#but my mother now feels awful and is internalizing that she has ruined Christmas by buying me a size too small in everything

[futureghost97]

happy holidays

[theoreticslut]

The Truth that you Deny // Part 4

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 

word count: 2,394

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: Okay, so this is the second to last part of this story and I’m not sure if I’m ready. I know people are still reading it, but are you all still enjoying it? I know it might seem kinda drawn out, but I couldn’t help myself. I like the way its turned out, but i mean I’m posting it so hopefully others can enjoy it too. It just makes me really nervous. Either way, the next part is the last part that I’ve written. I might potentially be willing to do another bit of a drabble continuing on with it if people are interested, but you have to let me know.Thank you to everyone who has been reading it, liking it, commenting, and even reblogging! It means so much to me!!  Anyways, here is part 4! I hope you like it! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist as well! I’d like to start a general one for any writing I post myself, so let me know if you’d like to be added to that as well. thank you Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213

“Did you still need help, Mrs. Weasley? I got talking to Ginny.” You say when you finally make your way back downstairs.

“No worries, dear. If you don’t mind, I could use the help.” She smiles at you.

“Of course. Where do you want me to begin?”

As she explains what she wants to make and shows you the recipe, you find yourself happy to be back here. As you had told George, this is your favourite place aside from hogwarts.

You were so amazed the first time you were here back in your second year. Even though it was a bit of a smaller house for such a large family, it was extraordinarily comfortable and welcoming. You almost immediately felt at home and cared for, which was quite the contrast from your family.

You were an only child to Wizarding parents that were rarely home, and when they were, they spent their time belittling you. You never seemed to be enough in their eyes even though you had never acted out and were always in the top of your classes.

You never could figure out why they treat you the way they do. That first year at hogwarts, you had nearly cried when you had to go back home because you would be right back to no one caring about you.

When Fred had invited you to Christmas at the burrow in second year, you were nervous, sure, but you were also thrilled to be spending the break with at least two people you knew cared for you. Then when the rest of the weasley’s accepted you...you really did cry because you had never known a family.

“You got it?” Mrs. Weasley asks, having finished explaining the recipe.

“Yeah, thank you.” You smile which she reciprocates.

You both work in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before the twins come down and start talking to you.

“Mmm, what are you guys making? It smells amazing.” George asks as they both lean against the table that your working at.

“Your mum’s working on dinner.”

“Ooh, what’re we having?” Fred asks, going to lean over his mum’s shoulder.

“You’ll see when you sit down to eat, won’t ya?” Mrs. Weasley quips, shooing her son out of her way.

“Fine,” He pouts. “What about you?”

He peers his head over your shoulder, resting his chin as he watches you work.

“I’m trying to make a pie for dessert,” you say trying to look at him while he’s still resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What kind?”

“You’ll find out later. You’re making it awfully hard to work.” You frown, wiggling your shoulder to hopefully get him to move.

“You sound just like mum.” He frowns, walking away and sitting across from you as George had.

“It’s a natural reaction to you two. You find a way to always be in the way.” You chuckle.

“It’s odd to see you in the kitchen. It doesn’t seem like something you’d do.” George says, watching as you mix things together.

“What is something I would do then?” You ask, chuckling at his statement.

“Play quidditch. Study. Work.” Fred points out.

“You two do realize that I had to do this every night before hogwarts? My parents were never home so I had to cook and clean and take care of the house.”

“And you shouldn’t have had to do that. Not that young.” Mrs. Weasley interjects. You smile a bit sadly as she looks over at you, silently affirming that she cares. Out of all the Weasley’s, her and Ginny are really the only ones who know what your life was like before hogwarts, and even then, Ginny doesn’t know nearly as much as her mum does.

“It wasn’t fair to you in the slightest, but I know you’ll make a good wife someday.” She smiles, winking at you and looking over her two sons.

“Oh, uh. I hope.” You chuckle nervously, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“Oh, I know you will. You’re smart, talented, hard-working. You’re gorgeous. You know how to handle yourself and others, not to mention you know how to keep a house running. Whoever ends up marrying you is going to be a lucky man.” Mrs. Weasley states, matter-of-factly.

You’re blushing furiously now, looking down at what you’re working on to try to hide your face. You glance up at the twins only to receive a couple shrugged shoulders.

Neither Fred or George knew what to say because they didn’t really feel like commenting on whether you’d be a good wife with their own mother, but the thought of you as their wife was nice to think about. It’d be absolutely wonderful to wake up next to you, to hold you anytime they want, to help you in the kitchen, to have you to laugh with for the rest of their lives. Even having a family with you. Now, that would be a dream.

“I’m actually surprised none of you have gotten together yet. With how close you all are, I would’ve figured that by now one of you would have asked her out if not both of you.” Their mother continues, furthering your blush but now causing them to as well.

“Mum.” They both groan, looking at you, but looking away soon after in embarrassment.

“What?” She asks, turning to look at the three of you, noticing all of your red cheeks but ignoring it.

“Why don’t you two go and find something to do while y/n and I finish up.”

“Fine.”

“We’ll be upstairs.”

You let out a breath of air and try to rid yourself of your tinted cheeks.

“Boys, they get so embarrassed when their mum talks about a girl with them.” Mrs. Weasley chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Y/n, dear. You like them, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. They’re my best friends and -“

“You know what I mean, y/n.” She tuts, turning to face you.

You sigh, not really wanting to talk about it, but knowing that out of anyone she would understand it the most.

“Yeah. I do. I really like them both.” You smile.

“But?” She asks, setting down the towel she had had over her shoulder to wipe her hands on.

“But I don’t want to ruin anything between us. We’re all each other’s best friends and I don’t want to make anything awkward by admitting that I like them. And that I like them both! I suppose it’s slightly better than liking only one of them if they both like me as well. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt either of them.” You explain to which Molly nods.

“I know that, dear. You care for both of them deeply.”

“I do. I really do, but it’s odd to date two people at the same time, right? I’d hate to have to choose between them, but I’m not fond of the idea of people looking at us funny if I were with both of them.”

“I’m just really confused, Mrs. Weasley. I don’t know what to do.” You sigh, looking back at her and leaning against the table.

“You’ve been thinking about this for awhile, haven’t you hun?”

You nod, sniffling slightly because you really just don’t know what to. It hurts you to think about hurting either of them.

“C’mere.” The older lady waves you towards her where she pulls you into a hug.

“It must be hard to not have a mum to talk to about this. As awful as it sounds, this truly is just the beginning of a lot of pain and tough decisions in your life. You can come to me at any time, okay? I promise you that. You’re like a daughter to me and I’d hate to see you suffer in silence. Just owl me or come visit me, whatever works for you, okay?”

“Thank you, mrs weasley. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Now, about your situation, you just tell them how you feel. Tell them that while your worried it might make things awkward, you had to get it off your chest. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod. A small smile forming on your lips.

~.~

It’s been a few days since your conversation with Mrs. Weasley and it’s finally Christmas Eve so the burrow is buzzing with excitement.

You have yet to find the right moment to tell Fred and George how you feel, but you figure it can wait a while more. You’ve been able to maintain a fairly regular relationship with them, keeping your conversations playful and away from any feelings. As long as you didn’t think too much about how attractive or caring they are, you could go on pretending everything is the same.

However, as the days progress it becomes increasingly more difficult for Fred and George to pretend that everything is normal. Unbeknownst to you, they had overheard everything you said to their mother that day in the kitchen. While they were more than happy to hear you say that you liked them, they felt terrible that you had been having an internal war between your head and heart.

It was becoming impossible not to notice how adorable you were even when you weren’t doing anything. They’d caught you reading a few times without disturbing you and couldn’t help but observe all the little details of you. Like how you’d bite your lip and smile when you read something that made you happy or how you’d even try to cover your mouth when you’d get smiling a lot. Either way your eyes would show just how happy you were.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Weasley’s! Merry Christmas Eve, Harry!” You smiled as you came down for breakfast.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too, dear.” Mrs. Weasley smiled, setting a plate of pancakes down in front of you as you took your spot in between Fred and George.

“Is there much we need to do today?” You asked after taking a sip of your coffee that George had made for you.

“Oh, no. Nothing you need to bother help with.” She smiles as she sits down herself.

“Y/n, I was wondering if you’d be willing to go to diagon alley with me? If it’s alright with you, mum? I could really use y/n’s help getting some last minute gifts.” Ginnny asks, looking from her mother to you.

“Of course I would, Ginny. Would that be okay with you, Mr and Mrs Weasley?”

“It sounds lovely. I doubt either of you get much girl time with all these boys around all the time.” Mrs Weasley smiles.

“Perfect! Thank you, mum. And thank you, y/n!”

~.~

“So what gifts did you need to get, Ginny?” You ask as you both walk diagon alley.

“Well, actually. I was hoping to find one for Harry, but I have no idea what to get him. I’d also like to get something for Hermione as well since she’ll be over tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay. No problem, let’s start with finding something for hermione, okay? She’ll be easier to get something for.”

After a couple hours of looking around and finding a gift for hermione, as well as some extra for her family, you both decide to take a short break.

“Thank you, again, for coming with me today, y/n. I knew you’d be able to help me.” Ginny says, smiling and blushing ever so slightly.

“Of course, Gin. I love spending time with you and it’s even better when I can help.”

“Well now it’s time for me to help you, do you have any gifts for my brothers?” She asks, leaning forward and folding her hands together.

“Of course I do, Ginny. I have gifts for all of you.”

“What did you get Fred and George?”

“I have a few different things for them. You’ll have to wait and see just like them.” You smile.

“Come on, y/n. I’m trying to help you.” Ginny sighs.

“Why? Are you afraid that the gifts I got them aren’t good enough?” You joke.

“No, I’m sure what you got them is wonderful. I just know one of the gifts they got you and it’s reeeally nice.” She emphasizes.

“They did? They know I don’t need anything expensive.” You frown, now worrying what it is they got you and how much it was.

“You’ll really like it though. I promise you.” She smiles and that makes you even more nervous. What could they possibly have gotten you?

~.~

You both finally got back to the burrow late that afternoon after it had started snowing and just kept on picking up.

“Thank heavens you both got home safe. We’ve been watching it snow for the last half hour and it just kept picking up.” Molly said when you both came in the door, shaking off the excess snow.

“Looks like you both had fun.” Fred smirked, nodding towards the few bags in each of your hands.

“We did, thank you very much. I don’t get nearly enough time to hang out with your sister.” You say, setting the bags down to take off your coat and scarf.

“So what did you get?” George asks, trying to peek in the bags as he hands you a mug of cocoa his mother told him to make when she saw the car headlights down the road.

“None of your business.” You chuckle, swatting his arm to get him away from them.

“Ooh, do you have gifts in there?” Fred asks, excitedly.

“Would you both knock it off? What did you think we went out for today? Obviously it’s gifts you dummies.” You chuckle, picking up the bags so they can’t get into them.

“Aw, c’mon. We just wanna see what you got everyone.” Fred pouts, George joining him when you look over at him.

You chuckle and shake your head at the pair. They were definitely something.

“Thank you for the cocoa, George. I’ll be enjoying it upstairs as I wrap these gifts away from you two.”

They pout but can’t help but smile when you walk away shaking your head and smiling at them. They were getting more and more anxious by the minute to give you their gift that they spent days trying to figure out. They only hoped you would like it as much as they thought they would.

[muffindaddystyles]

WHERE YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HARRY BUT DON'T WANNA RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP.

Five days before Christmas and Harry protested that you should go with them to his childhood and Anne's house for the festive since you've no-more assignments to do you agreed but 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 you felt like someone made you sit on a spikey bench throughout the whole drive as you had to watch him and his girlfriend sharing intimate moments infront of you.

You were the first one to get wrapped into Anne's embrace as you all reached and when she showered Harry in kisses causing him to whine a "mummy!" you and his girlfriend giggled shaking their heads.

Night was on with full charisma his cousin's kids playing everywhere you chatted, laughed and agreed on helping them to make digital cards as you're doing a graphic designing degree.

Then again you were left alone in the corner of couch while everyone's interest diverted towards Gemma's new profound game and you found yourself watching them in their own bubble making eggnogs for everyone in the kitchen.

You wanted to be in awe, be overly joyous for them that one of your bestest friend's finally being happy but you couldn't. Fuck it's so hard like someone's twisting the knife inside you and you're so lost don't know what to do.

You've always been scared to tell your feelings not to Harry but to anyone and when you were about to tell him proudly that "Harry Styles I'm so fuckin' in love with you!" the same day he you introduced to his date, from then you're just suffering internally.

He handed you the glass of eggnog kissing your head passing by you and drinking it in one gulp you stood up and with her in his lap he frowned asking.

"Where y'goin? Stay a bit more."

"Um..tired wanna rest." With that you went to your given room gazing up at the ceiling remembering the times you used to stay up all night with him in his childhood room, getting peaks of his upcoming songs, cuddling and many times just getting drunk at the roof outside.

You didn't realized you were crying until the pillow was soaking under you. You can never snatch his source of happiness so it's just better to back off.

The next morning it was late when you woke up and it was silent upon your asking one of the maid told you that they all went for Christmas shopping.

"Mop! Mop!" Baby Linda his niece bounced on the sofa calling you mop as Harry used to call you 'moppet' and the brilliant child she's catched it in a second.

"Heyyyyyy lin." You smiled taking her in arms flopping down on the sofa while the Ariel was binging on telly.

"Har n' you never ever- watch movies with'm." On every Christmas you used to now Harry simply doesn't have time for you.

At the end of movie you were about to tell her that not everyone get's prince charming or have a happy ending in their lives, considering the real story of Ariel but you went against it knowing she's just a baby and you're saying it because you're a hurt adult.

She was already snoring. Chuckling you got comfortable cuddling with her and again taking a nap which turned into a long sleep.

Harry beamed in adoration looking at you warmly wormed up with his niece, Linda's mother took her to bedroom but you were still there so Harry snaked his arm around you making you stand on your feet clumsily head tucking under his chin.

You blubbered foolishly clutching his sides tight making him giggle and when he was about to lay you down you refused to let him go, both of you plopping down on sheets.

Harry frowned when you murmured in a weak voice 'don't go' 'don't go, please' but shushing you atlast he again left you under the sheets and his scent only.

He knows something's wrong but he can't figure it out.

Next day, it was bustling in the house Anne and everyone in the kitchen baking cookies and cakes, now even Anne thinks you're not feeling well.

Harry and his girlfriend were doing a chore when you cleared your throat. The fact she's so nice that you can't even let your heart speak bad about her.

"Can I steal Harry for a moment?" You asked her and she nodded patting him, "He's all yours." At that time you wanted to sob out aloud because 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕.

In the corner you fidgeted with your fingers while Harry's anticipated to go back.

"Umm..one of my friend's really really sick I've to be with her-" Squinting his eyes he cut you off knowing you both have same friends, "which one?"

"You don't know about her. Seriously Harry? I've alot of friends except you." You're offended without any reason even though you're lying.

"Fine whatever you wish." He spoke without any excitement because he really really want you beside him with his family.

"Uh..okay then. Everyone's gifts are in the room please give them on my behalf." He curtly nodded not meeting your eyes.

"Should I take you?" You declined his offer assuring him that you'll take a bus home. Everyone's face dropped at the news of your departure and Anne wasn't very fond of the idea but anyhow she agreed asking you to 'take care of yourself.'

On the Christmas eve everyone was sat around the fire pit while you were alone in your apartment eating pretzels and hot cocoa. When they unwrapped gifts from you they all became sad instead of being happy.

Harry fisted the sweater you personally knitted for him as a gift and angrily shoved it back into brown bag, he don't know why he's feeling certain way.

He wanted you with him, wanted too take in your reaction while he unwrapped his present and to give you one he has chosen and kept for you from months.

In the bedroom he pinned his girlfriend against the wall ready to fuck her hard and raw not because he's feeling thirsty or needy, he's at edge and frustrated.

When she was ontop of him kissing him, grinding her hips down against him. He moaned like a wounded animal and didn't even realized what he said till the second she climbed down from his thigh.

"You just moaned out y/n name." Harry's eyes widened in shock, this can't possibly be happening.

"Harry do you think you're in love with, y/n?" She asked him politely rubbing his knee because she's not into that deep with Harry and will be okay with him not wanting to continue this relationship.

"I-I don't know..maybe?" He puffed out focusing on his rings.

