.

The weeks passed and nothing was getting better for Virgil. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t just bottle it up within himself anymore, he just had to talk to someone. That’s how he found himself laying on his back on Logan’s bed, staring up at the precise constellations that dotted his ceiling.

“If you truly want my opinion, Virgil, it seems there is enough evidence to show that your affecti-”

“Ahhh, don’t call it that!” Virgil threw an arm over his eyes, as if that would help him get away from the truth of his smart friend’s words, “Is there anything else you can say instead?”

“Virgil.”

Logan placed his tablet pen back into its holder, twisted the lid of his laptop back to its regular position and turned to face his bed. His left leg crossed over his right and his arms tightly crossed over his chest, looking at Virgil with his stern steely gaze. The emo lying there almost squirmed away, as he could feel the piercing gaze even without seeing it.

“Ughhhh, I knew you’d be no help!” Virgil slid himself off of the sheets and onto his feet, heading towards the door, “I’m gonna go see if Patton’s in. Maybe he’ll help me more!”

Logan said nothing, simply shrugging – which Virgil caught sight of in the mirror next to the door – before turning back to his work, “If you think he’ll help, then go ahead. Unlike you, I am actually trying to complete my studies, so you’ll know where I will be.”

A light twitch of a smile came to Virgil’s lip as he muttered a thanks under his breath before fake-storming out of Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and went to text Patton. His attention was so focused on his phone that he didn’t notice the sound of a new door opening near to him. It was only when he collided with something warm and solid that Virgil realised someone else was in the hallway with him. He quickly lifted his head to apologise, but found his words catching in his throat at the sight.

Roman stood just in front of him, still damp from his shower that he’d clearly just finished. His hair was slicked back with the water, though a few strands had fallen across his forehead from the slight jolt of someone walking into him. Virgil’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the trail of a droplet that had already run its course down Roman’s torso, drinking in every detail of his clearly well-looked after body. He was just muscular enough to have definition, as well as being incredibly broad chested – which really made Virgil realise how much taller Roman had grown as Virgil had clearly made contact with his pecs when they’d bumped into each other. His eyes travelled even further before Virgil could even consider tearing his eyes away from the sight before him. Roman’s body was almost that unbelievable triangle shape that he’d only seen on magazine covers, advertisements and movies. It even had that V-shape that guided Virgil’s gaze to the towel that was hanging low on Roman’s waist, being held up by only one of Roman’s hands.

All of a sudden, Virgil came back to himself. Thankfully, it had only been a few seconds since the impact, and both had been a little startled. Virgil, however, took several steps away, blushing a deep red. He stuttered, attempting to find something to say as he backed up to Logan’s door again. As he fumbled behind him for the door handle, Roman approached slowly, looking concerned. Virgil hadn’t even noticed he’d started to panic.

“Virgil. It’s okay. We’re both okay. Try to breathe…” Roman spoke calmly, holding his hands before him. However, he’d seemingly forgotten that his hand was the one thing keeping the towel from falling to the ground. As he went to reassure Virgil with both hands, Roman could feel the fabric fall from around his waist.

Virgil outright screeched pterodactyl-style and dove into Logan’s room, his face burning. He didn’t see Roman also turn a fantastical shade of red as he saved at least some of his modesty as the door had been slammed shut just as quick. The larger of the two listened at the door for a few seconds. He waited until he heard Logan speaking to Virgil, coaching him through breathing techniques to quell his panic, before heading back to his room to get dressed.

In Logan’s room, Virgil was slowly uncurling from the tight ball he’d managed to get into in his panic as his breathing was starting to return to a somewhat normal level. His eyes were swimming and his head was pounding, but he was able to make out the shape of Logan kneeling beside him.

“Are you feeling better, Virgil? Would you like me to fetch you some water?” Logan asked, analysing Virgil’s body language.

“That… um, please… yes.” Virgil wheezed, stretching out on the ground. He carefully stretched each muscle from the tips of his fingers to his toes as Logan cautiously stepped around him and out of his room. Virgil allowed the sense of embarrassment to wash over him again and his face continued to burn, though his panic was manageable. He could not believe that he’d almost lost it over Roman, of all people. He went to audibly groan whilst slapping his hands across his face, but the sound of Roman’s voice had him stopping mid-movement to listen to every single syllable.

He heard Roman address Logan, clearly both in the hallway nearer the kitchen.

“How is everything?” Roman asked, concerned.

“He is doing relatively well, compared to the state he came to me in, if that’s what you are asking.” Logan’s voice was getting closer. Virgil sat himself up, so he wasn’t caught by Roman lying on the ground.

“That’s good. Um, could you tell him that I’m sorry for whatever happened. I don’t know if it was my fault or what, but I just want to cover my bases, just in case.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. I think it’s best if you don’t come too close. Seeing you again may cause a slight relapse.” Logan stated as his voice came right up to the door. Virgil was now sat with his back pressed against the bed, trying his hardest to look natural.

