#( now to try and write more christmas asks and / or threads before work~

[shiningstages]

So, (if it gets approved) up until May I'll be going back to work more days at my retail job! This is just to help me save up bunches of money again for whatever Big University and Life put up for me come summer. I've scheduled my days off for Thursday and Saturday (the days my dad usually has off so we can hang out), but my store is also probably getting less hours into the new year (even though it's been so busyyyy) so I may have an extra day off here or there. I'm still gonna try my best to write bunches, especially since I've gotten so much energy for it as of late, but I just wanted everyone here to know in case my activity dips in the new year!

[slayemal-na-nerate]

//Hi again.

So, the walls in our old place finally got fixed like a week before Christmas, but we continued to live in chaos bc we were convinced 2x that we were going to be able to buy a house, so we weren't really trying to settle in.

I did a 2 month long depression treatment that involved driving 30-45 minutes out every weekday to get my head strapped into a machine that tapped on it really loudly for 20 minutes. All I got was a complete absence of free time and an increase in headaches. Also worth noting that I was still living in a tarped up home for the entirety of the treatment, so the effectiveness of the treatments may have been compromised.

Due to a combination of switching from opening to closing shifts in order to make it to the aforementioned treatments, which apparently left me with lower seniority, and scheduling being the hot messes they've always been, I ended up being subjected to a dramatic increase in physical and emotional stimuli. I did not comprehend this extra overstimulation until it was too late, much like one likely wouldn't notice their pipes were leaking if their house had already been caught in a flood. All I knew was that I ended up calling out a lot more, and because I was trying to look good for a home loan, I ended up using all my vacation time to pay myself out. I had been planning to ask for a vacation at the beginning of the year just to give my mind a break for a bit, but honestly, who knows if that actually would've done anything at this point.

Thanks to the bitchiest seller's agent in existence, the house my mom and I should be living in right now got to sit on the market for months longer waiting for a cash offer bc apparently an FHA loan with underwriter's approval for over asking wasn't fancy enough to be trusted to close. Our home-owning dreams unfortunately hit a massive roadblock when the new year started, bc my mom finally had to file her last round of taxes, which decreased any loan we might qualify for to basically nothing in our state.

With the threads my mental health was hanging on by having snapped several times over by now, I finally went on medical leave in February. It just seemed pointless continuing to pretend I was in working condition given all the shifts, meals, and meds I continued to skip. Almost a month in, my mom found a new rental opportunity for us, and we started packing to move out.

April's our first month in this new place. I'm nowhere near being unpacked, and I don't know how I'm going to be when I have to go back to work (which is farther now) until I can quit sometime soon, hopefully. However, I am seeing some progress in my depressive symptoms, and I'm mostly healed from the injuries I sustained during the move-in process. Anyway, I'm obviously not in a stable enough place to completely end my hiatus, but I would like to write a bit on here again, so if that sounds fun and you're willing to be patient with replies in the meantime, hit me up, I guess?

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Christmas update on my best girl Lailah? If there's anything more to tell, you know

Lailah, the story that this is referencing.

The problem with Lailah is that I very firmly believe that her story is best left open ended - is it a tragedy? Does she survive? Who knows!!! So unfortunately I couldn't give you anything solid as a story per se, but I hope this works? I really enjoyed writing it.

The world ended, but you knew that already.  You’re not new to this, are you? It’s good to see you alive, it’s always good to see you alive.  I hope the winter hasn’t been too cold, I hope the heels of your shoes haven’t worn through.  Mine have but it’s fine, I’ll stitch them up no worries.  Anyway, back to the end of the world. 

I’m sure you know the drill by now.  In the aftermath you’ll find, dotted all over this island, what used to be a country but isn’t anymore, hospitals, office buildings, shopping malls, service stations, all converted into homes for those left behind (although by now most of them are second or third generation, it’s been a while since the end, you see).  People grew, they changed, they gave birth and died, they settled down and formed new communities.  And twisted among these people, snaking through the buildings like wind whispers, like threads of courage, are the stories.  Thousands of stories, repeated over and over until they lose one meaning and gain another.  The heart-blood of the survivors.  Usually I’d tell you one now, something steadfast and winding that might give you hope.  But today I’m afraid I don’t have anything solid, just rumours and gossip.  Not the sorts of things people would tell at firesides, but the short accounts they toss around at midday in the five minutes of rest before they have to be somewhere. 

One community of survivors arose in what used to be a shopping centre.  They call it the Hollows and it used to be under a cruel and vicious leadership.  One dictator rose and terrorized his people for years, spewing bile and blood and rage.  He fell at the hands of another, perhaps less brutal but still ruthless, still merciless.  Like a villain in a children’s book.  Eventually the people rose up against her, unable to live one more day without living, and she was run out of town.  That’s all we know for sure. 

A number of hunters say they killed that Evil Queen as she fled from them, left her body in the woods.  No one knows if they’re telling the truth or not. 

Some say the she got away, that she ran fast enough to escape them all (some even say she did it through magic and more people believe it then you might think).  She’s hiding somewhere now, plotting her revenge.  Parents tell their kids not to go out too far, otherwise she might jump out from the bushes and snatch them and eat them all up.  Some get scared by that but most children just laugh.   

Others, older, who were there when she was in charge, just shrug their shoulders.  They don’t know if she’s alive and they don’t care.  They threw her out once, they say, they can do it again if she comes back.  If she doesn’t, all the better.  She should be getting pretty old now herself anyway, if no one lets her in she won’t be able to enter.    

Sometimes rumours come from the north.  They talk about a woman at a sanctuary that used to be a hospital, a woman who looks very much like an old tyrant.  They say she’s happy now, that she draws little cartoons for the children, that she weeps a lot and laughs more, that she is quiet and kind and has secrets in her eyes that she will take to the grave.  They say if you ask she’ll just tell you that she’s trying to be better, that she’s trying to do better.  They say they’ve heard her thanking God and all that’s good that she managed to hang onto something decent inside her, she doesn’t know how but she did. 

But others say they’ve been there and never saw her there, never even heard of her. 

(If anyone remembers her real name, they don’t say it.)

I’m the teller, so I say she made it there, I say she’s happy.  I say her plan was liberation all along, to incite the people to free themselves.  After all, she used to illustrate children’s books, she knew the importance of a good villain.  She wrote a story of freedom and strength and rebellion that will be told for decades to come.  I think she gets a happy ending for that.  At the hospital her hands have finally started to feel clean again, she has forgotten how it feels to hold a gun, how it feels to wield power over those weeping terrified before her.  She has nightmares often, but her days are peaceful.  She can’t help in rebuilding the houses surrounding the Building much anymore, her back hurts too much now, but she paints the walls when she can and still cries over colours.  She had to build a world out of black and white, you see, had to fight to make sure no one ever saw the grey.  Shades still take her by surprise. 

But that’s just what I think, and there are thousands who would disagree with me.  She’s dead, they say, or gone, or evil, and really what evidence do you have she was even trying to be good? And even if she were, what evidence do you have that she managed to keep a hold of it? How does someone keep their soul when they do all that? It’s hardly possible, not here, not now.  It’s the end of the world, why do you keep telling stories about good things happening? Remember, much more awful has happened here than good, this is a tragedy more than it is anything.  Do you really understand what that means? Do you understand what has been lost? For all it is dressed up in flowery language and fancy metaphor, the fact is billions died, they are dead and gone and people screamed for them and are screaming still.  Their corpses are rotting.  The weeping in the night will never truly fade.  That’s what they say. 

Look, I’m sorry, I know it’s not much of a story but we’re both busy and there’s not time for a real story, not tonight.  And really my point is this, when I say the world has ended do you really think about what that means?  So much of what we take for granted is just what we make, what we choose to build into a world and now look, it’s shattered like ice.  We’re lost and frightened and so often horribly alone.  Things change faster than we can understand, we’re not made for it, not for this sorrow, not for this grief.  But we have to live through it somehow and we do.  So really that’s the point, that’s the choice: the story is yours.  You’re standing here looking at a barren broken world, at a planet with a hole at its centre.  Someone has to fill it up again, someone has to put something in it.  The story isn’t necessarily what happened, what happened is just facts.  The story is what’s true.  Do you want her to be wicked and cruel? Do you want her to have died alone in the woods? Or do you want her to have survived? Do you want her to have had a plan for goodness all along? Do you want there to be kindness hidden at the heart of it?

Then go tell a story that says that, go build a world in which it can be true.  It’s the end of the world and you’re still listening, that means it can be the beginning of one too.  Despite it all. 

[ofthecrowsandcranes]

thoughts of the week

i went into this intending to write a reflection on the grimoire challenge for this week but ended up thinking more about general reflections of my practice instead, so, thoughts:

like i said in this reblog, i'm using this challenge (and a bunch of other stuff) as frameworks, because i haven't really written down much of my practice. most of it lives in my head. i have (2) partial grimoires, one that's evolved into just a notetaking notebook and another that was digital that i don't really use because even though digitization makes it easier to organise, there's something about paper that i really, really like.

so my goal/intention for this challenge is to practice consistency. attempting the prompts that make sense to me, even if for some of them i know they're going to be a rough draft of what my practice ends up being. for the spellwriting 101 one, i haven't even done enough spellwork to know what process works best for me (consequences of being more pagan than witch for the past few years), so i took notes from @breelandwalker's how to write spells post since her process is concise and feels like a good checklist of "did i consider this aspect? am i being specific enough or not?" obviously my methods may change as i do more practical work but having a good starting point is what matters the most

one of my general goals for 2024 was to just Do things, and worry less about the finished product and more about the process. so some of my pages are messy and i don't have a specific order for things. i'm filling in the index/table of contents last so i can use it as a "where did i put this" list instead of a "this will go here" list. in the future, i'll probably use a binder or something with easily insertable pages/entries as a formal grimoire, but for now, i'm recording and practicing and that's what matters most for me, since i haven't done that before. despite four years of doing stuff on and off.

i'm gonna put a cut here because otherwise this post will be Massive but i'm gonna go into more detail about some of the pages/things that i did for reference.

monday

name your book: done! i just called it my spiritual lab notebook, since that's what it is.

definitions (ritual and spell): done! very UPG, but to me a ritual and a spell differ because a ritual is to affect the Now and a spell is to affect the Later. also rituals have more broad intentions vs a spell which has very specific intentions

Study herb: bay laurel! i did a bay leaf wish ritual on new year's day with my family and my mom asked why bay leaves, and i was like "hm, i don't know the specifics of why they're associated with wishmaking" so i added them to my herbs list so i could find out, and then learned it's because they're fucking bay laurel. i feel extremely stupid for not making that connection but! now i know!

tuesday:

outline: done! it's blank, i won't fill it in until the notebook is full

study gem: not done, still trying to decide how to substitute this. i might do tarot spreads instead.

spellwriting 101: done! discussed above

wednesday:

common tools: done! i really only put three things for now, but i'll probably go back and add things as i remember/find new tools. so far i've got tarot cards, embroidery thread, and candles, but in writing this i've remembered bells and jars and beads also

year outline/calendar: done! added the Big 4 (solstices & equinoxes), samhain, lughnasadh, and christmas (since my family celebrates it). will definitely be adding more as i go, but that's what i want to celebrate (or do celebrate) for now

Practical (tool usage): done! did a 3 card pull with my elemental power tarot, since i want to use it more as a reflective tool.

thursday:

altar design/workspace: done! sketched a layout of my current altar + wrote some wishes/dreams for when i have a different space.

practical (cleansing): not done yet—around this part of the week my chronic illness stuff started to flare up, and since cleansing involves actual cleaning for me, i couldn't really do it while resting. it's on my backburner for later.

friday:

personal practices: done! did a quick journal entry in DayOne

and that's all! if i can get to cleansing today i'll do it, but i have many other things to do also, so i'll get to it eventually.

[artcalledtattoo]

TanGent

Write sign, I’m pissed off on a corner street but used as unwise

Well no pimp nor prostitute dependent on an opinion I could be a slut

Christmas Eve I want to clock out at scheduled time & leave

5:30am from night before 7pm

10.5 hours

My supervisor told me I have permission to leave at 6am

@48 I feel compelled after my clock out time you in the wind, need MY permission

Shall I play for month @ clock out and just fucking leave at scheduled new face

Lets do this

It’s my tangent

Ran into a tan gent a he named me Bubba

“What’s up Bubba” from a soured mouth look towards eating self, shall I embarrass you now with my known of a conversation in a parking lot, I don’t answer his call out!

A minute later he was rubbing his hands in black grease and complaining while he was the toucher my laughter came afterwards, chuckling like a rooster

My words “Shouldn’t have called me Bubba” as a walked off

No comments

And I didn’t leave until what I wanted done

You duster to own me after 5:30am

Ohhhhhb

You think you do

Shall we implement my plan

Or tangent and go on

Crush some more of new management I can, I need some nicotine for a continuation bare with me and I peed too

(Nah really imagining all those faces in the bottom of bowl or is it bowels, even i can be ignorant, I’m human, while pissing out)

A urination

A urination

Opps irrigation my sterile piss entering the realms of drainage and defamation within the human species add defecation, am I really just hosing urine on shit?

Tangent

Primitive pretty male walkers

?working?

Oh yeaaaaaaa!

Hound dog with dust in

I’m 48

Yea breath heavy my skin was just snorted

I have one name, showtime highlights named I’ve stepped into the house took a picture of the gravestones in the back yard

Wtf

Headstones maybe Dead bodies in a tourist attraction I never asked the money takers to prove it!!!

What you think, you’re wise!

Hooah!

I’ve said it all different way eft ight eft ight

I’m no poser poster

Whoooah

Woah

.|.

Symbol for Prunt

Not adding a hi def clarity meaning

It’s all to UP above

Or rather down in posts of mine below

Shut my mouth yea for real read re-read below you have not read doubled

Did you just pronounce third as first

Comment below I can give guidance

Even on Christmas Eve

Privately too

You can learn a lot of things!

I’ll straighten you strengthen you for a better understanding, look below

I’ve only been doing not trying

! i, see the first lesson?

Privately or comment below

Make a fake profile don’t tell your wife, don’t tell your husband

You’ve never heard of Tumblr!

Exclamation

Fuck ups, greatness, mediocre, ahead of & in between’s, hi lo, of this LIFE or rather from my experience when has the sparkle of Mark disappeared

Back in my teen days a *#}{ explicit from hear- a butchy mom(.gay woman heteroman w/ two ugly kids) ; taught a new word, could speak about the man, who does it concern)

MarkleSparkle

And I heard it upon an arrival into the center, we were all made fun of, it’s not a dry earth we have our mixtures of humors it’s a very muddy place and spits

I just went out like that

I just went out like that

I just went out like that

Like a flight or is it power all in a wintery

Whatwoodyoucallit?

Standing Sitting Still

Just asking ausking a King or Queen or The Who rather e-there I-their a-other in their weak husbandwife folks playing games for thee another in the name of rich and profits gathering of bonus and such on backs of low caste humans

Read as you can!

Btw it’s Christmas Eve

Just now punching that in

What you think on things?

I only ask?

I conclude my Tangent

It’s Eve and sipping beer also!

;)

Merry Christmas think safety first and whatever in your travels, travel thread tread the read of past others

Your postpone in life

Think of it as saving your life

Interrupter in traffic, let it be fine

That other asshole ahead forgot the light

Read

Something

Stop just looking and watching!

A Difference

All in my continued, what

Say two, no not two but together

I knew you would need help

I wasn’t Coney hitting below a belt

I remember

Loaf of BREAD A Container of MLK

& a stick of BUTTER

Inference

Make. A Difference

In a Tangent

Merry Christmas

I really flabbergasted

Caauunt wait ;) til New Years Eve

A year is not really over till then

Right my friends

Let me end with us lyrical wind as I sit maintain a movie in my head or news and thinking about above too and I roll along sometimes even through science tripping evening

Moms Safe & Sound

Not attitude, people all around I parked far away from entrance had to walk, listen as I breathe,

You made it back safe and sound

You weren’t gone long

Last tangent, I can sleep or stay awake

I won’t last to Christmas

It don’t really matter I’ll stay into evening awake

•

Oops week later same Tangent I wasn’t going to post

Née Years Eve can’t clock out at clock out

It’s business not personal your time means nothing fucted by managerial masters

Your upper lives designed around us by us

But nothing for us

Not even last two year holidays



[illicitlimerence-writes]

misc. masterlist

a collection of all the one-shots and mini series i've written for other drivers. this list includes drivers i no longer write for or might write if i get a good idea for a fic, but they’re not my priority. they're (mostly) in release order (i tried.) this includes fics i've written for my christmas, valentine's day and summer events (they're marked with these colors).

• = my personal favorites  ○ = fan favorites (500+ notes)

- lando norris -

emotion, devotion ○ lando's first time meeting your family.

his world ○ he only had two more laps to go.

birthday blues (driver!reader) ○ you were just trying to plan a birthday surprise.

forgotten ○ he forgets your birthday, but makes it up in the sweetest way.

thread of gold • moving on can be quite scary.

twin (russell!reader) ○ you're insecure, don't know what for. (or, in which he forgets your relationship's secret)

heartbeat having feelings for your best friend is weird.

scarf but you keep my old scarf, from that very first week, because it smells like me.

ring pop (singer!reader) ○• after many online interactions, you finally meet your celebrity crush.

blue eyes (singer!reader) (part two ↑) lando discovers you used to date a famous singer.

ours the stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours.

the rules • his house, his mistletoe, his rules.

here and now after a stressful season, all he needs is you. and a little bit of snow. *(smut)*

switzerland ○ your favorite boy stole your favorite sweet right before you need it the most.

the diner • you and lando celebrate your friend-versary in the small diner where you met.

the nights she's hesitant to ask her celebrity crush for a picture, and the plan her friends come up with changes her life forever.

- george russell -

peace (norris!reader) ○ it's your first time seeing him after your breakup. (or, in which you're lando's sister.)

stars the stars in the sky cannot compare to the love you have for him.

fire the power goes out, your only source of warmth is the fireplace (and your boyfriend).

santa's helper the perks of having a tall boyfriend.

set up (driver!reader) ○ your best friend and her boyfriend set you up with the guy you don't really hate.

