#maybe I should’ve gotten the heads up when she didn’t bother getting me a christmas present

[haropla]

huh. now that I know my sis just doesn’t give a shit about my feelings or what I think, it’s oddly liberating.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Fighting and Making Up” -The Pack Preference

Request:  For preferences you could do a two part of what y’all get into fights about and then make up.

        I wasn’t sure how to do this exactly, but I wanted to keep it lighthearted! I hope you enjoy :) 

Jacob: 

It isn’t something that happens often, but when it does Jake has no issue telling you that you done messed up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with your car?” 

“Because you’re so busy, I know you’re tired from patrol and hanging out with me. I didn’t want to bother you.” I say looking down at my feet. 

“Well, now it’s worse and needs more work. Don’t wait to tell me when something is wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment. 

It doesn’t get very intense, he just usually gives a mini lecture about how damaging it is to my car. Not yelling, but the disappointed, annoyed tone someone gives when they don’t wanna yell. 

It’s usually making up by sitting in the garage, bonding over fixing whatever is wrong with the car. Keeping each other company, talking, and eating snacks. 

Seth: 

Seth is a loving boyfriend, caring way more than you thought was possible. He gets upset with you when you get sick but push it off. It causes some tension and frustration because he doesn’t like seeing you like that. 

“Please, my mom is a nurse. Let her look at you.” He pleads.

“Seth, it’s just a cold! I’ll be okay.” I reason.

“You don’t know that, it could be anything.” He pouts. 

Eventually, a few days pass and you end up being worse instead of better.

“Maybe if you had listened to me the other day you wouldn’t be this sick.” He says, making you your favorite soup. 

A lot of times he’s just more upset that you won’t make it easier on yourself. It usually starts out with an argument like one above, but you guys make up as he takes care of you, refusing to leave your side. He makes sure you take your medicine, makes sure you get rest, and is always ready to bring you food and water. Oh, and a lot of cuddles, can’t forget the cuddles. 

Leah:

Leah and you don’t fight often, but it’s often when you overwork yourself or spread yourself too thin. 

“(Y/N), why did you say you can cover their shift? You’re already working a shift that day, call them back and tell them you can’t. Plus you agreed to help Seth with his math homework tomorrow morning. And you agreed to volunteer at the shelter. Plus you need to do your paper and study for your final, it’s your senior year of college.” She says, frustrated. 

“Leah, you know I can’t say no. They need my help!” I defend. 

“I know, but you can’t do it all! You need to take care of yourself, make sure that you’re helping yourself. You’re making yourself sick with how much you’re doing…” She grabs for my hand. 

“I know, I know. I can’t help it, I hate saying no.” Tears brimming my eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you sad, you’re just spreading yourself too thin. I hate seeing you like this, you’re ready to explode at the drop of a hat.” She pulls me into a hug. 

“I know, I don’t know how to fix it.” I let the tears fall. 

“I’ll help you. We’ll get you through this, but next time-- don’t do this to yourself.” She smiles, kissing me on the forehead. 

Afterwards she helps you get your stuff done, helping take the stress off your shoulders. Though, she reminds you constantly to stop taking so many things on at once. The night is usually filled with hot chocolate and cuddling by the fire, including long and loving kisses. 

Paul:

It was no secret that Paul always had the hardest time out of everyone in controlling his temper. Though, after he imprinted on you it did improve vastly. The only issue with this is that now he was a ticking time bomb when it came to the subject of you. He was one of the most emotional and caring people you’ve ever met-- which is why he had such a hard time controlling his temper at times. It happens every once in a while where he gets too jealous/protective over you and goes off the deep end, just a bit. It usually goes something like this:

“Paul, stop being pissed off.” I sigh, walking in our front door from the party we just had to leave. 

“No, did you see the way he looked at you? He hugged you for way too long. You don’t get the way he looked at you. If I wasn’t right there he would’ve absolutely tried something.” He huffs.

“Paul, he was my chemistry partner from a class three years ago. He was just saying hello. That’s the first and only time I’ve seen him since high school. He just hugged me hello, albeit very long but… you’re the only one I see.” I look deep into his eyes. 

“You didn’t hear what he said before he came up to you! He told his friend that he used to wanna get you in bed, and then said he still would. I just hate seeing other people look at you like you’re an object.” He walks over, hugging me. 

“Well, Paul you can’t fight everyone who checks me out or says something in poor taste.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just lose it sometimes when it comes to you.” He sighs, closing his eyes. 

“I know, I know it’s because you care. I love you, Paul.” 

“I love you, too.” He kisses my forehead, pulling me into a tighter hug. 

Lots of cuddling and snacks ensue, by the end of the night you guys always make up. 

Embry: 

Embry and you have been inseparable since you were kids. You guys dated before his phasing, and thankfully he imprinted on you. He was always overprotective, worried about everything you did from day one, and now that he’s phased and imprinted, he knows the real dangers out there and his feelings have only gotten more intense. It’s not always an argument per se, but it usually ends with him worried when you go out into the woods alone or just with one of your friends. 

“Embry, she just wanted to go on a small hike. It wasn’t even at night.” 

“(Y/N), it doesn’t matter if it’s day or night. You should’ve told me so I knew to make sure nothing happened to you, I can’t fathom what I would do if something happened to you.” He trails off. 

“I understand, but I didn’t know we were going into the woods. She just asked me to go while we were at her house, it was just the woods behind her house. I didn’t know I was going to or I would’ve mentioned it.” 

“Well, you went pretty deep for Quil to find you on patrol. I just need to make sure you’re safe, I can’t let anything happen to you.” His voice trails off. 

“I didn’t realize how far we went until after. I’m sorry, Em. I can’t exactly say anything about vampires or the pack to her. I didn’t mean to upset you, it was just a nice day to take some pictures.” I look down at my feet. 

“I understand, I’m sorry for getting so upset with you. Just try to send me, or all of us, a text. Just in case. I need to make sure you’re safe, always. I love you.” He kisses my forehead. 

“I will, I’m sorry again. I love you, too.” I push myself further into his chest. 

It doesn’t happen often, but if it does you guys make up and often lay in bed listening to your favorite music. A lot of cuddling, talking about how much you mean to each other, and back scratches. 

  Jared: 

Jared doesn’t really argue, he’s a snarky guy but overall one of the sweetest people ever. The one thing that always gets under your skin though is whenever you guys have somewhere to be or something to do, he always needs “five more minutes” to wake up. This wouldn’t always be such a huge deal if it was actually five more minutes, but after ten of those you’re set back almost an hour. 

“Jared. Get up, for real.” You throw a pillow at his sleeping body.

“Five more minutes.” He grumbles, clutching the pillow close to his body.

“You said that an hour ago! We’re going to be late.” You huff, getting onto the bed. 

“Don’t do it.” He pleads.

“Too bad.” You say, jumping on the bed.

You then have to deal with grumpy Jared for the duration of him waking up and getting ready to go, but he makes up for it by apologizing and leaving kisses all over your face before you leave, only making you later. He gets you your favorite snacks on the way home.  

“I won’t do it next time, babe.” He says as we walk out to the car to leave.

“Mhm, okay. You say that every time.” You laugh.

You buy him an alarm clock for Christmas. You buy another for his birthday. He keeps throwing them out.

Quil: 

While with the pack you were always witty due to your comfort levels, you didn’t always behave that way. You were always meek and nervous with confrontation with others. It all started in high school where Quil would get upset that you would let people talk to or treat you a certain way, earning no backlash from yourself. Quil began to stick up for you, smart mouth and all. It has lasted all through the years, even when someone was rude at the grocery store. 

“Quil, you don’t have to do that.” 

“Yes I do. You don’t stick up for yourself, it’s horrible. You need to stop letting people talk to you like that. I can’t sit there and let you take it.” He argues.

“Okay, but did you have to tell him that he looks like his mom huffed gasoline when she was pregnant? What does that even mean? What if she did?” I ask, astonished after the incident. 

“I did, I told him the truth. A lot of nerve for him to think he can say anything about you.” He scoffs. 

“Quil… I just ignore them because it’s easier, it’s so much easier than to get so angry.” 

“I get angry for you, it works. I love you, I can’t sit and let someone disrespect you.”

“I love you, too. Just chill out sometimes, okay?”

“We can agree to disagree, I can’t let someone disrespect my girlfriend. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He kisses my cheek before pulling me over to our bed. 

After these kinds of situations, it usually ends with a lot of cuddling and watching funny movies to make us feel a little better. 

Sam: 

When you take too long to get ready and make a mess in the bathroom with all of your cosmetics he tends to get upset, especially when he has to get in there to get ready, too. 

“Please at least let me pee, you’ve been getting ready for an hour.” “I’ll be out in a minute!” I yell back through the door. 

“You said that ten minutes ago! What else could you possibly be doing?” He knocks again. 

“You can’t rush beauty, Sam.” I open the door. 

“You don’t need to spend an hour of your time to look beautiful, you look amazing when you wake up. But let me pee, now.” He runs into the bathroom, frustrated with how long he’s had to wait. 

“Thank you, Sam.” I blush from outside the bathroom door. 

Sam always respects the fact that you like to get dolled up sometimes before certain events, but cannot help but be frustrated at how long it takes you. It’s always a “just a minute!” from you, as you hog the bathroom counter. You make it up to him by not only cleaning the bathroom up immediately, but by giving him a sweet kiss. After you guys return, you cuddle and watch movies. You give him back rubs and spoil him with affection, promising to get ready quicker next time. 

__________________________

Word Count: 2028

[storiesforallfandoms]

man’s world ~ harley quinn;birds of prey

word count: 1965

request?: no

description: every bad guy in town is after harley quinn after the announcement of her breakup with the joker, but harley is about to make a very powerful friend to have on her side

pairing: harley quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of murder

masterlist

There was no need in counting the money given to me. I could tell by the size of the tack that it wasn’t enough. “You stiffed me again.”

Roman rolled his eyes at me. “I told you I’d pay for a clean kill, that wasn’t a clean kill. You’re lucky I paid you at all.”

“What do you mean? How can a kill be any cleaner than arsenic poisoning? I even framed that chemist guy that had a grudge against the target, it’ll never be traced back to you.”

“Sorry, did I say clean? I meant I wanted a messy murder. Your plan was smart, but I love the theatrics of it all. Next time, I want a show.”

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. I really wished I could find a new employer. Roma was the absolute worst boss. He was an asshole misogynist that overworked and underpaid me. But he had a lot of leverage on me, what with me being his hitwoman and all, so until I could find a new employer, I was basically bound to Roman.

“Wait!” Roman said. I sighed and turned back to look at him. “I do have a pretty big job for you. If you do this, I promise you I will pay you in full. A large sum, too.”

“I’ve heard that before, Roman,” I said and turned to walk away again.

He stood from his desk and quickly approached me, grabbing my arm to stop me. I raised an eyebrow and yanked my arm away. Most people were too afraid of Roman to behave like this around him. However, most people weren’t his hitwoman, meaning they didn’t have the dirt on him that I did.

It was a balanced relationship we had, whether Roman wanted to admit it or not.

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he said. “This is a big job. If you do this, I will pay you double, no triple the original price of this hit.”

I should’ve walked away, I could’ve walked away. Roman wouldn’t stop me if I did. But I couldn’t lie, the money sounded good - if Roman actually gave me what he was promising this time.