"I think so you're and honestly I wouldn't mind if you'll go after her." She grinned and then it hit him like hundered bricks that him getting antsy without your presence, him missing you even it was just for three days and him getting angry at you for not even giving him the good-bye kiss means that his heart has always been in love with you.

"M'in love with my moppet. Fuck. Fuck. M'in love" He hastened to his closet fishing for his clothes, phone in between his shoulder and ear.

Ringing and ringing but you never picked up. But that didn't made him loose his hope in you, in their love.

Wait- he thought to himself that do you love him?

"Thank you. Thank you!" He hugged her last time before leaving for london.

You were startled when there was loud banging on your door, you know it's Harry from the missed calls bunched in your phone from him so you ignored it again going to sleep.

Harry: Are you inside?

His text popped up and you quickly typed back throwing it carelessly.

You: No. Told ya, at friend's.

He sighed defeatedely leaning his head against your door groaning loudly. But again, he isn't loosing his hope because now he's very sure you're in love with him.

New years eve and your close friend invited you to their party, despite of knowing Harry could be there you gave in. After so much whining to yourself you went not wearing anything flashy just a cute baby floyd sweater and right at the entrance of her building you bumped into Harry.

"There's somethin' you're not tellin'm." His words floated out quickly anxious that you'll not listen to him. He's smiling bashfully finding you adorable as fuck.

You remained quite lowering your head and Harry raised his hand many times to touch you, litreally hug you tight against his chest but he hesitated.

"Miss you, please what did I do wrong?" You shook your head blinking away the tears.

"You didn't do anything wrong...I-I just can't be friends with you anymore." Harry could be seen practically shuddering at your words, anger boiling inside him.

"You're lying!" He balled his fists and you snapped, "No. I don't like you infact I hate you!" You cried painfully as if you're bleeding.

You had to say this else his littlest of cooing and you'd have melted to his feet. You ran away from him the elevator doors shutting while you kept on looking at eachother not knowing how much you're hurting eachother.

There's a skip in your heart when the elevator jerked making you tumble to floor. The light went out and you blindly reached for nothing in particular..

Fuck this isn't happening. You're claustrophobic and right now it's the extreme of your phobia.

"Help!" You screamed crying legs shivering and giving out causing you to collapse painfully onto floor.

You banged the steel doors with your whole will power litreally trying to open them with your hands because you're getting a panic attack this's what mostly people do when the get panicked, they try to do things out of their force just so they could breath.

With shaky fingers and blurry vision you dialed the first number, phone falling in your lap as you're feeling zaps of horror till your bones.

Afraid of dark you kept looking behind you in the mirror heart slowing down at each glance.

Harry was in the middle of staircase the music reaching to him from your guys friend's house and he halted in his tracks when his phone ringed furrowing his brows at your name flashing.

"Har-h-" His heart fell onto floor at your loud incoherent sobs, "what happened are y'okay? Where are ya!?" His voice boomed and he fled downstairs but again upstairs as to lost where you're because you're just crying loudly into speaker.

"Stru-stuck, lift save me...." You digged your nails into your sweater atop of where your heart is because you can't breath anymore.

He muttered a shit under his breath quickly telling the security guard of building to do something, pacing around he gripped his hair "hey moppet listen to me hmmm? They're comin' s'okay, it's okay. Breath fo' me." He rambled into phone running back to the elevator doors.

He knows how much you're scared of closed spaces and how much you despise dark.

Your windpipes are blocking any air passage, your brain fuzzy and vision going. You're feeling so scared that these are your last breaths and someone will come from darkness to drag you with them.

"...can't- breath. breath can't.., please please please." You begged and Harry's feeling helpless. He can't see the person he love ever most being in so pain on the verge of losing themselves.

Pressing his palms and forehead against the cool steel door he spoke broken, "..baby m'strong strong girl jus' focus on the things ye' love- or the moments ye' want to cherish again."

But, you were giving in heart thumping brain shutting so before you know your racing heart's blabbering and blabbering, "you. you...love- love you please. I love you!" A single sob escaped from Harry's lungs and he punched the steel.

"Fuck I love you too so fucking much baby, stay strong fo' me jus-just don't give in." Then he screamed at the guard, "where the fuck are they!!"

But you haven't heard his 'I love yous' not his soft talk because you were long gone into dark blue and purples of your safe world.

Harry clutched his phone neck veins popping as he shouted, "fuck. fuck moppet! don't go. Are ye' listenin' to me?" He's crying standing up and practically shoving the engineer to do his work as soon as possible.

All the oxygen left his body when the elevator dinged again opening to give the sight of you unconscious on it's floor, phone beside your head and your chest not moving.

He didn't spare a second scooping your sweaty body in his arms bridal style taking you to the house where party's still going.

"Move the fuck away!" He shouted pushing grinding bodies away laying you down inside the closest bedroom.

He pressed his ear against your heart which was giving slow beats, sighing he kissed your forehead brushing the strands of hair sticking to your face back then again sponging kisses to your closed eye-lids meanwhile some person in the party was a med student so she suggested to give you a shot that'll calm you down from anderaline and will help you sleep for a while.

He flinched as the needle pricked your delicate skin. The accident showed him how ignorant he was of his feelings for you, he has never loved someone this much.

He didn't care to go outside, just holding your hand kissing it again and again, checking if you were okay and he was so paranoid so he kept on holding your wrist to check your heart race.

When you shifted slightly in you position groaning to sit up he placed his hands on your shoulder, "hey..hey don't it's okay. It's okay baby rest."

"Need water?" He asked you stroking your cheek and you nodded exhaling, "Hold me?" You whispered snuggling by his side.

"Sure baby always." He embraced you for dear life rocking your bodies like a baby in cradle, "I was angry at you when you left from mum's home and then during sex I took your name..fuck at that moment I got to know how much I love you moppet, so so fuckin' much."

"I too." You whispered gazing up at him and there were loud noises of countdown outside.

"Kiss me?" You wet your dry lips, your noses touching and it's hazy all around you. With your temples pressed he squeezed your bottoms kissing the corner of your lips first and when everyone yelled Happy new years! He smashed his lips on yours cupping your face gently.

Fireworks everywhere. In the sky and inside of you as you pulled his hair deepening the kiss and he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You kissed until you both were out of breath and he pecked you moistly saying 'always.'

"They say what y'do on new years eve you keep on doing it for the next whole year." You giggled closing your eyes from tiredness and the shot murmuring, "cheeky enough."

.

A/n

I've written this claustrophobia situation on my experience. This really happened with me. I'm claustrophobic and got stuck in an elevator bad combination I know but there wasn't any Harry to save me😭😆

[lminlovewithmycar]

Christmas with Queen - Roger Taylor

A/N: My first ever queen imagine, I hope you all enjoy! I also live in the states so sorry if my depiction of anything is wrong! 

Pairing: BohRap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Implied smut, cussing, alcohol use, I think that’s it?

Requests Are Open! I write anything Roger Taylor!

not my gif but wow i love one (1) man

The sound of wind whistling against the window of your London townhome woke you out of your sleep. You sighed deeply and cracked your eyes open, seeing snow falling outside from the crack in the curtains. You swung your legs over the side of your bed as quietly and gently as you could, as to not wake the sleeping, beautiful man that laid next to you, blond hair making a slight halo around his head. Fitting, because he looked nothing short of an angel as he slept. 

Christmas morning! your brain told you, and you smiled, planting your feet on the hardwood floor, standing yourself up and grabbing your silk robe to match your lacey nightgown from across the room. You slipped the robe on while tip-toeing your way into the kitchen. You began to brew some coffee and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard above you. Once it was done, you poured you and Rog’s coffee, just the way he liked and padded your way back to the bedroom. When you got to the room, you noticed Roger was in the process of sitting up and stretching out, a lazy smile on his face as he gazed at you. You climbed back into bed and handed him his coffee, feeling so lucky to have him by your side for Christmas. He and his bandmates had wrapped the American leg of their News of the World tour, and you got to be with him for a few months before he went back onto the road. You internally smiled, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you in bed.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he said, hand coming up to your face, caressing it and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” you grinned back, sipping your coffee. 

After a few minutes of just enjoying each other's company, you decided you wanted to exchange gifts before having to get ready for the day. You grabbed Rog by the hands and tried to pull him out of the bed, which was a fail, to say the least. After a few minutes of him making the biggest dramatic deal about having to get out of bed, you got him upright. You took his hand once more and led him into the living area, running to plug in the tree lights and turn on the tele to see The Scrooge, one of your favorite Christmas movies, playing. You hadn’t noticed, but Rog’s eyes were stuck on only you as he watched you sort through the mass of gifts under the tree. He loved seeing you light up like this, and even though this would be the third Christmas you had spent as a couple, he never got tired of watching you light up on Christmas morning. Every time, he would fall deeper in love with you - something he didn’t even know was possible.

After a little while and many gift wrappings later, you were at your final gift and so was Rog. You had gotten him a few shirts from his favorite little shop down the road, which he loved, some personalized drumsticks, a few other random gifts, and the one he was opening now: a necklace chain with a little letter on it, representing your first name initial. He smiled at it and leaned over to plant a kiss on your lips, sweet and chaste, and whispered an ‘i love you’. You smiled, unwrapping your final gift. So far you got some new records for your record player, a picture framed of you and Rog recently that a pap had taken, and some beautiful earrings. You opened the box and saw the most beautiful fur coat from Mary’s boutique. You smiled as you gazed at it, in awe of its beauty. You wrapped your arms around Rog’s neck and planted kisses all over his face as he laughed.

“Thank,” kiss. “You,” kiss. “So,” kiss. “Fucking,” kiss. “Much.”

“Don’t thank me, I love seeing you happy and spoiling you to death, so get used to it,” he grinned back at you. 

Most people have only seen Roger as the label that tabloids slap on him: wild and groupie-crazy drummer boy in a rock band. Sure he was a rock star, but he was also the most heartfelt and soft-hearted boy you have ever met. Many people don’t see the Roger that you see: the one that cries when he gets stressed, the one that makes passionate love to you rather than just a quick shag, or the one that wears your initial around his neck so that he can keep you close to his heart at all times. He may be labeled as a crazy rock star, but he is your crazy rock star, and neither of you would have it any other way. 

You make your way back to the bedroom while Rog starts to make some breakfast. You decide, knowing you will have to leave soon to your mum’s house, to get ready. You put on a pair of red pants with a matching red top and belt, throwing the fur coat onto the bed and laying out your wedged heels. As you brushed through your hair, you hear Rog should that the pancakes are ready and you add finishing touches to your makeup, exiting the bathroom, slipping on your wedges and coat, and entering into the kitchen. The smell of pancaked hangs in the air as Rog nearly chokes on his food when he sees you.

“You look gorgeous,” he babbles, food still in his mouth. You giggle at him.

“Why thank you.”

After eating, Rog goes to get one of his new shirts on with some trousers. When he returns a few minutes later as you wash the dishes, you smile and walk over to him and run your hand down his gorgeous torso. The shirt fit him just right and he looked absolutely beautiful.

“Be careful now, don’t get too handsy or we’ll be late to your mum’s,” he smirks, hands pushing your hair back as he rests them on the sides of your neck, thumbs just centimeters away from your lips.

“Mm, that sounds so tempting, though,” you sigh, latching around the back of his neck, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you back and it instantly becomes heated. You shove your hands into his golden waves, wrapping them around your fingers and tugging, earning a moan from him. His hands travel down to your ass, gripping it and pulling you closer to him as you feel his already-hard-on brush against your thigh. Just as quickly as things escalated, though, they halted and Rog pulled away. 

“Later,” he whispers against your lips.

“’Later’ is all the way at night, God knows how late,” you whine. “Come on, we’ll just tell my mum we had car trouble.”

Roger was never the man to turn down a chance to get with you, but he knew how anal your mother was about timing, and he was not going to ruin Christmas for you. Not today. Today is special.

“You know we can’t to that,” he grabs onto your hands and squeezes them in affirmation. “Later.”

The car ride out to your mother’s home out in the countryside just in the outskirts of London was filled with music from a radio station that you and Roger loved to blast. You sang gently along to Hotel California by the Eagles as the car pulled into the driveway of your family home. Roger parked the car and took in a deep breath.

Another side the fans don’t see - the fact that after three years as your boyfriend, Roger still gets a tad bit nervous talking to your parents. They don’t really understand the world of rock and roll that you two live in, but they try their best to. All Roger cares about around your family is making sure that he impresses them without sounding like a cocky rockstar. You knew your parent’s, though, and they absolutely adored Rog. They constantly insist that he was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

You grab his hand and smile at him, and it tells him everything he needs to know to calm down. He climbs out of the car, rushing to your side so that he can open the door for you. You take his hand and stand up out of the car and you two walk up the steps, hand in hand, and you knock on the door.

“Y/N!!” your younger sister cries as she flings open the door. You embrace her in a hug and giggle as she swings you side to side. She pulls away from you and turns to Roger and she embraces him into a much less energetic hug.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you,” Roger smiles. 

Your sister leads the two of you into the house where your entire - entire - family is. A chorus of “Y/N!”’s echoes through the room. You make your way around to each family member, hugging and greeting each one with smiles as Roger follows you and shakes many hands and hugs a few. Especially your aunt, she demanded a hug from him always. She always announces to him that she is a hugger and Roger, being the amazing and sweet man he is, will just smile and embrace her.

You sat with the family for a while, knowing you would only stay for a little bit because Rog’s family was a bit of a drive. 

“So, Roger, how’s your music group?” your dad asked, not quite grasping the concept of a band as big as Queen.

“We’re in the middle of a tour right now, actually. I got to catch a break for the holidays thankfully, but we’re better than ever. And I have a beautiful woman by my side to experience it with me, what more could I want really?” he smiles and nearly everyone coos an ‘awe’. 

“A ring, maybe?” Your mom blurts out when the room goes quiet. You gasp and hiss, “mum!” and you feel your cheeks turn red.

You and Roger had talked about marriage all the time, of course, but for your mother to make a comment like that made you worry that it was gonna put stress on you and Roger’s relationship to rush into marriage. Your mom has always pushed you to marry Roger, but with touring and his band really taking off, you just assumed there wasn’t enough time for marriage. Your mom understood that, so you thought.

“You’re not wrong, ma’am. We’ll see,” Roger responded, squeezing your hand.

The rest of the day zips by pretty fast. After a little while of lunch, gift exchanges, and a few hugs and kisses from your mum, dad, and family later, you were off to Rog’s family. Considering it was quite small, Rog’s family’s Christmas was a lot more mellow. You played some soccer out back with the younger side of the family and also had a very charming chat with Roger’s mum about Rog as a child. She brought out the baby books - for the third year in a row - and you lovingly stared at each picture as you did every year. When you and Rog noticed the sun starting to set, you headed off, deciding it was time for the most exciting part of the whole day: Freddie’s with the band.

When you arrived at his home, you were not even surprised to see Freddie throw his arms up into the air as he strutted outside his door, wearing bright red pants with a dazzling, sparkly silver shirt, topping it off with an obnoxiously sparkly Santa hat.

“It’s Christmas, darlings!” he welcomed you two, kissing you on the cheek and wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders. You all walked into Freddie’s insanely decorated living room, gawking at his giant Christmas tree. You greeted each of the band mates. You hugged Brian and complemented his top, hugging his date as well. You throw your arms around Deaky, greeting him happily. He laughs and tells you a hello and you hug his date as well. You finally walk up to Mary, one of your best friends for the longest time. She introduced you to Roger so you had a lot to thank her for. You gave her a tight hug and started a conversation with her about her new promotion at her boutique. After greeting everyone, Fred quiets the boys down to make an announcement to the eight of you.

“Since Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Y/N finally decided to show up, late probably due to shagging or some shenanigans, we can finally eat!” 

You all gather around Fred’s large dining table, but before you could dig in, Fred holds up his bottle of overpriced champagne, popping it, earning a cheer from everyone. He pours each person a glass and you all toast to being able to spend Christmas together. You then proceed to dig into your Christmas meal, knowing that if Mary cooked, it would be amazing. 

After a few more drinks into the night, Rog disappears into the kitchen for some reason you didn’t know. You were pretty tired at this point, so you just laid your head back into the sofa. Mary eventually appears from the kitchen followed by Roger announces that everyone should probably order a taxi and leave now so that the boys can rest up for an interview tomorrow. You just figured she wanted the house alone with Freddie, so you didn’t question it. The thought of Roger’s voice in your ear whispering ‘later’, was still fresh in your mind, so you stood up quickly, walking to go help Rog gather all the gifts that you two had gotten from the boys. You told everyone goodbye and saw Brian and Deacy get into their taxis. Roger insisted that he only had a glass of champagne so he would be okay to drive. You knew he was okay, so you climbed into the car and began to head home.