“O-oh. Right. Of course. Um, well… I hope everything is okay…” Roman sounded disappointed, but a set of footsteps started to retreat away from the room and up the stairs.

Logan then opened the door and entered, his face as stoic as ever. He handed the glass of water to Virgil before sitting himself back into his desk chair and continuing to work. Eventually, there was a rustle of bedsheets that told Logan that Virgil had gotten off of the floor and sat himself back on Logan’s bed. Virgil was muttering something under his breath.

The chair spun back around before stopping on a dime as Logan sighed, “Virgil, if you are going to say something, please let me hear it. I would like to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Virgil gave his friend a withering look that had no malice behind it as this was just the way they worked, “I said ‘I’m going to fucking die’” Virgil made air-quotes around his words.

Logan smiled wryly, “If you’re going to do that here, could you at least make it quiet? I do have a project to finish.” He waited to see Virgil smirk and stick his tongue out playfully before turning back to his laptop, giving Virgil some space to think.

It was after dinner when Virgil started to make his ascent back up to his room finally. There had been a long conversation with Logan once the emo had his thoughts in a semi-coherent order which had ultimately ended with the conclusion that both sides had a mutual interest and that Virgil should really just go for whatever he wanted. It was just as that final point was made that Patton knocked on Logan’s door in order to call him out for food.

“Oh! Virgil! I was about to call you and Roman down, but since you’re here, come on out!” Patton cheerfully said, grinning from ear to ear. The peppy student practically skipped away to call out to Roman, leaving Logan’s door wide open. Both of the other students emerged, slipping into the kitchen quietly. As food was being served up and they were all eating, Virgil avoided eye contact with Roman, even as his roommate was trying his hardest to catch Virgil’s eye. He was working out the script in his head, as Virgil knew he would never do it if not today.

It was only once he was halfway up the stairs and Roman called his name that Virgil even contemplated looking at his roommate again. When he did, his face flushed pink once again at the memory of what he’d seen. Virgil pushed that all away however, as Roman took the stairs two at a time to catch up to him.

“Are you alright? I wanted to check on you after what happened earlier, but Logan said I probably shouldn’t. Just in case. But I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Roman rattled off as they both headed up to their rooms.

Virgil stopped outside his room, leaning against the closed door. “Yeah, I’m good. Just was a little… surprised, I guess?” He mumbled, looking at a very interesting piece of the carpeted floor.

“Good. Good. I didn’t want to uh… traumatise you or something.” Roman laughed nervously, which got Virgil’s attention. He’d never heard Roman nervous before.

Slowly, Virgil raised his gaze, “Well, um, thanks? I guess? Logan helped me. We talked about a lot…” he trailed off, unsure of himself.

“What did you talk about?”

“Just… what happened and things.”

“Things?”

Virgil was shifting his weight from foot to foot, his nervousness getting the better of him. He was trying to remember the script he came up with in his head, but nothing was coming to him. This wasn’t how this was all supposed to go. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. The emo growled under his breath before practically shouting, “I fucking like you, okay?!” Immediately, Virgil clapped his hand over his mouth and his eyes widened in shock at his own outburst.

The silence rang out between the two students. Virgil was unwilling to move and Roman was almost moving in slow motion. He tentatively reached out, loosely grasping Virgil’s wrist in order to pry his hand away from his mouth. It only took a step to close the distance between them, “I like you too, Virgil. Took you long enough to notice.”

Virgil was shocked this was working out the way it was. He was barely aware of what happened before Roman’s lips were brushing against his own, silently asking a question that required an answer. Instead of words, Virgil simply threw himself onto Roman, crushing their mouths together.

Immediately, his back was pushed up against his closed door once more as Roman took charge of the situation. The larger let go of Virgil’s waist in order to grab the door handle and push it open, leading Virgil inside. As the emo let his bedroom door swing shut, he watched Roman tug his shirt over his head and tossed it aside before taking one large step to close the distance between them once again. The lock on the door hit home immediately.

--

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander​​ @didsomeonesayprince​​ @llamaly​​ @justanotherpurplebutterfly​​  @iaminmultiplefandoms​​ @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​​ @lowkeyvirgilobsessed​​ @louisthewarlock​​ @fangsandrainbows​​ @xxladystarlightxx​​ @sleepyssnail​​ @ao-koshka​​ @notalwaysthevillian​​ @pumpkinminette​​ @doces-e--tuga​​ @coloursintheblur​​ @safesandersides​​ @hogwarts-my-love​

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Morality Sanders #Logic Sanders #Oh my god they were roommates #Human AU #College AU

[lenacker]

To Raise an Eaglet

Kuchel and Levi’s life in my Meet The Ackermans Modern! Rivetra AU

This is my longest work yet, Word count : 2654 words

"So you're not coming here for Christmas?" Kuchel holds her phone to her ear with her shoulder, while cutting the vegetables on the cutting board. She was preparing some special stew from her beloved son’s cute, little family.