I sighed and motioned with a hand for Roman to go on. He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Do you know who Harley Quinn is?”

~~~~~~

It didn’t take long to find where Harley Quinn decided to live after the Joker kicked her to the curb. It was severely under protected, unless you classified a sweet Asian man as “protection”.

He tried to stop me as I made my way to Harley’s apartment. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Harley’s from Arkham Asylum,” I responded. “I wanted to surprise her, I just got out.”

“She’s not home right now.”

“Even better! It’ll be a big surprise!”

I hurried away before he said anything else. I knew he’d be suspicious, but I trusted him to not tell Harley I was there.

I picked her lock and let myself in. The moment I stepped into her apartment, her pet hyena sat up at attention, assessing the stranger that had just entered his home. I pulled the hamburger I had bought from the bag in my hand and offered it to the hyena. He raced over and excitedly gobbled down the food.

I knelt down to pet his coarse fur. “Good boy. I’ll take you in when I finish with this job.”

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for her long. Shortly after my arrival, the sound of the doorknob turning alerted myself and her hyena that she was back. I pointed the gun as the door swung open. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hello Harleen.”

Roman’s words - “I want a messy kill” - echoed through my head as I pulled the trigger. Harley quickly jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding my bullet. She dove behind her couch and I continued to shoot bullets into it, causing feathers and fluff to fly into the air. Harley’s hyena let out a laugh-like bark that was drowned out by my gunshots. When my clip was empty, I quickly changed it to a full one.

Knowing that the gunshots would’ve alerted Harley’s landlord, I quickly crossed the room to her open door and closed it, locking the door and even breaking the knob a little for good measures. I wasn’t going to let this job bust, not with so much money on the line.

“Look, whatever Mista J did to you, I’m sorry!” Harley called from somewhere in the room. “Haven’t ya done your research? He brainwashed me! I only did what he said cause I thought I loved him!”

“Joker never did anything to me,” I told her. “I’m just here on someone else’s behalf.”

“That’s a long list to narrow down,” she responded. “Mind giving me a hint? Maybe an initial?”

I traced her voice to a desk that was turned to face me. This wouldn’t have normally been suspicious, if it weren’t for the fact that the desk was pushed right up against a wall, rendering it technically useless. In the small slit between the bottom of the desk and the floor, I could see Harley’s colorful shoes peaking out.

“Actually, I have a message from him,” I said. “Roman says ‘Good Riddence.”

She must’ve known I had found her, as, just before I pulled the trigger, Harley jumped up from under the desk, successfully launching it at me. The sudden movement startled me enough that my shot lodged itself in the ceiling instead of in her head.

“Oh, Romy!” Harley exclaimed. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come kill me himself? What hurts!”

She dove behind another plush chair as I took another shot at her. I exclaimed in frustration and went to approach the chair. Before getting close enough, Harley raised her hand, which was now holding the white t-shirt she had arrived in.

“Truce!” she called. “Just for one minute, give me a truce. And then you can decide if you want to continue with your killing. I won’t stop you, you ain’t the first to try and off me today.”

Against my better judgement, I sighed and shoved my gun back into the waistband of my pants. “You have five minutes to say your piece, Quinn. I have a lot of money on the line here.”

She popped up from behind the chair like a Whack-A-Mole. She was now in a plush, pink sports bra, her suspenders pulled over it now instead of the white t-shirt she was holding in her hand.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to cash in on a good paycheck,” she said. “I wanted to get a look at ya for a minute. You know, without the bullets and whatnot obstructing my view. I wanted to see if I recognized ya.”

“Why would you recognize me?”

“I frequent Romy’s club a lot. I think he only tolerated me because of Mista J, which would explain why he sent a hitwoman after me when I announced our breakup,” she explained. “You do look familiar. Do you frequent the club, too?”

“I don’t tend to talk with Roman about business in public. It’s not exactly the smartest move.”

“I suppose not, but I’m sure I’ve seen your face there before.” She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Oh! I know! You were there the last time I was! I broke a dude’s legs and you were talking to Romy at the time!”

Oh wait, she’s right. I was there that night.

I could remember well: I had just finished a job. Roman had called me to his club for my payment. I guess he knew I wouldn’t lash out in front of all those witnesses when he stiffed me again. I was furious when he handed me less than half of what he had promised. That job had almost gotten me killed, but he viewed that as a failure. He told me he was debating not paying me at all, but knew I’d walk if that was the case.

His smug as smile as he walked away still infuriated me to that day. I wished I had punched him right in his stupid fucking face, made a scene in his club and announced to the world that Roman Sionis had hired a killer to take down the people he didn’t like. I’d go to prison if it meant Roman went with me.

“Man, you were angry,” Harley said, leaning her arms against the chair and resting her head in one of her hands. “What were ya talking about? Did a hit go wrong or something?”

“Nearly,” I responded, looking away from Harley so she wouldn’t see my anger again. “Listen, I gave you five minutes and they’re almost up, so maybe you should - ”

“He stiffed ya, didn’t he?” Harley cut me off. “I bet he does that a lot. He doesn’t exactly treat his female employees all that nicely. You heard the stories from that singer he has? The Canary? I can’t believe she quit working for him and made it out alive.”

She almost hadn’t. I had to save her ass from Roman that night. It was the night I almost walked out, too. The first time, anyways.

“He’s a misogynistic prick,” Harley hissed. “Thinks women are objects that should be beneath him. I don’t know why you let him treat you like dirt when you do all the dirty work for him. You should be the one stiffin’ him for cash!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I told her. “Being the killer for hire for Roman Sionis, he has too much dirt on me. If I tried to leave, or if I did anything he didn’t like, he could ruin my life in a second. I’m stuck with him until I can know for sure that I’m safe.”

“How do you know you wouldn’t be safe with me?”

I scoffed at her question. “You’re wanted by everybody - every villain, every hero, and every regular pedestrian. You don’t have the Joker to protect you right now. You’re a walking target, being with you is the unsafest place to be.”

“Safer than with Roman Sionis,” she said. “Sure, I can’t pay you top dollar for killin’, but I like to get my hands bloody myself. I ain’t here for this hitman/hitwoman shit. You and I, we could do some serious damage together.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her proposal. Even if it would land me in a world of danger, working with Harley Quinn was a lot better than having to work for Roman Sionis anymore.

“The two of us alone, no matter how powerful or how...psychotic, are not enough to go up against Roman,” I told her.

Harley smiled brightly, knowing that what I was saying was technically an acceptance to her invitation. “Way ahead of you sister! I’ve already recruited Romy’s ex-Canary, and that legendary Crossbow Killer. We’re puttin’ together our own little girl gang.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Sounds like you were prepared for this.”

“Let’s just say, you’re not the first person Romy has sent after me.”

I had a feeling there was a reason Roman didn’t warn me about the first person sent after Harley Quinn.

She approached me and threw an arm over my shoulder, as if we were magically best friends. I looked at her close proximity before looking back up at her smiling face. “I could kill you right now, you know.”

“I know, but you won’t,” she said. “We’re best friends now, and we’re gonna take down Roman Sionis together.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her as she said this.

[nonagesimus]

Tristan what if I promoted about Jess noticing Sam avoiding salty foods or his cross necklace leaving faint red marks :)) stuff like that:)) yknow the demon blood affecting him early on

Their first Christmas Jess was flying out on the 23rd, so they did gifts on the 22nd. In Jess’ dorm, because Sam had absolutely no decorations up, and when Jess had asked why he’d just shrugged and said he couldn’t be bothered. But he was happy enough watching her unwrap a set of bracelets that she knew he spent more on than they’d agreed to. But she didn’t call him out, because she had too. See, while he didn’t go to a Sunday service- at least as far as she knew - he liked wearing a cross. It wasn’t a sentimental thing, either, because when the chain had broken and he lost one he wasn’t sad, he just got a new one the very next day. But he kept buying the cheap ones, so he’d had a thin red rash, worst where the cross itself sat, the entire time she’d known him.

Sterling silver was a little bit of a splurge, but it was worth it.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Shouldn’t trigger the nickel allergy either,” she said. He grinned at her, taking off the one he was wearing and replacing it with the new one.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She got back after Christmas and he picked her up from the airport in her car. The chain around his neck was the new one, but the rash was still there. She frowned, hurt a little despite herself.

Waited until later in the evening to comment.

“If you like your old one better it’s fine, you don’t have to wear this just ‘cause I got it for you.” She said, lying in bed with her fingers resting on the cross.

“What?” he asked, so genuinely confused she sat up to look at his face.

“The rash,” she said. “You’ve been wearing your old cross.”

“I’ve been wearing this one since you gave it to me,” he said. “I think it’s just not a nickel allergy, I must just have sensitive skin. It doesn’t itch or anything.”

Jess didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t push. And she only ever saw him wearing the silver cross, and that rash never did go down.

—

Jess always thought she was a healthy eater, but that was before she met Sam. Ate-meat-only-once-or-twice-a week Sam, bought-fruit-on-seven-eleven-snack-runs Sam, got-the-depressing-mcdonald’s-side-salad-instead-of-fries Sam. Didn’t-even-use-the-little-paper-seasoning-sachets-that-came-with-the-depressing-salad Sam. Brady, already grumpy from something that’d happened in his morning biology lab, had already made three snide comments about low sodium diets that Sam had ignored and Jess used as excuse to throw ketchup packets - that at least perked him up a bit.

“It’s not a health thing,” Sam protested eventually. “I just don’t like the taste that much.”

“The taste of salt,” Brady said, drily. “A thing that only exists to make things taste better.”

“You could say the same thing about cilantro and according to you that ruins everything it touches,” Sam pointed out.

Brady shrugged. “If I wanted my burrito to taste like soap, I’d put soap in my burrito.”

Sam sighed, reached over, and stole a few fries off Brady’s tray. Dodged Brady’s attempt to grab him easily and popped them in his mouth.

“Will you shut up now?” he asked, before taking a long swig of his drink.

“Sure, if you stop stealing my fries,” Brady said.

“Great,” Sam said, rolling his jaw like he was trying to scrape an unpleasant sensation off his tongue.

—

Junior year Jess stayed behind for Christmas. Sam was still a little antsy at the prospect of spending a week in her parent’s house, and she didn’t really understand but wasn’t going to push. Instead she decorated their apartment, and forced Sam to make hot chocolate even though it was still pretty warm in Palo Alto.

“Do you think,” he started nervously, “I haven’t been in a long time but- I was thinking of going to Mass on Christmas morning? You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Jess said.

The closest Catholic to campus was St Thomas Aquinas, complete with spires and stained glass for all it was built of wood. Jess’ family had been baptists, but Sam had promised to lead her through any of the pomp and ceremony she wasn’t used to. Starting with the basin of holy water at the door - she mimicked him as he wet his fingers and did the sign of the cross. There was a slight grimace on his face, and as she put her hand on his back a tension in his spine.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

But as the service went on, he just seemed to get worse. The blood drained out of his face, while the ends of his fingers went pink. Fever damp, then starting to sweat bullets. They had to stand and he swayed a little into her; she tried to take some of his weight without it looking too obvious. All the ceremony he’d promised to guide her through he was half-a-step behind on, hazy like he was thinking through a fog. A few times she squeezed his arm, trying to find out if he wanted to leave, but every time he just shook his head.

Finally, the service ended and Jess dragged Sam out past the Priest who was politely wishing people a Merry Christmas and out the door. There was a tremor running through him. And he barely protested the manhandling, just let her pour him in to the passenger seat of her car.

“You should’ve let me get you out earlier if you were feeling this sick,” she said.

He was sitting with his head tipped right back, eyes shut, breathing shallow. “I didn’t feel that bad,” he said.

And maybe it wasn’t the bad, because he’d stopped sweating bullets by the time they got back to the apartment. An hour later his forehead didn’t feel warm, and he’d gotten his colour back. As he improved, though, he only seemed to get more withdrawn. Swapping illness for a shadow in his eyes. As much as Jess tried to get him to talk, he refused.

“Sorry for ruining Christmas,” he said, as they lay on the couch. More into her neck than to her face.

“You didn’t,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

He didn’t answer.

[ginnympotter]

call it even

Chapter 1: you’ll always know me

A/N: This is the first chapter of a 2 (or possibly 3? who knows) chapter Muggle AU fanfic inspired by tis the damn season and dorothea by taylor swift hehe hope you like it :) You can also read it on AO3 here.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It was way too early in the morning, she had just gotten off a long flight where she barely slept a wink, and she just didn’t have it in her to talk to any fans without the coffee she was impatiently waiting for at the LAX Starbucks.