“Babe, I really want to drive through the city and see all the pretty lights,” Roger asked, sounding like a little child. You smiled, taken by surprise at his question.

“Well, let's do it then,” you grin, grabbing his hand as he took the extremely long way home. You didn’t mind.

After about an hour of detours, you finally arrived home. Roger was somewhat eager to get out of the car and he rushed to your side, your feet crunching in the snow as you stood up. Before you walked up the steps to your house, Roger grabbed both of your hands so that you were face to face with him.

The wind lightly gusted around and through the two of you and snow lightly fell in your hair, sticking to your face as well.

“Y/N, I want you to know how much I love you before we walk into the house,” he states, his voice shaking just a little bit.

“Rog, what’s going on?” you question, concern in your face. Rather than answering you, he just leads you by the hand up your steps and to the door. Roger reaches for the handle and pushes the door open for you.

Walking inside your house, the first thing you notice is all the little tea candles, making a path through the foyer into the main room, which was practically cleared out. Mary, Deacy, and Deacy and Brian’s girls were holding little candles at the entrance to the room. You then noticed the rose petals that were lining the floor. You see Brian sitting on a bench and playing his guitar and Freddie at the piano, playing along with Brian. You immediately recognize the tune to Love of My Life, and Freddie chimes in with the chorus to the song, Roger’s hand still gripping yours. Just as Freddie sings his last note to the song, you feel a tear fall onto your cheek. It goes quiet for just a second before Roger’s hand lets go of yours. You turn to him, his beautiful face illuminated by the candles. He runs his hand on the side of your face lovingly, blue eyes staring deep into yours. You notice that he, too, is tearing up just a little.

“Y/N, I remember the first ever time I saw your face. You were with Mary and she introduced you to me after a show downtown. I remember you looked at me with the most beautiful million dollar smile I have ever seen in my entire life and twisted a piece of hair in front of your ear, and you just simply said your name and shook my hand. I knew all the way then three years ago that I never wanted to let you go. Something about the way you laughed, twirled your hair, dance to your favorite song, something about the way you just live freely makes me want to hold your hand and just kiss you forever. That one time we had a show at a pub here just before you and I had just started living together, I got absolutely piss drunk, and you came and picked me up in the middle of the night at some random bar without hesitation. I remember waking up next to you the next day for the first time. Later that day, I marched myself to the nearest ring store and started looking. I knew then that I wanted to be with you forever. And those feelings are still fresh on my mind constantly. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to always be able to come home to you after a long day and just make the most passionate love we’ve ever made. Hell, I want to grow old and rock back and forth on a rocking chair one day. And even then, I’ll still think I’m the luckiest man in the world. And especially, I want to have more moments like these with you. Moments where I can feel your heart beat for me and I can look in your eyes and see the stars. Y/F/N,” Roger breathes, tears streaming down his face as he gets down on his knee, opening the little velvet box. “Will you marry me?”

You, uncontrollably sobbing at this point, choke out a “Yes” and he jumps up, spinning you around, cheering and crying at the same time. You hear everyone around you clapping and cheering. When he sets you down, he slips the ring on your finger, and your jaw hits the floor. The ring is the biggest rock of a ring you’ve ever seen. 

“I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,” he whispers to you before kissing you passionately on the lips. 

“How did you all do this?” you squeal, turning to your friends.

“You really believed Roger when he wanted to ‘take the long way home’?” John laughed.

“Yeah, if I’m correct, normally Roger would’ve sped to get home so he could get you into bed and-” You slapped Freddie’s shoulder before he could finish that sentence.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. God help us all. Two divas and wedding planning,” Brian fake-dramatically stated. Rog shushed him with a slight chuckle.

“Well, Freddie was right. I wanna have some alone time with my fiance, so thank you all, but would you mind leaving?” Roger winked. Everyone was out of that house in one minute flat.

You pecked Roger and squealed as he unexpectedly picked you up, your legs around his torso, arms around his neck.

“I love you,” he commented.

“I love you too, Roger Meddows Taylor.”

And with that, he carried you to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him, finally getting to what he promised you earlier.

Requests are open - I write Roger Taylor fics!!

[niallismymuse]

Chapter 3

Tessa spent the days leading up to the camping trip working as hard as she possibly could. She needed to finish the projects she had already started, because if she left without completing them, a tight knot of anxiety would squeeze her chest until she couldn’t focus on anything but the work that needed to be finished. It would ruin her trip.

She ignored the roommate problem entirely; it was something to worry about after the trip, purely because she didn’t have enough time to interview applicants until she was home anyway. And even if she did, she didn’t want a practical stranger living in here when she was gone.

It had nothing to do with the still-cold silence between her and Jess. Nothing at all.

She had texted the group chat and informed them that Niall was coming. Melody had been excited, and Ryan had cheered simply for more testosterone. Lyrica had seemed excited too; apparently Niall knew how to throw down some alcohol, which was mostly what they did on this trip.

Jess hadn’t said a word.

And it was fine. Whatever. The Christmas gift would remain unopened and at her apartment, for now at least.

She kept in constant contact with Niall over text, telling him what he should bring and informing him that he would have to share a bedroom with Ryan. He seemed excited. It’s been a while since I’ve done something as spontaneous as this, one of his texts read.

This wasn’t that spontaneous – he had a couple days to prepare – but she understood what he meant. It was hard to uproot your system when it was work, and mostly just that. Sometimes at parties, she didn’t know what to do with herself, like she had forgotten how to act after hours of being on the computer.

Well, usually she drank some tequila in those situations and got over it quickly enough. Tessa loved to dance; she wondered, briefly, if Niall would dance with her at the cabin. While she hadn’t been an avid listener, she knew enough about his One Direction days; he hadn’t been much of a dancer then.

She could throw it down, though. Maybe that would be enough for the both of them.

Tessa sighed and took her headphones off, before rubbing at her tired face with her hands. She was going to work herself to death. And ever since having Niall over the other night, she felt like her work hadn’t been quality. Her mind was moving in lopsided circles, like a flat bicycle tire. Work. Niall. Work. Niall. Was this video even worth her time? Did Niall like her as a friend or did he like her like her? Did this concept make sense, and would it translate onscreen? Would Niall have a good time at the cabin?

Eventually, she had to stop and take a break from everything – the video she was working on, and her own brain. Tessa tossed her mouse aside and pushed herself up from her desk, rubbing at her temples and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly, feeling her shoulders slump as she let all of her anxiety filter out of her. Maybe she needed to go to a yoga class, or something similar, and stretch it out.

As she was weighing the pros and cons of heading to the local gym to see if she could catch a class, her phone rang. Curious, she picked it up and bit her lip when she saw who was calling. It was her mother.

With more apprehension than she was willing to admit, Tessa accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, so now you answer me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, and you better have a good reason for it.”

She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Tessa loved her mom, she really did, but she was often overbearing and some people (like her husband) would even say that she has controlling tendencies. She hadn’t spoken to her since before the pictures of her and Niall had blown up on the Internet, though Maria Jenkins had tried her best to change that. She had been calling every day.

Tessa decided to go with something somewhat close to the truth. “I haven’t really felt up to talking to people, Mom.”

Her mother changed tactics immediately. “Aw, sweet girl, I can’t even imagine the stress you’ve been under, especially with what’s been in the news.” She paused, giving Tessa a chance to chime in with exactly what had been in the news, but continued when she remained silent. “But you can always talk to me, and you can always come home for a little bit. We’ll take care of you and get you right on track.”

Maria had been trying to get her back home since Tessa had left to attend college, years ago. She had never anticipated that her only child would want to leave the nest so soon, and she took any chance she could to remind Tessa that she could always come home if anything was too hard, or if she was struggling.

Privately, Tessa was pretty sure that if she agreed and went home to stay for longer than a holiday, she would never leave again. She had a sneaking suspicion that her mother would try to find a way to keep her there forever – visiting while on breaks from college had been trying, at best. She nearly became a fugitive from her mother one winter break, sneaking out of windows at night just to get out of the house.

“I’m good, Mom, thanks. I’ve just been relaxing around the apartment.”

“Good, good.” There was a weighty pause, and then when her mother spoke again, she sounded almost concerned. “That man…he’s treating you good, right? In life and about this whole paparazzi situation?”

Tessa felt her eyes nearly well up. Of course, her mom was worried about her. She loved her, after all, and vice versa. “Oh, Mom, we’re not together…but he’s a very good friend to me, yes.”

She waited to hear how ‘friends don’t kiss each other’s cheeks like that, Tessa’, but her mother merely sighed instead. “Okay, my girl. I trust you. Just…call me, okay? I miss you. And if everything gets to be too much, you can always come home, even if it’s just for a day.”

Tessa hung up a few minutes later, after chatting about some lighter topics. She felt both better and worse. Better, because her mother did truly love her. Worse, because she was a shitty daughter.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Tessa tried to put everything out of her mind. She grabbed her purse and her wallet and walked out of her apartment. If she hurried, she could make the 3:00 yoga class, and since she was already dressed in athleisure wear, she booked it out to her car.

Tessa just needed some time to think and to absorb.

✩✩✩

Suddenly, it was New Year’s Eve, and Tessa was packed and ready to go. She was just waiting for Niall to pick her up around noon, and then they would drive up to the Big Sur Campground.

They had decided yesterday to drive up together. She was a little nervous – the drive was on the long side, and there would be nothing to do but either talk or sit in silence. What if she said something awkward? What if she accidentally revealed she had been wondering if he liked her?

Tessa used to be the type of woman that would straight up tell someone if she liked them, but she referred to those times as her college years. She hadn’t done that since junior year of college, and anyway, that method had given her Bryan, an ex, who was a fucking loser.

Besides, she just…didn’t feel like Niall liked her back. He threw off so many different signals, it spun her mind around in circles. She didn’t know how to figure him out. All she knew was that she liked him, and that they were driving to the cabin together.

Someone knocked on her door. She didn’t have any more time for internal freakouts. Tessa took a deep breath and did what she did best – repressed everything until she had time to drink some wine and sort it out. She grabbed the straps of her duffel bag and opened the door. Niall was standing there, smiling down at her. “Hey, Tess.”

He nearly took her breath away. He was dressed in dark jeans and a neat, evergreen-colored, long-sleeved shirt. His hair was flat along the top of his head, with minimal styling. His eyes were shining. Niall was, quite honestly, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Hey, Niall. Are you ready to go?”

“I should be asking you that,” he replied, amused, and pushed his hands down inside his pockets. “Are ya?”

“I am.” She smiled and pushed the door open further. “I’ve got my bag and everything.”

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.” Niall paused, holding his hand out – not trying to take her bag, but offering to carry it. She obliged him and handed him the straps. He blinked and adjusted his grip, feeling the weight of her bag. There was the distinct sound of glass clinking together, and his eyebrow shot up. “Is there alcohol in this bag, Miss?”

“Absolutely, Sir, for it is almost time to get lit. It will commence upon arrival.” Tessa replied with a formal air, and Niall burst out laughing. She smiled and stepped out of her apartment, shutting the door behind her and locking it, before setting her key inside her purse.

“This camping is sounding better and better.” Niall shook his head as he grinned like a child in a candy store. He then started off and led the way out of the building, choosing to take the stairs down rather than wait for the elevator. She didn’t mind, trotting along beside and slightly behind him – she was always cautious now walking down stairs, as she had been known to fall down them as a child.

“I prefer to call it glamping, myself.”

They walked out into the bright, but chilly Los Angeles morning. Tessa was grateful for the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing, since the wind had a bite to it, but Niall hardly blinked as he unlocked his Range Rover and popped the trunk, placing her luggage inside of it. He snapped it shut and then gestured towards the passenger seat. “After you, Tess.”

She clambered inside the car, feeling distinctly, for the first time, the acute difference in their lives. Yes, she made good money, but she was positive she couldn’t afford this car. Which was fine, because she dearly loved her own car, but still.

She knew he had money; he was a major popstar, of course, she would be blind not to see it in the little things (like the beautiful watch he wore, his shoes, etc.), but Niall never bragged. He was quite humble, actually. It was only in moments like this that she remembered that he was a step firmly above her financially.

This can only be as awkward as you let it be, Tessa reminded herself, so don’t. You’re not beneath him, in any way.

So, once more, she pushed it away and buckled herself before smiling gamely at the man sitting next to her in the driver’s side. “I’m glad you’re coming, Ni.” She had never used the nickname before, but it felt right.

Niall turned to face her and reached over and patted her on the knee before resting his hand lightly there. She felt her cheeks redden and bit down on her lip, but he merely squeezed her knee and murmured, “I’m glad too.”

He pulled his hand away and started the car; the engine rumbled on with a quiet purr, but Tessa was too busy gathering herself to comment on it. Niall plugged the address to the Big Sur Campground into his GPS and then smoothly reversed out of his parking space before pulling out of the lot and into the LA traffic. And thus, their trip began.

Tessa was silent for a few minutes, as she didn’t want to distract him – the traffic could be, and currently was, quite atrocious. But after a little while, Niall glanced over at her quickly and then back at the road. “Are ya comfortable? You’re awful quiet.”

“Oh! Yes, it’s really nice in here. I just didn’t want to distract you from driving.”

Niall chuckled. “Oh, the traffic doesn’t bother me. We’ll be out of here in no time.” Indeed, his fingers were loose on the steering wheel – there were no white knuckles, which she might have had if she were driving.

“How does this not bother you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“If you think this is bad, you should see London’s traffic. I would say it’s a bit worse.”

“Damn.” She was impressed. “This is pretty shitty, too. And it’s only 12:15!”

“Well, it could be worse. We could be driving at five in the evening.”

After that, the nervous spell she had been under was broken, and they casually talked and laughed all the way out of LA. It only took about forty minutes.

“And now, five hours until we’re at the campground.” Tessa mentioned after glancing at the GPS on his phone, and then laughed.

“Want to listen to some music along the way? You choose.” Niall told her and gestured towards the stereo.

“I…don’t really listen to much music, really.”

Niall shot her an incredulous glance. “What the fuck? What do you mean you don’t listen to much music?”

Tessa made a face and shook her head. “I don’t spend a lot of time actively listening to it, I mean. I turn on the radio when I’m in the car, but besides that…”

“No Spotify or anything?”

She looked at him quickly. “If you’re worried about it, I’ve listened to all of your music, you know.”

Niall blushed, his cheeks going ruddy. “I…I wasn’t worried about that…I just…music is such an enjoyable experience, something everyone needs to relax or have fun with.”

Tessa couldn’t help it; she reached over and pinched his red cheek, making him scowl. “My favorite song is ‘You and Me’, by the way.”

His scowl softened. “Thanks,” Niall answered softly, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of red.

She could tell he was still a little embarrassed, and she was enjoying it, but she decided to lessen his suffering. “How about you play me some of your favorite songs, then?”

He cleared his throat and then nodded his head towards his cell phone. “Pull up Spotify, and you’ll see a Playlist titled ‘X’. Shuffle that one.”

Tessa did as she was instructed, and immediately a song by Fleetwood Mac popped up. She was familiar with the general tune of it but not the words, so she merely listened. Niall, however, immediately perked up and began to sing softly along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. She found herself entranced by his voice, by him, and couldn’t stop herself from watching him.

Niall was aware of her gaze on him; she could tell by the little smile that was lifting up the corner of his lips just slightly. But he didn’t stop singing along, and so she didn’t stop watching him, her smile appearing to match his.

Eventually, a song turned on that she knew, so Tessa belted it out as loud as she possibly could – though she was pretty sure Niall was trying to be louder, judging by his cackle of delight – and even started dancing, shimmying her shoulders and generally making a fool of herself. Niall was singing along or trying to; he was laughing so hard she wasn’t sure how he could sing, much less drive.

It was the most fun five hours she had spent in years. So fun, in fact, that she was almost disappointed when they pulled in to the campground and parked by the check-in building. Tessa ran inside and grabbed the parking pass that was provided upon arrival for guests. They were in Cabin F, the last in the first loop of cabins. As they drove down the dirt lane towards their cabin, she could see that it was actually quite secluded – there were trees surrounding it almost entirely, and it was about fifty feet away from the closest cabin.