- daniel ricciardo -

little bean ○• the beauty of texas.

one last time ○• it's the night before your wedding. (or, in which you watch the sunrise in hawaii) *(smut)*

baby ric ○• the world is not ready for another ricciardo to arrive in the paddock.

princess peach (part two ↑) quiet days in the texas farm.

my favorite place (journalist!reader) all you need after a stressful day at work is your sunshine of a boyfriend.

[kay-emm-gee]

always, only, you

Pairing: Theodore Laurence/Amy March Rating: Mature || wc: ~1.5k a/n: Always loved the two of them, and I absolutely adored the 2019 adaptation, and I felt inspired to write jealous!laurie, so here we are.

* * *

For what felt like the tenth time tonight, Laurie was staring at her from across the room, not saying a word. Amy did not look away from her vanity mirror, ignoring the feel of his eyes on her. Their party had gone well as any of their previous endeavors, and she simply wished for the happy sort of exhaustion that normally came after a successful night as hostess to sink into her bones. But instead, after the way her husband had behaved, she only wished for sleep. He had barely spoken to her during their customary waltz or at the dinner table. No kind words for her, no usual shower of compliments--only silent, sidelong looks, just as he was doing even now.

Stubbornly ignoring him, she reached up and continued pulling pins from her hair. Curl after curl fell, and as the last one tumbled down, she heard Laurie’s breath catch. A small thrill of satisfaction tripped up her spine to have finally shaken some semblance of reaction from him. Too soon, however, it died under the weight of her lingering annoyance.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” She finally asked breezily. “Or do you plan to sleep standing up?”

“I will, at the very least, take my cravat off. Still deciding where to sleep. The wall here is quite comfortable, I’ve never noticed before.”

Ignoring his dry quip, she began brushing her hair. “I thought it went well tonight. Not as much of a success as our Christmas party, but still a grand time.”

“Fred Vaughn certainly had an excellent evening.”

She paused mid-stroke, turning to face her husband. When their eyes met, his mouth twisted into a sharp mockery of a smile.

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I suppose any man would have had just an excellent of an evening, being so devotedly attended to by my wife.”

He said the last word softly but with such force that it seemed to shatter as it dropped into the silence between them. Slowly, Amy set down her hairbrush. Then she rose from her chair, staring at him in disbelief.

“You...you’ve behaved this way all night, because you are jealous?”

Laurie scoffed, pushing off the wall. He turned from her and shrugged off his evening jacket, then reached up and removed his cravat with short, jerky movements. Incredulous, Amy stood and approached him, her chemise swishing against the floor.

“Laurie, I paid him no more attention than I would any other friend of ours—”

“But no other friend of ours has proposed marriage to you, hmm? No others have been in love with you, have they?”

“It has been more than five years since he and I...you are being ridiculous. Laurie—”

He spun around. “Am I?”

The tinge of angry desperation in his words brought Amy up short. She swallowed down the words of her sharp retort and simply looked at her husband. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his hair was mussed. No doubt he had been running his hands through it before he had come up to bed. Instinctively, she moved towards him, resting her palms on his shoulders. She could feel the tension in them, and so she slid her hands up until they cupped his jaw. Forcing his gaze down to meet hers, she felt her breath catch again as she glimpsed something all too familiar in his eyes.

Worry that something was slipping away. Fear that something precious and so desperately wanted would be wrenched from his grasp.

This worry, this fear—she had felt it in the first years of their marriage. Despite the rings, and despite her sister’s blessing, Amy had struggled to leave her girlhood insecurities behind. In those early years, jealousy had been her constant foe. She knew Laurie and Jo were connected by threads of closeness that could not be severed. It was as incontrovertible a fact as the shape of her nose or that her sister had died too young. She had known this and said her vows anyway. She had known this and still honestly believed Laurie when he had promised to love and cherish her until death did part them. Never once had she truly thought he considered betraying his vows, and never once had she believed her sister ever wanted him to. Even so, in the infancy of their marriage she had fought this battle that she now saw raging in her husband’s eyes.

She stroked a thumb over his cheek. He closed his eyes, and let out a tired sigh.

“He made you laugh.”

Amy bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Old Mr. Rochester also makes me laugh, but I don’t see you worrying about me spending time with him.”

“I tried to make you laugh all week, and you just snapped at me every time.”

“Well, because, for example, you almost destroyed our flower arrangements--our very expensive flower arrangements--for the party in the process of trying to make me laugh. Besides, you know how I get before these events. I’m insufferable.”

She watched as his lips flexed in stifled amusement. The heavy weight on her chest lifted at the sight.

“Theodore Laurence,” she whispered. “I love you. Only you. Always have, always will.”

His forehead knocked gently into hers. “You do?”

“I do.”

“How much?” His voice was tender, rasping.

“More than those flower arrangements.” She paused for a beat. “But only just barely. Certainly not more than my blue muslin, however.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth kicking up. She pressed a kiss there, soft and lingering.

“Theo?”

His eyes finally opened and met hers, and the heat Amy saw reflected there made her stomach clench. He always loved it when she called him that—particularly because no one else did. It was for them. Angling his head, he let his lips drift just over hers, a breath away from touching. Anticipation shivered down her spine.

“Yes, dear?” He answered as he slid hands around her waist.

Her own hands slid down his neck, over his shoulders and down his back as she perched up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “I want my husband to take me to bed.”

He took in a sharp breath, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and claiming. His fingers dug into her sides, and she gripped his shoulders for balance. They stumbled backwards, but neither of them were paying proper attention, so Laurie ended up backing her into the wall beside her vanity instead of the bed. With each stroke of his tongue against hers, the tension inside her wound tighter, and she let out a small moan as he pressed his hips into hers. With an answering hum of pleasure, he broke the kiss and spun her around so quickly that she had to grip the wall to steady herself. His fingers unlaced her underclothes with little trouble, and she shimmied out of them hurriedly. When she faced him again, he had already made quick work of his shirt. Her hands went to his pants, fumbling with the fastenings.

“Faster, wife,” he muttered as he tried, and failed, to help. She huffed in response, unable to hide her grin any more than Laurie was able to hide his own. As she felt the fastenings finally give, she sighed in triumph. That sigh quickly turned into a moan, however, when she felt Laurie’s fingers slide over the heat between her legs. He stroked her slowly, firmly, just the way she liked. Vaguely she heard him kick off his pants, but she was too lost in the pleasure he was giving her to know for certain.

By the time Laurie positioned himself at her core, she was aching for him, and when he entered her, she let out a throaty cry of relief. He moved in and out of her in short, rough thrusts, her leg hitched over one of his arms, the other curled around her lower back for support. The friction between them wound her tighter and tighter until, with one last long slide, it peaked. He groaned and found his pleasure just as she keened and found hers. Together, they rode out the crashing wave until it was just small ripples.

As Laurie cleaned them both up, Amy focused on catching her breath. It had been a claiming, no doubt, but on both sides. She was his, and he was hers. The heat inside her had smoldered down to coals, and now suffused her with a low, satisfied burn. He stood and leaned into her once more, and she looked up at him lazily.

“Now will you take me to bed, husband?”

With a smug grin, he leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Certainly, my dear.”

Then he grasped her hand and tugged, and she followed him gladly--always had, always would.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 67: Soulmate (Take 2)

Okay- I don't usually do this but I'm writing two for this prompt. I think you guys were probably actually hoping for some soulmate au so that's why I wrote Soulmates (Take 1) but I feel like ficlets (or my ficlets, at least) can't really do that trope justice. So Take 2 is what I would have written based just on the prompt.

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

Draco trailed his fingers along the smooth, strong planes of Harry's body. He loved the time they spent together like this when it was just the two of them, their bodies in sync, it felt like even their heartbeats had lined up.

Harry hummed as Draco's thumb brushed over his nipple and he pressed a kiss against Draco's forehead. "This is nice," Harry whispered. "I always like getting to lay here with you."

"Sometimes I think you might be my soulmate," Draco murmured back, thinking it was funny that they'd been thinking the same thing.

"I don't believe in soulmates," Harry said and Draco's heart froze. "One person that you're destined to be with," he shrugged, "seems like nonsense."

"Right," Draco said as he pulled away. "Of course." He grabbed his hair tie off of the nightstand and pulled his hair up as he stood and moved to collect his things.

"Draco, what-"

"Nothing," he said. "You're right. We're just fucking, it was stupid of me to forget," he added as he pulled on his trousers.

"I didn't-"

"No, it's fine," he said, shrugging Potter off and grabbing his things. "I'll see you around, yeah?" he asked in the split second before he apparated out of Potter's flat and to his own home.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he cursed himself. Falling for Potter was the dumbest thing he could have ever done. Of course the other man didn't see him as anything more than a warm body. How could he have let himself forget?

Clean break. That's what he needed and he resolved not to see Harry Potter again.

-----------

The trouble with that resolution was that he saw Harry Potter every single day at work.

(Read more below the cut)

But he did an admirable job avoiding talking about anything personal, if he did say so himself. By the end of the day he'd successfully deflected Potter so many times that he'd lost count.

He should have known that his luck wouldn't be able to last.

Just as the doors were sliding shut on the elevator, Potter slipped inside. "Draco-" he started.

"Don't," Draco said. "Please, just drop it."

"You misunderstood-"

"No," he replied, glancing at the other man, "No, I understood perfectly. And it's fine, Potter, honestly. You're right, we're just friends with benefits and I let myself get carried away. It's the dopamine."

"Are you done?" Potter asked, one unimpressed eyebrow raised as he stared at Draco.

"Done with what?"

"I just wanted to make sure that I could speak. You haven't let me string more than two words together, so I wanted to make sure you'd said what you needed to."

The doors to the elevator dinged and they opened onto the ground floor, "Perfect timing," Draco said as he started out.

"Draco," the other man growled, following him. "Can you please let me explain?"

He sighed because the truth was that he'd couldn't really deny the other man anything, "Over a drink." He turned to look at him, "Not here, in the entryway to our place of employment."

Nodding eagerly, he asked, "Now?"

"Meet me at Nightjar in an hour."

"Alright," he agreed.

Draco spun on his heel and apparated home to get changed.

--------

He walked through the door to the muggle bar, that he and Harry had come to several times in the past, about 45 minutes later and was surprised to see that Harry was already there, sitting at a booth in the corner.

Draco headed toward him and when Harry caught sight of him he rose quickly. He was wearing the tight jeans that Draco liked and the green cashmere sweater Draco had given him for Christmas. "Hey," he said breathlessly.

"Hi."

"I got you a Lupita because you liked it so well the last time," he added quickly, "but I can get you something else-"

"It's fine," Draco said, somehow Harry's nervousness eased his own nerves a bit. "Thank you," he added with a little smile.

Harry returned his smile and they slid into their seats.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Draco cleared his throat and said, "Right, so, I'll just reiterate what I said earlier. You don't need to apologize, I'd started t-"

"Draco," Harry said softly, reaching over and covering his hand. "I'm not apologizing for not believing in soulmates. I don't quite understand how I've hurt you but that is what I am sorry for."

"You don't need to be," he said again.

"Can I tell you what I meant?"

Draco nodded once and took a sip of his drink to keep himself from talking over Harry again.

"My whole life was dictated by prophecies and I often wondered if there were things that could have gone differently if there wasn't 'fate' involved," Harry said softly. "Not that I wouldn't have wanted to do my part and everything, just," he shook his head. "I'm done having things that make my choices for me."

"I don't understand," Draco confessed.

"Having a soulmate implies that there is one person that I am destined to be with."

"Right," Draco said, "You've got lots of options, I understand."

Harry's brow furrowed, "You're focusing on the wrong part of the sentence."

"Sorry?"

"You're focusing on the 'one person' but I am focusing on 'destined'."

He huffed, "Is this a riddle, Potter?"

"Let me say it this way: I want to be with you, Draco," he said earnestly. "I'm not saying I don't believe in soulmates because I want to keep my options open. I'm saying I don't believe in soulmates because I choose you. You aren't just some foregone conclusion that someone picked for me, I picked you for me and I hope that you'll pick me for yourself." His fingers threaded through Draco's.

"You want to be with me?"

Harry laughed, "Very much." He squeezed Draco's fingers, "I actually think I'm rather in love with you."

"What?"

He brought Draco's knuckles to his lips, "Yes. I was going to tell you last night."

He frowned, "No-"

"I was!" Harry protested. "I was literally going to say, 'I don't believe in soulmates, I don't believe that there's someone I'm destined for. But I do believe in love and I do love you.' But you didn't let me finish."

"You love me?"

He nodded, "Yes. Intentionally." Then he added, "Even when it's hard, I choose to love you."

"Well you're not always easy to love either," he huffed.

"No, I'm sure I'm not. I know that I am a pain in the arse, that I don't know my salad fork from my dessert fork, and I'm always diving head first into danger, and I-"

"I love you, too," Draco said, stemming the flow of words. "I choose you, too."

"Thank Merlin for that," Harry replied with a radiant smile. "Would you maybe like to make this relationship public knowledge?" he asked. "No pressure, I just thought it might be nice to go to dinner in our world, or hold hands at work, or-"

"Yes," Draco interrupted, leaning across the table to kiss Harry. "Yes, I would like that very much."

"Good," Harry said, with what seemed like a sigh of relief. "And would you maybe, someday down the road, consider choosing me for the rest of our lives?"

He blinked, "I'm sorry, that sounded an awful lot like a proposal."

Harry scratched his beard, "I'm not trying to get ahead of ourselves or anything. It's just," he trailed off, "I can't imagine ever loving anyone the way I love you and especially after last night, I want you to know that I am in this for the long haul. For as long as you'll have me."

"The rest of our lives doesn't seem like long enough, though, does it?" Draco asked.

"No it doesn't," Harry agreed with a radiant smile, "But I suppose we'll have to make do."

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

Day 66: Bond | Day 68: Rain

(Read Day 67: Soulmate (Take 1) Here )

[reidandweep]

Stitching

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Much like Adam Driver, I have been a huge fan of Matthew Gray Gubler and criminal minds for years. With quarantine, I decided to re-watch the show from the beginning and I had some inspiration. My writing tends to take a while but if you have any requests or idea for Spencer Reid, please send them my way.

Word Count- 6286 words

Warning- Angst, mentions of violence and torture, fluff, tears, and the usual criminal minds details.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? -William Shakespeare.

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

“Good morning my lover and friends. As of 8:45 am, yesterday morning, four bodies have been found across the Washington State area. Locations confirmed to be Pomeroy, Baker City, Salem, and Mill Creek. All victims were very similar in physical appearance; Caucasian, red hair, brown eyes, approximately 5ft 4’.”

Garcia swiped her tablet to display family photographs of the victims on the screen. The team watched, in the debriefing room, as they scanned through their own tablets; reading through the details. Spencer’s eyes flittered over the images as his fingers scanned across the words in his paper file; still adamant on not working with technology like the rest of his team.

“What about the cause of death? How were they found?”

Garcia shivered at Rossi’s question.

“It’s not a pretty image. Each victim was dismembered at the elbows, knees, neck, and stomach. Further cuts were made vertically down the stomach and across the face, arms, and legs. Not deep enough to cut through bone, but deep enough to bleed out. Where the unsub cut our victims, he then sewed them back together.”

Emily looked up at Garcia.

“Are you saying the lacerations were made before the victim’s died?”

“Precisely. Each autopsy report came back the same with the cause of death pointing to the direction of blood loss; specifically, from the throat.”

The team looked at the new images before them. Multiple pictures appeared on the screen, showing the bodies of the victims. The pictures showing the women laid out in the same pose, thick thread holding together the pieces of their corpses. All had their eyes closed, except one.

“Garcia, the last victim, zoom into her face.”

Garcia did as Spencer asked.

“Her eyes are closed.”

Spencer nodded, glancing towards JJ as she spoke.

“Meaning that he felt remorse for this murder.”

Derek scrolled through the pictures on his tablet.

“The other three victim’s eyes are open, indicating that he wanted them to look. To watch what he was doing, whatever it may have been.”

Spencer looked across the table at the questioning faces.

“So, what changed between the third and the fourth victim?”

Hotch stood from his seat, indicating the others to grab their belonging.

“We can discuss further on jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

WASHINGTON STATE

Being greeted by the local police department in Clagstone, Spencer and the team began their investigation into the murders. Spencer did not know what it was, but the stitching on the bodies felt familiar. Like he had seen them before.

Looking up from his files, Spencer watched as Derek walked into the room, ending a call with who he could only presume to be Garcia.

“Garcia has just completed background checks on our latest victim. Lily Trent visited local film screenings at the Southview Centre religiously, to watch horror movies in particular. Seems like the girl loved anything horror and Halloween; according to her roommate and her computer history. It seems that are other victims did also.”

Spencer stood from his seat and walked towards the whiteboard at the back of the room. Writing down the details Derek stated, his brain began to filter through the relevant information needed.

“Halloween is ranked the ninth most celebrated holiday in the world. With different interpretations of the holiday occurring according to country and culture. Wearing costumes at Halloween did not even become an occurrence until 1585, with the first instance recorded in Scotland.”

Derek chuckled at Reid’s excitement. He knew the boy loved Halloween.

“Well it all looks like they were pretty huge fans of the holiday and horror films. Maybe our unsub was too.”

Spencer looked down at the photos in his hand, scanning his memory for any correlation.

“Maybe, it’s not just horror, but a particular film. If all the victims were presented in a certain way, maybe the unsub is trying to replicate what happened to a character in a particular film.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll call Garcia to search through all the victims search history to see if any particular horror films come up in each one. Do you know of any films that the unsub could have replicated?”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can collate his actions to hundreds of films but, the method of torture and look of the victims, I can’t think of one horror feature that pinpoints all that the unsub has done.”

A thought unexpectedly popped into Spencer’s mind. Derek cocked his head at the sudden halt from the resident genius.

“But I know someone who might.”

UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON

“The importance of genre in film alters many of the other aspects. The characters and their narrative arcs, the music score, cinematography, the edit, and so much more. Sometimes genre even dictates the director who signs onto the project. Dennis Dugan would not have a directing career if Adam Sandler stopped making comedy movies. Because that is what he directs. He doesn’t direct comedies; he directs Adam Sandler comedies. Which, in my opinion, are a whole genre on their own.”