But she turned around anyway, bracing herself, and then saw a face that jolted her so much she supposed she wouldn’t need the coffee anymore. “Harry?”

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled. Harry Potter was standing in front of her for the first time in almost a year, looking as handsome as ever. He was tired, his green eyes looking glazed behind his glasses, his hair pointing in all directions- though she could tell he didn’t try to comb it- wearing the grey-blue sweater she knew her Mum bought him years ago.

Without really thinking about it, she moved forward and hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist and hugged her back, but he also let go first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously, trying not to think too hard about him breaking the embrace before she could.

“My students had a tournament against a school out here,” he explained. “We lost though.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, don’t be, I don’t mind. But the kids all seem like they’re going to jump out of the plane before we can make it home. I was up until 2am consoling the quarterback. My assistant coach is talking them all down now out there while I grab us coffee.”

She nodded, biting her lip. And then blurted out, “Why didn’t you call?” At Harry’s confused look, she added, “to tell me you were in L.A.?”

He cleared his throat, and Ginny saw a light blush creep up his neck. “Well, I knew you were away for your match. I caught some of it, you played great, as always.”

“Oh,” she responded, feeling stupid. She sometimes forgot that as a member of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team her schedule was often public knowledge. She felt a tug at her heart thinking about Harry still supporting her after all this time. “Right, thanks. I wish I could’ve shown you around the city. Did you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, but big cities aren’t really my style. You know that,” he ended, a solemn note in his voice. “Have you been enjoying it out here?”

She mirrored his shrug. “It’s fine, I suppose. I like the weather, if that counts.”

“Nothing else?”

With most people she’d probably just lie and say she loved it, but with Harry she had a bad habit of always being blunt. “The traffic here is worse than what they warn you about, and honestly, it’s hard to make friends when it seems like everyone just wants to use you for your fame- or for the more famous people that you know.”

“Well, if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.” Harry offered her a sad smile. “I’m always a call- or a FaceTime- away. Not that a tiny screen is my ideal way of seeing you, but better than nothing.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond right away, as she could feel her whole body burning up and her throat closing. There was so much in the air between them. But the barista called out a cold brew, and at the same time they both said, “oh, that’s me,” then looked at each other and laughed. The first one had Ginny’s name on it, the one that followed five seconds later had Harry’s.

They walked away from the coffee pick-up area together, and Harry checked his watch. “Well, we have to board soon. I’m sorry this is the only way we got to see each other.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Ginny told him in response. She originally didn’t plan on reaching out to him when she got back home, because she knew her brother and Harry’s best friend Ron would just tell him, and if he wanted to see her he could make that decision for himself. But suddenly this became information that she couldn’t hold in.

“Oh,” responded Harry, running his free hand through his hair. Her heart fluttered at that motion, as she knew what it meant- that he was nervous in a good way. “Well, that’s great! Let me know when you plan on getting in, I’d love to catch up, properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, the sincerity spilling out against her will. She never could truly play it cool with him, not even when they were kids. She hugged him again, smelling home lingering on his sweater. “I will. Have a safe flight, Harry.”

His grip on her was tighter this time, even with coffee in hand, than the last. “You too,” he replied. And then stiffened and let go. “I mean, you already had your flight, so that made no sense. Have a safe...cab ride home, I suppose?”

Ginny laughed at his stumbling. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, raising a hand in a small wave as he walked back towards his students. “See you later, Gin.”

She returned the smile and watched him reach his students. She noticed one of them looking at her as if they recognized her. She saw him nudge Harry with his elbow before she turned around and began walking to find her cab driver. As she continued to stride forward she faintly heard him ask, “Mr. Potter, was that just… Ginny Weasley? Do you know her?”

***

It was her fault for thinking her brothers would give her some indication that Harry would be there. They knew she still had feelings for him, no matter how much she denied it and how many times she tried to move on, and yet they couldn’t even give her a heads up.

When Fred and George saw her exasperated expression, they rolled their eyes in unison as Fred put his arm around her. “Are you reverting back to your 11-year-old self, little sis?”

“Fuck off,” she said, shrugging out of her brother’s embrace. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I thought you were bold, or whatever,” said George. “Wasn’t that one of the three qualities you used to describe yourself in People Magazine?”

Harry began walking over to them. She mentally prepared herself as he hugged Fred and George and congratulated them on the joke shop’s expansion. As he turned his attention to Ginny, the twins quickly left to talk to other guests. He didn’t smile.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Hi,” he replied, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink. “Ron told me you landed three days ago.”

She gulped, feeling his hurt absorb her. “Well, I just got settled in and recharged, you know. I- I was going to text you.” Which was true; she did intend on keeping her promise to Harry at the airport, but didn’t know when the appropriate time would be- how do you know the right time to text your ex and first love to casually catch up?

He hummed, taking a sip of his beer. She absolutely despised cold Harry, she could feel it emanating off of him. “It’s fine,” he said, ostensibly lying. “I was catching up with some other people from school anyway. Remember Cho?”

Oh, he was cruel, bringing up his ex like that. “Obviously,” she almost spat. As if she could forget.

“Saw her and Neville, Hannah and Luna the other day.”

She had half a mind to mention Dean Thomas, her boyfriend right before Harry in her sophomore year, reaching out to her asking to go for a drink, but couldn’t find it in her to do it, so instead she just mirrored his cool and pretend unbothered tone. “I don’t remember asking, but thanks for the information.”

Harry’s frown became more clearly defined. “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

She felt a chill as he walked away from her, a familiar ache pooling in her abdomen. They were fighting like they were teenagers rather than grown adults. It was unlike him to start it- it was usually her- but she couldn’t really blame him, though. She knew at the end of the day that she was the main culprit, that she made him ache the way she did because she didn’t know how else to hold it on her own.

She watched him return to her brother Ron’s side and take another large sip of his beer. Ron’s wife and one of both Ginny’s and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, gave Harry an appraising look and then walked over to Ginny. Hermione gave her a short hug and then said, “Alright, which one of you said something stupid this time?”

Ginny scoffed, pulling away from her friend. “Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“I saw you yesterday. So which one of you started it?”

“Obviously he did! He had the audacity to mention hanging out with Cho Chang to me.”

Hermione gave a look of utter exasperation. “That’s a new low for him.”

“I know!”

“But I’m assuming you replied with equal spite?”

She sputtered, crossing her arms. “Maybe so.”

“Well, you should have texted him, Ginny.”

“He should’ve texted me! ” she whispered sharply.

“But you told him at the airport-”

“No, I know that, but- I mean, he should have texted me after…” she trailed off, feeling ashamed of herself for being this upset. “After your wedding last year.”

“You mean after you two slept together again after my wedding last year.”

“Well, yeah. Once I got back to L.A. at least. But nothing.”

“You could’ve texted him then, as well.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway? I know Harry’s been your best friend forever and everything but I’m your sister-in-law! Doesn’t family by marriage mean anything to you?”

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You two really need to sort out your issues on your own. But if it helps to know, he wasn’t really ‘hanging out’ with Cho. We were out with him and the others as well, Cho wasn’t in our group, she just happened to walk in with Michael Corner and they stopped by our table and said hi for a quick minute.”

“She’s dating Michael? My ex-boyfriend Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ll be engaged any day now,” Hermione informed her.

“That lying piece of-”

“You’re both to blame here,” Hermione declared, using her I’m Putting My Foot Down voice. “Just act like adults for once and sort it out. Properly.”

Guilt enveloped her throughout the rest of the night and she hated how such a small exchange could do this to her, as she had to act like everything was okay, be happy for her brothers and talk about her life in L.A. and as a famous soccer player and sell the life she was living as one she was satisfied to have.

By the end of the evening, before he could leave, she found Harry by himself sitting and reading something intently on his phone. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”

He looked up for a second, shook his head, and continued staring at his phone. She eased up just a tad, as she could tell his silence wasn’t his I’m Ignoring You silence, but rather his I’m Deep In Thought and Concentration silence. “Everything okay?” She asked, and when he glanced her way she gestured to his phone.

He gave a half-laugh, half sigh, looking back at his screen. “Yeah, it’s just some of these parents have no boundaries… emailing me during the holidays- on a Friday night no less. I’m just reading through them to decide if any of them are worth responding to outside of my automatic away signature.”

“Is this for the football team kids, or your English Literature students?”

“My Lit students, but there is some overlap. I have this one student, Danny, who’s a really great kid, and his parents are real dickheads, and they’re mad that he got a B+ instead of an A, despite me telling them last quarter that a B is a great grade, and Danny’s already self-conscious as it is and could use encouragement rather than nitpicking over bullshit-“

He caught sight of her face and quickly cut himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She realized she was smiling- it was always nice to see Harry talk passionately about something- and quickly adjusted her facial features. He cleared his throat and closed his phone. “They can probably wait until after the holidays for me to repeat myself, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the right call,” she assured him.

He exhaled, running his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to wipe off his exhaustion with it all. “Thanks.” He put his hands on his lap and looked at her fully, as he refused to do a couple of hours ago. “Ginny, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” she interjected. “I told you I’d let you know when I’d be here and I didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” he said with a sigh. “Classic Harry for you.”

She laughed, folding her legs into a pretzel in her seat. “Can’t blame you, really, as I’d probably behave the same.” She let out a breath and continued on. “Look, I did mean to text you and tell you I was back. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid, I thought it had to be the right timing, but I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“What, were you waiting for a sign or something?” he asked. He was joking when he asked, but as he processed the look on her face he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wow, Gin. You never stop amazing me.”

She blushed and laughed nervously, thinking of all the times in the past Harry had said something like that to her. She wanted to hear more of it, over and over, even when he’s saying it in jest. “That is what I do best.”

His features sharpened a bit and he leaned forward. “Well, how’s me asking to see you tomorrow for a sign?”

She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think about it. “A pretty good one, I’d say.”

[kindahoping4forever]

I Want Your Midnights // Ashton Irwin

Happy 2021 everyone! Thank you to everyone who feverishly (yet politely) requested a follow-up to Under The Christmas Lights; those holiday fics were really fun but kind of a lark and I didn’t expect that any of them would get that kind of reaction! I hope this continuation lives up to your expectations. 

Big, big thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for setting me back on the right path more than once while I was writing this - I honestly gave up about halfway through and she (lovingly) refused to let me give up so if you enjoy reading this, it’s because of her tbh.  

Warnings: Equal parts fluff, banter and smut, mentions of quarantine, frantic resolution of sexual tension, protected sex within a new relationship, references to consensual voyeurism, masturbation and oral sex on a male, oral sex performed on a female, discussion of and use of sex toys, single joking use of the word “Daddy”

Word Count: 5675

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

11:29pm, December 30

“So we really overestimated our self-control skills tonight, didn’t we?”

Ashton laughs raspily at your comment, the sound travelling from your phone speaker straight down your spine, giving you chills. You prop your head up on your pillow, gazing towards the direction of your window, towards his bedroom window, a sight you’d become quite accustomed to these past few nights.

You’ve talked to Ash everyday since your feelings for each other became obvious and ever since your Christmas encounter when your intentions for those feelings became explicit, you’ve spent your nights engaging in some sort of mutual self-pleasure either via text, phone call or window watching.