"No, I’m working on a very important case, Mom. I.."

"Wait, wait," Kuchel wiped her hands to her apron, re-do her ponytail, and now holding her phone with her hand, meanwhile the other was on her hips. "don't say you're not even coming home to Petra for Christmas Eve? For fuck's sake Lev, that's intolerable! That’s your very own birthday! Don't put your work before your family! If they're gone then who are you working for?! What's the use of money when you have no one to spend it with? Seriously, I don't remember raising a man that's ........" 

Levi took a deep breath, putting his phone on the desk while his mom kept rambling here and there. He loves her so much, but she always talks too much for her own good. Sometimes he even wondered how they share the same genes with the difference between their amount of words they can say in one breath.

When he put the phone back to his ear, he didn't hear the nag of his mother. Instead, the woman he heard since he remembered sounds like she's on the verge of tears.

"..... but I guess it can't be helped, huh? It's okay then, it doesn't like I've prepared anything, anyway. Say hi to Petra and the boys for me."

Kuchel sighed, pushing herself with her hands against the countertop, and looked to the ceiling to prevent her tears from falling. Why is she crying, anyway? It's not going to be her first alone Christmas! She spent plenty of them alone, trembling from the cold (and starvation if there are not enough customers in the brothel). 

Until one Christmas when she’s 20, she got a great gift she never even dared to imagine, a beautiful, little bundle of joy she named Levi. He came with such unbearable pain, blood, and tears but the moment she heard him scream and laid her eyes on him, no, even from the first time she felt her baby's move, she knows she wouldn't be alone anymore. 

I'm gonna protect you, she whispered while cradling Levi's tiny head against her chest, tears streaming from her tired eyes, We’ll live a better life together.

Life felt less ugly for a while. She had to hide her baby whenever a customer came, but it gets less lonely with a cute baby looking at you with such wonderful blue eyes. She hopes he doesn't grow up so he won't understand what kind of world they live in.

But of course, he grows. And in the process, Kuchel saw how unfit the environment they're in for a child's development. She saw how Levi started to laugh less, his skin pale and almost translucent. He stopped saying 'I love you' back when he's around four, instead, he would just hug her silently. He stopped moving when he had to hide from her customers in the tiny cupboard, not moving an inch. Not making any sound. It made her worried sick, she couldn't see if he's ok from the bed. Can he breathe properly? Is it normal for a 4 years old boy to stay still for hours?

At the age of six, he looks like a very malnourished four years old vampire-boy. His voice became raspy, his eyes darken, his cheeks sunken. In their city, it's difficult enough to find decent food when you have money, it's even harder when you don't. Sometimes he would give her some crumpled money he somehow finds, tells her to keep it to buy a new house so no scary men come to hurt mommy. That's also the year when she realized she has the disease that has been spreading around. Of fucking course. The disease takes over her entirely. In just a month, she can't even get up from her bed, her body feels like it's on fire. 

And the worst thing, she can't work nor provide food for little Levi. But he never asks for it either. He stayed with her on the bed, caressing her face with his bony hand. Around midday, he would get up, go for an hour or so, and come back with some half-decent food and bruises. Her heart ached every time he put the food inside her mouth, whispering 'please get better, mommy' with his raspy voice. 

She hoped she could ask him where he got the food and the bruises, tell him there's no way she could get better without any treatment, or simply say thank you because she's the one who was supposed to find food, but she couldn't force any sound out of her throat. Sometimes she sheds some tears, which Levi always reacts with a sad 'sorry mommy, I can't find better food'. It hurts even more. Sometimes she wondered if keeping him and bringing him to this cruel world is a mistake. Or if she's being selfish to want a friend in her lonely life.

Then she decided to give up. She kept her eyes shut, feeling how her body struggled to keep her alive. She let the darkness consume her.

-

But she didn't die. She didn't know how much time was passed but when she started to gain consciousness she heard the beeping sound beside her. 

Where am I? Her body does not hurt as much. She opened her eyes and was welcomed with Levi's beautiful blue-grey eyes right in front of her own.

"Levi?"

Wait, did she just talk? Did she really make a clear, understandable word? Well, that’s the first.

She observed her baby's face and noticed how he looks .....more like a normal child. She raised her hand to touch his surprisingly slight chubby cheeks, but he's faster. He moved down to hug -more like crushes, actually- her. He buried his face to her cheeks, mumbling long incoherent words to her cheeks. She felt how her cheeks moisten by his warm tears, how his body trembled, and wondered how she even thought of leaving this precious boy. 

"There's Kenny," Levi said once he calmed down, "he brought Mommy here and taught me to fight" then he proudly showed her some of the moves she recognized as Kenny's with a paring knife.