The class chuckled.

“Genre plays a part in everyday life. Sometimes, your day will be led by romance, or grief, or action. There may be drama, or comedy, or even silence.”

The class looked on in concentration as Y/N walked across the floor. If someone who did not attend the college walked past the classroom, they could’ve presumed that she was a student. She looked young enough.

“It controls the way the characters talk, act, and move. How the plot thickens and pushes forward and…”

The doors at the back of the auditorium opened. Y/N looked up at the sound of the intrusion to see figures that she could not recognise, and one that she did.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“And how it even ends. We shall leave it at that today. What I want you to do in the meantime is research a genre in particular and come up with examples that counteract the stereotypes that have been enforced upon the genre itself. Hand it in to your professor first thing Monday morning. Thank you.”

Y/N watched as the students collected their things and filtered out of the room. The figures waiting till she was only left before they walked down the steps.

Coming to a stop in front of her desk, Y/N crossed her arms and waited. Spencer stepped forward with a crooked smile on his face.

“Hi Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Long time no see stranger.”

Spencer’s cheeks burned at Y/N’s words. The team shared looks between them at the unfamiliar display. They had seen Spencer blush at people before, but not for a long time.

Spencer cleared his throat, preparing himself to act professional.

“This is Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N. Y/N travels across the country to guest speak at different universities on her topic at hand. She specialises in film studies, more importantly the focus of characters and genres. If I can’t connect the unsub’s actions to a film, Y/N most definitely can.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s praise.

“Nice to meet you all. So, what are you here to talk to me about Doc? Obviously, you’re here on a case and if you are asking for my help, I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty gruesome.”

Spencer blushed at the nickname; caught off guard by the word slipping of her tongue.

Sending a raised look towards Reid, Hotch began to explain why they were there.

“Were looking into a case of connected murders. All victims were found to have been mutilated and tortured in the same way. As well as showing resemblances in their physical appearances. With research, we’ve found that each victim was particularly fond of horror films and Halloween. We would just like for you to take a look and see if you could recognise if the ways in which they were harmed stemmed from a film in particular.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“Of course, anything to help.”

She reached for the files from Spencer’s hands, ignoring the tablet pushed in her direction by JJ.

“Sorry, I prefer to use paper. I only really use technology for my lectures or to watch films if they cannot be purchased in physical form.”

Derek smirked, shooting looks to his team, as his eyes landed on Spencer. He never thought he would meet a technophobe like Reid.

Y/N scanned through the pictures and documents, looking in detail at the lacerations at hand. She identified the similarities between the victims, as her mind swirled through the images and characters from the films, she knew held similarities.

“What were the names of all the victims?”

Emily looked towards the woman.

“That information is classified.”

Y/N did not blink at her abrasiveness.

“Were any of them called Sally?”

The team looked perplexed at her question.

“No. Why that name in particular?”

Y/N continued to scan the pages as Rossi questioned her.

“Because the unsub isn’t replicating anything from a horror movie. The unsub is replicating the physical appearance and staging of a character from an animated movie. A Disney one to be more specific.”

A light bulb flickered in Spencer’s mind as he stared at Y/N in realisation. The hair colours. The stitches. It made sense now.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

LOCAL POLICE DEPARTMENT

“The Nightmare Before Christmas is a 1993 American stop-motion animated musical Halloween-Christmas fantasy film directed by Henry Selick and produced and conceived by Tim Burton. It became a cult classic during the early 2000s with orchestral concerts occurring every year to celebrate the spectacle of the film.”

Spencer indicated for JJ to change the monitor as he and Y/N stood in front of the team to explain the information.

“Originally, the story began as a poem written by Tim Burton. Both narratives follow the protagonist, Jack Skellington, into his journey to Christmastown, and how he tries to make Christmas his own. The character in question that your unsub is replicating is the love interest of our protagonist. Created by Dr Finkelstein, Sally is a ragdoll-esque character whose body is covered with stitches to keep her together. The form in which all the women were found is identical to this scene in the movie.”

The screen changes to show the scene in question; paused at the precise moment to prover her point.

“All red haired, all Caucasian, all eerily the same. The stitches are exactly the same and the pose in which they are in the pictures are also.”

“We now know which film our unsub is mimicking, but how can we produce a distinguished profile of our unsub? All we can say is that between his third and fourth victim, he suddenly began to feel remorseful of his crimes.”

Y/N looked towards Spencer, waiting for him to speak as he knew more details about the case.

“Garcia checked into the victim’s computer histories and found that all four victims attended a horror convention in the Washington state area over the course of the past month. The convention in particular runs every other weekend, focusing on different horror films to highlight. However, they always make an exception for one film; The Nightmare Before Christmas. Whilst reviewing receipts for the tickets, they were all brought through the convention’s website, which is run by its board of organisation every year. Up until recently, the board has held the same members.”

Derek tapped on his tablet to the convention’s website.

“Last month, the website released details stating that a distinguish member was no longer part of the board due to unforeseen circumstances.”

It suddenly dawned on Y/N who Derek was talking about.

“Dean Faulkner.”

Spencer whipped around towards Y/N.

All eyes laid on her as her breath increased.

“You know him?”

Y/N nodded at Hotch.

“I guest spoke at a panel with him a few years back at a separate university. We were both there, amongst others, to talk about the works of a genre that are expertise were in. I was there to basically provide loose ends for what they could not answer. Dean’s specialised area was horror. The whole time he spoke about what he described as the true villains of horror and of the world.”

Y/N gulped, her mouth going dry.

“Women.”

The wheels began to turn in the team’s heads.

Spencer stepped closer towards Y/N in assurance, seeing that her thoughts were becoming overwhelmed. He quickly stepped back after he realised what he had done.

“He went on a raging tangent about the damsel in distress and the final girl. Going on and on and on about how women are weak and would never be the last one standing if faced against the monsters in real life. How they manipulated the men and made the monsters seem worse than they truly were. The only time he spoke positively about women was when we finally calmed him down and, during a Q&A session, a student asked him who the perfect horror movie character was. He said Sally because she was forgiving and would do anything for Jack; even if that meant falling apart and being sewn back together. I tried to justify that the film does not necessarily fall into the genre of horror. But he rebutted saying that it most definitely did, because of the fact that Jack’s dream did not come true.”

The room was silent for a second, taking in the information.

Suddenly, Y/N grasped the pen from Spencer’s hands. Her finger scribbling across the whiteboard.

“I need to know the names of the victims. Get Penelope on the phone and tell me the names.”

The team shocked at her erratic movements, sat in silence.

“Do you want to capture this guy?”

Spencer licked his lips and repeated the victim’s names.

“Susanna Cole, Alice Dawes, Liberty May, and Lily Trent.”

Y/N swiftly wrote the names on the boards. Each name below the other. Underneath the last name she wrote the letter Y.

“Can you ask Penelope to track any females with the first name beginning with Y who have purchased a ticket to the next convention?”

Derek quickly began to type to her. The rest of the team looking on in disbelief.

“There were twenty-three purchases, but with cross referencing with the similarities in the other victims, one matched. Her name is Yasmine Driver.”

Y/N wrote the name on the board. Circling all the first letters of each name, it became clear there was another connection with the victims.

“Their initials spell Sally.”

Y/N nodded at JJ’s disbelief.

“Reid, when is the next convention being held?”

Spencer diverted his attention to Emily.

“Their schedule every two weeks, so that would make it… tomorrow.”

The team swiftly moved into action.

“JJ bring together the police force for a debrief. Derek and Rossi, go to the convention centre and question the board about Dean. Ask them how often he visited and if they have any knowledge of the victims visits to the convention. Spencer and Emily, contact Penelope for Faulkner’s address. Once you have visited the home, if he is there, bring him in. We’re going to try and catch him before he gets close to his goal. I will locate Yasmine and bring her to the station for safety. We don’t know how far he is going to go and what the end goal of his fantasy is. But we are going to stop him.”

The team swiftly did as they were told, leaving the room with only Spencer and Y/N behind. Just before the door shot, Hotch leaned back in.

“Thank you, Dr Y/L/N, for all your help. If possible, could you stay here with JJ and look through the documents? You know this guy more than we do, so any more information that comes to mind, please let us know.”

Y/N and Spencer watched as Hotch left the room, the door shutting behind him.

As the silence engulfed them, Y/N and Spencer were hyper aware that they were now alone and had been for the first time in weeks.

Spencer swiftly walked towards Y/N and embraced her in a tight hold. Wrapping her arms around the slender man, Y/N breathed in his scent.

“I’ve missed you.”

Y/N chuckled at Spencer’s muffled words, as his head rested on top of her own. Pulling back, Y/N slowly released Spencer, letting her hands drop to her sides.

“I’ve missed you too Doc. We can catch up later, I will be waiting right here. Now, go and save the girl.”

Spencer chuckled at her words but did as Y/N said. Throwing her a smile, Spencer quickly walked out the room, leaving Y/N behind.

Y/N sat in the room, looking over the files as the time passed, waiting to see Spencer return with the rest of the team. A knock on the door startled her from her search.

Looking up at the door, Y/N saw JJ walk into the room with two cups of coffee in her hands. JJ outstretched the one hand, placing the cup in front of Y/N, as she took a seat and began to sip at her own.

“I didn’t know how many sugars you took so I estimated.”

Y/N smiled at the woman’s kindness.

“Thank you. Have you heard anything from the others?”

JJ sat up in her seat as she watched Y/N look over the documents. Her fingers moving across the pages ever so quickly. Her hand that wasn’t tapped continuously on the table in a rhythm.

“Spencer and Emily located Faulkner’s home, but it was vacant. They’re looking around the premises for clues for where he may be; as we speak. Hotch and Derek just called saying they are on their way down with Yasmine now.”

Y/N nodded at her words. Glad to hear that the girl was safe, but the main priority now would be to locate Faulkner. She wanted to truly help them, before anyone else could get hurt.

JJ grabbed her tablet and began to search through the files for any missed out information. Silence befell across the pair, until JJ could not help but ask what they had all been dying to know.

“How did you and Spencer meet?”

Y/N had been waiting for the question. She had seen the looks the team had shared throughout the day. The questioning gazes towards the pair.

“Spencer and I were both guests speaking at the University of California a few months ago. He must have finished his lecture early as he was wondering the halls when he came across the class I was teaching. I was stood on the desk, encouraging the students to do the same. Spencer thought I was a student causing trouble whilst the professor had left the room. He ran in sprouting facts about the percentage of people who fall and severely hurt themselves whilst standing on tables. Telling me that I should get down before he reports me to my professor.”

JJ chuckled at Y/N’s story.

“Sounds like Spence alright.”

Y/N giggled in agreement. As she spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their first encounter. JJ noticed the smile on the woman’s face. She knew what that smile meant.

“So, I told him that he better stay there to catch me, just in case I fell, as I was trying to teach my students about the importance of character actions, and how doing something as simple as standing on a desk can amplify the tone of the scene. Like in the film Dead Poet’s Society. Spencer finally realised that I was also a guest speaker and he actually stood there for the next 40 minutes of my lecture. I didn’t need to stand on the desk that long, but I wanted to see if he would stay. Once the lecture had finished, he apologised for jumping to conclusions. I apologised for making him wait for 40 minutes in case I fell. He told me I didn’t make him wait; he chose to. We’ve been in contact ever since.”

Just as Y/N finished her story, the door to the conference room opened once more. Looking towards the door, Y/N watched as Hotch entered, followed by Yasmine. The young woman looked scared, but unharmed.

Y/N stood from her seat, unsure of what to do as Hotch insisted for Yasmine to take a seat.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Hotch nodded his head.

“We shouldn’t be long. The rest of the team are outside in the bullpen. You can go ahead and join them. JJ and I will take it from here.”

Y/N nodded her head, leaving the room. She watched as Hotch and JJ questioned spoke to Yasmine through the glass, before she turned and walked down the corridor to find Spencer and his friends.

Turning the corner, Y/N failed to stop herself before bumping into a tall figure. Looking up to apologise, her eyes suddenly widened at the familiar face. Before a sound could leave her lips, a blunt force knocked her out cold.

Spencer and the team discussed where Faulkner could be when Hotch strode into the bull pen.

“How did it go?”

Hotch walked towards his team, ready to answer Derek’s question.

“It seems that Faulkner had been stalking the victims for some time. Yasmine detailed seeing him turn up at the conventions, even though he was no longer allowed. She had previously complained about his behaviour to the board before his dismissal. Stating that Faulkner had sexually harassed her. Rossi, did anyone at the convention mention anything about Faulkner that we don’t know?”

“It seems that Yasmine wasn’t the only one. The other board members went into detail about why he was fired. It turned out that all of our victims, including Yasmine, had filed lawsuits against Faulkner for sexual harassment. The charges were ultimately dropped and never recorded to keep the convention’s reputation clear. But they fired Faulkner and banned him from being able to attend any further conventions. Taking away the Nightmare Before Christmas dedicated stand was just a coincidence. They felt that the convention needed something new as they had been celebrating the film for over eight years.”

Just as Hotch was about to declare what the next step would be in finding Faulkner, JJ burst through the ball pen.

“Guys, you have to come quick.”

The team, in shock, watched as JJ ran back towards the conference room. All quickly on her heels. Entering the room, she took control of the laptop, streaming the image to the projector.

Spencer could no longer breathe as he looked at the image on the screen.

“Y/N.”

The screen showed Y/N tied to a chair and bent forward; clearly in pain. Her surroundings empty and dark.

Suddenly a voice was heard.

“I sense there's something in the wind. That seems like tragedy's at hand isn’t there Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The team watched in horror as Dean Faulkner yanked Y/N’s head back, her body letting out a strangled cry at the pain caused by his actions.

Spencer felt sick, he felt like he was watching himself when Tobias Hankel had held him captive.

“Emily, call Garcia to track his location. We don’t have much time.”

Emily did as Hotch told her to. Talking as quickly as she could on the phone.

“She can’t track it; he’s re-routing the IP address every thirty seconds.”

“She needs to track it. She needs to find her now!”

They all jumped at Spencer’s outburst, watching as tears filled his vision and his hands began to shake.

“Spencer, you need to calm down, we are going to find her. He can’t have taken her far.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words. Taking a breath, he looked back at the screen as he tried to distinguish any recognisable features of where she may be.

Faulkner moved his face to rest against Y/N’s hair, smelling the tresses. She tried to pull away only for him to yank her back again.

“Why did you kill them Dean?”

Faulkner let go of Y/N’s hair. Walking to her side, he grabbed her face in a vicious grip. Yanking her to look at him.

“Why? They ruined my life, everything I ever worked hard for. You all did.”

Y/N looked at him in confusion.

“I did nothing to you.”

Y/N’s breath increased at the vicious look he sent her way. Her eyes flickered to the camera, knowing that Faulkner was streaming what was happening to Spencer and his team. She had to find a way to tell them where she was.

“You made them question my authority. My position. My integrity as a member of the board. You ruined my reputation by belittling me in California.”.

“That’s because you know nothing about horror Dean. You think you know everything about it, but you don’t.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was Y/N taunting him?

“Garcia’s looking to see if there’s any abandoned properties around the area that he could have taken her to.”

Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Emily’s words.

Faulkner reeled back at Y/N’s taunt.

“I know everything there is to know about horror. I’ve seen it all. I’ve lived it. I’ve created it. Ask me anything about it, I know the right answers.”

“But you don’t. You have an idea of horror, your own idea, that is wrong. You believe that women are the reason you lost your job and became the monster that you are. But they’re not. The reason you’re a monster is because of your sick and twisted fantasies. You made those girls feel small and weak, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The team watched in apprehension.

“Garcia, the location, we need it now.”

Rossi looked between the screen and the phone in Derek’s hand.

“I can get the area he’s holding her, but not the specific building. The whole town is basically abandoned. She could be anywhere from a shop to a house.”

“Keep looking.”

Spencer chewed on his lips. He had to think rationally. If the unsub was upset about the changes and losing his job, what could have been the last straw?

“Derek what was the film they replaced Nightmare Before Christmas with at the convention.”

Derek and Spencer shared a look.

“Cabin in the Woods.”

Spencer ran across the rooms to the files at hand.

“In the location that Garcia has tracked her too, there are three cabins, all within a walking distance of the other.”

The team began to rush out the room, transferring the livestream to a tablet so they could monitor Faulkner and Y/N.

“You’re weak Dean. You’re just like all the horror movie villains. Ghostface, pinhead, jigsaw, all of them. You feed of fear and feeling in control. But the only thing you have in common with them is that you’re not going to win.”

Faulkner scream in rage. Pulling Y/N’s head back, he punched her in the jaw. Striding to the camera, he pushed his face to the lens.

“The party’s over!”

Spencer watched in horror as the feed went off.

“Hotch we have to hurry!”

Hotch sped up the car. Quickly arriving to the location, the team split up into pairs, taking a cabin each to inspect. Hotch and Derek, Rossi and JJ, and Spencer and Emily veered off to their targeted locations. Spencer followed Emily, trying to stay calm, as he slowly walked into the cabin to find it empty, when suddenly a gun shot was heard. Looking in the direction, the pair ran to the cabin that Derek and Hotch had been assigned. The rest of the team already there, looking into the cabin in shock.

“No, no, no, no. Y/N.”

Spencer pushed in front of them, tears pooling in his eyes as he a waited to see the horror before him. He looked in disbelief as Y/N stood from her position on the floor, the gun dropping from her hand as they shook. Faulkner laid a few feet away, in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

Y/N looked towards the team. Raising her shaking hands towards Spencer.

“I didn’t want to kill him but he was going to shoot whoever walked through the door.”

Spencer rushed forward, grabbing her in a bone crushing hug. His hands stroking her hair as he soother her cries. Leading her out of the cabin, he allowed his team to sort out the rest as he continued to calm Y/N down.

The movement of the team were a blur as ambulances and police cars came. Taking them to the hospital as they sat in the waiting room as Y/N was checked over.

Spencer sat in the waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

Derek excused himself from the groups conversation as he went and sat next to Spencer. Clapping him on the back, Derek squeezed Spencer’s shoulder in re-assurance.