Two other cars were already parked in the driveway, and a wave of apprehension hit Tessa right in the gut. Jess and Lyrica were already here – as were Ryan and Melody. She had figured that they would arrive before her and Niall, but seeing that they had…yes, it was apprehension she felt. About Jess, none of the others.

Jess hadn’t even spoken to her recently, not even through the group chat that they had all made to keep updated about the trip. Tessa wasn’t stupid – she had posed a direct question to Jess only once, and when that had gone unanswered, she had stopped trying. And now she was about to go on a camping trip with her.

She was going to need a lot of wine to get through this trip. Luckily, she had anticipated that, and all of the wine needed was currently in her bag, plus some.

And, yes, there were some clothes in there too.

Niall parked behind the other two vehicles, and Tessa immediately hopped out. Niall quickly followed suit, and together they took their luggage out of the back of his car. Right as they began to make their way up to the cabin, the front door flew open and Melody rushed outside, Ryan hot on her heels.

“Tessa!” Melody squealed, charging down the stairs and launching herself towards Tessa. She wrapped her in a tight hug, squealing all the while. “We’ve been waiting for you guys! Hi!” The last word was directed towards Niall, who took the whole scene in with a smile. Ryan, still up on the deck, mouthed ‘drunk’ and pointed sharply at Melody. Tessa was already well aware – she could smell the tequila on Melody’s breath.

“Wow!” Tessa replied cheerily, giving Melody a quick squeeze back. “You have had some drinks today lady, haven’t you?”

She saw as Lyrica and Jess came out onto the deck with Ryan. Lyrica waved. Jess did not.

“Well, we’ve been waiting for hoouuurrrrsss for you and Niall! And it’s 5 o’ clock, you know. The drinking hour.”

Tessa laughed. Niall had already met her friends before at that house party Lyrica had thrown back in June, but she thought it might be helpful to introduce him now. “Melody, this is Niall. Niall, this is my friend from college, Melody.” She smiled, and Melody immediately straightened up and plastered her best ‘professional’ smile on.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Melody,” Niall replied formerly, before tossing in a wink. Melody giggled, covering her mouth.

“And up there is Ryan, and well, you know Lyrica and Jess.” Tessa continued to smile, trying her best not to allow any tension to radiate through.

Lyrica started walking down the steps from the deck, and Jess followed, her hand entwined with her girlfriend’s. “Tessa, I’m so glad to see you! And you too, Niall.” Lyrica grinned and came over to hug her, Jess staying a few feet back. “We’ve missed you.”

Really? Tessa asked herself, but she hugged Lyrica back, because she loved her like a sister, and Lyrica was definitely the more mellow of the three of them, the peacemaker, and it was evident that she was trying to fill that role just now.

“Hey, Jess,” Tessa added after a moment, making eye contact with her best friend over Lyr’s shoulder.

Jess smiled and gave a little finger wave. “Hey Tessa, Niall. Nice to see you.” And there it was. There was no warmth in her voice when she said her name, no affection, nothing. But there was no coldness, either; just plain indifference, like she was an acquaintance just met instead of a best friend with over a decade of strong history.

She looked good, though. And when her eyes landed on Lyrica, they sparked with happiness. And despite their current issues, Tessa didn’t begrudge her that.

“Well, let’s get this party started! Get on in here!” Ryan charged down the front steps and took both her bag and Niall’s, grinning widely. “Niall, I hope you don’t mind man, but you and I will be bunking in the same room. Separate beds, of course. Tessa and Melody are sharing too, and obviously, our resident lovebirds have a room together too.” He gestured towards Lyr and Jess.

Tessa, of course, had already warned Niall of this, so he took it all in stride. He reached over and clapped Ryan heartily on the back. “Sounds good mate. Lead on.”

Ryan led the way inside. They entered into a living room, which had a small TV and a couch with some armchairs situated next to it. Just past the living room was the dining room table, already covered with wine and beer and all sorts of other alcoholic beverages. To the left of that room, and out of sight, was the kitchen. Two hallways led from the living room, and Ryan took the one on the left side. At the end were two doors right across from each other, and he deposited their bags outside their respective rooms. He then whirled around and clapped his hands together before rubbing them together. “Tessa, I’m assuming you brought some goodies for us?”

She smirked, and crouched down beside her bag, unzipping it in one fluid motion. Nestled inside were two bottles of wine, a bottle of tequila, and another of vodka. And beneath that, obviously, were her clothes, but no one cared about that.

Melody cheered, reached down into the bag and grabbing the wine. “Our Queen Tessa has brought us gifts!” She called and danced her way towards the dining room table down the hallway, which held all of the other alcohol that was brought.

Niall shook his head, looking both amused and delighted. “You got some good shit, Tess.” He reached down and grabbed the tequila, looking over it and turning it in his hands.

She grabbed the remaining bottle of vodka and lifted it high in the air, a queen ready to knight her warriors.

Niall looked at her steadily, waiting for her to speak.

She smiled. “It is time to get lit.”

join the taglist / talk to me about this / story page

taglist: @angryniall @stylishmuser @confusedkiwifan @irish-nlessing@takemedancingmaine @hap-ppy-days-van-ish-ed @stayclose-holdsteady @playboyxniall @savvyflowers @day-dream-niall@awomanindeniall @militrybarbi @klairelavarias

[pan-princess-levy]

from across the ocean

name: from across the ocean rating: general relationship: gajeel redfox/levy mcgarden (platonic and romantic) tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting | Texting | Pen Pals | Long-Distance Relationship | its a chat fic | but with lots of emotion in it | Tooth-Rotting Fluff | Gajeel Redfox is an actual meme summary: 

for her 15th birthday, levy receives membership to an international pen pal program.

[pen pals/long-distance relationship. 2nd-anniversary gift for my beloved bailey, @blackbloodrose20 ]

also read on ao3 and ffnet!

(although it doesn’t match any of the prompts, this is considered an entry for gajevy week 2019. rejoice with love!)

Membership in an international pen-pal program was not what Levy expected for her 15th birthday, but at this point, she was so lonely she was ready to accept everything.

She struggled to sit down with her broken leg, awkwardly stretching it on the small stool under her computer desk before pulling the box with the documents over. She could still hear the soft murmurs coming from downstairs and considered getting up to close the door.

Then she knocked her toes against the wall.

“Nope, not today. I’ve done enough walking.”

It was hard, to maneuver her fingers into the tight space between her computer and the wall, but after the third attempt, Levy managed to find the start button and turn the machine on. The whirling noise only worried her for a moment. Grandmere had suggested they could get a new computer soon anyway.

If she was even going to need that new computer.

The program had a forum and everything established. Levy looked up the rules and the suggestions of the server then searched up some more things about proper forum etiquette just in case. The registration only took a minute at the most. Finding a proper picture of her took longer and at last, she picked the one she found best from that visit to Paris from Christmas. (Her face looked horribly red from the cold, but it would have to do.)

The forum soon matched her up with her partner. Levy watched the animation process with curiosity. Her picture appeared from a small red dot that was supposed to be her hometown. The same red dot appeared somewhere in North America and a small picture jumped from it. A thin red line connected the two pictures.

A new tab opened, startling her.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and she narrowed her eyes, urging herself to switch to English. The tab was almost empty, only containing a big box for messages and few small menus to the side with options for adding pictures, emoticons and other things she didn’t really care about.

A green dot by the side meant her partner was online, too.

Levy bit her lip. She could always quit. She could always put everything away and hand the documents down some other kid in town, then wait for her leg to heal up and do her best to be social.

Or she could try to be brave for once in her life.

FlowerLevy: Hello?

The three dots on the screen almost drove her insane. Levy nibbled on her nails.

the_dragon_warrior: hi? i’m gajeel. what’s your name?

FlowerLevy: My name is Levy. It’s nice to meet you!

flowercrown: I want to die.

panthers: who do i have to kill

flowercrown: You can’t just go around killing people, Gajeel.

panthers: i mean

panthers: i can try?

flowercrown: It’s illegal!

panthers: i’m already a criminal you foolish child

flowercrown: Buying a beer that one time doesn’t count.

panthers: but it’s also illegal

flowercrown: You can’t offer murder every time I complain about something.

panthers: i so much can

panthers: fucking watch me tiny one

flowercrown: Stop calling me short.

panthers: but you are short

flowercrown: One day, Gajeel Redfox, your growth spurt will stop.

flowercrown: And then, I’m going to have the upper hand.

flowercrown: Just you wait.

panthers: i’m so scarred. terrified.

flowercrown: I hate you with a burning passion.

panthers: but you love me

Levy blinked for a moment, staring at the screen of her laptop with a mixture of confusion and something she didn’t recognize.

flowercrown: You don’t deserve my love.

panthers: <3

When Levy touched her cheeks, she felt heat radiate from under her fingers. Something strange had settled in her stomach, making her feel as if she was going to throw up any second.

flowercrown: <3

panthers: ha! i got you to send me a heart!

flowercrown: You’re so strange, Gajeel.

panthers: i know tiny

panthers: i know

He was horrible.

actual-disney-princess: um

actual-disney-princess: i might have done something

sunflower: Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone.

actual-disney princess: i did not kill anyone

actual-disney-princess: why do you always assume that?

sunflower: … Really.

actual-disney-princess: touché

actual-disney-princess: but nope

actual-disney-princess: i did something better

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

sunflower: Is this a kitten?

actual-disney-princess: yup

actual-disney-princess: meet lily

actual-disney-princess: i met him today and he stole my heart

actual-disney-princess: he’s my child now

sunflower: Oh dear god, he’s so beautiful!

sunflower: You’re going to be a good dad, Gajeel.

actual-disney-princess: dad?

sunflower: You adopted a little animal. I think that makes you a dad?

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: i didn’t consider that

actual-disney-princess: that’s cool

actual-disney-princess: does that make you his mom?

sunflower: Why am I the mom?

actual-disney-princess: you’re my best friend dumbass

sunflower: Calling me your cat’s mother implies I’m your wife.

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: do you wanna marry me?

Levy slammed her head against the library table, startling the small group of first-years on the next table over. Her face was burning as she awkwardly apologized to them and turned her laptop to the side. He was so dumb, it was a wonder she loved him as much as she did.

sunflower: You can’t ask me to marry you just because you want me to be your cat’s mother.

actual-disney-princess: umm rude

actual-disney-princess: are you going to leave poor lily motherless?

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

actual-disney-princess: LOOK AT HIS SAD KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HOW CAN SAY NO TO HIS KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HEARTLESS

sunflower: OKAY I’M GOING TO MARRY YOU

sunflower: Please stop, you’re making me feel like a bad person.

actual-disney-princess: didn’t want to

actual-disney-princess: but at least it worked?

sunflower: You confuse me so much sometimes.

actual-disney-princess: sometimes it’s my intention

actual-disney-princess: now wife

sunflower: ugh

actual-disney-princess: i see how much enthusiasm you have, lev

actual-disney-princess: you wound me

Levy stared at her phone’s screen for a long time, her heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest. She had trouble catching her breath, find it difficult to put her mind in a single, coherent thought.

Be brave, she urged herself. You can’t hold it anymore. It’s enough.

Her classmates had been talking about love and romance. Levy didn’t care about romance. Her grandparents were strict in their care and her school was even stricter. But they were young girls, young girls with dreams of love. And they talked and gossiped and shared.

And she closed her eyes and thought for someone who waited for her across the ocean and it made her heart hurt.

Levy’d been in love with her best friends for a couple of months—maybe more, who knew?—now. And with every day that passed without telling him, it hurt her more. It had needed for her to face her old crush and listen to the girls in her class talk about their relationships for her to realize her feelings, but once she did, keeping them in her heart made her break apart.

Telling Gajeel would, at worst, probably ruin their friendship and make him hate her. But not telling him meant risking souring the warmth she held in her chest for him and truth be true, she preferred losing him and keeping the memories of the joy she had over watching their friendship turn into hate over dark feelings.

Ugh, what am I thinking about? My childish crush isn’t something out of a Shakespearean drama. I should stop the dramatics and focus.

Tell him.

minicat: Gajeel?

bigcat: what up tiny?

minicat: Are you free right now?

minicat: There’s something important I want to talk about.

bigcat: yeah i’m free today

bigcat: what’s wrong?

Her fingers gripped the sheets of her bed. Do it. Tell him.

minicat: I like you.

minicat: I mean, in the romantic sense.

minicat: In the sense that I want to hold your hand.

minicat: And hug you.

minicat: And kiss you.

minicat: I’m sorry.

bigcat: wait what?

bigcat: what are you sorry for?

bigcat: i’ve been into you for like

bigcat: a year or something

minicat: You what?

bigcat: ha

bigcat: ha

bigcat is calling you…

Levy promptly dropped her phone, her hands shaking. She needed a couple of tries to swipe in the proper direction in order to pick the call.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky and breathy.

“You’re so fucking dumb” came the voice from the other side, cracking just a bit. “I love you so damn much, dumbass.”

She stared at her room’s wall in awe, seeing black spots dance in her vision.

“Lev? Levy, fuck, answer—”

It took her only a couple of minutes—and some more of him calling her name— in order to gather her brains enough to form a coherent answer.

“Excuse me, you what?”

Laugh. He was laughing, the arrogant, egoisitic—

“I love you” Gajeel called from the other side of the connection, his voice cracking with laughter. “So damn much, you horrible, horrible, idiot bookworm.”

She covered her mouth to stop the choked sob for escaping, tears running from her eyes. She’d spent months wondering and pondering and torturing herself, and hoping, hoping for a little answer, the smallest hint—

“Say it” he told her. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” Levy asked, pulling her knees against her chest.

“You know what! Say it!”

She bit her knuckles to hold back another burst of emotion, feeling fear and worry and joy mix into her belly until every breath she took was heavy and ragged.

“I love you” she whispered, gasping.

“I know. But I do more.”

“To Andromeda and back” she added, and laughed, tears of joy trickling down her cheeks.

He stayed up with her for hours, until it was 3 am and the girl next door slammed against the wall and yelled for her to shut the fuck up.

“I suppose I have to say goodnight” Levy whispered as she tucked herself into bed. “Goodnight, Gajeel.”

“Night, Lev. Will you dream of me?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Talk more tomorrow?”

“Always.”

lionheart: Have you ever considered a double suicide?

black-panther: why are we pulling a romeo and juliet?

lionheart: Remember that exam I told you about?

black-panther: yikes

lionheart: Exactly. Yikes.

black-panther: sorry lev

black-panther: if it calms your heart i have finals too

lionheart: It does not!

lionheart: Why are you texting me instead of studying?

black-panther: i’m already dead inside tiny

black-panther: it won’t be much of a difference if i fail my academic career too

lionheart: I hate you.

black-panther: no you don’t

lionheart: No, I don’t.

black-panther: do you wanna talk?

black-panther: i have a free period in a bit

lionheart: I don’t think I would be able to.

lionheart: You’ve seen my revision schedule.

black-panther: i have

black-panther: it’s ridiculous

black-panther: you’re panicking too much

lionheart: I’m not panicking.

black-panther: you are

black-panther: i mean you’re texting me

black-panther: that means you don’t want to revisit and you want to distract yourself from studying

lionheart: I’m texting you because I’m dating you and I miss you!

black-panther: that’s cute

black-panther: but my point stands

lionheart: Gajeel, I need to pass this.

lionheart: My whole life depends on this.

black-panther: i know lev

black-panther: that’s why i know you’re gonna do this

black-panther: and even if you don’t

black-panther: that doesn’t make you a failure

lionheart: Gajeel…

black-panther: live ain’t just classes and grades and uni

lionheart: Thank you.

black-panther: wait i want to continue my tirade

lionheart: You care about me, don’t you?

black-panther: i’m dating you, dumbass

black-panther: and since don’t have any sort of instinct of self-preservation

black-panther: i gotta fill in

lionheart: I love you, grumpy.

black-panther: love you too dumb woman

lionheart: <3

princess: Gajeel?

dragon: hm?

princess: I might have done something.

dragon: murder?

princess: God be good, no.

princess: But… you might not like it.

dragon: tell me

princess shared a picture

dragon: your

dragon: your hair

princess: … Yes?

dragon: it

dragon: it blue

dragon: it fucking blue

dragon: you dyed your hair???

princess: … Yes?

princess: Is it that bad?

dragon: fuck

dragon is calling you...

“You really should stop doing that and just talk to me, you know” Levy said softly as soon as she picked, leaning into her comfy chair and sticking her legs out.

“Turn on your camera.”