Kenny was a weird one, he always was. He's her only brother, but he never acted like one nor was there for her. He went to jail for killing some folks when she’s about ten. The last time she saw him was when she's pregnant, and he told him to abort her pregnancy. Of course, she refused, so he left without saying anything. 

"What did you do with Kenny, baby?" Did he teach you anything bad? killing people? He's a little bit psycho. Much to her relief, they just have some knife and martial arts training, then eat whatever food Levi wanted. Well at least her brother gave him food and brought her to the hospital. At least he keeps Levi alive even though he never approves of his presence.

A few weeks later, she's allowed to leave the hospital. She has been unconscious for three months, apparently. Kenny came, he took care of the administration and payment, drove them to a simple-clean apartment, left some money then left without any unnecessary words. They have never been a normal sibling with a heartfelt relationship but still, Kuchel hoped he would say something, where does he live now, why did he come, does he have any wife and kids, anything. 

And so, their brand new life began. In the morning Kuchel would bake some simple cookies, walk Levi to school while giving her cookies to shops along the street then she went to a supermarket near their home, where she worked as a part-time cashier. Then when her shift has finished, she picks her son home and takes her money from the shops. 

Years passed, their life gets better every day. Levi had poor social skills, but he managed to befriend two nice, orphan kids; Farlan and Isabel. Like everything he loves (Kuchel herself, a hand knife he got from Kenny, multi-functional stain remover, etc.) he was a bit overprotective. She had to meet the headmaster more than three times during Levi's first two months because her son 'created a commotion' when the only thing he did was protect his friends' dignity with his fists. She didn't think it's bad. Kuchel always knows Levi is such a kind and sweet boy, he just prefers to show his crude side (from Kenny or their previous place, she's not sure). So instead of telling him to stop fighting bullies, she told him words can hurt more than any blow. And it turned out surprisingly well, he never 'created trouble' again. (Saying hurting words is not considered trouble, how weird).

In the blink of an eye, Levi became a handsome man wearing an immaculate suit, kissing Kuchel's cheek before leaving to go to his office for the umpteenth time. 

"Don't forget to find me a daughter-in-law," she said teasingly, handing him lunch. Her son pretended to look disgusted, then smiled softly "I don't think I can find someone as pretty and amazing as you, Mom. See you!" 

Ever since he turned 30, she kept reminding him that 29 is the average marriage age for a male and he would answer with the answer he just gave her this morning, or "Nobody would want to marry a grumpy, constipated looking man, Mom" or, "I will once I find the right one". 

Kuchel knew her son was admired by many (he always bring home at least two bags of chocolates on Valentine's Day), he's good-looking (not that tall due to the malnutrition in his early years, but still, even the old lady next-door had mentioned that he's hot). His salary as a detective at the Criminal Investigation Department is high enough to afford both of them that he forced her to quit working and enjoy life. But she's as stubborn as he is, so she sneakily still bakes some cookies and sells them to a bakery far enough from his office. 

About two hours later, right as her oven timer rings, the front door of their apartment opened, revealing a furious Levi. He only wears his shirt and trousers, the suit he initially wears this morning in his hands. Thankfully he didn't notice the freshly baked cookies because he’s too busy muttering curses angrily, something about an airheaded, bitchy woman. 

Woman? Well, that’s interesting. Kuchel couldn’t recall when’s the last time her son mentioned anything about women (never). Aside from Isabel and Hange 'shitty-four eyes’, that is. She raised one of her eyebrows, wondering if this could be the beginning of the hater-into-lover relationship she often watches at Korean dramas. 

“Oh, you’re home early. Something happened?” she asked as neutral as possible despite her giddiness, leaning against the doorframe of Levi’s bedroom. He was buttoning his white shirt, annoyance still clear on his face. However, he forced a grin. 

“Nothing, Mom. Just a friend of Hange’s. She smeared some cake cream on my suit. Don’t know what she’s thinking.” Kuchel nodded understandingly, what a daring girl to do that.

“Is she pretty?” She asked once more, already imagining a scheme upon how they would fall madly in love. 

Her son looks surprised, or somehow like someone who just remembers he forgot something important. He took his tie and walked to her, letting his mother tie it around his collar. (She secretly appreciates how he let her do it, despite knowing how to do it himself. It makes her feel needed) While she ties the red garment, Levi looks intensely to her eyes and mumbles, “ShehasbigeyeswiththesamecolorasyousoIguess.…”

Throughout the years, Kuchel noticed that despite being sweet and kind (to her, at least), her son has difficulties showing feelings he deemed ‘bad’ or maybe ‘weird’. He usually mumbles lengthy sentences that she learned to interpret. Like that time when one of her customers hurt her, 4 years old Levi tried to wash the blood and mumbles how he wanna be stronger and hurt the man back, and how he loves his mother. Or when she woke up in the hospital. Or when everybody in his class praises him for shaving his head when one of his classmates had cancer. Or every time he presented her with a bunch of flowers on Mother's Day. That habit is still there, evidently. 