Tomorrow the quarantine you both agreed to will be over and you'll safely celebrate New Year's Eve together; earlier, the two of you decided you should forgo your nightly socially distanced rendezvous in the interest of building anticipation for your imminent in-person one. But you were already in bed when Ashton called to ask if there was anything he should bring tomorrow and one suggestive comment led to another and before you knew it, your hand was between your legs yet again.

“It’s my fault, I asked what kind of chips you wanted me to bring, I should’ve known that would get you hot and bothered,” he jokes, the sound of him pulling tissues from the box on his nightstand now a familiar tune to your ears.

“Pretty goddamn slutty of you, honestly,” you laugh giddily.

“Can’t imagine what you would’ve done had I asked if I could bring soda as well,” he cracks himself up.

You giggle, “Ohhh, listen, if you talk Dr. Pepper to me, I’ll have no choice but to break quarantine and have my way with you right now.”

“Explain how that’s supposed to deter me from the subject,” he teases. You hear his sheets rustling and know he’s settling back into bed. He exhales loudly before admitting, “I’m nervous for tomorrow.”

"Aww, why? It’s just me… just us.”

Ashton is quiet for a beat before answering. “I think part of it is it’s been a long time since I’ve had something to look forward to,” he ponders. “But also… I can’t remember the last time I wanted something… someone… this badly.”

Your heart feels like it skips a beat, like it always seems to around him, since the day you moved in over a year ago. “It’s gonna be good, Ash,” you quietly reassure him, reassure yourself. “We’re gonna be so good.”

10:45am, December 31

You wash your breakfast dishes in record time, focused on all you need to do to finish your work day and get ready for tonight; it’s only when you’re drying your hands that you mindlessly glance up and notice the sight before you.

You look up just as Ashton, midway through his daily workout, is reaching to peel off his white tee that’s mostly soaked through; you find yourself staring as his muscles flex, tighten and relax again as he pulls the material off his body and then uses the discarded shirt to wipe the sweat running down his chest and neck.

He takes a swig from his water bottle before he starts up again and you hear yourself audibly gulp as he bends and stretches, giving you the opportunity to admire his ass and thick thighs in his athletic leggings. You watch his body and lose yourself in thoughts of him hovering above you, moving over you the way he's moving over his mat on the deck.

The alarm on your phone set to remind you to clock back into work snaps you out of your lusty daze. You silence the noise and then quietly cackle to yourself as you type out a text to Ash: “Watching you stretch is really making me look forward to the stretch I’ll be feeling tonight.”

You hang by the window, waiting to see his reaction. He reads your message and a self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face; he looks towards your kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in all your surely flushed glory, but you’re already gone.  

4:07pm, December 31

Despite your mind's best efforts to distract you with wild thoughts about tonight, your work day finally ends and you head upstairs to get dressed. You stand in front of your closet, weighing your wardrobe options when your phone's text chime sounds out.

You scoop it off the bed, clicking on a message from Ashton reading, "If you need suggestions, you could wear your green dress… I’ve been thinking about taking that off of you for a while now.”

You shake your head at how instantly your heart speeds up once that image is in your mind. You bound over to the window to find him standing in front of his, waving with a cheeky grin on his face. You greet him by holding up the dress he mentioned in one hand and your middle finger in the other. “No spoilers” is your texted reply as you pull your curtains closed for the first time in weeks.

5:10pm, December 31

The doorbell rings and you’re shocked you can hear it over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears; you make yourself count to ten before you answer it. You take a deep breath and turn the knob, opening the door to reveal Ash beaming at you excitedly; one look at him and you feel any nerves that were nagging at you dissipate.

“Hey neighbor,” he greets you with a chuckle.

It takes you a beat before you realize you can reply with more than the shy wave you’re used to and you step forward to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You breathe him in, grateful to finally decipher the scent you’ve caught occasional wafts of over the fence and have spent so long trying to pin down. It’s sweet, spicy, woodsy and fruity all at once; you can’t wait to have it all over you by the end of the night.

You pull back to study him, it’s the first time you’ve really gotten to look at him up close and he’s stunning. You never noticed his dark hair was dyed but now you see the light roots at his hairline, softening his face; some stray curls have fallen out of place and you sweep them aside, revealing the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes as he smiles at you. His eyes are deep pools of hazel you already feel yourself drowning in and his cheeks are much rounder than you realized, growing bigger the more he grins at you. His lips… well… his lips look soft and shapely and suddenly you feel like you might die if you don’t taste them this instant.

You place your hands on either side of his face, running your thumbs over his beard before closing the gap and pressing your mouth to his. It’s everything and nothing like you’d imagined your first kiss would be: soft, slow, cautious yet undeniably heated. You feel his tongue slide over your bottom lip and you allow him to deepen the kiss; he murmurs as your tongue connects with his for the first time and he pulls away to check in with you.

You offer him a sweet smile that quickly turns into something more frisky. “I think we can do better than that, we’ve spent the past week listening to each other cum,” you tease.

Ashton smirks at you, stepping inside; in one swift motion, he kicks the door shut behind him and scoops you in his arms, backing you up against it, lips crashing into yours. Suddenly it’s like your mouths can’t move fast enough, feverishly trying to make up for lost time. You kiss him like you’re trying to commit his taste to memory and maybe you are.

He breaks away to mouth over your neck, immediately licking and kissing over the parts of your skin his beard scratched moments before; you run your hands through his curls, marveling at the fact that’s something you’re allowed to do now. His mouth ends up sucking over a spot behind your ear that’s such a specific turn on for you, your mind races to remember if you told him that during one of your phone sessions or if he just knew. He bites down a little and you cry out, pushing him back, ready for more.

You slot your lips with his again, already missing his taste on your tongue. You walk him backwards as you kiss, trying desperately to lead him to the nearest surface, any surface where you can get him between your legs.

You make it to your desk at the other end of the living room and you thank your past self for taking the time to put away your work from earlier, although it would’ve been fun to see Ash do the cliché “impassioned arm sweep” to clear it. You hop up on the edge and spread your legs, pulling him close, needing as much of him on you as possible.

Ash groans when your hips move against his and you grin at the feeling of his cock straining against his pants, brushing over your clothed heat. “Hard for me already, eh?” You tease, biting at his lower lip.

He gives a lighthearted scoff. “Please, I’ve been hard for you since I saw you in this dress through the window before I walked over here,” he rasps, gliding his hands up and down your body in the form-fitting outfit to illustrate his point. “You look incredible, by the way.”

You rut against him again and you both moan. “God, I can’t wait any longer, Ash, I need you,” you rush out, breathless.

“Yeah?” He checks, looking over your face, noting the desperation in your eyes. “I have a - ”

“Yeah, please, Ash, fuck,” you pant, out of your mind with desire.

He kisses you hurriedly as his hands skillfully slide under your dress and tug your panties down your legs, setting them aside; he reaches to retrieve a condom out of his coat pocket. It briefly crosses your mind how absurd it is that he’s still wearing his coat and you’re about to move to help him out of it but then he’s pulling his cock out and you can’t focus on anything other than getting your hands on him.

You give him a feather light squeeze before starting an agonizingly slow rhythm on his shaft and reaching down to cup his balls like you’ve seen him do; he’s as thick and heavy in your hand as you imagined and you feel yourself becoming wetter with every stroke. He brushes your hands aside so he can roll the condom on and you capture his lips in a lusty kiss because you’re not sure what else to do.

One of Ashton’s hands cradles your head as you kiss him, the other trails between your thighs and starts teasing your clit; he murmurs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are, how after just a few touches, you’re already rocking into his hand. He breaks the kiss to push your skirt up over your waist so you can both watch as he lines himself up at your entrance. He glances at you and with your eager nod of approval, he starts pushing in.

You inhale sharply at the sensation and he pauses, eyes darting up to yours. “No, it’s good, more,” you insist, hooking your legs around his waist. He continues to slide in and you feel your eyes roll back, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. It's obviously been a while since you've had anyone inside you but the fact that it's Ash and the size of him… what a way to get back in the game.

He groans as he starts moving in you, slowly at first, eyes trained on your face to make sure you’re comfortable. You pull him into a kiss that’s all tongue, tangling your hands in his hair, needing to feel as much of him as you can in this moment. You've started moving along with him, your body asking for more, so he carefully lays you back on the desk, gripping onto your thighs so he can ramp up his pace.

The sound of his hips hitting yours, your clothes rustling together and your intertwined grunts and moans of encouragement for each other fill the living room. He lets go of one of your legs so he can move his hand back down to your clit and as he rubs circles on it, you curse under your breath, stunned you already feel as undone as you do.

"I'm already close," you whisper, gripping his arm as he leans in, bracing himself on his hands on either side of you.

"First of many tonight," he smirks, trying to maintain his sexy cool demeanor but failing as you both burst into giggles at his remark. He lightly encourages you, "Tell me what you need."

You squeeze your clothed breasts and use your legs to bring him even closer to you. "Hard. Just. Hard," you pant.

Ash growls, grabbing your legs again, pushing them up towards your chest, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts with force. You cry out at his renewed vigor, at the change in angle making him somehow feel even thicker and longer inside you. You bring your hand to your clit and it only takes a few seconds of pressure for your breath to catch and your body to start shaking.

"Ash… fuckfuckfuckfuck oh my god," you breathe, pawing at the collar of his coat, your back arching up off the desk as your orgasm crests.

You're not sure if he was holding off waiting for you to finish or if the intensity of your body climaxing around him does him in but Ashton follows you over the edge less than a minute later. He gasps your name as he cums like you've heard him do many times over the phone but hearing him say it as he hovers above you, knowing your pussy is the reason for his pleasure is a different experience entirely.

He collapses on you briefly and you revel in the tactile experience: his lips pressing gently against your neck as he comes down, the texture of his wool coat under your fingertips as you rub his back, the unexpectedly satisfying scratch of his beard on your skin.

Ashton's lips travel back up to yours in an unhurried, relaxed kiss before he pushes himself back over you, joking, "We've really got to work on that impulse control thing, don't we?"

7:52pm, December 31

The two of you enjoyed a nice dinner comprised of delicious food and compatible conversation; you’ve talked a lot over the past few weeks but being able to finally be so close, being able to touch his arm when he says something sweet, feel his laughter vibrate the wood of your table - there’s an air of normalcy and domesticity that wasn’t there before. It’s nice, almost like there aren’t strange global circumstances that led to this evening, like you haven’t been basically dating from a distance.

You stand up to clear the table and when you reach for his plate, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap, hugging you tight and thanking you for inviting him over. He helps you carry the dishes to the kitchen because of course he does and when he stands at the sink to rinse them, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, because that’s something you've always wanted to do.

You move to the living room, coffee mugs in hand but they’re soon forgotten with the return of Ash’s lips to your neck and your hands in his hair. You’re not in the hurry that you were earlier so everything feels much more relaxed; you’re able to appreciate the little things more, like the way he hums into your kiss when you brush his hair behind his ears, the quick pecks he sneaks in as he’s pulling out of a long liplock with you.

He finally undresses you, laying you gently on the couch in your underwear. “For someone who said they’d been waiting to get me out of that dress, sure took you a while,” you tease, gasping as his hands massage your breasts through the lace you’re wearing and his mouth peppers kisses over your stomach.

“Looked too good, wanted to enjoy it a little longer,” he smoothly replies, hooking his thumbs in your panties, glancing up at you to make sure it’s okay for him to continue. You nod, lifting your hips to aid the process. He kisses his way back up your legs, beard dragging across your skin, murmuring, “Something else I’ve waited too long to do…” before pressing a series of wet kisses directly over your clit.

You squirm against his face, eager for him to get into it but Ashton seems determined to take his time, slowly teasing up and down your lips, moving over to nip at your thighs and then returning to your pussy, tongue lavishing attention everywhere except where you want him most.