“She’s going to be fine pretty boy.”

“Physically, she has a concussion, bruising along her jawline, and needs stitches on her forehead. Mentally, I don’t know how she is going to handle this. When I suggested asking for her help in the case, I didn’t presume the risk of her being hurt. I should have.”

“Spencer, listen to me. We would have done everything to make sure she lived okay. She not only saved herself but she also helped save Yasmine and this team. Any one of us could have been shot if she had not thought fast and got the gun out of his hands. You know, better than anyone, how to help her deal with this.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words, nodding his head in appreciation, as he leaned against his friend in a comforting hug.

“Probably wasn’t the ideal way to introduce your girlfriend to the team though.”

Spencer stuttered at Derek’s teasing.

“We’re profilers Spencer. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been happier these past few months and seeing how persistent you were for us to consult Y/N, it gave us all an idea why. Seeing you together only confirmed our suspicions. So, how long has pretty boy had his pretty girl?”

Spencer chuckled at Derek’s words. Ringing his hands together as he spoke to Derek.

“Tomorrow is actually our six-month anniversary. She was going to be flying back today so we could celebrate; unless I got called on a case.”

“We can still celebrate.”

Spencer looked up as Y/N walked through the waiting room, fresh stitches on her forehead and an ice pack resting in her hands.

“The nurse said that there was no internal damage. That my body will just be sore for a few weeks. My concussion is light, so I am alright to travel home.”

The team gathered around to check on her. But her eyes could not leave Spencer’s as he rose from his seat. Spencer walked forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully he cupped her face in his hands, and to the surprise of Y/N and his team, Spencer bowed his head and placed a careful kiss on Y/N’s lips. Slow, protective, and full of love.

Pulling back, Spencer wrapped his arms around her as he looked at the beaming smiles of his teammates. Y/N couldn’t help the blush across her cheeks or the giggle that followed. Soon, everyone was chuckling at the pair.

“I would like to thank you Y/N. From the entire team. Your actions saved a young woman’s life, and what could have been one of our own.”

Y/N smiled in appreciation at Rossi’s words.

“You’re Spencer’s family. I would do it all again if I had to.”

“Statistically speaking, around 2,000 people a day are reported missing in the US. Approximately, 600 of those would be reported or considered kidnappings. It is highly unlikely for you to be put in a situation like that again.”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend.

“I never thought I would say this, but your talk about me being kidnapped again is really attractive.”

The team laughed at the girl’s statement, seeing Spencer become physically embarrassed.

“Just to inform everyone, the jet will be ready to depart in forty-five minutes. As I was informed that today you would have been heading home, Y/N we have sent for your belongings to be collected; you can fly back with us.”

Spencer smiled at Hotch in gratitude, the older man knowing he would have only worried if she had flown home alone.

“Thank you, Mr Hotchner.”

Hotch let out a brief smile.

“Call me Hotch. Your part of Spencer’s life, that means your part of this family.”

BAU JET

It had been an exhausting few days for the team, and it showed, as they all were sporadically asleep throughout the jet. Silence encompassed the steel capsule, with only the sound of sleep filled breaths being heard.

Y/N laid fast asleep, with her head on Spencer’s shoulder, as the boy genius sat up wide awake. Looking down at the woman next to him, all Spencer could imagine was what could have happened if they weren’t quick enough. How many days he would have lost with her. All the things he wanted to tell her.

As though she could sense his deep thoughts, Y/N slowly awoke, rubbing her eyes as a yawn escaped her mouth. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she waited till she was fully conscious before she spoke.

“What time is it Doc?”

Spencer jostled out of his thoughts to check the watch on his wrist.

“It’s 2:36 am. You’ve been asleep for approximately 3 hours and 22 minutes.”

Y/N quickly sat up in her seat, wide awake.

Spencer turned towards her in worry, wondering what had made her so alert.

“What wrong? Are you feeling nauseous? Do you need some painkillers, as your due to have…”

Y/N grabbed Spencer’s face and placed her lips flush against his own. Their mouths moved in unison, as Spencer’s own hands moved to circle around her waist, bringing their bodies as close as they could be in the small space they had. They hadn’t kissed since the hospital, and before then it had been weeks. Spencer never realised until then, how much he truly missed her touch, her taste, her as a whole.

Coming to a point where they both lacked breathe, the pair pulled apart. Their eyes fluttering open as Y/N’s hands caressed Spencer’s face. Her one hand travelled to his hair, feeling the tresses that had grown since she had last seen him. She looked at him in a way no one had before. Spencer shared the same expression.

“Happy six-month anniversary Spencer. I love you.”

Spencer looked at Y/N in disbelief.

“Before you start spouting of facts about transference and how I am probably only saying this because you saved my life, you’re wrong. Because then I would be telling Hotch and Morgan the same thing.”

Spencer couldn’t help the watery smile that graced his face. For the second time in the past day, his eyes filled with tears. But this time, they were good.

“I’ve known I have loved you for a long time. For five months actually. I knew I loved you when we made pizza in your apartment and we ended up burning it, so we ordered one instead.”

Spencer laughed at the memory. It was the first time Spencer had initiated their make out. He had watched her cooking, in his apartment, and he had never found her more attractive than he did seeing her in his home.

“I knew that whilst you were spouting of facts about the invention of the pizza that I loved you and that I could listen to you forever. I love you Spencer.”

Spencer pulled Y/N closer to him as he rested his forehead against her own. The pair basked in each other’s presence.

“Past surveys show that men wait just 88 days to say those three little words to their partner for the first time, and 39 percent say them within the first month. Women, on the other hand, take an average 134 days. You knew after 31 days that you loved me. I knew after our first date that the way I felt when I was with you is a feeling that I could not even describe with my vast vocabulary. I knew after 8 days that the way I felt was stronger than liking you and that was a frightening thought. But its scarier to think what could have happened to you yesterday. That I could have lost you without you ever knowing. I made that mistake before. I will never make it again. I love you too.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile and giggle that overtook her. Spencer, feeling high of the serotonin that was coursing through his body, couldn’t help his laugh either. Soon the pair were a giggling mess, unaware of the team who had all begun to awaken whilst the pair were talking.

The team congregated to the back of the jet, allowing the couple to stay in their own bubble.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him truly happy.”

The group nodded at Emily’s words.

JJ smiled as she watched her best friend rattle of the possible movies that he and his girlfriend could spend their anniversary watching as she recovered. Her smile growing even wider at Y/N’s enthusiasm to watch the film’s in their original language. None of them could miss the look of adoration beaming between the pair.

“Yeah, it really has.”

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. -Lao Tzu

A/N- It isn’t the best but I really enjoyed writing this one.

[faeryqueenwitch]

🧚🎉Fairy Festivals🎉🧚

🎉 Fairy festivals take place at crossover points in the seasons. Equinoxes and solstices are determined by the position of the Sun, but the other four festivals are celebrated when the time feels right, so the dates given below are approximate.

🎉 There are other festivals too,such as Christmas Eve,Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day. Any human festival that touches on old traditions,from Ramadan to a Japanese Flower Festival, is a fairy feast. If you celebrate these festivals and make the effort to tune into what concerns the fairies, you will draw closer to their world. If you celebrate a special meal, remember to leave a little outside afterward for the fairies

1.  🌷 Imbolic - 🌷

February 2 in the Northern Hemisphere/July 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Imbolc means “in the belly,” and this is the time when life stirs in the belly of the earth. Frost sparkles and the pale light lingers each evening,bringing the message that spring is on the horizon. Imbolc is the delicate crossover point from winter’s depths into the New Year. It is a feast of lightness and brightness,but also a time of cleansing,to make way for the new. The Hag, who is Dark Goddess or Dark Fairy, gives way now to the Maiden, who is young and radiant.

Fairies love neatness and good housekeeping,so it is a good idea to have a late-winter sort-out,in preparation for fresh activity. While the fairies are busy coaxing snowdrops and crocuses out of the winter-hard earth,do something creative of your own,such as knitting,painting,or writing poetry. Ask the fairies to lend you a little of their magic by leaving them an offering,such as a piece of wool or a verse written just for them.

This feast is also called candlemas,sacred to St.Bridget,who was the successor to the pagan goddess Bride (pronounced “Breed”). Bride was the keeper of the sacred flame,which represents eternal life. She is the patroness of poetry,smithcraft,child birth, and healing, and is a very powerful fairy indeed. Invite her into your home by lighting as many candles as you like, in your windows and around your house. Ask her to bless your projects for the coming year,and pledge a special act of caring for the natural world in return,to seal your pact as the year waxes.

2. 🌼 Spring Equinox- 🌼

March 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/September 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

The fairies are very busy at the Spring Equinox,looking after all the flowers that are newly blooming.Scandinavian fairies become active now: the Russian cellar fairy,The Domoviyr,casts off its skin and grows a lighter one for summer; and the Russian Rusalki,or river fairies are glimpsed by lakes swollen with melted snow.

A tree planting project is a very fairy-friendly activity at this time. A seasonal blitz on the garden is also called for. While you are hard at work, digging and pulling away at dead winter twigs, it is easy to go into a kind of trance. This, coupled with the spell of the natural world around you,can create the perfect state of mind to catch a glimpse of fairies.You can be sure they are near you,helping you with their energies.Plant some seeds of your choice and, as you put them in the earth, close your eyes and make a special request for fairy help. Visualize the fairies tending your seeds,giving them their love and care. Ask out loud for the fairies to help you,and sing or hum and you plant. Touch the soft soil with your bare hands and make real contact with the earth.

Place water in a pottery or glass jug (plastic or metal is best avoided) and leave it out in the noon sunshine. Ask the fairies to bless it. Imagine them dancing around it and coming up to touch it with their glimmering fingers. Use the water to give your houseplants a special spring blessing.

The Green Man is a powerful nature spirit that has been sensed by many people. He is represented in numerous churches as the Foliate Mask (a face made up of leaves),and one theory about his presence is that the masons who fabricated him had hidden sympathies with the old nature- worship. He is making his appearance now on some new park benches and monuments. However, you can make contact with the real Green Man out alone walking through the woodland. Ancient and wise,he is watching you. Catch a glimpse of him behind tree trunks or in the lacework of budding branches. Hear his footfalls behind you as you walk. He is the very breath of Nature, and his strength is bursting forth in springtime.

3. 💐 Beltane - 💐

April 30 in the Northern Hemisphere/October 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Of all the festivals, Beltane is the most flagrantly joyful and sensuous as Nature is bursting forth with beauty and excitement. This was the Celtic beginning of summer, and also marked an important transition for the people of Fairy, for it was the time when the Milesian Celts landed on the shores of south-west Ireland. With this, the last of the magical peoples,the Tuatha de Danann, receded from the the world of humans into the Hollow Hills and became the people of the Sidhe.

However, they and the other fairy folk have not gone very far. You will find them dancing in a bluebell wood or skipping in the sunshine,sheltered by a greening hedge. Beltane is the time when good fairies reign supreme and bad fairies retreat. Fairies are very active now and may try to steal butter,or some of the ritual fire that used to be ignited on hilltops and is still lit by modern pagans.

This is the maypole season, but instead you can always dance around a friendly tree. Link hands with friends, and you may find yourselves spontaneously re-creating the kind of things people used to to do when seeing fairies was commonplace:lingering,walking,and talking, in the open air, away from television,computers,and other modern distractions.

There are many tales of beautiful fairies marrying mortals. Such tales usually end in tragedy, for fairy and human can never truly be joined. Better to borrow some of the fairy enchantment by performing a little magic of your own! Rise early on May Day and wash your face in the dew or simply walk in it. As the rhyme says: “The fairy maid who, the first of May Goes to the fields at break of day, And walk in dew from the hawthorn tree, Will ever handsome be.”

Welsh legend tells how the hero Pwll saw the Lady Rhiannon riding past him at Beltane and, after pursuing her, he eventually won her. Rhiannon is one aspect of the Fairy Queen,riding on her white horse between the worlds. As you sit quietly outside,on a bank in the late spring dusk,listen for the sounds of her horse’s hooves,and open your eyes to the shimmer of her sea-blue cloak. When Rhiannon touches your heart, she will fill it with love and inspiration.

4. 🌹 Midsummer -  🌹

June 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/December 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

This is one of the most magical times of the year, when fairies are very active and visible, playing pranks and even, it is said, stealing away the young and beautiful to join them in the Hollow Hills. The sun is now at the height of its strength and this is an important crossover point,such as the fairies love. For at the Midsummer Solstice the sun stands still, before beginning to recede as we move into the waning half of the year.

Flowers are colorful and luxuriant, and one radiant day seems to merge into another, as late dusk meets early dawn. At no time is the natural world more inviting. Take part in it by going on quests -long walks to sacred spots,evening camping out with the minimum of equipment,to draw close to the mystery that is all around, and to the Fair Folk in particular.

The rose is possibly the most sensuous bloom of all, and at midsummer it is often at its most gorgeous. Roses in the garden are especially likely to attract fairies. Distil water from rose petals and add it to your bath, asking the fairies to lend you some of their enchantment and to help you attract love. Brew tea from rosebuds and drink it,to increase your psychic powers.Plant a rose bush with a friend, to affirm the loving bound between you and invite the fairies into your life.

St.John’s wort is a herb known to break any negative fairy enchantment and drive away depression. Pluck some on Midsummer’s Day and carry it, to keep cheerful.

Look out for water nymphs by streams, or for undines for water elementals on the seashore- or for even the Lady of the Lake herself,rising from the luminous depths.In olden times, these beings were said to have no souls. It is closer to the truth to say that they do not have human morals. Conventions often conceal or feelings, but the beauty of the water fairies opens us to our unconscious tides; see them and let yourself be transformed.

5. 🌾Lammas- 🌾

July 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/February 2 in the Southern Hemisphere

Lammas is “Loaf Mass,” a christian version of a much older festival known as Lughnasadh, or the “Feast of Lugh.” Lugh was a Celtic god,lord of the Tuatha de Danann, and his name means “bright one.” Lughnasadh is a major fairy festival, and many fairies become active during this period,such as the Russian Polevik, who kicks sleepy harvesters awake. It is also a time when fairies move about in preparation for winter,and processions of them may be seen as a line of twinkling lights moving between the hills in the countryside.

At Lammas, the fields are golden with corn and splashed with red poppies. It is hazy,lazy time of holidays and abundance,but there is an underlying theme of death,for the Corn Spirit must be sacrificed in order to reap the harvest. If you walk out into a field of ripe wheat, you may sense the anger of the nature spirits as what is to be taken from the earth,even thought that is a part of the natural cycle of life.Gather up some ears of wheat and tie them into a bunch with red thread,to make a charm for the coming winter to hang over your hearth. At the same time,pledge an act of caring for the earth,such as clearing a derelict site in your neighborhood or garden, or planting and tending a herb, as payment for what you-and all of us- take from it.

At home, bake your own bread, using the rising of the dough as a spell to ensure that everything prospers in your life. While you are kneading the bread dough, say to yourself “As this dough swells, so may my fortunes increase.” Ask for your own personal Brownie, or house fairy, to come and help your bread rise- and remember to leave some breadcrumbs outside afterward,for the fairies.

Some say that Lugh is lord of the waning year, and his dance- through the waving,whispering corn- is a dance of death. If so, it is a reminder that all things come in cycles,and that everything is united in love and beauty. Stand at the edge of a sun-kissed wheat field and see the shimmer and sway that betrays the presence of Lugh. Take a few moments to feel respect for the earth in your heart, and understand the meaning of the Wheel of Life.

6. 🍁 Autumn Equinox (Mabon) - 🍁

September 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/March 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

At the Autumn Equinox, Nature stands poised between light and dark,but darkness is gaining. The veil between this world and the Otherworld is at its thinnest, and all manner of spirit visitations are more frequent now.

The hedgerows are beaded with berries,and mist lingers in the hollows. Sometimes the wind whistles in from nowhere and tosses baring branches. On other says, the mellow sun caresses the fields with slanting fingers. It is a time for reflection, but also for industry. In days gone by, preserves would be made for winter store and the help of the Good Folk would be sought by country people.

Absorb the atmosphere of the season by going blackberrying. In Celtic countries, there may be a taboo on eating blackberries, because these belong especially to fairies. However, as long as you gather them with respect and do not denude the bramble bushes, they will hardly object. Better still,leave out some of your homemade blackberry pie or wine for them,so that they will bless you. When this month ends, leave the blackberries alone and move on. Also look out for a bramble bush that forms an arch-so much the better if it faces east/west, for that mirrors the passage of the sun. Crawl through this three times on a sunny day to be healed of physical ills, especially rheumatism and skin troubles.

At this mysterious time, pay honor to Queen Mab. Her special gift is to bring dreams and visions to birth within us. She is really one of many manifestations of the Goddess, in her autumnal guise of wise-woman and Lady of Magic, and she is linked with ancient ideas of sovereignty- for the king drew his power from the land, and Mab presided.

Preferably at the Full Moon closest to the equinox,place good-quality wine in a stemmed glass or chalice,and take it into the garden or a secluded place.Raise the glass to the Moon,say, “Mab, I honor you”and pour some of the wine onto the earth. Drink a little and say, “Mab, I drink with you,” Then return home,light a bright-green candle beside your bed,gaze at the flame and say, “Mab,give me wisdom,” Place some jasmine or rose oil on your pillow,extinguish the candle-and drift into Fairyland. This is a little ritual that you can repeat during any Full Moon if you wish.

7. 🎃 Samhain - 🎃

October 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/April 30 in the Southern Hemisphere

Samhain means “summer’s end” and is pronounced “sa-wen.” This ancient Celtic festival at the official start of the winter was later Christianized as Halloween- a time when the dead were remembered. There was always a sinister aspect to Samhain,because certain sacrifices had to be made in order to survive the coming cold weather. Animals had to be slaughtered,and some say that human sacrifice took place to propitiate the spirits. Sacrifice,however, is a corruption of nature worship,for life is hard enough as it is and all we have to do is show respect.