She simply smiled, deciding to not tease him any further. She patted his chest, telling him to go back to his office, and let the topic go. 

But apparently, the Hange’s airheaded friend story doesn’t stop there.

About a month later, Levi went to watch a musical titled Hamilton with Hange. He always likes musical shows, mainly for the elaborate choreography. She didn’t expect her son to get home so late, and grumpier than ever. She asked him why, but he dismissed her. She didn’t need to wonder for long, because Hange called her (it’s not even a rare occurrence, they’re so close that they often call her randomly in the middle of the night). 

"I tried to set him with my roommate," they said, "Petra is a very sweet girl, not to mention that she's clean and pretty short. She's pretty much perfect for him. I tried to push them into the stuck-in-the-elevator scenario, but I guess Levi ended up saying the wrong thing that Petra smeared her cake -that I ordered- to him. Of course, I didn’t just give up. So, I ordered two Hamilton tickets -it was soo expensive and hard to find!- anyway, I gave one to Levi and another to Petra, and pretend that I'm the one who'll go with them" They talked in a very Hange way, fast and passionate. They sounded really proud of their plan.  “Do you want to meet her too? I bet you two will connect instantly, Imma send you her bakery’s location, how’s that?”

So, the next day Kuchel visited Petra’s bakery and immediately fell in love. She’s like….a sun personified. Like, even her entire appearance was so bright and fun. Her hair was shoulder-length wavy hair, the root was strawberry blonde and it got lighter that the tip was light blonde. Her eyes are big, round, sparkling light brown eyes, and freckles peppered her cute face. She wore an ankle-length light yellow sundress with small blue flower patterns that complement her pale skin perfectly. She talked with a lot of hand motions, and she slips her hair behind her right ears every once in a while.

Yes, this one’s definitely perfect for her Levi.

-

December 22, 5 days after that (surprisingly) emotional phone call. Kuchel woke up to the loud sound of her doorbell. Seriously, the shameless guest was ringing the bell like some kind of madman in the middle of the night. Wait, what if that's a real madman? 

Ah, screw that, she thought sleepily, whoever that is they definitely need to be taught some lesson. She got off her bed, picked a frying pan from the kitchen, and then opened her door.

It's not a shameless nor mad man. 

In front of her door, Leo was sitting on Levi's shoulders while still ringing the bell vigorously with a big grin. Beside him, Petra was fixing her hold to Liam, while the ginger-haired toddler calmly eats his lollipop.

"Gran-Gran!" Leo greeted (gosh, that boy has too much energy for his own good), while his little brother just waved his hand that wasn't holding the lolly. 

Kuchel put down her frying pan, "Hey, guys! Come in!" 

She moved to the side, letting the little family inside. Leo immediately ran off to his favorite playing spot, the cabinet under the stairs. His brother tottered sleepily behind him.  

“So…...what happened to the case?”, she asked with as much sarcasm as possible, while locking the front door again, “Finally realizing your family’s more important than some ruthless murderer?”

A/N : I love Hamilton.

#rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #kuchel ackerman #my OC ackerman babies #Meet The Ackermans AU #rivetra fic #more like backstory actually #this literally took years #this one was abandoned for like 2 years? #anyway I love mamachel #hange zoe #the ultimate rivetra shipper

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

Fic: La festà del papà

When I said “little fic” in the other post, I truly meant it. It’s super short, but I hope someone will like it. Title: La festà del papà Lenght: 1096  Characters: Alberto Scorfano, Massimo Marcovaldo, Luca Paguro, Giulia Marcovaldo Rating: G Synopsis: Alberto struggles to find the perfect present for a special day.

"Nothing! I've got nothing but this stupid drawing!!" Alberto groans, pacing up and down his room. Well, it's actually Giulia's but she doesn't mind him settling there while she's away. And he wasn't expecting her - and Luca - to be back before June, but here they are. Making Massimo smile for the first time of this extremely dull day - he hates it when the sea is too rough to go fishing - when they had knocked on the front door.

"Giulietta? Luca? What are you doing here?"

"Santa Mozzarella... You forgot about it, as usual... It's the 19th of March, today, dad... St. Joseph? Does it ring a bell?" It sure did, judging from the way he picked the girl up and hugged her tight. Alberto, on the other hand, still had no idea what they were talking about. So he took his best friend's hand and dragged him into the bedroom.

"Care to tell me what's so special about today?" He'd asked, feeling like he was the only one being left in the dark. He couldn't stand Luca and Giulia keeping secrets from him.

"From what I gathered, it's the day when they celebrate their fathers? Something called 'la festa del papà'?"

"Oh, that's right. Of course, of course. I know all about it, I just kinda forgot... " He'd lied through his teeth, a bit ashamed of how their roles had reversed from last summer and Luca seemed to be the expert when it came to the humans. It made sense, since he was the one going to school and all... but it stung, nonetheless. "So, what have you go there?"