You’re just about to speak up when his fingers spread your lips apart and his tongue starts fluttering at your clit, causing you to suck in a breath instead. “God, Ash, yes, like that,” you encourage, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can watch him work. It feels so much better, looks so much more erotic than you ever could’ve imagined.

His mouth remains attached as he slips a finger inside you; the way your hips start grinding against him tells him when you’re ready for another and you moan as his tongue and fingers find an alternating rhythm to please you.

You paw at your tits, pinching your nipples through your bra as he works you. He pulls off to catch his breath, pushing himself up near your face to check in. “This working for you?” He asks, panting.

You affectionately swipe over what you thought was sweat on his beard, groaning at the realization it’s actually moisture courtesy of you. “Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” You laugh. “The other night I came thinking about you doing this and it’s already better than both the fantasy and the toy I used.”

He grins with pride. “Good,” he winks at you before diving back in.

Ashton eats your pussy with confidence, attentively listening to your sounds to determine what you like best. It’s when he sets one of your legs over his shoulder, angling your hips up slightly, that you start sounding really desperate and he smirks to himself. “Aww, ready to cum already? I was just getting started,” he taunts playfully.

You let out a guttural moan at his remark, gripping his hair a little bit rougher, holding him to your body a little bit tighter. He grabs on to your hips as they try to speed up and you murmur incoherent praise as you cum on his tongue.

He continues to lick at you, cleaning you until you push him away, clamping your legs shut. He massages over your thighs tenderly before moving up to kiss you. With a twinkle in his eye, he asks, “So what other fantasies of yours can we best while I'm here?”

9:24pm, December 31

After an enthusiastic but quicker than either of you would’ve preferred blowjob on the couch, you and Ash end up back in the kitchen, ready for a snack. You giggle to yourself as you stand in just his shirt, digging through your kitchen junk drawer, searching for a rubber band to help grip the jar of nacho sauce neither of you seem to be able to open.

“It’s not funny, how humiliating that I’m showing such weakness on our first date,” he jokes through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to turn the lid.

You grin, enjoying the show of Ashton clad only in his boxers, pouting as he loses the battle against a jar of cheese sauce. “Yes, you’ve fed me, done my dishes and made me cum twice since you’ve been here but I clearly still need you to prove your worth as a mate to me,” you smirk, passing him the rubber band you discovered. “Although I have to say, if you want to keep trying to open that yourself, I don’t hate watching those tattoos dance while you struggle.”

He laughs sarcastically as he fits the band over the lid and effortlessly pops it open seconds later. “Easy, I don’t know why you were so worried,” he giggles loudly before he even finishes his sentence.

He begins pouring the cheese over the chips you set out and you slide yourself under his free arm, fitting easily into his side. “New Year’s resolution, you clearly need to work on your upper body strength,” you tease, playfully biting at his shapely bicep.

He snorts, smiling as he passes you the plate of food to put in the microwave. He leans against the counter, observing you fondly while he wonders out loud, “Are you a New Year’s resolutions person?”

You move to get the other toppings out of the fridge; you stop and think before passing him the goods. “I mean, I’ll make them but I never really follow through. It’s like after the first week or so it just kind of slips my mind... maybe I’m making the wrong resolutions, I guess.” You shrug, setting the heated plate on the counter. “You?”

Ash shakes his head, hopping up on the counter so he can easily look at you and dress the nachos at the same time. “I never really understood why the calendar resetting is supposed to be this all-powerful impetus for change. If you want to do something, you should just do it no matter what the date is,” he says passionately, with furrowed brow.

You nod, pouring two glasses of soda. “It’s important to make goals but the rigidity of a resolution kind of just chains you to one thing when the whole point of a new year is that you don’t know what it will bring," you point out. "I think that's what's slipped me up before. Instead of saying 'I'll work out five days a week' I should be saying 'I want to live healthier.' It shouldn't be about the thing, it should be about the change you want to see."

You notice he's gone quiet and you look up at him inquisitively. You find him gazing at you, enchanted. "I agree," he reassures you. "I was just enjoying hearing you talk about it."

You feel your cheeks get warm and you pause to take a sip to collect yourself. "What I do like about New Year’s is the opportunity to reflect on the year you’ve had and let that inform what your next year will be like," you share. "So. What's one thing you didn't do this year that you wish you had? And not something because of quarantine, that's a copout."

Ashton doesn't hesitate to say, "I wish I had gotten to know you sooner."

10:53pm, December 31

You chuckle at Ash's wide-eyed interest, “No, I haven’t used that one to get off with you yet.” You take the thick blue dildo from his hands and smack it on the headboard of your bed, yanking on it to demonstrate the suction cup. “It’s more of a shower toy… or sometimes I’ll stick it to one of my chairs and ride it.”

His cock twitches with interest and he absentmindedly gives it a subtle squeeze. “Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” he mutters, peering back into the drawer. “Also I like that you said ‘yet.’”

You smile widely at him, enjoying his enthusiasm. You’d finally made it to bed and were getting ready to ride him but when you opened your bedside table to grab a condom, your toy collection caught his attention and curiosity took over; you’ve spent the last five minutes watching him eye your toys, eagerly asking which ones you’ve used during your phone conversations with him.

He jumps as a pink contraption he doesn’t recognize starts to rumble out of his grasp with the push of a button. You giggle and reach over, unfolding it, placing the top portion of it over the back of his hand. “I used this one last night,” you admit, clicking the second button, watching his jaw drop as he feels the toy start lightly sucking at his skin.

“You’ve definitely had a much more fun quarantine than me,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief as he turns up the settings of the vibe. “What do you even need me here for?”

“You’re a lot nicer to talk to,” you say sweetly, leaning in to give him a playful kiss.

“I also would’ve accepted ‘your cock is much bigger, Daddy,’” Ash deadpans. He waits a beat before bursting into loud laughter, clarifying, “I’m totally kidding.”

“Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” you tease, reaching down to lightly give him a few strokes. “Although I don’t know if I can say that first part, you haven’t seen my other drawer… I’m totally kidding.”

He scoffs, kissing you hard, placing his hands on either side of your ass and moving you closer to him. ”What’d you do with that condom?”

You pat around the bed for a few seconds, triumphantly holding up the stray package you found lost in the sheets. You roll the condom on him while he continues rifling through your belongings. “This is cute,” he declares, rolling a purple bullet vibe across his fingers. “And tiny. We could probably use this right now, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised but impressed at his openness. “Yeah, if you want, that’d actually be great,” you agree.

He beams at you, tossing you the vibrator while he settles back against the pillows; you set it aside and sling your leg over him, leaning in to kiss him thoroughly. You lean your forehead against his as you line yourself up over his cock and start rolling your hips back and forth, teasing the both of you by running your pussy over him; you watch him bite his lip, not sure whether to cry out from pleasure or object in frustration. Finally, you reach to guide him inside you. You take him a little easier than last time but the stretch is still deliciously intense and Ash can see it on your face. He plays with your tits while you adjust, watching you closely to see what you like.

You eventually start moving, lightly bracing yourself on his chest as you get going; you set a moderate speed, eager to let him fill you but cautious of trying to pace yourself, trying to pay attention to what he seems to respond to. You switch from rocking to a bouncing motion after a couple minutes and his hands move to squeeze your hips, helping you along; you notice his eyes haven’t left your breasts since you started moving like this and you whimper, running your hands down your front, stopping to pinch and play as needed.

Ashton's hands soon replace yours again and you arch your back, allowing him easier access. He gives a low groan, you’re giving him such a show, he’s not sure where to look. You’re leaned back and bracing yourself on his thighs, hard nipples jutting out, begging for attention; you expertly work your bodies together and he finds himself hypnotized watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again.

You love how he’s staring at you; it’s making you feel wanted and bold and you decide to tease him a little. “Working so hard to take all this cock, does it look as good as it feels?” You murmur, lifting yourself off almost entirely and then sliding back down on him with ease. “You like watching me fuck you?”

A growl escapes his lips and his hands roam your body wildly. “Doing so good… look so fucking good riding me,” he says, voice rasping with desire. “Better than I ever imagined.”

He feels the overwhelming need to make you moan for him and he sneaks his hand between your folds; you jolt at the contact, letting out a yelp and he smiles at his victory. He reaches over and grabs the vibe, tapping your leg to ask if you’re ready. You answer with a breathy “uh-huh” as you continue riding him.

He clicks the button, setting it to the lowest speed and presses it to your clit to gauge your reaction; you shift your rhythm, slowing to allow yourself to feel the new stimulation. You lick your lips, mumbling, “Oh, that’s nice,” as you grasp his hand to move the toy over just a bit until you’re moaning outright.

Ash holds the vibe on you for a bit longer until you sit up to change position. After a short spell of trial and error, he slips the bullet between your bodies and you help him once again fit it against you until it’s giving you the kind of stimulation you need. You roll your hips a few times, testing the setup and within seconds you’re whining, his cock hitting inside you in just the right place and the vibrations making you squirm above him.

He runs his hands up and down your thighs, watching you work yourself on him, using his body and your vibrator to build your climax; he gently rocks up into you, not wanting to disrupt you but between your movements and the stray buzzing of your bullet, he’s starting to become overwhelmed himself.

“Ash! Fuck… good… fuck,” you mutter, falling forward, place your arms on either side of his head to prop yourself up as you keep fucking him. “Close. God, I’m so close. Please.”

He recognizes that tone of desperation in your voice and knows just what to say to help you over the edge. “Fuckin’ me so good… ‘bout to make me cum for you… need to feel you cum around me first,” he wraps his arms around your back, panting in your ear. “Come on, baby, you deserve it.”

Your breathing speeds up and you whine his name as you start to pulse around him, losing your rhythm, clawing at his shoulders. He holds you as you cum, riding it out until you can’t take it anymore and you reach between you, throwing the vibrator across the bed, not even bothering to shut it off.

Ashton chuckles softly at your frenzied action and notices what looks like a wince as you rock yourself lightly on him. “Hey, I can finish another way if this is too much for you,” he offers.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, it still feels good,” you tell him insistently. “I’m just tired. Maybe you could…”

He gathers your meaning and pulls you down into a sloppy kiss before you move your mouth to his neck, slowly sucking to leave a mark, humming as his beard scrapes your skin; he grips your ass tightly with both hands and starts fucking up into you. He begins cautiously, wanting to make sure you’re still feeling good and as the noises pouring from your lips reassure him that you are, he increases his speed, thrusting up with force.

Your moans blend together in perfect harmony until yours trail off as you lose your breath; before you know what’s happening, you feel yourself cumming again and hard. You bury your face in Ash’s neck, hands tugging roughly at his hair. Feeling you squeeze around him again and with such intensity is enough to set him off and with a few loud grunts, he’s filling the condom.

He sighs deeply, rubbing your back as the two of you come down; your breathing falls into a synchronized rhythm and you bask in how nice it feels just to lay with him for a minute.

"Well that was something," he comments, pecking the top of your head as he helps you off of him, laying you on your pillow.

You quickly pull him back in, planting a quick kiss on his lips before he gets out of bed. "No, you are," you coo.

12:39am, January 1

"Ash… Ash… we missed it," you laugh softly, pressing kissing along his collarbones until his eyes flutter open.

"Huh?"

"We fell asleep and missed midnight," you explain with an amused smile. "Happy New Year."

He lifts his head up, looking around the room in confusion. After you’d both cleaned up, you climbed back in bed, intending to relax and chat until it was time to watch the midnight countdown on TV. Evidently, once the cuddles started, exhaustion from the night's activities overtook you both and you awoke to the sound of fireworks going off in the neighborhood.

"Oh," he frowns, rolling on his side to face you. "Well. Happy New Year." He leans in and gives you a soft kiss that easily could turn into more but you pull back, wanting to say something.

You run your hand up and down his side and say, "I'm glad we did this." He raises an eyebrow, smirking at you and you playfully pinch his arm. "You know what I mean. I'm glad you came over. I'm glad you're here."

Ashton's face softens and he scoots closer to you, placing his head next to you on your pillow. "Me too," he responds sincerely. "Sorry we missed midnight though, wanted to kiss you."

“Well lucky for us, we’ll get another midnight in about 23 hours,” you grin, reaching over to scratch his beard.