She blinked and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Gajeel, I’m not turning on my camera, I look horrible.”

 “Levy, love of my life, sun to my moon, turn the fucking camera on and let me see you.”

Levy let out a low hum, barely containing a wave of giggles as he started cursing from the other side. She’d found she loved teasing him—once she’d gotten under his skin, she knew just how to push his buttons in order to have the most fun possible.

“And what if I don’t?” she asked, lowering her voice to a gentle whisper.

“Please?”

Her chest filled with warmth at the sheer feeling in his voice. Levy whispered a soft “okay” and set the phone down by her laptop, then pressed her finger to the small camera button and waited. Her teeth dug into her lip to contain her nerves. It was rare that they talked on camera and dear God, she looked like a mess—

“Hey.”

When she looked at the small screen, Levy saw her chérie and smiled at him. All the worries in her belly came to an end, however, when she met his eyes. She waved shyly at him, pulling the pillow she kept on her desk to her chest and hugging it tightly.

“Hi” she called back, hoping her smile conveyed her joy. She wanted to hide so much.

Gajeel looked almost as much of a mess as she felt. His hair—sweet goodness, it was even longer than she remembered it now!—was tied off into a messy ponytail, his black-framed glasses almost falling off his nose. When she looked hard enough, she noticed he had added another pair of studs to his ears, bringing the total to eight. The eyeliner on his lids was just a bit smudged and from the back of her mind, she wondered when he’d put it on.

More than ever before, Levy wished she could touch him, run her fingers over his cheeks and his jaw and that small uneven bump in his nose he’d told her he’d gotten after breaking his nose when he was little; bury them into his hair and feel the silken strands between her fingers. And then, then she would kiss him, press her mouth to his, feel the warmth of his lips against her own.

“Stop hiding” Gajeel called out, a hint of amusement in his voice, and she looked up from where she’d buried her face into her fluffy pillow. “I want to see you. Please, Lev?”

“O-okay” she said with a bashful smile and lifted her head so she could properly meet his eyes. “Just for you.”

Even through the screen and all the kilometers between them, she could feel his gaze on her, touching her and caressing her as if it were his hands and not his eyes. It filled her with a warmth that not even the cold of the wind blowing outside could put down, that spread from the ends of her hair to the tips of her fingers and made her feel… Loved.

“Beautiful” he breathed out, his eyes soft and gentle. “Fuck—you look like a goddamn angel or something.”

Levy buried her face into the pillow and laughed, laughed until her chest hurt and she could barely breathe. His words, awkward but filled with kindness and affection, were more precious to her than any high praise someone could sing her.

“Do you really think so?” she asked when she finally gathered her breath, her face flushed with warmth. “I was worried you might not like it…”

“I don’t like it” he said, and for a moment her heart fell. “I goddamn love it.”

“Don’t scare me like that! Silly Gajeel…”

Gajeel laughed and it made her heart sing along, a smile coming to her face despite her desire to pout and hide in a corner. Had he been there, with her, she would have pushed him to the ground and tackled him, hitting his stupid beautiful face with her pillow. Alas, he was far, far away, and the only thing she could do was laugh along and stick her tongue out to him in the most childish manner ever.

She loved this idiot so much.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Gajeel asked after some time.

“I was worried you might try to convince me not to” Levy admitted, holding the comfy pillow to her chest and tucking her feet under her thighs. “My grandparents are probably going to have a heart attack when they see me, but honestly… I love the feeling of it.”

“Well, it certainly loves you. Hell, you look amazing.” His smile made her toes curl with joy. “Like a tiny, sparkly blue diamond.”

“Just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you get to make fun of us small people, giant.”

“Levy, you’re five feet nothing.”

“Five feet and half an inch!” She was exactly five feet, but he didn’t know that. Yet. “I’m exactly 1 meter and 53 centimeters tall! You’re just jealous because I’m the perfect cuddling size!”

“Lev, you’re so tiny I can probably fit you in my pocket.” His smirk only fed her sudden desire to kick him. “So small. Bite-sized.”

Oh, if looks could kill… Gajeel only laughed at her, the sound sending pleasurable shivers all through her body. Levy let out a sound of defeat and buried her face into her pillow, desperately hoping it could silence her cries of anguish. Sadly, it did not.

“You’re so cute when you pretend to hate me” he cooed. “C’mon, blue, look at me.”

Shy, Levy lifted her head met him. Her moon—she’d found she liked calling him that, to match him calling her his sun—had a soft look on him. He wasn’t smiling with his mouth but instead with his eyes, the deep brown-red now filled with warmth and the sort of adoration she’d only read about in her old romance books.

“You called me blue” she mused. “A new nickname?”

“To match your new hair, of course.” His smirk made her shiver. “Do you like it?”

“No, I don’t” Levy admitted with a bashful smile. “To be true, I love it.”

The banner was growing heavy and her arms could barely keep holding it up, but to hell if she was going to put it down.

She'd spent hours upon hours last night to make the best possible welcome banner. In the end, what came out of her desperate attempts was bigger than anything her arms would hold, with “Welcome, Gajeel!” written in the brightest, most neon shade of pink she had been able to find after days of searching around the stores in the Parisian neighborhood her auntie lived in. Flowers and hearts decorated the bright pink letters.

His plane had landed half an hour ago. She saw it touch down and saw the bridge. She saw people coming out, luggage and everything.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Levy did her best to not panic.

She'd arrived at the airport precisely 15 minutes before the plane landed, courtesy to the poor taxi driver she almost drove insane. (She'd left the largest tip her broke student self could afford.) The first part of them was spent in pacing around and muttering to herself in a peculiar combination of french and english. The second contained excitedly bouncing around the entry doors with the banner flying in her arms, unable to contain her joy.

By now, her arms were positively dying down from the weight and the size and the effort it took to keep it up. The neon pink letters glimmered in the harsh Parisian sun. Yet Levy held it up, determined to hold out. Even if it meant muscle fever for the next week.

“You look even tinier in person.”

Levy whipped around, retort on the tip of her tongue. She promptly hit herself in the face with the banner in her haste to fight whoever called her out for her height and their horrible french.

Then her mind registered what was actually said and she squeaked.

The person standing beside her only laughed. They were wearing the widest, happiest grin she'd ever had the courtesy to see, only mirrored by the one she'd noticed on her own face the morning when she woke up. Her eyes saw long hair and gleaming silver and incredibly impractical leather and combat boots. Her hair only saw warm red-brown eyes and a smile.

Gajeel raised one eyebrow at her, crossing his arms.

“Really?”

And then she promptly squealed and threw herself into his arms.

“I can't believe you hit me with the banner” Gajeel complained.

Levy was too happy to remind him why exactly she hit him, her hand tightly gripping his to the point her knuckles were almost white. He didn't seem to mind it, holding her as close as it was socially acceptable. The banner, bright pink letters and flowers and hearts, hung from her other arm, safely tucked against her side.

The sun shone brightly as she led him to the taxis lined just outside the airport. People were rushing in and out of the large building, like ants desperate to follow their High Queen’s orders. She heard a combination of languages all around her. Usually, the loud sounds and the mess and the people pushing against her would have sent her into a state of near panic. Right now however, with Gajeel gripping her as if she was his lifeline, Levy felt oddly calm.

She found she liked that feeling a lot.

His uncle waited for them by one of the larger taxis, arguing with the driver. He was just as tall and his aura just as murderous as she'd seen Gajeel's in one of his bad moods. His choice of language wasn't very far from it, either… The red-faced driver was almost glowing by now, bellowing insults in french and broken english in the same way.

Levy looked at Gajeel and noticed his nose wrinkling like it always did when he saw something funny.

“Should we interrupt?” she whispered, although she was sure even if she'd spoken louder, neither would have heard her.

“Nah.” Gajeel snickered and pulled her closer, his fingers slipping from her grip when his arm wrapped around her. “Lemme watch. It's fun as hell.”

Levy gaped, her mouth opening and closing. He was warm. Despite the searing July heat, she found herself nuzzling into his hold. His other arm followed and soon she was buried into his chest, face pressed into the faded gray shirt he wore. His scent - spice and just a little bit of sweat - made her belly curls and brought out a purr from the back of her throat. His laughter rang against the crown of her heat. Her flesh and bones melted at the warmth of his hold. She felt safe and sound. She never wanted to let him go.

It took time and strength to untangle herself from his hold. Gajeel looked like a kicked puppy and Levy had to cover her mouth to hide her giggles. He pinched her in retaliation and she yelped, pulling back and almost falling. (Again. Would she ever stop embarrassing herself in front of him?)

Just a meter or so away his uncle was still arguing with the driver, their fight growing louder by the minute. The passerby would stop and watch them. Levy felt her cheeks burn with shame. It wasn't something she hadn't seen before - her own family had no less fire—but not for the first time, she felt embarrassed.

Gajeel either noticed her discomfort or felt in a similar situation, because he stepped ahead and grabbed his uncle's shoulder. His voice was a hushed whisper. Levy couldn't help but notice how different it sounded from when he spoke to her—rougher, more natural, with an accent that made something in her tingle. His uncle let out a disappointed huff, yet still turned around and apologized to the red-faced driver about some of the words he'd used.

Levy watched the object of her affection (her silly dragon) with curiosity. To her utter surprise, Gajeel turned to the driver and spoke in clear, if lightly accented, french to him, apologizing further for his uncle's behavior and for not stepping in earlier. His uncle—whose name was Acnologia, it seemed—looked at him with a mixture of shame and annoyance. Gajeel ignored him and smiled with satisfaction when the driver opened the door and welcomed them in his vehicle.

After a particularly long and awkward (Gajeel had taken pity on her and let her sit by the window while he answered all of his uncle's embarrassing questions about their relationship) drive, their taxi stopped at the small square in the middle of the neighborhood. Levy got out immediately and moved her toes in her shoes, eager to take them off and dip them into cold water. Gajeel followed behind, the welcome banner under his arm and with that stupid grin on his stupid face. His uncle helped him get all his luggage.

“You sure you're gonna be okay, brat?” he asked, setting down the last bag. “There's plenty of space at the hotel.”

“Nope. Not gonna miss a single second around Blue.”

Acnologia made a sound that could only be described as gagging and waved him off, then got back into the taxi. Soon enough they took off, the sound reverberating through the relatively empty streets.

Gajeel was frowning.

“What is it?” Levy asked, adjusting the knot of her ribbon.

“I imagined Paris more… “

“More…?”

“Dunno. More… Not empty.”

Levy covered her mouth and giggled. He looked so confused. She wished she could take a photo of him like this. Alas, he would more than not likely finally fulfill his threats tickle her to death if she tried. Her wish would stay a wish.

(Fortunately, she had a whole folder on her laptop saved with embarrassing photos of him. His mother had sent some - “for posterity”, she'd claimed - but the rest were all screenshots from their face times. She would have so much fun finally getting to blackmail him.)

“Well, it’s hot outside” Levy reminded him as she picked some of his bags. “Also, we’re in the suburbs right now. Tomorrow, I’m taking out you to see the city.”

“Taking me out?” Gajeel asked, amusement written over his face. She couldn’t stop staring at him. “Like a date? Or with a sniper gun?”

“We will see” she said, giggling.

Together the three managed to carry all the luggage up the stairs. Aunt Amelie was ecstatic to finally meet the “sweetheart you haven’t stopped talking about for years!”. Levy gaped, torn between utter embarrassment and the urge to scream. Gajeel laughed so much he almost fell on the floor, clutching his stomach. At that point she had to hold back the desire to disappear into the floor.

They set his things in the small guest room by the side. Levy sat on the bed and watched Gajeel rummage through his bags. He was just five minutes in and the whole room already looked like a hurricane went through it. She found it hilarious.

She must have laughed out loud because when she lifted her head Gajeel was staring at her with a peculiar look in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, reaching down to slip off her shoes.

“We’re alone” he muttered. “I just—it’s strange.”

Levy couldn’t quite tell what he was trying to say, so she offered a shy smile. Gajeel looked equal parts confused and amazed, but when she offered her shaking hand, he reached out to grasp it with such eagerness that startled him. Taken by his momentum, she ended falling into his chest, her head knocking against him and sending her glasses somewhere in the floor.

“Sorry for hitting you” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “And for… currently stepping on your feet.”

She tried not to burn as she took a step back, his laughter ringing in her ears.

“No, it’s fine.” His hand dropped from hers, only for seconds later to wrap around her back and pull her closer. “Can I hold you for a bit?”

The question startled her, but Levy nodded her head anyway, shyly curling her arms around his middle and burying her face into his chest. The warmth he seemed to radiate filled her soul, from bottom to top, as if she’d been drained from life for ages and only now got to feel it.

“You feel safe” she whispered, voice muffled by the cotton.

Gajeel let out a humming sound, his grip growing tighter around her. Instead of afraid, she felt as if she wanted to come closer and closer, until there was no space left between them. But perhaps it wasn’t the right time yet.

“So do you.”

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Hey I just remembered when Jughead was at the sheriffs station and they already ha his records from him 'trying to burn the school down' but could you write a different version where he was trying to do something nice for betty like maybe everyone forgot it was her birthday except jughead so he got birthday candles for her or something like that where it ends up with him almost burning down the elementary? Thanks!!

Arsonist’s Lullabye

(Alright, another prompt is here! I loved writing this one because it gave such a nice backstory to Jughead’s juvenile detention center incident and Bughead as kids are just adorable! Plus, I snuck in there a lot of FP and Gladys (and some Alice mentions I’m sorry I can’t help it) because I really love writing about their family dynamic; I have a lot of headcanons about them in my mind. So thanks anon for sending me this amazing idea! I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I know all of you see Neve Campbell as Jughead’s mom but Cole ruined me after mentioning Eva Green for the role so yeah, that’s who I was picturing in my mind while writing and I have FEELS!)

Bright, cold and impersonal.

He had guessed two out ofthree right.

What he never would haveguessed was that he of all people would be sitting with the head hung low inthis cold and impersonal room; the police interrogation room.

For somebody that was repulsedby the garbage that was labeled entertainment on the idiot box, Jughead had asoft spot for anything detective. Except for the classic film noirs and mysterycentered period films, he enjoyed immensely any program that dealt with crimeinvestigation, with true crime documentaries being his favorite. The fact thatsuch shows gave him the opportunity to follow each step of the policeinvestigation, feel the thrill with each new clue that was being found like hewas a part of the detective team too, listen to witnesses, experience theimmediacy of the situation by hearing the story directly by the people thatlived it, were what had him at the edge of his seat and with eyes round andglued to the screen, unable to press the turn off button even at the wee hoursof the morning. The thought of being on the other side, not watching butactually being one of the people on the screen, never crossed him mind.

The small, sterile lookingroom was surprisingly bright, showered in the hard fluorescent light of anothertypical Riverdale gloomy autumn morning. Such rooms in the shows he watchedwere always pitch-dark and claustrophobic, with only a threatening yellow lampacross the suspects face for torture, not filled with crystal clear morningglow. Maybe that was worst, he thought. He felt like a higher power was judginghim along with the glassy eyes of the sheriff across him, and, even thoughJughead never really believed in God or fate or karma or whatever other abstractionpeople thought was mapping the course of their life, he could still feel astronger tug of guilt in his already heavy chest. If the room was dark, itwould suit the darkness of his soul. Now that it was bright, he reminded him ofall the things he was going to lose.

Things were bad. He wasn’taccused of a wrongly parked vehicle or a mindless trespassing; he was beingcharged with homicide. He couldn’t even fathom it, he couldn’t even form theword in his mind. Him, Jughead Jones, a killer. The boy that was misunderstood.The boy that was expected to end up like his father. The boy that wasconsidered a scapegoat. The boy that right now, with watery eyes and panic inhis voice, pleaded not to be misunderstood.

Sheriff Keller’s voice brokethrough the castle walls of his nightmarish thoughts.

“But what did surprise me wasthis.” The older version of Kevin presented him with his file, turning itaround for the teenage boy to take a peak. Jughead knew where this was goingand it was bad, worse than before.With a small glimpse downwards to the official documents, he averted his eyesto the side, chewing on his lower lip in anxiety and despair. “Your prints wereon file, from an incident that happened six years ago, where you spent sometime with the Riverdale Juvenile Delinquent Center for “Attempting to burn downRiverdale Elementary School”.” He frowned, waiting for an answer, theexperienced officer assuming that there was indeed something off with theteenager at the other end of the steal table.