"GIfts? Don't say anything to Massimo, though. It's a surprise!  It's nothing fancy, really, just his some farinata and some panissa we got on our way here. Giulia said he doesn't want her to spend money on presents, plus we had an art and crafts lesson in school just the other day to make presents for our dads... So I made this leaflet about 'land monsters' for my dad, and another about fish and their habits for Massimo. Not that he needs it, when he's got you. It just seemed nice.But then... Then we saw this and we thought that it could be cool gift too." It was a book about someone named 'Marcovaldo', apparently.

"Booooring. Mine is gonna be the coolest ever." He had bragged, while they walked back to the kitchen to have lunch. He had barely listened to Giulia and Luca telling them all about their adventures in the city and the amazing stuff they had learnt from their teacher - it was nothing new, anyway, nothing different from what they wrote in their letters and talked about on the phone - and chugged the food down, nearly burning his tongue on his lasagna, and then he ran all the way to his tower in the hope of finding something nice for the man that had taken him in.

Zero. Niente. Il nulla assoluto. Broken pieces of trinkets he had stolen from boats were all that was left there. If only he hadn't given the magic music box back to it's owner... But Massimo said stealing is something you're allowed to do only if you're starving and you need food and besides it seemed that the grammo... gramma... whatever THAT was called,  was quite dear to Tommaso. A gift from his late wife. Having an actual, physical, proof of the fact that you were thinking about a loved one was quite important to these people, wasn't it? Well, it had been really nice getting that knife for Christmas, so he could understand the appeal...

And he wanted Massimo to have that, to unwrap a weirdly shaped box and go "Uao!" It was too late to look for the perfect bait or earn enough to get him a sturdier net, a lighter but more lethal harpoon and a new boat with all the comforts. Rossella is nice and all, but too basic for a true fisherman. Alberto was going to improve it with a new engine,  and then with a machine that would drag the net up so that he wouldn't have to it by hand - a taxing job, especially now that all their catches were great... all thanks to Alberto himself, of course - and they were also going to have nice seats for sunbathing and having gelato and... and... Damn! He was just wasting his time. He'd better go back and spend the afternoon with his friends.

He had found them in the garden, heard Massimo mumble  "Guys, you really shouldn't have! Having you here was more than enough..." and then nearly tear up when he was given a bag with 'Buona festa del papà' written on it.

And that's it. That's how he ended up punching his pillow, regretting all the life choices that brought him to the Marcovaldo's household. What was the point of growing fond of that man and his grumpy cat, if it's not going to last? Now it's going be clear to Massimo that he's just a useless, ungrateful brat and he will be asked to leave...

"Alberto? What's wrong?" Well, of course Massimo had to come up and see why he was throwing a fit. He's just managed to ruin the day for him, as usual. That's all he's good at: ruining everything.

"I... I... I am sorry. They got you all those cool stuff and I just have...This?"  Massimo gently takes the piece of paper from his trembling hands, and then his eyes go all big like he can't believe what he's seeing. Is it that bad?

"Uao! I'm definitely not ready to give my old Rossella up but this looks wondeful! Would you mind talking me through its best features?" Alberto nods, enthusiastically, ready to tell Massimo all about them. The older man listens carefully, thanking him for the imput. Together, they pin it to the kitchen board while Luca and Giulia lavish him with praise about his creativity and artistic skills. Yeah, yeah, he's totally going to be the next Leonardo or something. And do better than a lady with an enigmatic smile.

"That's you and dad, right?" Giulia asks, pointing at the two stick figures on the boat.

"Yep."

"We make a great team, don't we... son?"

"Yes, we do."

#luca #pixar: luca #my writing #italian father's day

[dhwty-writes]

I've had 'Just give me a reason' by pink stuck in my head all day lol, I humbly offer it as a song prompt if it sparks anything :D

“If it sparks anything”... Fam, I just astralprojected back to 2013 and my first kiss! I had a lot of fun with it (although I got a bit distracted midway through, I’m sorry!)

I also couldn’t decide whether I wanted to do a post-mountain fix-it fic or a modern AU, so you’ll get both! Here’s the angsty one (that’s way longer than expected) :)

Read on AO3

The unfairness of it all as he staggered down the steep mountainside was overwhelming. Twenty years of his life for... what exactly? For nothing at all!

Over half of his measly human life he'd spent trailing after that grumpy... horse's arse of a witcher. He poured his heart and soul into a song cycle just to change Geralt's undeserved horrible reputation! (And to get rich, of course, but that was neither here nor there.) By rights he should claim ten percent of Geralt's income, but did he? No, of course not!

He'd never asked anything in return. Nothing but company, a friend, a tiny bit of affection even. Not love, of course. He might be delusional and a hopeless romantic, but not that much of an imbecile.