He slips his hand around your waist, pulling you to his lips. He murmurs against your mouth, “Do over at my place? It’s a date.”

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide​ @suchalonelysunflower​​ @pxrxmoore​ @loveroflrh​ @ghostofmashton​ @sexgodashton​ @feliznavidaddycal​  

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[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.9

masterlist

requests are closed, but please read this first :)

if you want to be tagged, send an ask or message me!

pairing: draco x reader

request: nope, my original shameless self insert idea lmao

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for the ride of her life when their exchange student is...a bit strange (but very hot). NOT a nonmagic AU, though you already knew that if you’ve read part 8 ;)

warnings: swearing, mentions of a break in, concerns about a home intruder, objectively the most fluffy scene we’ve gotten so far in this series (hehe), draco being fucking obnoxious and moody (did i mention swearing?)

a/n: ayoooooo so here’s part 9, as promised. i’ve started getting back into the hp universe more and more, so i should probably be picking up my writing soon. i’ve been feeling more myself again!! which is super awesome. i don’t think many people read this series anymore (or my author notes in general but i don’t blame yall) but i’m having a lot of fun writing it, so i’m going to keep going :)

music recs: 

puppy princess -- hot freaks

loverboy -- A-wall

linger -- the cranberries

tags tags tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

word count: 3.8k :)

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Draco deliberately waited until the last minute to tell her family that he was leaving so he could evade her questioning. She tried to talk to him later that evening by knocking on his door, but she was met with complete silence. 

Draco was ignoring her, and she didn’t get why. She’d promised to not tell anyone--even begged for him to trust her and essentially swore on her life--but he still wasn’t acting normal. Perhaps he didn’t want her to badger him with questions about the magical world. 

Or maybe this was an excuse to get away from her.

Y/N swallowed the second possibility and locked it away somewhere out of sight. He’d left without a single word more to her (not even a congratulations for getting into a top 20 school, that loser) and never even bothered telling her when he’d return. And maybe that was the nicest part of it--she could pretend like he was never coming back.

As attractive as that option was, she had to admit that there was a Draco-shaped hole in her passenger car seat every time she drove to school. And in the kitchen when she was studying. And everywhere else he’d once touched. 

“Why do you think he went back?” 

Y/N took a break from reviewing her Art History final exam notes to look up at Lizzy. “Maybe something happened with his dad or he wanted to spend his holidays with his family? It’s probably not that serious.”

“Speaking of his dad, I tried to look up his name and see if anything came up,” Lizzy began. Y/N felt her heart jump into her throat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda sus? I haven’t found anything for him. It’s like he’s been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Do you know anything about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business.” Draco’s franticness when she found out lingered in the back of her mind as she chose her words carefully. “I’m sure if he’s a genuine political target, they’ve just scrubbed the web clean of him, being a minor and all.”

“But don’t you think it’s funny that he’s apparently so important but there’s no evidence of him or his father ever existing?”

“Lizzy.” Her voice was firm. “It’s entirely possible that his real name is different. And either way, it’s not our story to uncover. He’s entitled to his own privacy, and if he doesn’t reveal his true identity then we need to respect that.”

“Oooookaaayyyyy, Mother,” said Lizzy. “You’re so fun. You know that, right?”

“It’s my job.”

After the close brush with Lizzy, Y/N avoided the topic of Draco with her friends like wildfire. At the back of her mind, she registered that that was probably more suspicious, but when Sylvia asked her about him during lunch, she finally spun up a story.

“I told him I liked him,” she told everyone, the words stinging her throat. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I just would feel better if we dropped it.”

Her friends reacted immediately with sympathy, telling her that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see her for what she was worth. Somehow, this made her feel worse. She didn’t even need to tell him her feelings to know his thoughts--he didn’t see her as anything but a “muggle”, or whatever he called them. She never stood a chance.

Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how things would’ve been different if she was a witch. She didn’t know anything about his world (apart from the fact that they really had a stick up their asses about people knowing of them) but she somehow craved a place in it. Would Draco feel differently towards her if she was magic? 

It was probably better if she didn’t pay too much mind to it, but she couldn’t let the thought go. Every time she shut her eyes at night, the memory of waking up next to Draco replayed in her head, over and over. She would’ve sold her soul to have gone back to that. Would things have been different if she had just...not found the letters? She was driving herself crazy digging through all her interactions with him. There’s no way she was imagining things, and judging by the surprised reactions of her friends when she told them he didn’t reciprocate feelings, she wasn’t the only one who thought something was there. If he was really so disgusted by her and her people, he wouldn’t have let her sleep in his room, in his bed no less. 

As December wore on, her mind began to be occupied by another feverish stream of thoughts. If she didn’t already feel like she was going crazy over the Draco problem, she was going completely insane over the fact that she was misplacing things like crazy and forgetting the most basic of things. It seemed like it was almost every day that she was forgetting where she put her keys (even though she could’ve sworn she’d hung them up by the door) or getting home to find the door already unlocked even though she was sure that she’d locked it behind her. It would’ve creeped her out, but she was really off kilter. It just wasn’t right having Draco away, and the sense of dread she got every time she went by her room just threw her off balance. What if she still had lingering sickness from whatever magical infliction she suffered? 

He really should’ve stuck around to watch after me. Just in case. 

Another thing was bothering her--a name she saw pop up in the pouch from when she went through his letters. It was a small portion of his collection, and she didn’t even think to examine it until after he took them back from her, but she noticed that the name “Pansy Parkinson” came up more than once as a return address. 

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst--Draco was madly in love with another girl, a magical girl, and traveled back home with the express purpose of declaring his neverending devotion for her and complaining about that rat Ohioan muggle that he had to spend his days with. 

Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t quite shake it. The fact that he’d no doubt grown up around girls that would be suitable for him to date was making her physically ill with jealousy, which was probably the most embarrassing part of her feelings for him. Nevermind how much time she spent fantasizing about how soft his hair felt or how his stupidly pretty fingers would feel grazing her skin--she couldn’t even cope with the idea of him existing with other women that were honestly a better choice to him. 

That Christmas was surprisingly bleak. Being an only child always made for a quiet house during the holidays, but the expectation she held of having Draco there set her up for disappointment. Her house felt empty.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” Y/N asked her mother as they did the morning dishes together. 

“Well, I assume so. Why wouldn’t he? He was scheduled to spend the entire year with us. I think that if he’s changed his mind we would at least know by now.”

“What if he’s still deciding?”

“Why, miss him already?” Mrs. Y/L/N’s tone was teasing, but she felt her cheeks grow hot. 

“Quite the contrary. I’m just wondering if I’m about to become the pampered only child again or if I’m going to need to go back into the unglamorous life of sharing the spotlight.”

“Y/N,” her mother tutted. She’d stopped doing the dishes.

Y/N made a point to evade her knowing look. “Mom.” 

Her mother took a breath before answering. “Nothing. As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him a few days ago. He’s scheduled to return the second week of January, right before school goes back.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, there’s no way her relief wasn’t visible.

“How’s that for your Christmas gift, hm?” 

“Mom!”

“Hey! Hey, it was a joke,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, throwing her hands up in a “no can do” sort of gesture. “I know that you’re good friends with him is all. Unless…”

“Mom!” Her cheeks were all shades of red.

“All I’m saying is that he seems to enjoy your company.”

“Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.” Her explanation of what that meant was on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. There was no reason to--the only person who would need that explained to them was no longer on the same continent as her. 

“Whatever you’d like to think.”

~ 

The snowstorm hit them without warning, two days after Christmas. Her parents had left for the night to attend a charity auction, but unfortunately for Y/N, by the time that they realized that their daughter would be snowed in, the roads were too dangerous to drive on. Y/N begrudgingly agreed to do all of the things they told her to--get the generator ready, make sure the fireplace was prepared, and locate all the candles in the house. 

On any normal day, she wouldn’t have been concerned in the slightest, but she’d felt uneasy in her house ever since the night of the break-in, and now that this was the first night she’d have to spend alone, her heart was pounding at the thought of having to sleep in an empty house. Especially if the power was out. Especially when whoever broke in was still on the loose. 

She locked up at dusk, making sure that every entry to her home was completely sealed shut. The generator was in the basement, all set up in the case that the lights went out. She’d located all the bottled water in her house in case the pipes froze, and she finally retired to her room to relax. 

The sense of dread that hovered around Draco’s room was gone, thankfully. The overall feeling of creepiness was just beginning to lose its jarring sting, but she’d never quite been able to shake how many things she misplaced in the beginning of the month. 

She busied herself with mundane activities--she cleaned out her closet, organized her drawers, read, changed her sheets, and finished the last of her homework--but nothing could distract her from the gnawing inside of her. The hairs on the back of her neck constantly stood up, even when she was tucked away in the corner of her room, nestled into her blankets. The tingling was akin to what she felt when she walked into that antique shop on homecoming night--the same night when Draco helped her off her feet and narrowly kept her from throwing up all over Heather.

Looking back on it, she realized that when he grabbed her wrist, he must’ve done something to quell her nausea, something magical. There was no way her carsickness could’ve been able to disappear so quickly. 

Her soliloquy was interrupted by what sounded like footsteps outside. Before she could assess the situation and decide what she was going to do, a boom sounded off in the distance and she was all of a sudden bathed in darkness.

Y/N froze.

Someone was most definitely outside her house, but thankfully she’d locked all the doors. And, thankfully, the boom told her that her fuse box hadn’t been messed with. A tree had probably just fallen on a transformer. 

But those small comforts still didn’t change the fact that she was no longer alone--and not only that, but no longer alone without power. 

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by banging on her front door. Y/N jumped, just barely managing to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that alerting someone that you were home wasn’t the smartest move. She’d have to be strategic. 

Heart pounding out of her chest, she crept out of her room and down the stairs. The power outage was quite lucky, she realized, as whoever was outside couldn’t see in. The moon only cast a slight light as it reflected off of the snow, so she was going to be able to see the person outside before they would see her.

She squinted from her perch by the base of the staircase. She could make out a silhouette, a tall and lanky one. The weak moonlight reflected off a very light head of hair, and Y/N was struck with a feeling of familiarity.

No way...

Y/N stood frozen for a few seconds as she heard the person knock on the door again. A muffled version of a familiar British voice said, “Is anyone there?”

Throwing all caution to the wind and praying to any higher power that was listening to her that her suspicion was correct, she pushed down on the doorknob and swung it open.

Her heart stopped. 

“Draco? What are you--”

Before she could get another word out of her mouth, she was pulled into the tightest (and snowiest) hug of her life. One of his arms wrapped solidly around her waist, the other reaching further up to her shoulders to hold her closer. He was tall enough in comparison that he could rest his chin on the top of her head while she cautiously clasped her hands around him, breathing in the same soft pine scent that she knew so well.

When he finally let go of her, she noticed that his face was decidedly less pale than what it had been when she first opened the door. At a loss for words, Y/N just made her way behind him and shut the door to keep the storm from blowing any more snowflakes in. She noted that Draco was shaking.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

She grinned. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m not that scared of the dark.”

He didn’t look nearly as amused, wringing his hands out in front of him instead of meeting her eyes.

“You’re going to freeze to death if you’re gonna just stand there in soaking clothes,” she chided. “And what are you doing back half a month early? I know you must’ve missed me, but I didn’t expect you to miss me THAT much.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing Y/N the comfort that the sarcastic asshole was still in there. “We need to talk.”