Jughead shot back the firstthing that came to his mind. “I was playing with matches” he retorted beforecontinuing in a snarky, smart-ass tone “and that’s a pretty tenuous connectionfor a sheriff.” He knew that he should have minded his tongue and lowered thelevel of his usual sarcasm but that was him, he couldn’t help it, sardonichumor was his way of reacting to the world. It got worse when he was beingcornered or becoming frustrated and right now he felt trapped in thedarkest corner and fuming, internally screaming for somebody to help him.

His knee started to bounce,his nails dug painfully on the hard denim of his jacket against his sides ashis arms tightened around his chest, hugging his torso in a desperate need toseal himself, to prevent his body and soul from scattering in a million piecesunder the scrutinizing gaze of the sheriff and the weight of the situation hewas in. He could feel his head starting to buzz, his palms getting sweaty andthe rising and falling of his chest altering, stopping being subconsciousanymore but turning difficult and calculated, like the orchestrated ticksbefore the explosion of a very destructive bomb. Jughead tried to calm himself.Maybe his dad was out there, negotiating with a deputy and offering apersuasive alibi. Maybe Fred Andrews was with him backing his story as Archie stoodby his dad’s side offering his help by praising his best friend’s honorableschool performance and recent involvement with extracurricular. And maybe, justmaybe, she was there waiting for himtoo, ready to offer her supporting words and one or two of her soothingcaresses, telling him that everything was going to be okay and she of allpeople believed him unboundedly. The tedious silence at the other side of thedoor however was crashing his hopes one by one.

Jughead’s eyes darted aroundthe table in panic before they stopped at the picture of him at the bottom leftcorner of his police file, a younger version of him, a somehow happier one inall its childish naivety, sending him a toothy smile full of glee, despite theabiding clouds that always fogged his turbulent family life. He studied theface of his ten year old self; he neither looked like a delinquent nor anarsonist. Then again, he neither looked like a criminal nor a murderer now. Hisboyish, mild-mannered looks didn’t seem to matter though in their smallcommunity that only cared to point fingers and pigeonhole people based onsocial status and family reputation. If only that ten year old boy knew that bythe end of that year he was going to be whisked off his crying mother and heldin a place that felt more like a chill-raising orphanage than an efficient rehabilitationcenter. Maybe he wouldn’t be smiling that big in the picture. And maybe hewould be more prepared now to lose his innocence once and for all.

He remembered that dayclearly; the day he had got accused of a status offence, the day he had sat infront of retiring Sheriff Conelly for questioning, just like he did now sittingacross the old man’s heir on the job. The feeling was the same. That tugging in his chest that the world was falling down around him and suffocating him, thefeeling of drowning and his lungs betraying him, his plead of help never makingit to the surface. He closed his eyes and took a deep, cooing a breath to easesome of his nerves, scatter away the awful feeling of hopelessness and thehurtful memories but failed miserably as the events of that sunny day invadedhis mind, as a distraction and a reminder that happiness was never going to bewithin his reach and that it was his destiny to lose everything the moment hewould start to believe that life was giving him a chance after all.

Jughead became tens year oldagain, on March 15th, the day of Betty Cooper’s birthday…

With a clumsy hop, a pair ofNinja Turtles sneakers landed on the asphalt, the green lights on the whitetrack sole starting flicking but only on the right shoe, two years of everydayuse being a little too long for them to be in perfect condition. Little JugheadJones didn’t care. He loved those shoes, he used to greet them good morning andgoodnight every single day for a whole year as he would pass them by on his wayto school, knowing all too well that they were out of the family’s budget,especially now that his baby sister had come to the world. So when two yearsago Christmas morning came and he saw the cartoon decorated box under theirsmall and unattractive Christmas tree – his mom having saved up some money tofinally grant him his wish – he had vowed with round alit eyes upontaking the precious shoes in his hands that he would never abandon them, evenif now, not only their light-up effect was on its final stages, but they alsoseemed to suffocate his fast growing feet.

The raven haired boy pushedclosed the car door behind him and staggered to the other side of the old andused Suzuki, his bony limps tripping lightly over his undone shoelaces, his appearancedisheveled as usual. His trademark grey beanie was securing his mop of untameddark hair, a little too big for his head and always sliding low on his eyes,making him fidget with it and the rebellious waves against his forehead constantly,and a burgundy zip-up hoodie was misplaced over some dark blue varsity t-shirt,its right hem getting squeezed and wrinkled under the black strap of his heavyneon green backpack. Finally rounding the car, he opened the back door andstarted unbuckling his sister from her carseat – formerly his – immediatelytrying to help, as always.

Gladys Jones emerged from thedriver’s seat sparing her boy a tiny smile in a hurry, before ushering the babyout of the car, three and a half years old Jellybean instantly starting to wailbecause of the rude interruption of her slumber. The mother desperately triedto shush her while picking up her baby things and hoisting a diaper bag thathad seen better days over her shoulder, salty tears and baby drool drenchingthe front of her bright yellow Pop’s uniform and matching the stain of bananaand biscuit puree, Jellybean’s unfinished breakfast, next to her name tag. Shehad just finished her night shift at Pop’s and she had exactly half an hour toget the kids to school, return home to change and get to the Blossoms’ maplesyrup factory at the outskirts of town for her second job as an assembly lineworker. Jughead believed that his mom was actually a superhero in disguise, despite thebags under her tired blue eyes, a little lifeless but always identical to his.

“Alright, JiggieJug, breakfastfor champions.” She addressed him motherly, snatching a Pop’s paper bag fromthe passenger seat containing his lunch for the day. Being a Friday, Jugheadknew that today’s menu were two overstuffed carton boxes of chicken nuggets,maxi-sized French fries and a blueberry lollipop, a typical treat from his momto “pre-celebrate the weekend”, as she always used to say with a lovely smilebefore dropping the candy in his lunch bag. “And the special dessert you askedfor.” Gladys supplied her son with another bag, this one plastic and moresecure than the other, watching in amusement, despite her need to hurry, thelittle boy trying to juggle everything inside his slender arms.

“Thanks, mom.” Always with aheart of gold, he thanked his mom for the simple task he had assigned to herthe day before. “You got everything, right?” he huffed to push his ravenwaves out of his eyes, having no hands to indulge in his adorable little tic.

“Ten of Pop’s famous strawberrycupcakes with pink buttercream and sprinkles-covered strawberries on top andtwo old-fashioned vanilla milkshakes.”  Sherecited her son’s order perfectly, while bouncing the fussy baby in her arms. “But,hey, you promised you’re not gonna eat them all by yourself.” The motherreminded him their deal, because she knew his immense appetite and, even thoughhe didn’t seem to gain even a single hint of fat on his boyish lanky figure,she was still worried for her boy’s wellbeing after such sugar overdose.

Little Jughead huffed again,this time in exasperation. “No, mom, I told you they are not for me.”

“Who are they for then?” Gladysscoffed incredulously, a tad amused and with an eyebrow raising for the boy tohumor her, freeing the hem of her uniform over her cleavage from the stronghold of Jellybean’s chubby fingers. When the squirming baby’s attention shiftedand her little fingers became more demanding on violently twirling the end ofher raven, waist-long, flyaway hair gathered in a lose ponytail, the mothersighed, accepting her fate.

Faint blush creeping on hisslightly baby fat filled cheeks, the boy dropped his eyes to examine hisbeloved sneakers, awkwardly scratching their tips over some tiny pebbles.“They’re for…” he shyly started but he choked on the words, always confiding inhis mom about everything but right now finding it really difficult because hewas ten and talking about girls was supposed to be gross and entirelyhumiliating.

As in reflex, his baby bluesraised from the ground and he spotted her, cute as a button little Betty Cooper,hopping cheerfully off her parents’ vintage silver Mercedes right after hersister, toothy smile intact and two buns on top of either side of her head,rather than her usual high ponytail or braided pigtails. Clearly, she was dressedfor the occasion in a yellow balloon dress and a turquoise denim jacket,the colors happy and bright just like her sunlight personality, and she offeredhim an eager wave and an even bigger smile, before running towards the sea ofchildren in the school yard armed with her fuchsia pink Polly Pocket backpack. Pretty, was all that Jughead thoughtwhile barely managing to wiggle his fingers in a small wave, his chapped lipsslightly parted and his cheeks flaming red at this point, as he watched herdisappear.

The interaction wasn’t missedby his mother’s alert and intuitive nature, seeing the little girl mingle withher classmates before turning again to her son. Ah, of course, Betty Cooper, Gladys internally sighed, ultimatelyfinding his reaction cute and wanting to be supportive of her son’s first crushbut her own insecurities about a certain member of the Cooper family – thatright now spared her a not so friendly glare from the passenger seat of thespeeding off Mercedes – were tarnishing the otherwise loving nature of hermaternal instincts.

“I’m sure she is going to loveyour little surprise, baby.” Gladys managed to smile lightly despite her defensivefrown, putting her children first, as always.

Tips of ears turning brightred now as well, Jughead looked up at her with hopeful eyes, face lifting withjoy that his mom, the most important woman in his life, thought so and he noddedonce in excitement, now becoming more confident about his plan regarding theday. He knew it wasn’t much and Betty deserved all the sweet tooth menus atPop’s along with an unlimited pass to all the rides on the fun fair and theTwilight Drive-In for her birthday, and he desperately wanted to be able togive her all that and more, but he wished her favorite cupcakes and choice ofdrink were enough of a good present.

They exchanged sweet smilesbut Jellybean’s frustrated cry made the mother turn to her in panic, once againaware of the hectic reality she had to face. “Believe me, I know you want yourbeauty sleep but please, Jelly, help me out a little bit here, shh.” Shebounced the baby as she pleaded with a small groan, not that the child obeyed.“I really have to run now, Jug.” She kneeled lightly to be eye level with herson, balancing a baby and all her stuff on her slender figure, and brushing hiswavy hair out of his forehead in affection. “Be good at school. I love you.”She squeezed his cheeks between her thump and pointer and Eskimo kissed himplayfully, both grinning from ear to ear at their sweet habit. Jughead saidgoodbye to his sister with fingers tickling her chubby stomach lightly and afunny grimace and ran off to the cheerfully shrieking kids, as hismom took off to the opposite direction, walking fast and ungraciously whilebouncing her baby in pursue for the daycare down the road.

Jughead made a bee linestraight inside the school where he found his blonde sun of a friend bouncingon her feet in front of her sparkly, stickers-littered locker, chatting withtheir redhead best friend. With a deep breath and a huff that sent his hairflying off his forehead, he dragged his lanky limbs to join them, catchinghimself sporting a smile upon locking eyes with the giggly girl. Her big,pearly white grin was contagious, he couldn’t help it.

“… and Polly spent half anhour to do them for me, do you like it Arch?” the raven haired boy came to astop next to the boy in question, catching half of the conversation with asmall frown at Betty’s hopeful doe eyes and bouncing back and forth head incute hyperactivity.

“They look funny.” Theoblivious redhead answered, tilting his head while examining the two buns thatcreated her new hairstyle.

Jughead noticed immediatelythe cloud over her former sunny mood. “I like them. They look like meatballs;and meatballs are always good.” He rushed to offer his opinion to preserve thehappy glint of her green orbs. She truly looked cute, in a princess Leia way kindacute, Jughead being sure that from now on he wouldn’t be able to watch any ofhis beloved Star Wars movies without giddily thinking about the prettiest girlin their school.

His food related complimentmanaged to tug the corner of her lips in a small smile, Betty looking at himshyly under her fluttering eyelashes. “I just wanted to do something differentfor today, being special and all…”she hinted, a tad disappointed that nobody was showering her with birthdaywishes yet. Kevin had briefly passed her by at the entrance with a small waveand an anxious rant about how he forgot to fill the answer sheet for geography,before disappearing into recess room to fix his mess and by the looks of it,Archie was, as always, in his own world too. Juggie didn’t count; Betty knewthat he didn’t care about birthdays so he wasn’t going remember. He was theonly person she wasn’t mad at.

“Save it for Betty to callspecial the day we have a history and a math test and fix her hair in a newhairstyle for that.” Archie laughed wholeheartedly at his own joke, elbowing Jugheadto join, but his friend was too preoccupied with the way that Betty’s entireposture had changed right now, shoulders slouching and down lip wobbling as shepouted. He felt a tug at his chest, almost snatching a cupcake from the bag tooffer it to her because food cured everything and right now he desperatelywanted to cure her blues. How could Archie not have a clue about what was today’soccasion? There was always a bright red circle around the date at all ofJughead’s wall calendars throughout the years, the boy marking the special daymonths in advance in order to always remember, not that he wouldn’t otherwise.

Sparing Betty the tears andJughead the overreacting humiliation, the bell rung loudly over their heads,signalizing the start of first period.

“Whatever, I’ll see you atlunch.” The blonde girl did the fastest one-eighty in the history of twirls.She was ashamed of the fat tears that were threatening to spill from her eyesany minute now and afraid of being labeled as a baby and getting excluded byher friends, especially now that she had gained a rightful free pass toJughead’s tree house, quick feet taking her away to mop around in the littleladies’ room before heading to class.

“Laters.” Jughead heard Archiepromise in the opposite of his inner voice, him not getting the chance to uttera single word, not even a “wait up” or “please smile” at the sad birthday girl,before getting dragged backwards from his backpack by Archie to the directionof their joined class, uncoordinated limps tripping over his loose shoelaces. Hecaught a glimpse of her reaching the girls’ bathroom down the corridor andgrumpily brushing the back of her hand over her cheek to wipe some tears and hisyoung heart sank to his stomach, for the first time wishing for free period to comesooner, and not because he was drooling over his lunchbox as usual.

So when that heavenly subject-freehour came, Jughead was agog to finally go on with his plan and sweet gesture.He didn’t like his birthday; everybody knew that. He thought that it was a hopelesscelebration, a day that caused him more stress than joy because his parents hadto play a part, create the reality of a blissful, breakfast commercial perfectfamily. The fake reality that was soon crashed the next day under thedisappointed looks of his mother to his father that spoke volumes or theirhushed fights, his running away footsteps and her muffled ugly sobs late atnight when Jughead would still lay awake, buried inside the cocoon of hisblankets with a torch lighting the pages of his books that helped him escapethe place that no longer felt like home. Betty’s birthday was another story.Her life was sunshine and rainbows, this day shouldn’t have been an exception to that.More so, it should have been the highlight of her already happy childhood.

That’s why little Jughead wasnow in their biology lab setting the place the way he had envision the weekprior, when he had started mapping up the idea. He had picked this particularclassroom because the window overlooked the small garden at the back of theelementary school, the one that their class was responsible to maintain throughout theyear, bright yellow sunflowers now in full growth creating a nice springsetting. He placed the two vanilla shakes on a desk right in front of thewindow and the plastic plate of cupcakes between them and took out of hisbackpack ten heart-shaped candles and a lighter, carefully lighting each ofthem and placing them on top of every small pink cake. He smiled lightly at hiscreation; he believed the whole setting was so girly and so everything heimagined she would like and the thought made his little heart do a flippy overthing in excitement. And then for the big finish. He pulled out of his pencilcase two sparklers, Betty’s all-time favorite party attraction, Jugheadremembering how elated she always used to be at the sight of them all over townat every July 4th or on Archie’s birthday cake, the only girl notshrieking and running away but giggling while playing with the dancing flames,and he lit them both, bouncing back a little at how abruptly their effect hadstarted. He hoisted one on the right side of the center cupcake and went to dothe same for the left side, trying to avoid the flames of the other candlesaround but that’s when all came crashing down around him, his awkward and prepubescentuncoordinated limbs falling him once again miserably.

His elbow clumsily knockeddown one of the milkshakes. White sticky ice cream stained the linoleum flooras he rushed to somehow clean the mess. The sparkler he was holding dropped fromhis fingers without him even noticing. His urgent feet kicked it involuntarily toroll inches away from the brownish curtain that was pulled to the side of thewindow. Some sparks landed on the cheap material and just like that everythingbecame a nightmare of biblical destruction.