He knew Geralt loved Yennefer and that the affection was mutual. It was pretty much obvious for about anyone who saw them together. And Jaskier wasn't just anyone. He and the witcher shared just about anything — food, coin, clothes, beds sometimes, when it was cold or there was only one room left. And, though the witcher denied that fervently, Geralt talked in his sleep sometimes.

Jaskier had discovered that one freezing night in a tavern in Kovir, when he'd woken up because he was uncomfortably warm. Additionally, to the heap of quilted blankets they laid under, Geralt had draped himself over him, too, clutching him tight against his chest. 'Cute,' Jaskier had thought, 'Geralt's a cuddler.'

But then he had started talking, and it had been torture of the most exquisite kind. Most of his ramblings were unintelligible, but those he could understand were unbearably sweet. "Don't go," Geralt would say whenever Jaskier tried to move away. Or "C'mere" and tug him closer to his chest. There were plenty of "Y'smell good"s and, on one memorable occasion an "I love you". None of them were meant for him, of course. But, oh, how he wanted them to be.

Jaskier had fallen for Geralt the moment he'd spotted him in that tavern, grumpily nursing his tankard of ale. He'd been absolutely smitten as soon as they walked free from Filavandrel and Geralt smiled at his "Respect doesn't make history" nonsense, thinking he wouldn't see. They had travelled together for the better part of a month, before destiny had parted them again. At an inn at the crossroads Jaskier had stolen a pretty lad's virginity and Geralt had ridden off into the sunset, not knowing he had stolen Jaskier's heart in turn. 'Good old days.'

Only that they weren't good anymore. Jaskier heaved a sigh that sounded more like a sob than anything else. What had previously been a rose-and-gold-coloured fantasy of a memory, seemed now rather dull, truth be told.

After a few weeks going their separate way, Jaskier had heard of a witcher near Hagge and gone to seek him out. They had travelled again, on and off. Most of the time it had been him, who had actively looked for Geralt, tracking down rumours about white-haired monster hunters. But not always.

Right before the whole child surprise ordeal, it had been him performing in a tavern and Geralt barrelling inside, interrupting him mid-song. "Jaskier!" the witcher had shouted. "There you are. I've got a contract, come with me?"

Or that other time in early fall. He'd gotten himself a comfortable place for the winter in the home of some noble lady, who he'd been entertaining with music, poems and other uses of his silver tongue alike, when one early evening a servant knocked on their door, quite adamantly insisting there was a visitor for the troubadour. His host had been none too pleased when he'd gotten up and dressed to greet a witcher of all people. "What the fuck were you thinking, bard," Geralt had growled, "not showing up all summer. I thought you were dead."

All in all, Jaskier had thought that his affection was, at least to some extent, reciprocated. And now this.

After twenty years the moment he'd dreaded had finally come. Twenty years of lavishing Geralt with love. Geralt, the person who'd been told he couldn't feel, mustn't feel. Twenty years of shouting his adoration to the heavens, to finally be told that it was unwanted.

To borrow Geralt's words: "Fuck." He needed a drink.

~*~

Geralt of Rivia was an idiot and he knew it. The revelation had dawned on him almost instantly after his foolish outbreak. Well, not entirely instantly. He had a feeling, at the very least, although he hadn't expected the bard to take his words literally. 

He hadn't been able to get rid of him with his gruff exterior before, so he hadn't thought he would now. The realisation that Jaskier was truly gone dawned on him, when he reached the base of the mountain a few days later and the bard was nowhere to be found.

Roach was still there, as were Geralt's bags. Their content wasn't. After twenty years of carrying frivolous outfits, chewed-on quills tattered notebooks that smelled of lavender, they were uncomfortably light.

"Fuck," Geralt said quietly. He didn't know why, but some part of him had hoped to find Jaskier there. 'Where he belongs,' his brain supplied unhelpfully. He frowned deeply, trying to rid himself of that thought. Jaskier wasn't some kind of possession to be owned.

But when he settled down for the night that evening, the forest devoid of any melodic chattering, of joyful laughter, of life, he knew it was true. Jaskier might not belong to him, he mused as he crawled into his bedroll. 'But he belongs to my side all the same.'

Somewhere along the twenty years of companionship — gods, was it truly twenty years? It was nothing for him, but such a long time for humans, who aged so fast — Jaskier had managed to firmly worm himself under Geralt's skin, to the point where there was something missing now that he was truly gone.

Geralt slept terribly that night. When the sun rose the next morning, he set out on another hunt. Not for a monster, that time, but the best thing destiny had ever given to him, that he had chased away with his brashness.

The scavenger hunt led him halfway across the continent, until he stumbled into another tavern on the coast of Temeria. Jaskier's trail hadn't been too hard to follow. Apparently, his friend had been fucking and drinking his way through three kingdoms.