Barrow mounds,shrouded in mist,are particularly eerie places at Samhain. Draw close,if you dare,and sit quietly.Do you hear the strange,far-off noise of fairy music,or the sound of knocking? Maybe the mound will open for you and unearthly light will stream over the barren fields.After Samhain,the earth is given over to the powers of darkness and decay.No crops or berries may be harvested after this time,because the Phooka, a malevolent Irish Fairy,blights them. The true meaning here,of course,is that death and decay have a place in the natural order,requiring due honor and respect lest they get out of hand.

Traditionally, this is the start of the story telling season. While the wind whistles around the eaves or the mist comes down outside,gather family or friends around your hearth- preferably with a real fire burning in it. If you do not have an open hearth,substitute a collection of large,burning candles. Sit round and speak of times gone by and people who have passed over to the other side.Ask the Beloved Dead to be present, if you wish(but note that this is not a seance,and the Beloved Dead are invited,not summoned). Laugh,share funny stories,feast,and drink.

Cerridwen is the Underworld Goddess and the Fairy Hag most associated with this time. In her magic cauldron,she stirs a brew that confers inspiration and transformation. Simmer up a hearty soup of root vegetables or pumpkin, to share with friends,then light a black candle and ask Cerridwen to guide you through the darkness into the light. You will  be both safe and wise.

8.  ❄️ Yule - ❄️

December 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/June 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

Yule is the Midwinter Solstice, when the sun again appears to stand still,as it did at midsummer,but the season is poised for the return of light. Celebrations of Christ’s birth were moved to coincide with the much more ancient solstice.

As you deck your Christmas tree,remember that the evergreen is a powerful symbol of the enduring life in Nature. Of course,is has a fairy on top of it,confirming that it is a festival of the Fair Folk,who also rejoice in the sun’s rebirth. Decorating your tree is an important magical act,for the decorations are fairy charms. Each member of the family should hang at least one special charm of their own,to enable a wish to come true.

Jack Frost is an active fairy in the cold weather,painting windows with intricate lacework. In Russia he is called Father Frost,the soul of winter,covering the trees in ice. Do not shrink from the frost fairy-go out and wonder at his works and he will reward you with hope and joy,just as in Russia Father Frost brings presents for the children on New Year’s Day.

By far the best-known and most powerful fairy at Yule is Father Christmas himself. Today we know him by his robes of red and white, but in the past he also wore green and other colors. As we have seen,red is the color both of life and death, and many fairies wear red caps. The hearty red of Father Christmas is a sign that he is an Otherworld being-very much alive,but not of this earth. He is recognized all over the world, as Kris Kringle in Germany and Pere Noel in France. In Brazil he is Papa Noel,and in China Dun Che Loa. He is the essence of Yuletide mystery,joy and renewal,and like many traditional fairies, he comes in and out via the hearth.

When all is quiet on Christmas Eve, get ready to welcome Father Christmas- light a candle and look at the stars. Pledge a gift for a friend and one for the world, and ask for a special gift to answer your heart’s desire. Write your wish on a piece of paper and “post” it up the chimney if you have an open fire. If not, burn it in the candle flame. Can you hear those sleigh bells?

(Art By: IrenHorrors On Deviantart -Link)

[twinklelilstarkey]

could you do a dad!rafe imagine where it’s their baby’s first xmas and maybe uncle!jj is there too and the baby gets excited to open presents and stuff 🥺

Christmas Morning - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 1.4k+

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is just pure cuteness overload.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

(Idk who this gif belongs to, sry)

It’s Christmas morning and everyone is super excited, mostly the kids (at least from the conversations that you all had last night). The parents are honestly just excited to see the kids open the presents they’ve been threading to open since the beginning of the shopping.

Rafe is the first one to wake up (between you two), but only because he has to use the bathroom. And right as he walks out from the room to check on the kids, he hears giggling in the hallway.

Rafe walks out to find Y/D/N, one of his friends’ kids and Topper’s kid sitting down on the ground, playing with some toys.

It’s 9 am, why are these kids already so awake?

When noticing the eyes on them, all the kids look up but only Y/D/N smiled up at Rafe. The other ones widened their eyes as if they had been caught stealing.

Y/D/N stands in her feet and runs her way to her dad happily waving her arms in the air while letting some fit of giggles escape her mouth. Rafe smiles and picks her up.

The toddler giggles into her dad’s naked chest as he starts kissing her cheek and top of the head and a smile spreads over his lips when listening to her.

“Who got you so excited today, uhm?” He asks in a whisper.

The girl doesn’t answer, just snuggles her face into Rafe’s neck as if to hide from the cold air. Rafe decides to close the door of the bedroom just to let you sleep for some more time and walks over to the kitchen.

“How the hell are you not cold?” Topper asks Rafe as soon as he sees him.

“I, honestly, don’t know” Rafe answers.

For some reason, this night was probably the coldest of all winter and that affected everyone’s ‘staying up late’ plans. The kids are all dressed in their warmest pajamas, but that still wasn’t enough since they’re all clinging to every adult human in the household.

“Were you the one that woke them up?” Rafe asks as Topper serves two mugs of coffee.

“No, they were the one that woke me up” Topper answers with a chuckle, “They were having a toddler meeting at the door of my bedroom”

Rafe laughs at him and Y/D/N lifts her head from Rafe’s chest when feeling his chest move as he laughed. She looks up at him and smiles a bit before snuggling back into the warmth.

“Thank you” Rafe tells Topper as he gives him the mug, “Is anyone else awake?”

“Uhm... I think JJ is taking a shower, and Sarah was on her laptop in the living room when I walked past there” He explains and Rafe nods.

Rafe brings the mug to his lips, tasting the strong coffee and the smell catches the attention of the toddler. Y/D/N’s small fingers grasp into the mug and Rafe brings it down so she can see.

The small girl stares at the dark liquid with a scowl and her nostrils frail as she smells it. Topper and Rafe laugh at her and the girl snaps out of her thoughts to stare at the men with a smile, acting as if she knows why they’re laughing.

“Morning” You say as you walk in the kitchen, wearing some pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

The two men answer at the same time and you frown at Rafe.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask him.

Topper laughs at your words and you walk closer to Rafe and Y/D/N. The small girl lifts her head from Rafe’s chest when hearing your voice and a huge smile grew on her face.

Not wanting to take her away from the human furnace that is Rafe Cameron, you wrap your arms around Rafe and press a kiss into the girl’s cheek.

Rafe lays his arm over your shoulders as he uses that same hand to hold his coffee and gives you a peck on the lips when you look up. 

You smile and look at Y/D/N, who is already staring with a smile on her face.

“Merry Christmas everyone!” Your brother says from behind you excitingly.

Y/D/N takes her eyes from you and gasps at the sight of her favorite, and only, uncle. You look over your shoulder, and Rafe’s arm, at your brother and you and Topper chuckle at his shirtless state.

“You guys are seriously the same person” Topper comments while shaking his head.

(...)

Sarah thanks you as you hand her her drink and you sit down over Rafe’s lap since it’s either that or the ground filled with hyper toddlers.

Rafe automatically wraps one of his arms over your waist as he stares at all the messages from distant family members, all wishing him and his family a Merry Christmas.

You stare down at the kids sitting on the ground beside JJ and at Y/D/N, who sits comfortable on his lap and stares at the presents with widen eyes, deep in thought.

Rafe puts his phone away and leans his head into your arm, letting his messy hair tickle your skin slightly.

“Can we start now?” Topper asks everyone as he tries to calm down his hyper toddler that keeps jumping around on his lap.

Everyone agrees and all the unwrapping starts. The kids go first, obviously. And right as they start opening everything, the room is filled with gasps and screams of excitement.

Y/D/N holds all of her new plushies in her small arms and giggles as she shows all of them to JJ, who acted as excited as she does.

“You got an elephant?” He asks her shocked, “He’s so cute. I want an elephant too, now!”

You smile as they interact and the other kids also look at them. Topper’s kid stands right from his dad’s lap and runs towards JJ to also show him his present.

“You got a car?!” JJ asks again, “This is starting to become unfair. I want a car too!”

The kids laugh at him and as he starts a conversation with Topper’s kid, Y/D/N stands from his lap and runs with all her plushies towards you and Rafe. She puts them all down on the ground in front of you and you two stare down at her.

The small girl starts grabbing each one and holding it up in the air to you as if doing a whole presentation of each plushy. 

“The elephant is the cutest” You agree out loud, making JJ look at you.

“I know, right?!”

The other two kids try to get JJ’s attention back to look at their presents, and Y/D/N tries to climb the couch. With your help, she’s up and sitting on Rafe’s lap, behind you.

“Which one is your favorite?” Rafe asks the girl as you start a conversation with Sarah.

She holds up the elephant as an answer.

“And who give it to you?”

“Sa” She answers with a smile, shy by trying out to say her aunt’s name.

“Aunt Sa gave that to you?” Rafe asks excited and the small girl nods, “Wow!”

The girl smiles at her dad and throws herself against his chest to try and hug his larger torso. Rafe chuckles at her and unwraps his arm from you to hug the toddler tightly to his chest.

“God, you’re the cutest thing in the world” He whispers to the small girl who giggles into his shirt.

Rafe’s chest fills up with imaginary butterflies as he looks down and watches his daughter clinging onto his chest and giggling at him. He loves this small human so much that he can’t even express it out loud to her because she won’t even understand. 

You look over your shoulder at the two of them and smile at sight of Rafe having complete heart eyes while looking at Y/D/N. You run your fingers through his messy hair to try and tame it slightly and he looks up at you.

“You okay?” You ask him in a lower tone as everyone talks loudly in the living room, discussing who will open presents first.

“Yeah” He says with a warm smile.

Sarah stands from beside you two to go grab the present off Topper’s hands, since he’s stealing everybody’s to be the first one, and JJ gets up from the ground and runs to the couch.

He sits beside you and Rafe and Sarah turns to look at him.

“Lost your seat, princess” He says teasingly with a shrug, “Life is hard”

Sarah laughs at him and shakes her head before turning around to snatch the boxes away from Topper.

Y/D/N looks up from Rafe’s chest and holds out a hand towards her uncle. JJ grabs it and she grins before looking back at you.

Now this is a happy family.

- - - - - - - - -

Writing these imagines is making me dread to see Drew Starkey with a toddler. I CANNOT HANDLE THIS MUCH BABY FEVER!!

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 04

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I swear, it’s so hard getting back into writing because I’m permanently convinced that everything I write is bad lol. If you enjoy reading this, please let me know by leaving me an ask or writing a comment on a reblog! I appreciate all the comments I get and it helps to inspire me on <3

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

-

The Winter Solstice Ball was a newer tradition at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, there hadn’t been anything resembling the ball that would happen. The closest you knew of was the Yule Ball, but that only occurred whenever there was a Tri-Wizard Tournament. 

Something that hadn’t occurred since the unfortunate events of 1994, when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort. As expected, it had been mutually agreed that the tournament should no longer continue to ensure there could never be another event like Diggory’s death.

Admittedly, that had been a rather unique set of circumstances. The inclusion of the wizard, Harry Potter, in the Tournament had been arranged by dark wizards on the behest of Voldemort, meaning that Diggory’s death had been even more tragic as he wasn’t meant to be there. 

In an attempt to bring more cheer to what should be a happy holiday, Hogwarts had started the Winter Solstice Ball tradition. Unlike the Yule Ball, all years were invited to attend and it also wasn’t on Christmas Day. Instead, it was held on the last day of term and was just a fun event for everyone to enjoy and let off some steam after their first semester back.

You’d always enjoyed it as a student; feeling like a grownup during the first few years and using it as a great way to flirt with boys when you were older. There hadn’t been a year that you hadn’t loved going to it.

It felt a little odd this time though as you were attending as a professor, which meant you had the job of chaperoning all the excited students for the evening. As such, you were excited for an entirely different reason as you would get to watch the First Year’s experience of the ball.

The House Elves had gone all out when decorating the Great Hall today, bringing the feeling of winter inside and taking your breath away. Standing by the open doors, you look around cavernous space with wide eyes and a bright smile. Chaeyoung was next to you, a dress of starlight gracing her body and highlighting just how beautiful she is.

You’d already complimented her as soon as you’d spotted her, admiring the elegant design of her dress and how the tiny crystals are sewn into the fabric reminded you so much of sunlight hitting frost on a winter’s day. Her long black hair was curled into soft waves with her fringe pinned away from her face with a delicate snowflake.

Where she was all light and ice, you were the sumptuous darkness of winter. Your dress was a sumptuous royal blue around your chest which slowly blended into deep midnight by your feet, a shawl of the lightest chiffon in a dark blue around your shoulders. Silver glinted occasionally, threads of it woven through the fabric of your dress and adding a little sparkle alongside the dainty silver necklace around your neck.

The two of you made a striking pair and the combination of a full face of beautiful makeup combined with the jaw-dropping dress made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Whether that was true or not, you didn’t care.

The hall itself matched the colour scheme of you both with long swathes of gauzy fabric in rich lavender, crisp white and shimmering silver decorating the tall windows and streaming from the ceiling. Tonight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show clouds backlit by a full moon and tiny flakes of snow fell. They didn’t reach the ground though, melting away a few metres away from the tallest person in the room.

Candles lit the room in all corners, hovering in the air and situated around the room and the tables. A large open space in the centre of the hall was reserved for dancing while a raised section before it hosted the musical entertainment for the night. Small tables surrounded the floor, each only big enough for six people and with white cloths embroidered with tiny snowflakes in silver.

Platters piled high with finger foods dotted the tables alongside empty goblets and jugs of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A few of the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts floated through the tables, greeting the formally dressed students with cheer and getting into a few conversations with some of them.

Already the hall was filling nicely, students greeting you happily as they rushed inside to meet up with friends and a few of them had already begun to dance. Some of them danced together, trying to figure out how to ballroom dance with the typical awkwardness of teenagers discovering their hormones, and others danced in friend groups. The latter seemed to just be having fun, shaking their bodies wildly to the beat of the music.

“I remember doing that.” Gesturing towards a group of mixed house Fourth Years, you grin at Chaeyoung before chuckling at the memory of dancing like that with Jisoo, Robert and Candace. That had been your ‘group’ of loyal friends throughout your years at Hogwarts, though only Jisoo had remained a close friend once you’d all left.

“Merlin...me too. I had no rhythm back then. Still don’t. Dancing is not for me.” Chuckling, you lean into her and push until she staggers away from you a little before returning the gesture. Glancing around the hall, you note the more introverted people sitting at the tables and sipping at drinks. They don’t seem to be uncomfortable but you resolve to check up on them throughout the night to make sure they’re okay.

“One thing I do love about working with such handsome men here? They make the ball so much better to enjoy.” Chaeyoung hums over the top of her goblet of butterbeer, her refined brows rising in amusement as she looks across the hall. Following her gaze, you have to hide a smile as you take in the sight of some of Hogwarts most eligible bachelor professors and how well they smarten up.

Park Jimin is standing next to Kim Taehyung, his silver hair styled even more elegantly than normal while his dress robes look to have been perfectly tailored to his slim body. A white bow tie adorns his neck and he’s smiling at whatever Taehyung had told him. The Gryffindor Head has his usual boxy smile and you note that he scrubs up just as nicely. Together, they make a lethal pair in terms of looks.

“Now, now,” You muse lightly, looking over to Chaeyoung with mischief on your face. “We’re here to chaperone, not to swoon over good looking men like the teenagers we teach.”

A derisive snort is the only response she gives you, but you see that she’s not taken her eyes off the two younger men. Idly, you wonder which would make the perfect partner for her. You’d consider Taehyung to be a good candidate as their fun-loving natures would get on well, but there’s something about Jimin that makes you think he’d be an even better pick.

She wouldn’t even have to change her last name.

Any more thoughts you have on the subject vanish when the newest professor walks through the door. Black hair made darker from some kind of styling gel is swept up from his forehead, a strand or two falling stubbornly and giving him an almost charming appearance. Deep black robes sweep from his shoulders, covering up a suit that highlights his body in all the right ways.

Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, his outfit was completely black and you swallowed instinctively as you let your eyes run down his frame. Hoseok pauses at the doorway, pink lips moving as he talks to Nayeon, the divination professor. She looks pretty in a floaty dress of bubblegum pink and fizzing lilac, her smile genuine and eyes sparkling as she looks up at him.

Lips twisting, you turn away from the sight and don’t even notice the way Chaeyoung is watching you closely, her lips turning up in a smile she tries to hide. Looking away from you, she catches Seokjin’s questioning expression across the hall and nods at him subtly, enjoying the way the astronomy professor gets a determined look on his face.

“Speaking of men who are too beautiful to be real, Jung Hoseok always looks so good at these events. How is a man like that allowed to even exist?” There’s a breathy note to Chaeyoung’s voice, causing you to frown at her a little before looking back over in his direction. 

Nayeon is still standing there, a forlorn expression gracing her face as she watches Hoseok move away from her. It’s only then that you realise he’s walking towards you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Confusingly, you’re a little unsure of what to do or how to act.

Not when he’s looking like that. This is not the shy and awkward Hoseok with his dress robes too big for him, the only memory you have of him at the Winter Solstice Ball. He couldn’t be any further from that teenager and you don’t know how to handle that.

Especially when he gives you that breathtaking smile, his cheeks rising and dimpling while his dark eyes shine in delight. You should’ve known the Jung genes would result in him growing into an attractive man; his sister was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

“Y/N, Chaeyoung,” He bows his head to you both, that smile just as prominent and you nod back to him a little awkwardly. “You both look beautiful tonight. Winter is personified with your colours, it’s nice.” 

For a moment, you’re a little lost for words on how to respond to him. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been so casually complimented, especially from a man. A man as attractive as him. It causes you to swallow wrong and you cough loudly, pressing a hand to your throat.

“Thanks, you’re looking pretty fine yourself tonight,” Chaeyoung teases him, causing that smile to become a little more bashful. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, okay? I need to go talk to Seokjin about something.”

You watch her go with wide eyes, noting with suspicion that she’s moving a little faster than you’d expect and you wonder if she’s up to something. But then you realise that you’re being left alone with Hoseok, who’s casually looking you up and down while you’re attention is elsewhere.