Ten year old Jughead didn’tknow that flames could spread so quickly and easily. So when he turned aroundand half the curtain was burning maliciously, he stumbled back in shock, eyesturning wide and panicky at the sight in front of him. Out of reflex, he threwa wooden chair in front of him, to separate him from the chaos, but this onlyseemed to make it worse, the chair catching up in flames too in a nanosecondbefore the fire fueled more and black smoke started to fill the room. An awfulsound pierced through his ears and he rushed to cover them, the fire alarmgoing off efficiently, and Jughead panicked even more now, thinking about howscrewed up he was going to be upon teachers finding out he was the cause of thechaos. He was moving in circles around himself, at a loss of what to do or howto help, throwing random things to the threatening tongues of flame that werespreading fast, only succeeding in making it worse. At the sound of the doorflying open, he looked up like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Jug?” Archie’s flaming locksthat matched the scenery of the room appeared as the boy rushed inside, comingto a halt abruptly, shocked out of his young mind too. “Oh my— we have to run!”he shouted in alarm, motioning for the door behind him.

“No, I have to fix this.” Jugheaddidn’t spare him a second glance as he rushed to the sink at the corner,filling a small bucket with water and throwing it to the flames, onlysucceeding in making them spread more, now dangerously close to his discardedbackpack on the floor. “My books!” Jughead exclaimed in despair at the thought of his anchorof hope getting lost forever and lashed forward without thinking, Archie doingthe same with wide eyes, in order to pull back his best friend.

The curtain rail gave outunder the high rise of temperature and the iron bar fell to the floor with adreadful sound, spreading a sea of flames, the force causing the two boys toroll back on the floor. Jughead wailed in fear as his pant leg caught on fire, Archiestumbling on his feet in horror and throwing his little league letterman jacketon the denim, effectively putting out the small source of flames but notwithout experience the same pain on the side of his arm. The blipping of thealarm became more vicious, the flames had now spread all over the wall and fewof the desks next to the window, Jughead’s terrified eyes watching the icy cupcakesburn in flames, just like his naïve hopes that he would for once make BettyCooper happy, make her notice him and only him.

The door opened again. Loudmale voices could be heard yelling instructions and rolling something insidethe flaming room. Two firefighters picked him and Archie up, assuring them thateverything was going to be fine, Jughead’s heart getting crushed just like thepiece of pink carton under the stomping feet of the firemen, the comic about aprincess and a poet he had made for her in a form of a birthday card nevergetting the reaction of the big, delighted smile it deserved. Jughead’s babyblues turned blurry with tears as something exploded inside the room and theman he was holding him started running to rush him to safety away from the flames,away from his now crushed childhood dream.

Everything happened in fastforward after that. And he, for some reason, ended up here, scared, shocked, traumatizedin the place that didn’t do much to ease his young turbulent mind; the backseatof a police car. His ruined pant leg was rolled up against his thigh, some coolingblue Jell-O like cream spread on his knee over the irritated skin of his burn,he reeked of smoke and he felt awful with sticky clothes, trembling limps and abroken heart. He was busing himself with picking at his fingers, hands coal blackfrom the carbon dioxide, or stealing side glances at everything that washappening around him; parents dropping by to pick up their terrified kids, firefightersrolling off their gear, having succeeded in extinguishing the fire, theSherriff questioning some teachers and the janitor, Archie being treated byparamedics just like Jughead was before him, Mary Andrews cradling his head andoffering him motherly pecks to ease his pain away while Fred stood by like atrue family protector, his own parents lurking next to the police vehicle tryingto not make a scene, by keeping their full of venom voices to a minimum.

Jughead wanted to scream forthem to stop, to scream that he needed them talking to him, telling him thateverything was going to be alright, not fighting with each other. He felthanging, he didn’t know why everyone was treating him like a bad guy and thatterrified him to no end, a ten year old boy too small in front of thesignificance of the situation. He was trying desperately not to cry, chinwobbly and eyes itchy and bloodshot, blinking rapidly due to the toxic fumesand his unshed tears, and all he wanted was his mom and dad to hug him tightand never let go, never let him alone again in this reality that petrified hisyoung and innocent mind.

“This is all your fault.” His mom’shiss towards his dad made Jughead lower his head even more to his lap, preparinghimself for the shouting match that it was about to break loose.

“He’s just a kid, Gladys.” FPsighed, tired and concerned but not thinking much of the situation. Jughead wasa growing boy; those incidents were expected in his books.

“Kids don’t play with matches.”Gladys bit back and continued with venom and narrowed, troubled dark blue eyes.“This is your doing.”

“You can’t blame me foreverything that goes wrong in this family.” Her husband snapped back, voicestill controlled but eyes pitch black under the red, irritated skin of hiseyelashes caused by another one of his usual alcohol filled nights.

“At least I’m trying, FP.Unlike you that always put us second in your life.” She accused, shaking herhead in despair and dropping a kiss to the temple of the oblivious baby girl inher arms.

“Don’t you dare tell me that Idon’t love my kids.” He sent her a side glance, jaw tightening to not show howhurt he was by her words. “Or you.” He added and he meant it, even if he wasn’tthe best at showing it, he truly meant it.

Gladys huffed in disbelief; shehad heard all that before. “If your love results to this, then keep it.” She shooka hand his direction, indicating for him to stay away from her, from them. “You’returning him into you.” Her voice broke, a choke closing her throat at thethought. “And that’s the thing I’m most scared of; him ending up anything like you.” There was bitternessin her voice, hatred at how the man she had fell madly in love with had changed,at how this wasn’t the life she had dreamed of living.

FP dropped his head to theground, ashamed and beaten. “He is just a kid.” He repeated in a low whisper.

“Yes, and he is being chargedwith a state offence.” Gladys stated the absurdity of it all. “And they keepsaying that they will have to take him away and send him to that place,” hervoice was trembling now, a mother losing her mind at the mere thought ofsomething bad happening to her child “and I don’t even know where this is and whatwill happen to him and— How can they take away my baby?” the tears streamed downin full force and her sharp intake of breath got lost inside the palm that shebrought to her mouth to suppress her dreadful sob, little Jughead feeling hisown tears running down his cheeks silently at her words and her cries. He didn’twant to make his mom sad, God, he hated seeing her sad. And he was afraid;afraid that he wouldn’t see her again, afraid that the Eskimo kiss they sharedthis morning was the last form of affection he would ever receive.

“I’ll fix it, okay?” FP rushedforward, determined, taking hold of her shoulders and connecting their eyes. “Nobodyis taking Jug away from us, I promise.” She wanted to believe him but at thispoint she really couldn’t.

“I’ve heard enough of yourpromises, FP.” Gladys squirmed free of his hold, eyes cold despite the weaknessof her tears. “How are you going to fix this, huh? With a beer bottle in eachhand? Or with your friends over at the Southside?” she challenged, him takingsome steps back, as she scoffed a chuckle with no humor at all. “You think thatI don’t know…”

“Don’t. Not again.” He warned,minutes before losing control.

“You’re hangover, you reek ofalcohol, your eyes are bloodshot…” She listed with venom the telltail signs, hecouldn’t hide from her. “Tell me that you didn’t go; come on, lie to me.” She challenged,the fire and spark that won him over years ago now turning against him. “Tellme that you weren’t at that God awful place all night while you were supposedto look after your kids.” Her voice raised and startled the baby against herchest, Jellybean sensing the tension and becoming fussy once again.

“I…” He couldn’t find it inhim to lie.

“I can’t even believe you.” Shebreathed, disappointed once again at the man in front of her. “It’s about her,isn’t it?” the wheels inside her head turned sharply, the topic of jealousytowards a specific old flame of his coming to surface again, like numeroustimes before in their fights. “You’re meeting her there, go on, for once inyour life tell me the truth!” she demanded with a stern voice, hand latchingforward to grab his chin and force his eyes on her, chipped nails clawing hisscruffy cheeks to inflict some of the pain he is causing her. “If you’rescrewing her Forsythe, I swear to God—” she threatened with vicious passion.

“Stop.” FP freed his face curtly off her claws. “That’s nonsense! You can accuse me of anything, anything, but I’ve always been faithfulto you.” He stood his ground, mad with anger at this point too. “That’s over;you know that first hand.” His eyes darkened with a mix of spite andvulnerability, the old story still holding a grudge in his heart despite theyears, despite them moving on, despite the feeling of emptiness that he still feltat even the most subtle mention of the first girl he ever loved.  

“I’m gonna leave.” Gladysthrew to his face, chocking on the words as new tears ran down her face. “I’mtelling you, FP, one day I’ll just crack, take the kids and get the hell awayfrom you.” She promised around her sobs, Jellybean starting a crying duet withher mother, like she understood the situation, and FP’s eyes dropped to her, despair painted upon them. “I cannot keep livinglike this, okay? Juggling two jobs, two kids and a ridiculous excuse of a man.”The force of her sobs overtook her slim body, narrow shoulders shaking at theintensity of her breakdown, her young and beautiful face getting wrinkled indespair. “Do you understand what I’m saying? If they take Jughead away, it’sover between us. This version of you, the person you’ve became, you ruined us,you ruined him. Hope you are proud.” She spat to his face and turned away fromhis filled with sorrow and regret face, hugging her daughter tightly and shushing herbetween her own violent cries.

And as little Jughead wassome meters away in the threatening silence of the police vehiclecrying too, lonely, afraid and now in the verge of an ugly panic attack at the possible walking away of his mom, his beacon of calmness and hope shined just like the blondeof her hair under the afternoon sun.

“Juggie.” He heard his name inthe most beautiful whisper and that startled him, abruptly snapping his head toface the source and quickly brushing his cheek over the material of his hoodieagainst his shoulder to hide his moment of weakness, upon seeing Betty’s nosepressed adorably against the window of the car. She motioned for him to roll itdown and he hurried to do so but only up until the middle fearing to even moveat this point.

“Are you okay?” she whisperedin a hushed voice, green doe eyes more rounded than ever in concern, scanningher friend.

He just nodded, still in shockabout the events of the day and the fact that she was there talking to him and notalready at the safety of her home.  

“I snuck out of the car whilemom was talking to the Sheriff. I couldn’t leave without seeing if you wereokay.” Betty let him know and Jughead’s heart did that flippy over thing again,lips parting at a loss of words. “Juggie, your leg!” the little girl gasped inhorror, eyebrows knitting while examining the nasty redness on his knee.

“It’s nothing.” He whisperedin a small, scratchy voice, the first time to form a single word to anyoneafter the incident. “Archie got hurt too.” He was utterly confused that she washere asking him how he was and not holding the redhead’s hand.

“His is just a scratch; he’sjust being a baby, he’ll be fine.” Betty wrinkled her nose in disapproval, still hurt by the obliviousness of the redhead boy. “Where are theytaking you?” she asked in all her child naivety.

“I don’t know.” Jugheadshrugged his little shoulders, picking on his fingers again. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Betty. You have to believe me.” He pleaded with sad eyes forher to not start treating him differently from now on.

“I know.” She answered in a heartbeat.“I know you, Juggie, you are my friend.” Her small, lovely smile was everythinghe needed for his spirit to be lifted a little and to breathe again. He repliedwith an equal smile of gratitude, everything being dealt easily in the childrenworld, but the corners of his smile wavered as the hushed angry voices of hisparents could be heard again on the background.

His face dropped in sorrow andshame and Betty briefly looked over his head to the quarreling duo. “Think ofsomething nice.” She urged him on, focusing again on him.

“What?” the boy asked,clueless.

“When my parents are fightingor I’m feeling anxious or scared, I always close my eyes and make up a storywith my favorite place and my favorite people.” The cheerful girl explainedfurther. “It helps.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Do it!” Her sparkling forest-likeeyes didn’t leave room for discussion and Jughead felt himself complying,dropping back on the leather seat and closing his smarting eyes.

He imagined Pop’s, two burgersand a chocolate milkshake and he saw her, yellow dress and all, smilingbrightly at him with vanilla ice cream creating a silly moustache over her rosylips. Lost in the fantasy, Jughead smiled.

Betty grinned to herself uponseeing his reaction. “It’s nice, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jughead murmuredblissfully, eyes still closed and unwilling to let go of the lovely image.

There was something thatstartled him again though, that made his eyes snap open and his heart startdancing in his chest. A loud smooch noise filled his ears and wet, warm lipscollided with his still damp cheek and he would swear that he dreamed that tooif it wasn’t for Betty’s smiley face inches away from his bewildered one. Shewas bended over the half opened window, resting on the tips of her dusty goldbow-decorated flats, and grinning from ear to ear lovingly before dropping backon her heels, Jughead’s heart running a marathon at the fact that in the miseryof it all, toady he had gained his first kiss by Betty Cooper.

“Wherever you go, I’ll visit.”She promised and held out her pinky, the raven haired boy curling his around itstill in a state of shock, before Alice Cooper’s demanding voice broke themapart, Betty running quickly back to her mother, sparing him one last ofhis favorite Betty smiles.

The smile that never changedover the years, as well as its effect on his poor heart. The smile thatJughead, sixteen again and in trouble once more with the police, keptenvisioning behind closed eyelashes at a booth at Pop’s over his own smileylips during one of their many now teenage appropriate kisses.

“I’m not talking to youanymore.” The image of her brought him courage and determination to fight forhis rights this time, eyes snapping open and darting to the side still troubled and sad. “I wanta lawyer.” He demanded into the silence of the interogation room before it got interruptedby the sound of the creaking metallic door being pushed open.

“No need.” Like awild wind, Betty appeared, strong-willed and confident, her worried eyesconnecting for a minute with his now relieved ones upon seeing her, the Sherriffjumping off his seat as the deputy behind Betty silently apologized for notbeing able to hold her back. “Jughead is innocent. I’m sure Mr. Andrews willclear everything up for you, Sheriff Keller.” The girl held her ground like atrue Cooper, the man raising an eyebrow at her behavior but following hisdeputy out of the room with a huff, leaving the two teens alone. And as Bettytook a seat across him with the same lovely smile she had sported six yearsago, Jughead knew that as long as she was on his side nothing would be able tobring him down.

Sprawled on the Andrews’ porchstairs, Jughead could feel the freedom on his skin and the evening air easingout his mind after the events of the crazy day he had. Betty was seated nextto him, legs curled under her and knees brushing his ribs, her concerned eyes never leaving him, the girl being on the lookout for any sign ofdiscomfort or sorrow or insecurity so she could vanish it the moment it will cloud his brilliant mind with her encouraging words and her soothingcaresses. His breakdown after the encounter with his father was ugly and heartbreaking,Betty holding him tightly through it all and urging him to unleash all thepined up anger and frustration he held in his heart and now that it was overand calmness was spread between them she just couldn’t leave him out of hersight, wanting with all her power to never see him that way ever again.

“Whatever Fred did, I’ll beforever grateful to him for letting me have this.” Jughead sighed, elbowsresting on the step behind him and eyes darting around before landing on hisbeautiful girlfriend smiling down at him.

“I told you, Jug, we were goingto get you out.” She brushed the single wave away from his forehead lovingly,before letting her fingers caress down his jawline, feeling him sigh in contentunder her touch. “Believe it or not, even my mom offered to help.” That spikedthe boy’s attention, who rose his eyebrows in surprise.

“Thank God she didn’t. I wouldstill be in there, sceduled for a death penalty.” He groaned in his usual sardonic manner and formed a smallsmirk at Betty’s rolling eyes and cute grimace of amusement.

They fell into their previouscomfortable silence, Betty sliding closer to him to start drawing abstractshapes over his chest with her fingers. “I still don’t understand; why just youand not me?” she questioned in exasperation, feeling him sigh and curl his armsaround her waist.

“You don’t have a criminalrecord.” He reminded her, leaving a peck on the side of her arm over her maroonbomber jacket.

“You have one because of thosetwo months at the rehabilitation center, right?” she toyed with the sheepishlapel of his jacket, green eyes focused on his baby blue ones.

“It was juvie, Betty.” Hethrew in apathy. “Don’t use fancy words; there was nothing fancy about thatplace.” There was some bitterness in his voice and Betty decided not to pushhim further since everything was hard on him that day.

“You never told me why youstarted that fire in the first place.” Betty wondered out loud, eyebrowsknitting in confusion as to why she still didn’t know what went down at day inelementary school. “Was it you and Archie playing pranks again?” she cracked aside smirk in amusement, remembering the relentless teasing between them. Hefelt him stiffen under the weight of her question and she frowned more, notknowing what caused the sudden discomfort.

“No.” Jughead shook his headand waited a second, scanning her face before giving up with a defeated sigh. “Itwas for you.” He might as well come clean once and for all, he thought.

Betty bounced her head back indisbelief. “Me?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded inconfirmation. “May 15th, your birthday. I wanted to do something special,cupcakes, milkshakes, the whole thing. The fire was a result of my ten year oldself being a spaz and not even being able to execute the simple task of lighting tenlittle candles.” His scoff of second-hand embarrassment complimented the brightred color on his cheeks, Jughead averting his eyes to the front and not daringto look at her after sharing with her how much of an awkward boy he used to beand, truth be told, still was.