And the bard looked as if he was doing a good job of adding a fourth one. He was more than just a little tipsy, sitting rather than standing on the stage. An agonised look passed over his face when he saw Geralt. He wanted to rush over and pull him into a hug, but then Jaskier started singing and the witcher was just frozen in place. It was the most heart-wrenching ballad yet. It took him only about three lines to realise who it was about. 'Fuck,' he thought.

All his instincts told him to flee. He wasn't prepared for this. He couldn't do this. But Jaskier had seen him already. No getting out of it now.

So, he shouldered his way through the crowd Jaskier always attracted and tried to hide in some secluded corner of the tavern. It took incredibly long for the bard to finally finish his set, and even then he made no attempt to seek Geralt out. Instead, he languidly leaned onto the bar, flirting with the barmaid behind it.

He barely suppressed a growl. 'Fine,' he thought and got up to confront his mistakes. He slammed his tankard down next to Jaskier, scaring the barmaid off in the process. "Jaskier," he greeted him.

"Oh, great," he sneered in response. "There goes my bed for the night."

"Hmm," he answered and ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

"What, for chasing off my newest conquest? I fucking hope you are!"

"No, Jaskier," he answered honenstly. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"Hmph, you need to do a lot better than that," he said and reached over the bar for a bottle of strong-smelling liquor. He poured himself a glass and knocked it back. Without pause he continued: "Because you know what? I'm fucking angry, Geralt."

"Do we have to do this here?" he hissed. They were attracting glares. Never a good thing for a witcher.

"No," Jaskier admitted and stood up. Bottle in hand he walked towards the stairs. "You're paying for the room."

"Sure," he grumbled and flagged down the innkeep. By the time he had managed to acquire a key, Jaskier had already dragged himself upstairs and drained a good portion of the bottle.

Geralt snorted and unlocked the door, but didn't comment on it. "What I've been trying to say-" he began, and was promptly interrupted:

"How about trying to shut up?" Jaskier hissed and kicked the door shut. "How about trying to listen to me after twenty fucking years?!"

"Jaskier, what I said-"

"This isn't about what you said! Don't you understand? What you said is only the tip of the figurative dragon mountain. I thought you actually liked me! I thought we were friends."

'Shit,' Geralt thought and ground his teeth. "Hmm."

Jaskier laughed hoarsely. "Oh, great. That same old story again. Why am I even bothering...?" He drank straight from the bottle, swaying a bit on his feet.

"You're drunk," he tried to say as neutrally as possible.

"And you're shutting me out again," he countered. Neither of them were wrong.

"I don't know what to say," Geralt tried.

Jaskier wasn't impressed: "Evidently." He made no attempt to follow that up with anything.

After a few moments of silence, Geralt realised that it was his turn to try and fix this mess with words of all things. "I can't sleep," he tried. "Not since you left."

"Poor you," Jaskier mocked cruelly. "I can't either."

"I can't sleep without you," he tried again. "It's cold. I'm dreaming. And when I wake up I'm alone. Roach is a horrible conversationalist and my camps are too big."

Jaskier put the bottle down slowly, gaping at him.

"I walked the path for decades without you and it was fine. It's not anymore. I can't do it any longer. And I guess... I guess I was scared." The words weren't any less intimidating once he'd finally said them. "You said I talk in my sleep?"

"You do."

"I don't. It's been beaten out of me in Kaer Morhen."

"So?"

He closed his eyes as tightly as he could. It was stupid, he knew. Childish, even. But he couldn't look at Jaskier for this. "So, I meant it. Every word of it."

No reaction.

"Please, Jaskier, I need you to forgive me."

"Give me one reason and I just might." He could hear him come closer. "Say it," he demanded. "Look me in the eye and say it."

It took him every ounce of his discipline to open his eyes and look at Jaskier, barely two feet away from him. "I love you," he said quietly.

"Louder."

"I love you. I've loved you for years, and it scared me, so I couldn't let you know. Witchers aren't supposed to be scared, and that scared me even more, and-"

The rest of his words was silenced by Jaskier's lips. The bard practically leapt at him, snaking his arms around his neck and pulling him close. "You're an idiot," he said when he pulled away. "A fool, a nitwit, an absolute imbecile. The stupidest man alive!"

"I am," he agreed, looping his arms around his waist.

"Why, oh why, do I have to love you of all people?"

"You love me?"

He laughed a teary laugh. "I do, I do. For years and years. How didn't you notice?"

"Because I'm a fool," Geralt said and kissed him again. He just couldn't resist.

"I'm still angry," Jaskier informed him.

"That's alright. But you don't hate me?"

"Far from it."

"And when I wake up on the morrow, you'll be there?"

"Yes," Jaskier promised with another kiss.

Geralt couldn't help but grin. "Good."

#my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #prompt fill #post-mountaion fic #angst with a happy ending #i'm sorry if the ending's a bit wonky #heart-of-a-rose #look i've got an ask