It’s only when he catches your eye when you look back, a brow raised, that he realises you’ve caught him. Hoseok turns his head quickly, probably giving himself whiplash and you have to hide the snort at the soft blush on his cheeks.

He may be all grown up now, but he still reminded you of that shy boy who never quite knew how to talk to you.

Reaching out, you poke at his chest and grin at him.

“She’s right, you are looking good tonight. Cleaned up very well.” Hoseok gives you a droll stare and you laugh, feeling any awkwardness rushing away as you both fall into the easy-going nature of your friendship.

The rest of the evening goes by in much the same manner with the two of you separating on occasion to handle issues with students or just to do a walk around. Apart from that though, you both end up spending more time with each other than with anyone else. Conversation flows easily like a fast-moving river and you find yourself laughing more than you have in a while.

You only have to break up one fight between two young boys; the culmination of weeks of tension between the two finally bubbling over. It starts with raised voices before escalating to blows, resulting in you escorting the two to Madame Pomfrey to check for any injuries. After that, you leave them in the hands of Park Jimin to discipline them given their house.

When you get back, you look around for Hoseok or Chaeyoung. You can’t see either of them, causing you to take up a place at the back against the wall to observe for any fallout from the fight. Thankfully, the mood seems to have picked up and you wonder if that’s got anything to do with the more upbeat music that’s being played.

It was never nice watching your students get into fights with each other or lose friendships, but you knew that was part of growing up. The thing about teenagers, and kids, was that they were incredibly resilient. You did not doubt that they would both be back to being friends within a week or so.

“All sorted?” Comes a deep voice to the right, the sound closer than you expected and causing you to jump slightly. Turning to look, you note that Hoseok has turned up out of nowhere and you relax at the sight of his familiar face.

“Yeah, no injuries to each other apart from wounded pride and friendships.” That causes Hoseok to snort and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall alongside you. Suddenly, you recall how many times Jisoo complained of having to comfort her brother when he’d had yet another fight during his tenure at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure you know all about that, Mr Jung. I remember Jisoo having to deal with you. You were shy but a firecracker.” He sighs deeply and you lean into him, giggling as you regale him with some of the tales she’d told you. Thankfully, he takes it all with his usual good nature and you end up segueing into other memories of your time at Hogwarts.

The exams and the studying, the professors back then and your favourite subjects. It’s something he already knows as you’ve both discussed it previously, but he indulges you and listens amiably while keeping an eye out.

You’re stopped though when he suddenly interrupts you, straightening slightly.

“Would you like to dance? There’s not as many people out there now and you haven’t danced once tonight.” His question is abrupt, causing you to falter in your conversation. Narrowing your eyes, you look him over closely and wonder if he’s being serious. And you conclude that he is.

Looking over at the dance floor, you contemplate for a moment and chew your lip before nodding. Now it’s your turn to feel shy, avoiding his gaze and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else in the hall as he leads you carefully to the floor. 

There’s probably a few statues in the British Museum that are less stiff than you as you turn to him, feeling his hand as he settles it on your lower back. You’re hyper-aware of that hand; how hot it feels against you even with the fabric of the dress between you. But that pales in comparison to the feel of his hand against your own, the way he holds it almost tenderly.

Logically, you know that he’s doing that because that’s how you’re supposed to dance like this. A light touch, but it makes you feel a little strange. You’re not sure why it makes you feel like that and you find yourself staring at his long fingers, wondering if he kept up the piano he’d been taught when younger.

The music leads you both in the dance, each beat dictating where you move and you’re vaguely aware of the students dancing around you. None of them are staring or looking confused as there had been many professors who had danced together tonight. But you couldn’t help but feel like this dance was a little different.

This was the closest you’d ever been to Hoseok and his body is so close to your own that you can physically feel the heat coming from him. Every breath you take brings the smell of him into your nose, the familiar mix of rich wood and lemongrass that is so, undeniably Hoseok. And underlying all that is the smell that’s unique to him.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly and you stare at the black button-up covering his chest, avoiding his gaze given how close the two of you are. It’s probably not the best thing to do when you realise that shirt is straining a little and you can see the outline of his torso from the light of the nearby candles.

Swallowing hard, you look over his shoulder and try to ignore the sudden knowledge that Hoseok is buff beneath his clothes. Which doesn’t help, because you find your eye trailing down his chest as you consider. It’s only when you reach his belt buckle that you suddenly look away, taking a deep breath and wondering what was wrong with you.

You’d had one too many butterbeers tonight or something, which was a terrible excuse as it had such little alcohol content that it didn’t even matter. This was Jisoo’s brother, her little brother. Not someone you should be thinking about half-naked.

Right?

Finally, though, you register his question and nod quickly in response. You’re not sure that you can talk to him without saying something inappropriate as your brain isn’t working very well right now. Not when you’re so confused about...well everything.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a little weird. Quiet.” Hoseok murmurs, his voice low to avoid any of the students overhearing it. Sighing, you stand a little straighter before looking at him directly and giving him a firm smile. It takes a little more effort than you’d like to push away those errant thoughts but you do so.

“Fine, just worried about those students. I hate seeing their friendship ruined and them angry at each other, you know?” It’s not a lie as you are still concerned about them, but he doesn’t need to know everything going on in your head. Which is why you’re thankful when he nods slowly before spinning you around.

“They’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that they’ll be back to being friends sooner rather than later. They’ve already got some of that testosterone out by punching each other, which I’d rather they didn’t do but Jimin will talk it out with them. Don’t worry too much, they’ll be fine.” It’s sweet how considerate he’s being and you can hear how genuine he is in his voice. 

You don’t get to say anything else though as the tempo increases when the song switches over, causing Hoseok to twirl you away from him with a laugh. All around you the dances start to get a little more energetic and you can’t help but shriek with joy as he matches the student’s enthusiasm, listening to them as they cheer at two of their professors getting involved in the frivolities.

Neither of you notices the way Seokjin and Chaeyoung watch you both closely before smirking at each other.

-

Glancing around the room, you note how most of the students had already left and gone to bed for the night. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and you had to press a hand to your mouth as you yawned, turning your head away to be polite. A few remaining students were still dancing on the floor but even as you watched, some of them started to walk towards the exit.

Looking over at Chaeyoung, you caught her eye with a wave and smiled with relief when she nodded and made a shooing gesture. Turning to Hoseok, you tried to hide another yawn and almost giggled when you saw that he’d caught one from you, his mouth wide as he didn’t even try to hide it.

“I think we can go now. Chaeyoung gestured that we can leave so I think they’re going to hustle the last students to bed. Something which I’m also very excited to do because I feel like I’ve been awake for two days right now.” Blinking and almost trying to stretch your eyelids by widening them as far as you could, you almost missed the way Hoseok laughed at your antics.

“Tired? It’s not even two in the morning, I expected better of you.” He teases, gently pushing his elbow into your arm before avoiding your hand as you try to swat him. You’d admit that he looked a lot more awake than you did, which you’d say wasn’t fair but you don’t think you’ve ever truly seen him look tired.

“Well, you’re still young and spry. You’ll learn when you get to my age.” Moving off towards the doors of the Great Hall, you grab a tiny triangular sandwich from one of the remaining platters on a table as you pass by.

Light pressure on the small of your back causes you to arch slightly, your chest moving forward and you tilt your head to look at your companion. There’s no expression on Hoseok’s face, nothing to indicate he’s affected by touching you and you frown slightly as you wonder why it’s affecting you.

“You’re not old, I don’t know why you keep thinking that.” He murmurs, voice deep and quiet.

Neither of you says anything more for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly through the hallways. It’s a comfortable silence and you muse for a moment on how much you’ve come to enjoy spending time with him. You would happily say that he was your closest friend here at Hogwarts; something you would’ve never thought would happen when you were studying here and he was just your best friend’s little brother.

That makes you think of how defensive he always gets whenever you, or anyone else, seems to imply that you’re old. Huffing out a laugh, you bite your lip as you contemplate that for a second. Maybe he doesn’t like the implication that you, and by extension, his sister, are considered ‘older’ by the students. Or that he’s also approaching thirty.

The student’s opinions have never bothered you as they think anyone over the age of twenty is old. Nor have you been concerned overall, given the extended lifespan that witches had compared to muggles. You were finally feeling content with your career and your life, something you attested partly to growing older and becoming more at ease with yourself.

But he always got so defensive of it, so maybe he was concerned about himself.

“You don’t have to keep defending my age, you know,” Apparently you were going to query this with him and you blamed the butterbeer for loosening up your tongue. “I’m okay with it, honestly. Which means I’m okay with joking about it.”

Hoseok stiffened slightly and you spotted his expression looking a little uneasy. Frowning, you placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. Your quarters were only a few corridors away now and the two of you were given a warm glow from the candles lit nearby. 

“I’m not defending...I mean, okay maybe I am. I just...I don’t want you to feel like it’s an issue.” Now you’re giving him an amused look, lip quirked up on one side as you try to hold in a small giggle.

“It’s not an issue. Have I made it seem like it was?” Tilting your head, you watch as his eyes dart across your face in an almost shy manner.

“No...well, not in the way you might think,” He looks uncomfortable and you’re about to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to continue but he does so before you get the chance to speak. “I’m just made every aware of our age difference. You know, the whole ‘you’re her best friend’s little brother’ thing.”

“Hey, I don’t do that, do I?” Now you’re a little concerned.

“No, not really. Not for a while anyway. You did when you first got here but I understood that. We hadn’t met in a while and everyone was curious about how we knew each other. But now...I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Honestly, it’s not important. You’re right.” Hoseok’s babbling a bit but you decide to let him change the conversation. You’re not entirely sure why it truly bothers him, but you’re not going to press it anyway. He deserves to have his feelings and they don’t need to be analysed.

“Okay-” Before you can say anything else, you hear the quiet chiming of bells and frown in confusion. The sound echoes a little in the empty corridor, simultaneously creepy and also ethereal. 

Hoseok looks around as well, his brow knitted in confusion before he suddenly spots something about you both. Following him, you note the odd plant that’s grown from the ceiling out of nowhere. The green branches are still growing and you note with interest the small white berries that seem to be forming and familiar leaf shapes appear at the end of each branch.

A red ribbon is delicately wrapped around the stems and you see the little golden bells that let out tiny chimes as they rock from side to side in a non-existent breeze. Now you’re the one frowning as you look around you both, trying to spot who’d set a mistletoe charm to grow when someone walked beneath it.

“Mistletoe?” Hosek whispers, reaching up with one hand in an attempt to touch it. He can’t reach it and you sigh, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has thought it’d be funny to put mistletoe charms around the castle for the ball. Certainly adds to the Christmas spirit. I’ve seen these popping up all night above couples on the dance floor. I think it’s a seasonal Weasley thing, seems like something they’d sell to annoy people.”

The mistletoe is suddenly snowing, letting tiny snowflakes drift to the ground around you both and leaving fluffy snow to settle on Hoseok’s hair and dress robes. How very romantic, you muse to yourself.

“Does it just disappear on its own after a while?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair to try and get rid of some of the snow. Smiling at him, you gently brush at his shoulders only to decide it’s a losing battle as more snow lands.

“Nope. You gotta kiss, that’s the whole point of mistletoe, right? Otherwise, it follows you around.” Hoseok sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

“Of course it does. Definitely a Weasley thing.”

Looking back up at the mistletoe, and having to blink to avoid getting snowflakes in your eyes, you purse your lips before looking back at Hoseok. You’d long since come to terms with the fact that you find him attractive; anyone with eyes can see that. But you hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, not given who he was and who his sister was to you.

His words from earlier play through your mind though, and you wonder if he hates having to constantly know he’s given the best friend’s little brother status. Even now, months after you’d arrived and you considered him a friend, you knew that there were still people who thought of that as the most defining characteristic of your friendship.

Letting out a little sigh, you straighten your shoulders before reaching out and taking hold of his dress robes. Fuck it, you’re not one to waste a perfect chance.

Pulling him closer, you watch as his eyes dart to yours and widen when he realises that you’re moving towards him as well. And then those same eyes flick to your lips, the movement so fast that you’d almost miss it if it wasn’t for the fact that he did again only seconds later. 

Combined with the zero resistance he was giving, you came to the solid conclusion that he wasn’t going to reject you. Not when you were giving him plenty of time and reason to back out if he wanted to.

Tilting your head to him, you felt his warm breath as it caressed your face, the smell of butterbeer strong. And then your lips are pressed together, neither of you sure who made the final move and neither of you gives a damn at that exact moment. 

The pressure of your lips against each other is gentle at first, almost hesitant as both of you try to figure out where to go from here. All that was required was a kiss, which was what you were both doing right now. But you didn’t quite want to let him go just yet, not when you knew he probably had so much more to offer.

Shifting, you manoeuvred your way into a position that made the kiss a little more personal and no longer like two teenagers who’d never kissed in their life. Letting go of his robes, your arms move to wrap around his neck and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying how soft the black strands feel against your fingers.

A quiet noise leaves Hoseok, his arms sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer to him while he kisses you more forcefully than before. It feels...you can’t even find the words to describe how it feels, only knowing that you’re not entirely sure you want him to stop.

Any hesitation has disappeared between you both and you simply lose yourself to the delightful feeling of Jung Hoseok against your lips, against your body and how he feels under your fingertips. It’s only when he moves a little further, his tongue asking for entrance to fire up the kiss even more, that you suddenly come to your senses.

Pushing back from him, you stare with wide eyes and only just realise that the bells have stopped. A glance up shows the mistletoe is gone and you breathe a little heavily, not realising that you’d kissed him that forcefully until now. Hoseok looks just as out of breath with an odd look in his eyes that you can’t quite figure out.

Licking at your lips, and trying to ignore the knowledge that you could probably taste him right now, you run your hands down the front of your dress robes before giving him a slightly awkward smile. Coughing, you turn your eyes away from the strangely intense gaze he’s giving you.

“Erm, well it’s gone now. So...we’re not gonna be followed by mistletoe anymore,” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if you made a very bad decision tonight. “I, erm, I’m gonna go to bed now. It’s late and...well...yeah. Thank you, for walking me here and spending time with me, you know, dancing and all that. It was nice, I had a good time and thank you. Yeah, I already thanked you. Err...get to bed safely, okay? I mean, I…” 

Hoseok reaches out and takes hold of your nervous hands. It makes you jump nervously, but he just gives a reassuring smile while rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Y/N...it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep and have good dreams.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, no anger or outrage that you’ve gone from initiating that kiss to acting very strange in only seconds. 

“Yeah...I...you too. You too.” Frowning as you walked away from him, you wondered what in Merlin’s beard you’d just done.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Tight Hearts | JHS Part 12

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 12

A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS! The first of my July updates guys! I hope you guys liked this part as much as I loved writing it! Let me know your thoughts!🥺♥️ If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask!

Three weeks later.

Sitting in the kitchen island with your laptop open and your work email mocking you from the screen, you pulled your hair and you wondered what, apart from Hyejin, was keeping you working for that company. 

After some nasty negotiations with your boss by BigHit’s lawyers, you had been allowed to work from home while the situation normalised itself and you could be on the oposite side of town away from Hoseok without feeling pain. If you had known the middle aged man who called himself the soul of the company and took advantage of your absence would spam your mailbox with thousands of emails a day, you wouldn’t have had second thoughts about quitting. Damn the company and damn getting paid, you would think about finding a job using the time you were wasting answering all those emails. But no, you were a very headstrong woman and you would be damned if all the efforts you had put into securing that job went down the drain because you had happened upon a patronising asshole of a boss. 

You let your head fall to your hands. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, Hoseok and the boys had to be in three different places throughout the day, filming advertisements, recording for their comeback and getting ready for the different end-of-the-year performances. You would have to tag along, posing as Sejin’s new shadow, manager in training he called it, so people wouldn’t be suspicious of the new addition to BTS’s entourage. According to the head manager, if you just kept a low profile and didn’t stop tapping away in your computer, no one would think to question what your were doing. But for you to be able to calmly tap away in said computer, you needed to get all the phone calls done before you left the apartment. 

Some arrangements had been made so you could stay in they guys apartment the nights when there was an early schedule and Hoseok couldn’t stay with you in his own apartment. Taehyung was now Jimin’s new roommate and he had kindly (not unteasingly) offered his room for you and Hoseok to share when you simply couldn’t waste time commuting to the dorm and then the company. 

You could hear the cheery voices of the boys in the living room, watching some movie about a train full of zombies on its way to Busan. How they had managed to rope Hoseok into watching the movie was beyond you but you guessed that, since you two had been spending huge amounts of time together, it made sense that now that you could stand further apart, Hoseok spent time with his brothers. Your heartbeat accelerated and that was all the warning you needed before a shrill scream that sounded suspiciously between a mixture of Yoongi and your soulmate reached you in the kitchen. Chuckling, you put your phone down and listened while holding your breath for the next round of groans and complaints. What a big bunch of babies. What you did hear were some rapid footsteps approaching you and you didn’t bat an eyelid when two slim arms snaked their way around your waist and the head of your soulmate settled on your shoulder. Hoseok had taken to hugging you from behind when you weren’t paying attention to him, the uncertainty and nerves that you felt through the bond letting you know that he was still uneasy about invading your personal space or distracting you. Every time you noticed how he was about to extract himself from you, you would hold his wrist and tighten his hold around you, nesting against his chest. This time was no different and you let go a small sigh when you relaxed against his frame, your head finding purchase on his shoulder. You let your head roll to the side, ghosting a small feather-like kiss on his ear, making him giggle.

“Why do you leave me alone with all those adrenaline-junkies, horror-movie-lovers when you are just here scowling at your computer?” He asked as he moved your bodies side to side in a playful manner. “How long do you think you still have before you can come to the living room with us?”

You raised your hand to his head and caressed his brown hair out of his eyes.

“I don’t want to be in between you and the boys, I have done that for almost a month already,” you told him, a smile tugging at your lips at how he started shaking his head no the moment the words were out of your mouth, “go back to them, I still have to make some calls.”