She blinked a couple of times,flabbergasted and at a loss of words at the boy in front of her that seemed toorbit his whole life around her. “You started a freaking fire and went to a juvenile hall because of me?!” her tonewas high-pitched and incredulous, having some difficulty to wrap her mind aroundthe new revelation. “Jughead!” Betty semi-gaspedsemi-whined, not sure what her reaction should be. Feel flattered by the grandgesture or offer him an earful about how he had no need to impress her so nosuch incidents would happen in the future? The only thing that she was sure ofwas that he was crazy, wonderfully crazy, and she was too; for him.

Jughead just shrugged, turningslowly to examine her reaction and giving her a sly smile upon seeing the lookof love in her green eyes. “That clearly wasn’t part of the plan.” He musedsarcastically before he continued serious now. “That day you taught me a littlegame.” Betty shook her head confused, solemn focus on his handsome face and hewas occupied with lacing and unlacing their fingers over his stomach, his eyeswatching the action. “To close my eyes and escape to my favorite place with myfavorite people when life got hard. And I kept doing it all those years, todaytoo.” He nodded to himself before looking up at her, feeling his heart swell atthe look of love he received back. “Thinking of you chasing all of my demonsaway. It always works.” He confessed truthfully, vulnerability and a tad of embarrassmentin his calm voice, sharing with her parts of himself he never thought he would.

Betty just shook her head,leaning down to capture her lips with his, slow and sweet, both of them sighinginto the kiss and holding each other tighter, happy that they had finally foundeach other at the end. “You, Jughead Jones, are the most amazing guy I evermet.” She breathed inside the kiss, lips dancing against his soft ones as shechanged the angle of their kiss, Jughead feeling his whole being gettingovercome by the soothing aura of Betty Cooper. “I’ll slay your demons one byone, I promise you that with all my heart.” And as their kiss deepened and thesensation of her lips was all he could focus on with every fiber of his body,his worries and fears and insecurities got chased away just like that day when that chaste kiss on his cheek reminded him that in the mist of chaos hewould always have somebody anchoring him back to shore; his one and true love,Betty Cooper. 

[sweet-hypocrisy]

I Need to Use This More

Going back and rereading some of these posts have been interesting. 

2018 was a bit of an eye opener for me. I learned that hell, I do actually have BPD. Ironic, considering I wrote a post bitching about how my mother tried to label me as such to absolve any responsibility for her shit ability to be an emotionally nurturing parenting. Kicker: I have BPD because of my parents. However, they’re not going to fix me. I need to let go of my anger toward them. My resentment. They’re never going to accept responsibility. My mom will make comments at times. Like when I went over there and broke down in a moment of weakness and went to her freaking out when I found the diagnosis. She told me she knows she’s not the greatest mother and she wasn’t very friendly and warm. She blamed her own childhood. Which from the bits and pieces I’ve gathered over 30 years, I don’t disagree. But it’s always felt more of an opportunity for me to comfort her for her parenting. I wonder if I do the same thing.

I’ve been struggling to cope with the fact that I more than likely have a personality disorder. Mainly, the stigma attached to it. There are times where I go on places like the BPD subreddit, hear how awful Lina is with her BPD, and think that’s not me. No, it is. I have just learned to internalize more and have gotten consequences for not doing so.

I seek validation too often, and I often feel like I manipulate or guilt trip to get that. I feel like an emotional abuser. I cling too hard. People don’t know it, but I make everyone responsible for my mood. Or I blame people for my mood. I’m responsible for that. Nobody else. I can’t control my unstable emotions. My emotions change at the drop of a hat. Yesterday I woke up feeling refreshed, motivated, ready. I organized the house. Took Fiona on a 3 mile walk. Felt accomplished. Then the toilet started leaking all over, into the basement. And I spiralled. So far this morning I have cried twice over minor inconveniences and I just feel so alone and angry. So far for that this morning I have blamed my best friend and husband. Why? Because the composter I was promised would be built is still not (we’ve been busy, had house guests for a week, and I can also build it my fucking self), and is now missing parts and it feels like the responsibility to return and fix my own Christmas gift is on me. Which, I guess it should be. He just bought it. Why does he have to do everything for it? My best friend is texting me to vent about her roommate/best friend she likely has replaced me with, mentioned wanting to plan a surprise party for him. I already feel replaced, and I’m feeling the huge pangs of loss, jealousy. Because she hasn’t done that for me ever (granted, I don’t think I’ve done it for her, either). I do now remember her getting a “surprise” dinner together with Dan when I left Petsmart. She does send me occasional surprise gifts and cards. I need to remember that. My original statement wasn’t fair to make. Again, with assuming the worst of people.  I guess my feelings are coming from feeling distanced from her. Literally, and figuratively. She moved just far enough away to deter the will to drive to and from each other as much as we used to. She started a new job (which she loves, which makes me happy) where she works nights and weekends, which directly conflicts with mine. So that’s two strikes against us. Yet, I spent 12 days off texting her every day over Christmas break and only managed to spend an hour with her. I feel like I make the effort far more than she does. I’m not sure if she does that with everyone, or if it’s just me. I always ask to hang out. I often text her first. Part of me worries she is depressed. She promises me she’s fine. I asked her if there was something wrong with us. She promises we’re fine. Yet, why don’t I believe her? Is it because there is something there, of is it my fucking fear of abandonment? We also have way different...lifestyles, I guess. Well, kind of. As much as she stays in bed and goes to bed at 9pm as I do, she also goes clubbing and bar hopping until 4am. That shit is so far in my past, with the exception of maybe a few nights a year. I’m sure for the most part, all of her other friends would find me incredibly grandma-like and lame. Which is probably fair, lol.

Anyway, back to this toilet situation that somehow ruins my life. My fucked up thought process: blame my husband..sort of. More his job, which he chooses to be employed at. He was supposed to be home Friday. So..somehow the toilet leaking Saturday night is his fault. Like he deliberately made it leak for me to deal with. Of course not. But I tried to find help. Nobody around willing to help. To be fair, he did video chat me and we found the solution, just don’t have the parts to do it. Reality: I’m frustrated with the fact that these things tend to happen when I am alone and I hate feeling out of control by the fact that I do not have the knowledge and skills to fix it myself. So it comes out as anger. It comes out as anger when I feel upset by the fact that I don’t feel like I can depend on people to come help me. Dan’s dad is up North (not that I’m angry at him about it). Jason said he’d come over today, and while he doesn’t often flake in situations like this, he does flake on other things just enough for the seed of doubt to be planted. At the same time I feel guilty he was asked, because I feel like this family treats him as the bitch and errand boy and I feel bad. I literally never ask my parents to help me with a Goddamn thing, and I’m not sure what to expect when they said they’d be over at “some point” to help me. Dan being gone automatically made everything his fault. He is my scapegoat. It’s not fair, and I feel like a terrible wife. When I realize I’m doing this, all I want to do is throw myself off of a bridge. He tried helping me from where he was. Why isn’t that good enough? Like..the only acceptable thing would have been to drop everything, hop on a plane, and come home in 5 minutes and just fix it. That’s not realistic. It’s not even reasonable. He called his dad. He called Jason. He video chatted me. He showed me what to do. Why wasn’t that enough at the time? I remember telling him how it wasn’t fair because there is NEVER a time where he physically was stuck doing something and I wasn’t there to support him. Maybe I’m still resentful because of the miscarriage. Driving myself to the emergency room. Sitting in a room by myself as they delivered the news that I was no longer pregnant when I didn’t even know I was to begin with. When they told me, alone, that our child was estimated 6-8 weeks based on hormone levels and tissue they found remaining in ultrasound. The horrible procedure of removing what was left. Coming home and being stuck wearing diaper pads while I bled. I know it was hard on him. I know he wanted to be there. But he wasn’t. I need to let it go. It’s just made me more afraid to be here alone. What next huge thing is he going to have to miss? He is always here for me. He’s a phone call away. A text away. But he can’t always answer his phone. I just..want him to stay the fuck home. I don’t care if we are stuck in this house for the rest of our lives and he takes a huge pay cut. I can’t take it anymore. I think it’s the one thing that’s going to break us, if there is one. That or my psychotic being will become too much for him. Surprise it hasn’t yet. Maybe it is. Maybe I’ll be the very last to know. I don’t know. 

I get so resentful and frustrated when he’s gone. Naturally I have to take on more of the burden when he’s home. All of the cleaning, cooking, appointments, caring for the pets, any minor inconvenience is on me. And I make it all his fault. Like he personally fucking enjoys staying in a shitty hotel room away from home while his wife does everything. He tells me he wouldn’t care if I literally did nothing and he came home to a sink full of dishes. Maybe I do it all because I know I’d be fucking irritated if I came home from a 2 week business trip to a total fucking mess waiting for me (and truthfully feel like I would come home to. Not sure if it’s accounting for my husband’s lack of urgency or attention to detail or me being an asshole and assuming the worst). I do it for him so he can come home and feel like he can relax without an immediate to-do list waiting for him. Yet I do it because I like to provide for him, while at the same time resent him for having to do everything. What the fuck, Nicole. I think some of this is not liking to be by myself. It’s not even just the fact that I’m alone, physically. Being alone gets me stuck in my own head. And if you hate yourself, why would you want to be with yourself, 24 hours a day? It’s always the weekends that get bad for me when he’s gone. Mainly, it’s because as I near my 30′s and people get busy, I can’t get anybody to fucking hang out with me. I’m on my own. During the week I have 10 hours of work to distract me, and then I enjoy coming home for a few hours and then going to bed. Weekends are 48 hours of solitude. And I almost feel guilty for like..having fun and doing stuff without him. Which is 100% on me. I don’t need to do that. But he often will tell me to do wait to do things (like around the house), etc. for when he gets home. And then weeks and weeks pass. Sidevent, I’m so tired of being the motivator and scheduler for these things. Like...our bathroom is still not done. I keep mentioning what needs to get done (aka him to do) and it doesn’t get done. Our front door still isn’t fucking installed and we bought in September. His fucking job gets in the way of everything. It sucks all of his time, energy, and motivation. But they keep throwing money at him so it’s fine. It’s not. He tells me all of the time he’s just content to sit at home doing nothing during our free time because of his long hours and travel. I don’t have either and never get to leave this fucking town, so all I want to do is do so. I want to see the world. People. Dive into other cultures and learn. I feel like he wants anything but. It makes me feel trapped. Tethered. Leashed. Maybe I need to learn to just go and do these on my own. But again, I do so much by myself and alone already...why do I need to add another thing? I do so much alone. Grocery shopping, cleaning, hanging out, visiting our friends. Now I have to travel alone?

So much of my life I thought a lot of my thought processes were an account of my upbringing. Which, I guess it still is. Or was me being humble, modest. I have always assumed the worst of people (in ways such as people promising to do something for me and I will immediately and plan accordingly and assume they will never fulfill that promise because I’m not important enough to keep a promise for or be cared about). I always make myself the point of blame and scapegoat myself in situations. Reality: it’s actually pretty fucking selfish. Not everything is about me. Someone can be upset by something entirely outside of me, dumbass. I am not the cause of everything horrible. I will always convince myself that people don’t like me. Don’t love me. Don’t care about me. Don’t want to be around me. It’s incredibly lonely. I don’t know how to make it stop.

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

When Sharing What We Know Helps Others

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/healthy-tips/when-sharing-what-we-know-helps-others/

When Sharing What We Know Helps Others

I love that 1946 Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. Hard-working and kind George Bailey, Stewart’s character, feels he’s let all his neighbors down and wishes he’d never been born. But an angel, Clarence, comes down to Earth to show George what the world would have been like without him. It’s not a pretty picture: the town has gone to ruin and George’s brother dies because George wasn’t there to save him.

Flash forward to now, my life. Out of the blue, I got an email from a young woman, Daniela Rojas. Daniela has type 1 diabetes and told me how much I’d changed her life.

I asked her permission to post her message to me for two reasons. One, I was so moved I could barely contain myself. Two, we need to remember in all the hard work we do as advocates, we impact people every day, everywhere. It’s easy to forget because we seldom hear the stories.

From Daniela Rojas – (Whom I have since discovered is a psychologist and writes a blog at Diabetica Solutions.)

Hi Riva,

I would love to share your impact in my life, it truly would be an honor.

You must know I not only loved your talk (at the International Diabetes Federation’s 2015 World Congress), but also your answer and participation in a hypo session in Vancouver. In both, you showed me that it was ok to live a life with low (blood sugar) numbers. The reason your words meant so much to me is a long story. If you don’t mind I’ll try to tell it to you.

I had a very “traumatic” debut (with diabetes). I was in a coma for three weeks, I had to stay in the hospital for a long time.

Before my diagnosis, I used to be a ballet dancer. I was very good actually and when I got diagnosed and then was at the hospital I was very worried about missing my ballet classes. I kept telling my mother they were going to kick me out. I told her this every single day in the ICU. She kept telling me not to worry and at the time neither of us really understood what was wrong with me or what type one diabetes really was.

One morning I was telling my mother once again that I wanted to get out and go to ballet class. At the time there was a med student in the room and he came over and told me “You need to stop thinking of ballet, you will never get to dance again. Ballet shoes will hurt your feet and if that happens because of your diabetes I am going to have to cut your feet off.”

I can remember that exact moment as if it was this morning. I remember holding my mom’s hand and telling her I didn’t want to loose my feet, and her telling me that she was going to do everything to prevent that from happening.

After that incident, they tried to explain what type one diabetes was, and a very kind doctor told me the key to prevent any complications was to have low numbers daily, not hypos (blood sugar below 80 mg/dL) but low numbers. She said that could help me be healthy for the rest of my life.

Back then, this was more than 25 years ago, I had no access to glucose meters. I actually got my first one almost 4 years after my diagnosis when my mom went on a work trip to the States and managed to buy one. I remember my first reading was around 400. It was awful and so scary, I couldn’t get that doctor’s words out of my head. After I could do daily readings, I started working to have low numbers, which plenty of times ended in a hypo.

For the past decade or more I have had HbA1c of 5.8, 5.9% and the highest of 6.0%. A lot of people keep telling me that’s a problem. That I am probably doing things wrong and that I am going to end up hurting myself.

That’s when you come in. I went to the hypo talk with Wim. You were sitting a row ahead of me. After the presentation ended, the lady who was on the panel said it was almost impossible to have low numbers without lots of hypos. If I’m not wrong, she even said it would be easier to watch a unicorn than coming across a person with type one with low HbA1c throughout a long period of time.

Then you stood up and asked for the mic. You said that was not true. You said you had been living a low-carb diet and had amazing numbers for a very long time. There was a girl from Australia sitting next to you who felt the same way, and you said she had managed to do it herself as well. At that moment, Wim came up to you and told you that I had done the same thing. You looked at me and told the lady us three had done it. Then she said we should probably work together on a book to help others get that.

You told as well that you have had hypos, but you manage them, you’ve learned and most importantly had been able to remain healthy throughout your entire life with diabetes.

You have no idea what that meant to me. I had finally found someone in the world who knew what I felt, and believed and didn’t ask me to be afraid of my body, not even my hypos.

In your talk, you shared a story where you had a hypo and your husband helped you with it. That made me happy, made me realise that asking for help actually shows how strong you are as you are doing everything to survive. What’s stronger than that? It made me feel comfortable with the fact that at times sharing our hypos with others gives us the chance to choose between feeling stronger or more afraid and paralyzed. The way you talked about it made me feel so comfortable in my own skin that it actually allowed me to talk to Wim about this hypo project and here we are.

So thank you, thank you, for inspiring me. Without you knowing it you made me feel safe within my own self. Thank you for letting me see that what I had in my head was real and made sense, even though it is not what everyone else thinks.

Most of all, thank you for empowering me to share my life stories with someone other than myself; I really can’t thank you enough.

Hope you have a lovely Sunday afternoon, once again thank you very much.

Best regards,

Daniela Rojas

I had a lovely Sunday, Monday, and now Tuesday afternoon. What we say, what we do, we will rarely know how it affects someone. You have to trust that it does. And every once in a while an angel, like a Daniela Rojas, all the way from Costa Rica, will pop out of the blue and tell you so.

Post Views: 0Diabetes Type 2 Tips Diabetes Escape Plan Does Diabetes Destroyer Really Work? Original Article