“No, what you need to do is get changed into dry clothes,” she said. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but until we get our generator working, there’s no heat...and I’m not sure if the Ministry is going to like it if I let you die on my watch.”

Even though he didn’t normally laugh at her jokes, he seemed especially solemn when she said this. It became very clear to her then that he regretted his brief display of affection.

“What are you doing, just standing here? Shoo! I don’t want to see you dripping snow all over the rug.” She waved him off until he made his way up the stairs, still eerily silent. 

Once she was sure he was actually getting dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where she started heating up the water. She’d never been more thankful for the fact that they had a gas stove instead of an electric one. 

The tea was almost finished brewing by the time that Draco was back downstairs, perched awkwardly on the couch. She’d never seen his sweater before--it was in a rich forest green with a silver crest of a snake. 

“Are you going to tell me whatever is going on? I’ve never seen you like this before,” asked Y/N as she handed him the mug that she knew to be his favorite.

He took a sip and waited a bit before responding. “I found out some things while I was away.”

“Is that it? Must’ve been something pretty interesting for you to come in here and act like I’m your long lost love or whatever.” She took careful note of how his cheeks were especially pink, but it must’ve been because of the cold.

“I shouldn’t tell you everything, but I think you should probably know the gist of things,” he began. “First of all, I figured out why I couldn’t use the Obliviation cube on you. Also, you have to consent to an Unbreakable Vow.”

“A...what? Care to elaborate? Like, at least a little? Why didn’t it work on me?”

He sighed, a sharp breath of air that left his lungs in a huff. “Because you stumbled upon a very important box that can bestow the gift of magic onto anyone. And since you did something in your dream to try and open it, it permanently took root in you. I tried to reverse it, but there’s always going to be an imprint of magic on you.”

“Sick. So I’m a witch now? Like you?”

“No.” His tone was sour. “No, you’re not. For that to work, there needs to be a ritual actually completed by someone magical. That’s why you got so sick--because you would’ve needed me to help you through your dream sequence and open up the box. So, now that you’ve essentially pushed yourself into the magical world uninvited, I can’t use anything on you that’s catered towards Muggles.”

“Rats,” said Y/N. “That’s no fun. What about the whole part about my safety? And what’s that vow thing?”

“Apparently someone really, really wants that box,” Draco told her. “It doesn’t just give muggles the gift of magic--it can also give current wizards powers that are otherwise completely unavailable to the rest of the population. In the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc on the world. And I’m almost positive they think you have it.”

“Oh…” Everything started falling into place. “So, the break in? That probably was them right? And, uh, let’s say if you feel like maybe someone has been in your house while you’ve been gone? Like, that’s something I should be worried about, right?” 

“Is that happening to you?” His face looked significantly more pale.

Y/N was tempted to tell him no--just to ease his nerves--but something in his look told her that she needed to be truthful. “Um, kind of. You know how I can be forgetful, though. It’s just little things, like sometimes I come home to find that the front door is unlocked when I’m sure I locked it, or I can’t find little things like my car keys and my phone, but it’s all easily explained.”

“I never should’ve left,” he said, tucked his knees up to his chest. “I should’ve known that that was Merlin’s Box.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes with a gaze that looked so forlorn that her heart ached. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, all we have to do is tell them I don’t have the box, right? And then they’ll leave me alone.” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, but if they didn’t find the box when they originally ransacked your room and they’re still hanging around, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I can’t obliviate you, the proper way that we use on wizards, because I can’t always be there to save you. Once I’m gone, you’re going to have to manage on your own.”

“Please, Draco,” said Y/N. “People will always talk a big game, but once I pull out my pepper spray it’s over. I can take care of myself! I didn’t need protection while you’re away.”

He smiled then, a small one that seemed more sad than anything. “You sound like me. When I was younger.”

“You probably don’t even know what pepper spray is. What’s that vow thing?”

“You have to promise that you won’t say anything that would reveal what you know about me and my world,” said Draco. “I need to find a wizard to say the incantations, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I ended up telling the Ministry what happened--I’m not going to get sent away as they have a clear record of me at least attempting to wipe your memory and they agree that you need to be able to protect yourself. Unbreakable Vows are just really intense promises. If you break it, you die.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t really trust my word?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s required by the Ministry. If you don’t comply, then you’re going to be completely obliviated and then you can have as much fun as you’d like trying to run from whoever that criminal is without even knowing why they’re after you. Oh, and without me.” 

“Then why are you even offering the vow? Don’t you want to go home?”

Draco took a long drink from his mug. “I still have a sentence to carry out. If I go back home, I’ll get sent to the same prison that my father is being held at right now.”

“A...sentence?” Y/N stared at him. “I know you mentioned a punishment, but a sentence?”

He remained silent and refused to meet her eyes.

“Draco, what exactly did you have to do?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. The sudden switch of tone made Y/N start, but he was unwavering in his scowl. “I’d prefer to not think about it.”

“But...Draco…” Y/N cast her gaze to the ground so she didn’t have to see the no doubt furious look in his eyes when she continued to push. “How bad? Do you think that maybe whoever is after me might know that I don’t have the box anymore? And that they might be trying to seek revenge against you for whatever it was that you did instead?”

He didn’t respond.

“Think about it. That would explain why I was untouched this whole time that you were away when they were still keeping tabs on me.”

With a pronounced bonk, he set his mug down on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.”

She managed to get one more look at his face before he spun around to head up the stairs and was shocked to see what was etched into his face--anger, yes, frustration...and also shame. Unmistakable shame.

final a/n: weeoooooooo i’m like 3 minutes early...this is a monumental moment for my blog. let me know what you guys think (if there’s still people sticking with this series fjkds;al). i am going to go back into my hole and work on some math hw (wonders of ohio y/n vibes...i have low key become her trying to roleplay as a stem girl). the plot is going to thicken and hopefully there will be more fluff soon. i honestly didn’t want to add the hug bc i do want this to be slow burn but it has come to my attention that this is now about 30k words long and i haven’t given y’all so much as an inkling that draco has feelings/anything will happen between them so i gotta give you something to hold you over fjdska;

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[bisexualsforprompto]

Secret Santa Piece

Merry Christmas Nieri! @myblacknightworld​ I was your ss for @maribat-secret-santa-2020

Hope you enjoy this! (Also I had more planned out so I’m thinking of making a part 2, lmk if you’d like me to Nieri)

All monsters were evil and terrible creatures that needed to be brought down. That’s what Damian was taught since birth. He learned how to trap monsters and kill them with his mother, but killing was quickly replaced with simply capturing once he went to live with his father.

Track, trap, capture, repeat. The same old song and dance every time. Thankless work really, especially because his identity as a Junior Hunter was a secret, but he was helping the human race by locking up these monsters. That was enough for him at the moment.

Damian had hoped to graduate from his ‘junior’ title sooner rather than later though. It was so agitating to be lumped in with amateurs, sheep, who did nothing but follow him blindly. 

He should’ve been just a Hunter from the moment he came to live with his father, but according to his siblings, everyone had to go through this ‘junior’ nonsense.

He had been a Junior hunter for six years though. Something had to change. He was good enough, he knew he was. So why wasn’t he getting the title he deserved?

Father never listened to him, always telling him to “be patient” or “ask your brothers and sisters, they had to do the same.” 

There was something his father had to be hiding. A secret way to become a Hunter and ditch his junior rank. 

He knew that in order to move himself up he’d have to do something mind-blowing, something that was unquestionably beyond the level of a novice to perform.

Luckily, he had the perfect plan.

Capture the elusive Ladybug Witch.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

As per the usual, Marinette was running late. She had stayed up late last night trying to concoct the perfect brew for Rose, who had gotten a cold just before a Kitty Section concert. It wasn’t easy, Marinette usually based her potions off of currently existing medicine, but there were very few medicines effective against the common cold. She spent hours paging through her spell book, consulting her old master’s spell book and even bothering her familiar in the middle of the night (though Adrien claimed he was happy to help). 

After an exhausting, sleepless night, she managed to do it. It took a lot out of her, but when she finally trudged herself to school she smiled. The look on Rose’s face was worth it. 

Rose had been so excited she almost transformed into her siren form, which could’ve been disastrous. Rose’s songs in her mythical form were just as loud as her usual voice. Humans would probably be attracted to the school and that wouldn’t do at all. 

Their school, strictly for mythical creatures to have a safe and happy education, was barely known to the outside world. Most mythics lived in Paris or somewhere near, it was a safe haven free from hunters. But of course, nobody could stop humans from living in Paris, and in order to keep Paris the safe haven it boasted to be; mythic-only places had to be secret.

Marinette knew that her reputation as a witch spread across the globe, people calling her the “Lucky Witch,” “Ladybug Witch,” or some other variation. She had her identity sealed off by powerful magic; one would have to be extremely talented or well-connected to get past it. Still, if even one person found out: game over. Marinette lived to help people, ever since she was a child all she wanted was to help others, but she couldn’t do that if the self-proclaimed “monster hunters” killed or captured her.

She genuinely wanted to believe that everyone had a good side, but she refused to risk the fates of others on gut feelings.

Sighing, Marinette felt herself enter into a tired daze. She hadn’t even realized that she fell asleep until she felt Alya poke her on the head.

“You okay, girl?”

Opening her eyes slowly, Marinette nodded. She straightened herself out, “Yeah, I’m fine—hey where did everyone go?”

Alya giggled, “School is over, Marinette. You slept through everything!”

“WHAT?!” Marinette shot herself up, glancing up at the clock in the class that did in fact say: classes were over. Marinette slumped back down into her seat and banged her head on the desk. She let out a long groan.

“C’mon,” Alya said, helping Marinette up, “You better get home, and maybe go to bed early tonight! Or else this will just happen again…”

“I will, I will.” Marinette huffed, “Believe it not—I’m still tired.” As if on cue, she yawned.

“Get home safe, okay?” Alya said, patting her friend’s head, “Call me if you need anything.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Marinette said, slowly trudging out of class as Alya walked away.

Marinette found herself walking down her street in just the blink of an eye. She yawned slightly and began to stretch. She saw a flash of white in her vision. She stopped mid-stretch. “Huh?”

A small white cat waltzed up to her, limping. Marinette noticed it’s broken leg right away. “You okay there little guy?”

She reached down to pet it and soothed it, “It’s okay.” The cat purred. Marinette dropped to her knees. She quickly surveyed the area making sure no one was around.

The street seemed deserted save for herself and the cat. She pulled her backpack off and unzipped it. Inside was a large book, her spell book. She slowly lifted it out, trying not to make any sudden movements and scare the cat.

Flipping open to the page she needed, she placed a palm on the cat’s bad leg. She muttered a short incantation. The leg was soon swarmed by a pink glow and little ladybugs. 

The cat mewled with happiness, giving Marinette a nudge of gratitude before scampering off. 

Marinette picked herself off, about to go home when she suddenly heard a yowling followed by a human hiss.

She tilted her head to the side and slowly crept out to see the commotion.

The cat she had just saved had scratched a boy. A boy who was staring at her like a deer caught in headlights.

~•~•~•~•~•~

Damian hadn’t meant to lose sight of the mission so quickly. He was looking for the Ladybug Witch in Paris, or, Marinette Dupain-Chang. It wasn’t that hard to figure out her identity. He was able to break her silly seal on her identity by contacting his exorcist acquaintance: Jon Kent. 

Jon gave him some kind of anti-magic charm which Damian used to break the seal. All kinds of magic nonsense that Damian didn’t care to understand. 

But even dealing with magic and Jon had been worth it when the name “Marinette” became clear. Damian rushed over to Paris right when he found out; totally not stealing his father’s jet (oh well—his father wouldn’t care when he brought him the Ladybug Witch). 

He had stationed himself right next to the witch’s school, just far enough away to be inconspicuous, but still spot her. 

Damian watched as several abominations left the school, he could tell they were monsters immediately: just having that evil aura about them.