He disentangled himself to you and, turning the stool where you were sitting, put his hands on your shoulders. His lips formed a small pout. That was something you had started noticing as the weeks went by. He was reserved most of the time, keeping contact to the minimum and only opening up when the two of you were alone. You guessed that falling asleep one in each side of the bed and waking up in each other’s arms had something to do with his (and your) gradual openness. But when it was late and he was tired, he became clingy and tended to use his cute face to get what he wanted from you. Usually it would be to turn off the lights or to get him a glass of water from the kitchen before you went to bed; but tonight he seemed to have a different plan.

“You are not in anybody’s way, do you hear me?” He sternly chastised, waiting for your nod to continue, “the boys were the ones who asked me where you were and invited you to join us in movie night. Now, what have we told you a million and one times about not isolating yourself?” His chin up and a fake angry look on his face, he was enjoying himself way too much with the whole telling you off thing, but still, you could not just not humour him. Not when his brown hair was tossed in every direction and looked as fluffy as it did right now.

“That I am part of the family now and I have every right to be anywhere with you guys as long as I don’t hide food from you and don’t try to isolate myself…”

His face lighted up like a christmas tree and he proceded to exaggeratedly motion to your work set-up.

“And what are you doing right now?” He question, eyebrow nearly reaching his hairline.

With a cheeky grin you booped his nose and took advantage of that brief moment when his face turned all shades of red and he looked at you open-mouthed to turn back around and answer your phone as it started ringing. I am working, you mouthed to a still malfunctioning Hoseok, with a wicked smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

While you talked on the phone, you could see him look back towards the living room at the same time that a bit of uncertainty reached you through your string; at watching the movie or leaving you alone in the kitchen alone, you wouldn’t know.

Then Hoseok walked towards you, kissed the crown of your head and began cleaning the kitchen. It was a weird feeling, the both of you being in the same room, you working and him organising cabinets full of ramyeon, in companionable silence. It felt domestic. That word would have scared the living daylight out of you a few weeks ago; thinking only of the strong reactions you had when you thought that meeting your soulmate was automatically loosing your independence made your head spin. That had been only three short weeks ago, when you had been so guarded against this sweet man, who would buy four different bottles of shampoo in case he didn’t buy one you liked, the man who would put his life upside down for you, going as far as spending every possible night in his own apartment away from his brothers in case you felt uncomfortable living with seven men. You knew that somewhere deep down, he felt guilty for keeping you from your life as it was before you found him, he sometimes felt violent when some gesture or caress felt more a produce of the bond than natural and genuine. He felt sad when he had to say goodbye to his brothers when the managers dropped them off at night, and felt imposing when you had to follow them around to three or four different schedules in a day. In fact he had been mulling over that last one for the past few days; it wasn’t as if you could read his mind, you had just learned to map his emotions and the second he started looking at you sideways and feeling anxious you knew it was because of the busy schedule they had the next day.

Voices distracted you from your musings and you focused on how two sets of footsteps neared the kitchen accompanied by two hushed voices.

“… but I don’t want to interrupt her, hyung. She is working and that is her first priority…” whispered Yoongi.

“Well, if you had been a bit longer around her instead of being buried under your huge pile of self-imposed work, you would know her boss is an a-hole,” answered Jin. They were not walking anymore, they had stopped near the kitchen entrance, thinking they were whispering low enough for you not to hear them. You couldn’t help but agree with Seokjin. “I am this close to making her quit and hiring her myself, even with our workload she would be less stressed. Now kindly shut up and help me pry those two from the kitchen and take them back to the sweet delights of watching Joon internally scream.”

Pretending not to have heard anything, you swallowed a giggle and, noticing Hoseok hadn’t realised his brothers were coming, you went back to your laptop playing the oblivious victim too.

“Oh the joys of working over-time!” Exclaimed Seokjin as a way of making their presence known and he managed to startle Hoseok into dropping the cup he was rinsing into the sink.

“I promise I tried to stop him Y/N, you can keep working,” said Yoongi, who cleared his throat and, seeing Hoseok’s frantic movements behind your back, added, “But on the other hand, since you have been working very hard these past few weeks, I think it’s time you take a small break.”

His face was a sweet confused picture, torn between his desire to let you know that you could keep working if so you wanted and the one to please Hoseok.

“Come on, you two. Hobi, drop that cup, if you keep cleaning it you’ll turn it transparent. And Y/N stop being an excuse for him to get out of watching the movie,” Jin’s eyes, gleaming with mischief moved from a fumbling Hoseok to you and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s go, it’s about time I clocked out at…” you looked at your watch, “well, 11pm.”

Hoseok walked up to you, nerves reaching you from his side of the bond, and guided you behind his brothers to the living room where Jimin got closer to Namjoon to open up a spot for you both.

The rest of the boys didn’t even flinch when Hoseok hugged your waist and rested his head against your collarbone; they all knew Hobi needed some sort of support to get through the rest of the movie and while he might have relied in one of the boys to get that emotional help in the past, none of them seemed to care you had now become his buffer. In fact, they all seemed to be smiling happily and content when you joined them.

The movie was in full swing now and, more than once Hoseok had opted to hiding his face against your neck, letting small whimpers linger in his chest. His body was tense and you could feel his lips pouting against your neck.

To try and calm him down, maybe take his mind off the movie, you started caressing his neck with your nails. Any other person would have started giggling at being tickled, but not Hoseok. He told you one morning when you woke up with him wrapped around you with his head on your chest that when he was a child, his mother and sister would caress his arms and his chest to get him to fall asleep. Since that particular piece of information had been incorporated into your knowledge about him you hadn’t been able to use it until now; running your nails in circular motions at the nape of his neck, up behind his ears and down to his shoulders. His body slowly started unwinding and relaxing against yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and his slowing breath lulling you slowly to sleep. You wouldn’t know who fell asleep first, but soon you were drifting off. 

Hushed voices arose you from your deep sleep but too comfortable now nested under Hoseok’s arm you didn’t stir. The voices were gaining more definition as the seconds passed and becoming easier to understand.

“… and you were out hyung, like a log,” was saying Taehyung.

“I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable with her so quickly, if I am to be honest,” continued Namjoon and you tried not to tense up.

Hoseok took a deep breath and dropped a small kiss to your head.

“It’s not the bond, if that’s what you’re getting at Joons,” he told him firmly, “she is IT, guys. Her personality is brilliant, she can keep up with us, she knows just what to do when I am tired or frustrated… Just the other day she took a look at me, dropped her bag and latched herself to my studio chair with me. I just worked but she was there, steady, dependable, sweet. She doesn’t crave attention, mine or anyone else’s, she’s just happy being there. I can’t put into words what she makes me feel, but the fact that she’s my soulmate is only one more certainty for us. I can see me perfectly falling hard for her when we get to know each other more, that’s how I feel.”

Silence had fallen over the room as his brothers processed what Hoseok had just said, and you were happy enough to repeat your three word confession inside your head, not knowing Hoseok felt and reciprocated the same feelings through the bond. Verbalising is taken for granted, but you two had your own way of showing love.

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimits7@lysjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85 @threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc @acopenhagenarmy @ephyra1230 @minluvly​ @trashandshook @brinascorpio @trixiethebear @hobi-love @geekgirl41402 @annywaa @mirajanefairytailmage​ @alpacaparkaseok​ @bangtan-madi​ @preciouschimine​ @forget-me-notforever​

[okay-j-hannah]

Tactless

Harry Potter : Prompt

Fred x Reader

Word Count: 3082

Warnings: heckidy heck heck it’s just so tender 😭 

Request: “Omg your Fred Weasley x reader fics are SO GOOD. Could you please write a Fred x Reader with prompts 18 and 38? Set when they’re still at Hogwarts if that’s okay. Thank you xx” @bnha-sero-hanta​

Prompts: 

18.  “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

38.  “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

A/N: Freddie has not been himself lately, and every time you meet something horribly embarrassing happens; what could possibly be making him so shy?

“Isn’t there a way for them to be more discrete about all that inventing nonsense?” (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her attention on the essay in front of her.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to see her twin brothers broadcasting to a hoard of first years. It made her grimace and return to her quill and ink, “They’re just excited about the joke shop. I don’t blame them – we all want to make a little extra money.”

(Y/N) peered over to see them passing out toffees and sickles to the children, “Experimenting on innocents.”

“Why are you so against them building their career?” Ginny asked her, pushing her parchment aside, “They’re not hurting anyone.”

“Until they do.”

The first years stood around the stocky brothers, watching them explain how their candy worked. (Y/N) slumped in her seat, observing, and biting the inside of her cheek. She may be Ginny’s friend, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with everything her siblings did.

“Hey, Weasley!” she yelled over, snorting when Fred popped a toffee into his mouth for demonstration.

The twins looked up and it was plain to see the slight fear that entered Fred’s face, his eyes widening. George was holding a bin to his side as he called back, “Yeah?”

“Do you always get children to do your bidding?” She crossed her arms and Fred’s face became pale at her staring at him, before he clutched at George’s bin and raised it to his face. He immediately started to vomit violently.

The first years all reacted audibly, taking several steps back; (Y/N) made a disgusted face, forcing out a scoff.

George thrusted a purple candy into his brother’s hand, evidently frantic to get him out of this awkward situation. And after Fred finished retching in the bin, he returned a strained look towards (Y/N), wiping his lip.

Ginny shook her head, “Tactless,” rolling her eyes.

“Puking Pastilles,” Fred mumbled towards her, swallowing hard, “A – A way to get out of class.”

“Oh, good,” (Y/N) replied, “And subjecting kiddies to this… vomiting exercise, will prove what? That they work?”

It appeared that Fred was lost for words; he may have been cured of the pastille, but he still looked pale and on the verge of being sick again.

“That they work for everyone,” George stated for him, “We’ve… we’ve only tested them on ourselves.”

“Well, I think exhibit A is enough,” she gestured towards Fred as the surrounding first years began returning the candies and sickles. “Joke’s on you, I guess.”

Ginny opened her mouth and smiled at her friend, “Ouch.”

The twins appeared defeated as their testing crowd dispersed. (Y/N) simply returned to her essay and laughed, “No witty comebacks this time.” She raised her eyebrows and felt Ginny’s gaze on her, “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, somewhat smiling, “You like to pick on my brothers a lot. I’ve never seen anyone shut them up quite like you do.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Ginny nodded slowly and then whispered, “One might think you have an effect on them.”

“What?” (Y/N) set down her quill, splotching her last sentence, “You better be about to say that the only effect I have is in jostling their brains into a little common sense.”

A shrug was what she got in return, “I don’t know… you’re doing something though.” She nudged her head to what was behind her shoulder.

When (Y/N) looked, she noticed that Fred was still staring at her, ashen faced, but he promptly turned his head as George cleared the vomit from the bin with his wand.

“That’s not weird at all.”

It was Ginny’s turn to raise her eyebrows and laugh.

They continued with their homework until lunch where they walked to the Great Hall together, Ginny still acting peculiar about the events that occurred in the common room. It was like she couldn’t start any new topic that didn’t involve Fred’s name in the mix.

By the time they sat at the Gryffindor table, she was starting to get fed up, “Why does it matter so much that I support this joke shop? It’s a reckless line of work that doesn’t guarantee a steady income or good reputation.”

Ginny still avoided answering the complete question, “I can’t have you arguing with my family every time we’re hanging out.” She forked some potatoes as (Y/N) turned full body to her, squinting her eyes.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“What makes you say that?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “You’ve been bringing up your family all day, specifically the twins. Have I offended them in some way? Is your mum disowning me from Christmas dinner?”

“No, no,” she replied, trying to put less suspicion in her tone of voice, “I just… I can’t outright tell you. It’s kind of a special request.”

(Y/N) pushed her plate away, “You’re doing one hell of a job; no one suspects you at all.”

“I never claimed to be a good liar,” she snickered, urging her friend to eat something before quidditch practice. “Just that I have someone’s back in putting a good word in for them.”

“As in… there’s someone that wants to get on my good side?” She observed a platter of gingerbread cakes, selecting a particularly golden brown one.

Ginny took a sip of her pumpkin juice to give herself some time, “Maybe a little further than your good side.”

Taking a bite of the cake, (Y/N) licked her lips of the orange marmalade, “You’ve basically told me already, just give me a name.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” she smiled, giving her friend the eye, until her brows contorted. “(Y/N) – you’re bleeding.”

“Hm?” she swallowed another bite of cake and then felt a dribble run down, over her lips, “What the…”

A voice came running towards them, “No! Don’t eat the gingerbread – oh…” Fred appeared on their side of the bench, his eyes widening at the sight before him, “(Y/N) …”

She clamped a hand over her nose as a continuous stream of blood came flooding through her fingers. Ginny gasped at the realization of what was happening, standing, and pushing her brother.

“Give her the antidote!”

Fred fumbled with his pockets, stuttering, as George ran up behind him, “I’m… oh God – (Y/N) … I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t reply as she tried to stunt the bleeding with nearby napkins. Ginny pulled her hair back as George folded his arms and bit one of his nails.

“The marmalade,” Fred tried to continue, “It… it was another test.”

(Y/N) gave him a narrowed look, “You couldn’t get volunteers, so you decided to plant traps for unsuspecting students?” She sounded clogged up and numb.

Fred tried to unwrap a purple end of a sweet, accidentally dropping it in the process. (Y/N) slapped a hand on her knee in impatience as the blood began dripping off her chin and onto her shirt. Her insides boiled at the complete disregard of consideration.

But she couldn’t help but see the blush threading itself up his neck and to the tips of his ears. It was making his freckles stand out and the terrified look in his gaze. Fred Weasley never looked terrified. He always had a smirk on his face, his eyes were always smiling, and his hands never shook like that.

“Here, take this,” he mumbled, dusting off the purple candy from being on the floor, “It’ll make the bleeding stop.”

She gave him a skeptical look, “Forgive me for seeing that as questionable.”

He swallowed hard, holding the candy out further, “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

(Y/N) resigned and stuffed the purple end in her mouth, feeling sudden clarity in her nose. The stream of blood now came in a slow trickle.

“Better?” Fred asked – and his face looked exceptionally genuine. The slant of his brow made her hesitate.

“Yes.” It came out more like a question than a statement, “Thank you.”

He nodded and tried at a painful smile, “I’m sorry about that.”

Ginny punched him in the shoulder, “You should be! My God, what was that?”

“Nosebleed Nougat,” George answered, clearly peering at his brother with the same concern and confusion that (Y/N) was. “Another joke sweet to…”

“Get students out of class,” (Y/N) finished, continuing to wipe her nose. “I still don’t agree with it, you know. And this…” she pointed at the gingerbread cakes, “Is not helping your case.”

Fred looked down at his shoes, “I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Ginny smacked her friend’s shoulder, “Oliver’s calling the team over.”

Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain, was talking to Angelina, Katie, and Harry by the entrance hall. George pulled on his brothers arm, snapping him out of whatever trance distracted him. It looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe apologize further, but George yanked him away, talking to him in hushed tones.

“What is it with your brothers today?” She looked in the back of her water goblet to make sure all the blood was off her nose, “I feel like we’re just meeting under the worst circumstances today.”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I can only do so much.”

(Y/N) stood to meet the team, but paused, “So one of your brothers wants to be on my good side.”

She sucked in her lips and gave her friend a sympathetic gaze, “I did my best, but they’re not exactly pulling their weight.”

“Okay, okay…” (Y/N) muttered, hands on her hips, “So one of the twins wants to… get closer to me – is that how you put it? Which one is it then?”

“Nope, I’m done meddling with other peoples relationships.” Ginny put up her hands, “You need to get to quidditch practice, and I need to finish Flitwick’s essay.”

“I can’t believe that one of your brothers likes me,” (Y/N) suddenly said, awe in her tone. “I’m completely horrible to them.” Ginny shrugged, forcing (Y/N) to continue on with her side of things, “There’s no way… is that why they’re always acting different around me?”

“(Y/N)!” came Oliver’s voice, “If we lose the game with Ravenclaw I’m going to blame your lack of participation in practice.”

She whined under her breath, “We are talking when I get back tonight.”

Ginny put a treacle tart in her mouth before waving and leaving the Great Hall. (Y/N) proceeded to follow the rest of the team down to the quidditch pitch, all along the way noticing how Fred and George appeared to be fighting with each other as they walked.

The pitch was cloudy with a slight breeze and there was still some tension between the twins. Oliver quickly noticed and tried to intimidate the distraction out of them. (Y/N) stayed quiet, observing from a distance, still questioning which one of the brothers supposedly liked her. It still baffled her how it could be possible with how much they argued, especially over something big like their career choice.

“Pull your act together, guys,” Oliver retorted, “We have to beat Ravenclaw with a fifty point lead if we want a shot at the cup.”

Fred shoved George away and laughed, tripping over something. (Y/N) came slowly behind them, finding that something had fallen out of George’s pocket while being pushed. It was a cracked vial of a greenish substance.

“Hey, you dropped something!” she called out, bending over to reach the bottle.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that the twins stopped at the sound of her voice. When they noticed what she was picking up there was panic immediate in their voices.

“(Y/N), don’t touch that!”

But she’d already gotten some of the liquid seeping from the cracked glass onto her fingers. They immediately started burning and bubbling.

“Ah! What is this?” She dropped the vial and tried to rub her fingertips clean, only to spread it onto the rest of her hands. Large angry boils were sprouting from her skin, red and painful.

“It’s undiluted bubotuber pus,” George yelled as they reached her frantic figure. “We were gonna use it for…”

“Nevermind that,” (Y/N) cried, now rubbing her sizzling hands onto her quidditch robes, “How do I make it stop?” She was starting to feel her eyes water with the rising pain.

Fred began his stuttering again, his hands shaking worse than they had at lunch, “You… we have to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Oliver came running over, clear frustration in his gaze, “And why, may I ask, are you three huddled over here ignoring practice?”

“(Y/N) got bubotuber pus on her hands,” Fred stated, helping the girl to her feet, “We need to take her to the hospital wing.”

“No, we can manage practice with only one beater, not zero. You take her; George can stay with the rest of the team. Get that sorted out, (Y/N), preferably before our match this weekend.”

Fred tried to steady his hands as he led the way back to the castle, “(Y/N) … I don’t know what to say.”

She attempted to hide the whimper that wanted to escape, cradling her boil covered hands. It was her turn to remain quiet.

“Everything keeps going wrong today,” he continued, watching her closely from his stance beside her. “I’m so sorry. I want to make it – it right, but…”

“Why won’t they stop burning?” she mumbled, clearly not listening as well as she could be.

Fred frowned, sympathy heavy in his face as he hesitantly, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey can fix it – George and I have been through the same thing.”

She now couldn’t help the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes, her hands were absolutely killing her.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said quietly, keeping his hand on her back, “You know I really am sorry. You were never supposed to get in the mix of all the experiments.”

They made a steady pace down the corridor and into the hospital wing, getting Madam Pomfrey’s attention quickly. She grabbed a number of potion as Fred led (Y/N) to a bed.

“They’ll feel a lot better after this,” Fred stated, taking a seat beside her, but sitting stick straight and staring at her injured hands.

A tear or two finally leaked onto her cheeks and Fred was itching to comfort her in some way, “Oh, (Y/N) don’t cry! I – this is all my fault.”

She sniffed and tried not to move her hands as she shifted to address Fred.

“You know, I thought you were a complete ass just this morning. But I’ve never seen this side of you.”

He timidly shrugged his shoulders and finally met her eyes, “It seems to only happen when I’m around you.”

(Y/N) started to nod her head, feeling the tears leave uncomfortable tracks down her face. She gave a watery smile and tried to wipe her cheeks on her shoulder.

“Here,” he muttered as he grabbed a handkerchief off the nightstand and held it to her face, “I’ve got it, if that’s okay.”

She gave him a look and contemplated. She noticed that familiar blush creeping up his neck, complimenting his freckles. His eyes became downcast again as he caught her looking at him.

“Sure, thank you.”

It seemed he wasn’t expecting that, but he reached over and wiped away the tear tracks as she peered at him doing so. She could visibly see him swallow hard, that slight fear inching its way onto his features.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You look a little pink.” She couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Fred licked his lips, “Y-Yeah, you’re just… nevermind.”

“No, you have to tell me!” she smiled despite the pain. “I’ve been trying to figure you out all day and I’m not gonna believe Ginny until you outright say it.”

He flashed his eyes to her, “Ginny told you?”

“I don’t know… what was she supposed to not tell me?”

He turned his gaze to her pulsating hands and shook his head slightly, “You… you have a beautiful smile.” He didn’t wait for a response before he put his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, I know you hate me and what I do. I just… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a major silence between them for a while. Fred subtly scooted away from her bed, intertwining his fingers on his lap. (Y/N) waited as Madam Pomfrey came hurriedly over to apply medicine and bandages to her hands. She felt immensely better afterwards but wished that Fred did too.

He looked like he was really beating himself up over it. It was like his cheeks were permanently stained pink.

“You know what, Fred,” she finally said after the long awkward silence, “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

He could’ve snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at her, “What?”

“How about this… if you stop experimenting your joke products on first years, then you can take me out in Hogsmeade.”

“But… but I vomited in front of you.”

She nodded her head and admired her bandages.

“And I gave you a nosebleed.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I got undiluted bubotuber pus on your hands – I put you through pain!”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Your point being?”

He finally cracked the first smile of the day, “You have every right to hate me. I messed everything up! I should have no chance with you.”

“Just because a few pranks go awry doesn’t mean it’s impossible for us to get along. Be something.”

“Why… why this sudden change of heart?” he was wringing his hands in anticipation, obviously never dreaming this moment would ever happen.

She bit her lip, “I think, for the first time, I’m actually seeing you. The one behind the Weasley twin persona.” That made him smile wider as she added, “I think I like him a lot more than the trivial prankster.”

“You like him?” he practically whispered.

“Now that I think about it,” she hummed, “I may have been a tiny bit in denial.”

The look on his face was almost comical – he appeared to be straining to not smile so broadly, “If you didn’t have mitts for hands, I would very much like to hold one right now.”

She laughed, something that pulled that grin out of him, “Keep it up, Weasley. We’re getting on the right track.”

~~~

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[andie-cake]

perhabs,, early relationship, Paul wanting affection but being anxious and not knowing how to go about it?

Ceej, you understand me and my Paul hcs on a spiritual level, thank you for my rights and an excuse to write soft nonsense. It's uh... It's a little long.

Being in an honest-to-god romantic relationship was taking a bit of re-getting used to for Paul. He hadn't dated anyone since college, and suddenly wham, he's head over heels for a cute, snarky barista who seems to return his affections. It was odd, but no less wonderful, feeling his heart flutter in his chest whenever Emma so much as smiled at him. He hadn't felt this way about someone in damn near a decade, and then this beautiful 5'0 biology student walked into his life, and god, his brain just didn't know how to handle it.

Paul and Emma had started seeing each other around late October, hooking up in the Beanies break room during a Halloween party her boss Nora had thrown. It was mid-December now, a week and a half before Christmas, and things were still going strong between them. Though there had been... something strange on Paul's mind for a few weeks now, something that had never bothered him before in his past relationships.

Paul was a tactile guy with people he liked, something his friends all knew well. He was never sure exactly how he'd rank the five love languages as applied to himself, but touch was definitely his number one. Casual shoulder squeezes and light nudges were common gestures of his among friends, as Bill could easily attest. With romantic partners, this was cranked up a bit. Lots of light kisses to their temple or resting his hand on their back, stuff like that. It was always the easiest way for him to show that he cared. His partners... were never as tactile as him. It was very all give and no take on Paul's end when it came to physical affection, and he hadn't really minded it. At least, he was pretty sure he hadn't...

But now? With Emma? Her touch was something he actively craved. And it's not as if Emma never touched him outside of sex, far from it, she was probably the most physically affectionate partner Paul had ever had. She held his hand, kissed his cheek, cuddled up against him during movie nights, and gave him playful little jabs in the side when he was being a smartass. But she wasn't quite as casually affectionate as Paul was with her, and he couldn't help but wish she was.

And sweet jesus christ, did Paul find it embarrassing. It made him feel like some dopey lovesick teenager whenever he thought about it. Like, what was he supposed to do? Ask her to touch him more often? He'd sound like a total fucking weirdo if he tried to explain it to her. But still, he couldn't help but think about it a lot.

It had been a lazy Sunday evening, the one day of the week when neither half of the couple had work. And of course, they were... taking advantage of their day off, as it were. On Paul's living room couch, no less. They'd just finished up, and Emma had gone off to use his shower and whatnot. After washing up a bit, Paul had promptly put some comfy sleepwear on (because it was December in Michigan and Paul was not one to lounge around in the nude with temperatures like that outside), and was now absentmindedly channel surfing whilst laying on the couch.

Nearly half an hour later, Emma had emerged from the bathroom, hair tied into a braid and clad in a bright red hoodie that Paul recognized as his own. He couldn't help but smile, it was so big on her, and she looked adorable in it.

"Find anything to watch while I was in there?" she asked.

"Hallmark movies, a bunch of stock Christmas faire, and like three separate Harry Potter marathons," Paul replied. "None of which I'm particularly interested in watching, so we might have to retreat to the DVD shelf again."

Emma shrugged. "Hey, fine by me, TV edits are usually garbage fires anyway," she said. She strode over to the other side of the living room, where Paul kept his DVDs, and eyed the shelf. After a minute or two, she plucked a case off the shelf, snickering. "Monty Python: Life of Brian, that's a Christmas movie, right?"

"Absolutely," Paul quipped. "Anything can be a Christmas movie if you stretch the definition enough."

"Good, because I wanna watch Monty Python."

After popping the disk in, she turned back to the couch, and Paul sat up to give her some room. As she sat back down, Paul took in the sight of her. God, she was lovely. And she looked so cozy in his hoodie, it was hard not to find the sight of her absolutely heart-melting. His heart fluttered a bit, he was getting that feeling again. Unfortunately, Paul found himself staring at her instead of the screen for a bit too long, and she took notice.

"Paul?" she piped up, snapping him out of his trance with a befuddled smile. "You good, babe?"

Paul felt his cheeks flush. Had she ever called him "babe" before? "It's, uh... it's nothing," he stammered unconvincingly. "I just zoned out for a bit."

Emma, being the observant person she was, eyed him with skepticism. "You look like you have something on your mind," she noted. "What's up?"

Well, shit. Feeling his face burn hotter, Paul attempted to weasel himself out of this inevitable awkward conversation.

"N-nothing's up, I'm fine!" he tried to assure her, perhaps too defensively to sound convincing.

"That's the voice of a man who definitely has something up," Emma observed. She grabbed the remote, and paused the film before continuing. "Something's bothering you, Paul, I can tell."

"It-it's just..." Paul tried to begin, feeling momentarily reassured by Emma's soft gaze. But when the right words wouldn't come to him, he groaned and buried his flushing face in his hands. God, why was he like this? "Nevermind, it's really stupid, can we just watch the movie, please?"

"Paul, I know stupid, I work at Beanies," Emma retorted playfully, earning a brief chuckle from Paul. "Whatever's bothering you, it can't be any worse than the shit my co-workers complain about on the daily. I promise you I won't laugh."

Paul removed his hands from his face, meeting her gentle gaze once more. "You mean it?"

She nodded. "I'm all ears."

Exhaling a deep breath, Paul took a moment to think of how to word his self-imposed predicament in the least stupid way possible. Probably best to start small.

"Um, y'know how... when we watch movies or whatever together," he began, trying to force himself to talk above a whisper. "You'll like, lean against my chest, and I'll wrap my arms around you and play with your hair and all that?"

Emma nodded, looking somewhat confused. "Yeah...?"

"Do you think we could... do that the other way around this time?"

There was a brief moment of silence, and Paul was pretty sure his face had turned a shade of red that had only ever been seen by shrimp before. Jesus, that must've sounded so stupid.

"That's all?" Emma asked.

Yep, there it was. Paul looked down at his lap again, embarrassed beyond belief. "Basically, yeah..." he chuckled despite himself. "I know, I know, it's really dumb, and I probably got you all worried for nothing-"

"Whoa, whoa, Paul, slow down!" Emma cut him off, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him softly. "I mean, sure! If that's what you want, we can do it!"

Paul took another deep breath. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Emma replied. She leaned back on the arm of the couch, and opened her arms. "Come on, bring it in."

Still nervous and flustered, Paul slowly eased himself against Emma, resting his head against her chest. He could feel her heartbeat, even through the thick fabric of the hoodie. Emma rested one hand on his back, and began to thread her fingers through his hair, just like he would do with her. Paul felt a chill go down his spine. God, he forgot how much he loved having his hair stroked. He wrapped his arms around her torso, face still flushing like nobody's business.

"How's that?" Emma asked, undoubtedly noticing the ridiculous smile that had forced itself onto his face.

"Wonderful..." he sighed, finally beginning to calm down a bit. "Thanks, Emma."

"No prob," Emma snickered, still stroking his hair. "But before we un-pause the movie, can I ask why it was such an ordeal for you to ask me about this?"

"It's kinda hard to articulate," Paul explained, adjusting himself so that he wasn't muffled by the hoodie. "My, um... my past partners weren't really the, uh... the affectionate kinda types, y'know? So it just kinda felt weird to ask you to... do this... I guess..."

"...Well," Emma began after a moment's pause. "I'm not your past partners, so I'd be more than happy to do this more often."

"You would?" Paul inquired hopefully.

"If it makes you feel as loved as it makes me feel," Emma said, rubbing a calming circle between his shoulder blades with her thumb. "Then I'll do it anytime."

Paul could've melted right then and there. He was loved... In a somewhat indirect way, Emma said she loved him. Perhaps now was the time...

"Thanks again, Em," he said, slightly choked up. He craned his neck a bit to press a kiss to her neck. "I, um... I love you."

Emma briefly paused in her stroking of his hair, only to resume moments later, and press a kiss to his forehead.

"I... I love you too, Paul."

[wastelandcth]

Lover - cth

part of love songs for calum, a love series. 

summary: a dazzling haze, a mysterious place about you dear.

author’s notes: i hope you enjoy this one. as always you can find the playlist to this series here (and you can add your own favorite love songs here!)

warnings: mentions of smut. 

masterlist || request

January brought cold weather and dark mornings. The Christmas lights were still twinkling in the morning fog and Calum watched them, wrapped up in a blanket and beanie as he waited for Duke to finish up his morning potty break. He'd been awake for most of the morning, his brain too busy to even try and get some rest. 

He'd been up long after you had gone to bed, your back pressed against his chest as you let soft huffs out during your dreams. 

Normally, Calum had no problems sleeping when you were at his side. He'd fall asleep before you and he'd snore the whole night long. But this time, he was caught in a haze where nothing made sense and the goosebumps from the cold air felt like they'd been there all night. He'd been running over the words you'd whispered into his ear last night before your eyes closed and you left him alone in the darkness. 

"I think I would marry you if you asked me. I'd say yes." 

At that moment, Calum felt like his entire world was in the palm of your hands. If you had told him to run out and jump into the icy water of the pool in the backyard, he would've done so. But as the night went on and the gloomy clouds let in a soft light into the bedroom you'd both been sharing for years now, Calum's heartbeat raced at the thought of being with you for the rest of his life. What if you got bored, what if he wasn't what you thought he was and he was suddenly left with a broken heart and broken vows?

And that's how Calum found himself on the foggy and rainy morning, watching his old dog sniff around the plants you'd insisted on planting for him while he had a crisis on whether or not the ring in his drawer would be enough for you. He knew the ring was good, it was his mother's ring, and she'd basically thrown it at Calum to give to you when he'd mentioned settling down with you a few months back when he went to Sydney. He'd hid it in that drawer the second he'd flown home and had pushed it to the back of his mind because he'd never even talked about marriage with you and the thought made his hands sweat. 

He'd been in love with you for three years now. He'd known you for longer but he was always busy touring, writing, or recording and it wasn't until life with the band had slowed down a bit that he'd had the chance to really sit down and think about his feelings for you. It wasn't until his own life was stable enough that he could see you more in a week than he had in the past few months that he realized how deeply in love he was with you. At first, he hadn't even noticed that it was love, he was just pissed off and it wasn't until you turned back to smile at him that he felt the warmth in him spread all over. 

Calum had the day he realized he loved you ingrained in his mind. You had both been at the grocery store, running errands with one another and catching up from the times Calum had been traveling around the world. Calum had been browsing the snack aisle, a giant pack of double stuffed Oreos calling his name when he heard your laugh. Usually hearing your laugh would bring butterflies to his stomach, but that day he looked over and saw you covering your mouth with your hand as you laughed at something a stranger said to you, he wanted to punch the man. He wasn't even that good looking, in Calum's mind, I mean who even wears khakis out to the grocery store on a Tuesday afternoon? It didn't make sense and the guy was definitely not your type at all. Calum scoffed and rolled his eyes as he had walked back over to you, eyeing the guy up before he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"You ready to go, hun?" Calum mumbled, his fist clenching by his side as he watched you and the man in the khakis both look over at him. 

Whenever Calum's mind became overwhelmed with thoughts of you, he'd turn to music. He'd always turned to music when life became too much and his brain felt flooded. He'd spend hours locked in the music room where scattered notebooks held unspoken words and where bass lines floated throughout the air. That night had been no different, you'd been off in a hotel with your bridesmaids, in a city full of temptation and lights, and Calum was at home reeling over what he'd say about you and the love he had for you in a few short weeks. 

The wedding vows had been on his mind the second he'd gotten down on one knee in front of you almost a year ago. He'd tried writing them time and time again, the piles of crumpled paper mixing with unheard lyrics and thoughts Calum wasn't sure who to tell. He'd tried writing them while you were sat next to him, while you watched tv and talked to him about whatever had happened this week at work. He tried writing them when you were asleep next to him when your soft breaths hit his shoulder with every rise and fall of your chest. He even tried writing them once in his head while your hands were pressed to his chest and the sound of your hips meeting was covered by the moans you were both letting out, but that was a bust; one of many that night. Every time Calum tried to write his vows, all he realized was that words he ever wrote for you would ever be good enough. 

How could Calum tell you in front of everyone you both loved and cherished how you were a magnetic force of a woman and he was in awe of the way you'd gone from a broken shell of a human, sobbing on the floor of Luke's living room to the person he knew now. To the one who wouldn't hesitate to tell Calum when he'd fucked up and that you loved him all in the same sentence. Calum's heart had been bruised before, he'd be in the same boat where he didn't think his heart would ever heal. Calum swore he'd never hurt you like you'd been hurt before even when both of you clashed and the dramatics were a bit too much. He swore that he was going to be there whenever you needed him, cheering you up with another joke he'd kept in his pockets for days when your mood was down and nothing could put a smile on your face. How would Calum ever put into words that he'd always save you a seat at whatever table you were sat at, no matter the occasion? No amount of words could ever amount to the love Calum had for you.

"Take me home?" you whispered in his ear that night, your hands sliding under the white button upon shirt he was wearing that night. The suit jacket he'd been wearing for most of the day had disappeared, lost in between the dancing and the few too many drinks you'd shared with family members. 

"Mmm, yeah?" Calum chuckled, his lips against your earlobe sent shivers down your spine, "And where shall I take my charming bride, to our home so we can make sure the neighborhood know who you married tonight, sweet girl?" 

"You are a man of many words, Hood." you whispered, "Let's see if those hold up just like those beautiful vows you gave today," you smirked, your warm hands traveling over the expanse of his chest. 

Calum, who was always a man of his word, made sure that your wedding night was one to remember. The candles and rose petals leading up to your room trailed behind the dress you'd been wearing for way too many hours. Calum's hand was in yours and as you both laid in bed, chests heaving as you both took a break from the wedding festivities. The sweat covering you both proof of the words he'd promised you earlier that night. 

"I panicked that night when you told me you would marry me if I asked. I must've stayed out with Duke for at least an hour, running over the thought that you wanted to marry me." Calum whispered, his fingers threading through your hair as he closed his eyes. 

"And then you still asked me?" you teased, pressing a kiss over his heart, "Finally realized you couldn't live without me?"

"Realized I wanted to love you every summer and winter and spring and fall." Calum chuckled, and smiled, "That you were the one I wanted to dramatic with and that the haze I felt with you was love. Want you and only you, lover." 

"I wouldn't want anyone else but you, lover." 

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