But they weren’t the mission. Giving his father intel about a whole school for monsters would surely help him move ranks, but it wouldn’t grant him the instantaneous promotion he so desired.

He waited for the witch, seeing no one who looked like her exit the school. Soon, only one person was trickling out of the school: not his target.

Damian huffed, putting down his binoculars. Suddenly he heard a rustling towards him: it wasn’t the evil witch rather the opposite.

A good cat.

Damian hid a smile, slowly extending his hand to pet it. The cat shrieked and ran away, though, with a limp.

Damian slowly began to follow it, an injured cat wouldn’t do on his watch. If he could just get a little bit closer…

He didn’t want to scare the cat, but he didn’t want it to scamper off before he could help it. 

Damian let out a low sigh, deciding to stop near an alley he saw it walk past. He figured maybe if he laid low and hid for a second, the cat might circle back.

He sat still in the greenery, waiting for the cat to come. After a while he heard some faint voice say something intelligible. He peeked through a corner to see the cat, and some girl. Some girl performing magic…

Damian resisted the urge to gasp: it was the Ladybug Witch. He observed the situation, feeling direly like he should go in and stop what was happening. The witch seemed to be chanting a spell on the poor cat, who knows what it could do…

Before he let himself jump in though, he saw a swarm of ladybugs surround the cat, and just like that: it walked off.

No broken leg.

So the witch had healed the cat? How odd...Were her boons only again humans? Why would she save an animal?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed that the cat had come to him and scratched him, not till his body let out a hiss. 

He froze. He heard footsteps moving towards him.

He wasn’t ready to capture her! He needed more intel first! His mind went haywire as the witch approached closer. Suddenly, she was facing him directly.

Damian lept backwards, “Stay back, Witch.”

The girl’s eyes flashed with panic for a minute before focusing on him, “You’re hurt.”

Damian nodded, “Don't think this makes me an easy target. I am here to capture you: Ladybug Witch, and I will accomplish my goal.”

The witch looked at him sympathetically, “I’m not going to hurt you, just—here…”

She whispered something underneath her breath. Ladybugs swooped around him, seemingly attacking his stretched arm. He tried to swat them away to no avail, but no luck.

They disappeared on their own just after. And just as they had disappeared, so had his scar, and all the pain…

Damian marveled in wonder at the new feeling. He let out a yelp of surprise, “What did you do?!”

“Please be calm,” she stated, “I only healed you.”

She gave him a warm smile, “I’m Marinette, and you?”

“Not interested, did you not hear me say I’m here to capture you? I’m a hunter.”

The witch sighed, “I know, I just thought…”

“That you could brainwash me with your magic?!” Damian yelled.

Marinette stared at him quizzically before bursting out with laughter. Damian felt his cheeks go hot, he folded his arms.

“Is that what you humans really think of us?”

“Witches are monsters and evil so forgive me for being cautious.” Damian said sarcastically.

She looked sad at that, “Evil?” She asked out loud.

“Yes,” Damian stated, “your kind has tortured ours for generations.”

The witch looked angry at that, “That’s not true! Was it not so long ago that so-called monsters and humans lived in harmony?! We have never taunted your kind, you taunted ours. Why do you think I kept my identity a secret?”

“So no one knows of your misdoings.”

Hurt flooded her bluebell eyes, “I only want to help people.” 

“So do I!” Damian shouted.

“So...we’re after the same thing?”

“We are certainly not!” Damian exclaimed, “Monsters are evil and hunters are good. You want to help no one but yourself.”

“Then why would I help you?!”

“To give me a false sense of security!”

“You are absolutely...impossible!” The witch said, tugging at her hair. She sighed, “Come on.”

“Huh?” Damian asked, feeling her take him gently by the arm, “Where are you taking me? Unhand me!”

“Let me show you that monsters aren’t bad, please. If you still think they are once I am done, I will let you capture me.”

“Fine, I suppose…” He glared at her, “But if you try anything I won’t hesitate to—“

Rolling her eyes, the Ladybug Witch scoffed and waved her hand, “Yes, yes, I know.”

Slowly, they began to walk through the city. More and more people seemed to pass by as they walked for what felt like hours until they reached their destination. A small, deserted alleyway.

Damian would be lying if he said the locale didn’t make him skeptical.

“Marinette!” Someone shouted, a blaze of black dashing towards them before leaping into said woman’s arms. Damian was more than shocked to see a purring boy with cat ears and a tail snuggled into Marinette’s arms. 

The cat boy suddenly darted his piercing green eyes back at Damian. He opened his mouth, showing his fangs, and hissed. Marinette bapped him on the head, “He’s a friend. Stand down, Kitty.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I’m a friend but—“ Damian ceased his murmur when cut off with a glare from both Marinette and the boy in her arms.

“Uhm hunter, this is Adrien. He’s my familiar.” 

“Hunter? That’s a weird name,” Adrien mused to himself. Marinette sucked in a breath. He shrugged, “Nice to meet you Hunter.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “My name isn’t Hunter, that’s just my title. I am Damian Wayne, monster hunter.”

Adrien stared back at Marinette in disbelief, “A hunter?! What were you thinking bringing a hunter here?!”

Marinette sighed, “Damian thinks that monsters are all horrible creatures—“

“That’s not true!” Adrien yelled, “Mythics are just peaceful creatures! Hunters are the ones destroying that peace.”

Marinette went on, “So I wanted to show him that not all monsters are bad.”

Adrien perked up, “Oh, well that’s easy! Glad you’re having an open mind, Damian!” He lept to Damian, hugging him.

Looking disgusted, Damian pushed Adrien off, “Great, now can we get on with this?”

Marinette nodded, “Yes, I brought you here because this is where Adrien and I start our patrol. I want you to watch us work, then you can see we save mythics and humans alike, and these so-called monsters in Paris are really just kind creatures.”

“Fine, but our deal still stands, if I see even one suspicious thing from a monster…”

“Deal? What’s he talking about Mari?” Adrien asked, looking up at his counterpart.

Marinette rubbed her temples, and muttered, “I said that if he didn’t believe me I’d let him capture me.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“Calm down Adrien,” Marinette smiled, “We only have to do what we always do. We’ll be fine.” She squeezed his paw lightly. “Ready to fully transform?”

“I guess,” Adrien said, “But I don’t like this.”

Adrien then shifted into a fully black cat. He jumped onto Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette reached for a ladder in the alleyway, “Ready Damian?”

“Yes…” Damian said, puzzled, “But do you not have a broomstick to ride on.”

Marinette giggled, “No! That’s a misconception. Witches can perform levitation spells, but I much prefer to survey from rooftops rather than the sky. It’s scary way up there.” 

She shuddered, then began to climb the ladder, Adrien tucked into her arm. Damian eyed the pair then slowly followed after them. 

They quickly arrived on a tall roof, overlooking a good portion of the city. Breathing in the fresh air, Marinette placed Adrien down, giving him room to switch back. She looked into the horizon and clutched her spellbook to her chest

“Now what?” Damian asked impatiently.

“I’m going to cast a spell that lets me have the ability to hear things all over the city so I can listen for those who need help.” Marinette said paging through her book. She whispered a short phrase in a foreign tongue and cupped her eyes.

After a brief pause Damian tsked, “Doesn’t seem to be working.”

Adrien smirked, “It is, just let her work her magic.”

With a gasp Marinette uncupped her ears, “A mugging in an alley south of the Louvre.”

“Got it!” Adrien exclaimed, turning into cat form and leaping into the distance. 

“Hold on to me,” Marinette said, extending her hand.

Damian looked at it skeptically, “Why?”

“I’m going to teleport us there, I have Adrien scout everything out beforehand. Since we’re connected he can speak to me telepathically and let me know the best time to get the drop on the bad guy.”

Still eyeing her suspiciously, Damian gingerly took her hand.

“It’s time,” she breathed, “Hold tight.”

In a flash they appeared behind a buff middle aged man attacking a younger boy. Marinette sprung into action, casting a quick spell to tie the attacker up. Adrien appeared at her side quickly and shifted, carrying the would-be mugger out into the open.

“T-thank you,” the boy stuttered, “But...how did you? Are you magical or something?”

Marinette gave him a soft smile and took both Adrien and Damian’s hands, teleporting away.

Damian gaped at her when they arrived back to the familiar rooftop, “You saved a human.”

Marinette nodded, “I save anyone in need, no matter what species. Everyone deserves help; ‘all that’s necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.’ I was telling the truth when I said mythics weren’t evil.”

Damian huffed, “What exactly am I supposed to think? My whole life I’ve been told monsters are evil, what makes you think one act would convince me otherwise?”

“Because I believe in you.” Marinette took his hand in her own, “I know you want to believe it, you’re a good person at heart: I can see it. Just trust me, please.”

Damian hesitated before scowling and giving her a slight nod.

Marinette smiled brightly. Damian looked up at her, it was surely not the smile of evil.

[babyboyblasty]

Chapter 7

It wasn't long before the smell of the yakisoba noodles Bakugou and Todoroki were making got to the noses of the self proclaimed bakusquad who were all lounging around in the common room ‘studying’. Or more like the yakisoba noodles /Bakugou/ was making since all Todoroki did was wash the vegetables after he nearly cut his fingers trying to chop a carrot. It wasn't Shoto's fault he got distracted by the sight of Bakugou putting on an apron. A pink one at that. The blonde just looked so... domestic and 'home-ish' that Shoto could have severed his entire hand in favor of appreciating the very rare view and not even notice. But Bakugou sure did and after yelling at the guy to watch what he's fucking doing, Todoroki got bannished to just sit down while Katsuki chopped the vegetables himself. Not that Shoto minded. He didn't mind just observing.

Mina was the first to pop her head in through the cracked open kitchen door, followed by Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima all one on top of the other. They walked in once they saw it was them. "Kacchaaaaaan~ whatcha cookin'?" Kaminari grinned cutely and looked over the blonde's shoulder as Katsuki cooked some pieces of sliced pork in a pan. "Yakisoba noodles" he answered plainly, more focused on what he was doing. Katsuki took his cooking seriously. He was good at pretty much everything he set his mind to and he'd be damned if his food wasn't going to be the best either.

"Mmmm, it smells so good! We should've known right away it was you the one that was cooking, Bakubabe" Mina rushed over to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her cheek on his shoulder affectionately. The quirk that turned their friend into a girl also affected his height so now he was the same height as she was. Plus Mina couldn't seem to stop obsessing over how small his waist was! Katsuki growled back at her for the nickname but didn't bother trying to get her off since he was busy with his food so Mina happily kept her arms around the boy-turned-girl. Kirishima and Kaminari pouted that they didn't think of it first.

"Can we have some too? Pleeeeease?" Kaminari pouted, putting his hands together in a pleading motion. He was trying to look cute but Katsuki just thought he looked dumb, especially with that pencil sticking out of his hair. Bakugou won’t bother asking.

"No."

"Aww, why not? Come on! Just a little. Your cooking is the best, Bakugou. Feed us~" the boy whined and even tried to sweet talk him with a compliment but Katsuki didn't budge even to the puppy eyes the electricity user was giving him. Sero was very impressed. That look always worked on the rest of them. Bakugou sure did have a will of steel.

"You're not getting shit if you don't help, dunce face" Bakugou answered as if it were obvious. Kaminari pouted again and looked over at Todoroki who had pulled out his phone shortly after the others had walked in. "Is Todoroki getting noodles?" he began tugging slightly on Bakugou's apron. It was the one that the squad had gotten him for christmas as a joke that said 'Kiss the Fucking Cook' in white cursive embroidery. Katsuki almost killed them for that but he still wore it. They all had a suspicion that he secretly liked it but just didn't want to admit it.

"Yes" he answered and Kaminari stuttered. "But he's not doing anything!" Kaminari whined. Todoroki looked up at that. "I washed the vegetables" Shoto felt his input provided enough validation to go back to his phone and scroll mindlessly.

"Well, what can we do to help, Bakugou?" Kirishima grinned, coming up next to him with a big grin. The angry teen looked over to see Kaminari, Mina, and Sero also waiting patiently for their instructions. "Just boil the noodles" he settled with after a few seconds then went back to his cooking and the others answered 'you got it' in unison then rushed to do as told. Cooking some noodles in a pot of hot water shouldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong. They overcooked the damn noodles and Bakugou yelled at all five to get out (Todoroki included) and they all left with their tails between their legs. Bakugou did everything himself like an angry housewife, muttering under his breath while he multitasked the entire time. Forty minutes later Bakugou finished and he was walking out with a plate of steaming hot yakisoba noodles for himself and sitting down at the table where the rest were. It smelled so delicious and they watched him eat with pouts and longing looks that Katsuki rolled his eyes. "Grab a plate and serve your-damn-selves. The food's right there, I ain't your mother" Bakugou grumbled and all five immediately ran to the kitchen to get their fill of Bakugou's cooking before the blonde had a chance to change his mind. Believe it or not, it's happened before.

...

After dinner, Bakugou was dragged out his dorm by his friends to go to Sero's room and play video games because according to them, they "haven't hung out in so long" even though it's only been since the quirk thing happened.

"I call dibs on the hammock!" Kaminari announced as soon as Sero opened the door to his dorm and launched himself to lay down on it before Ashido could get her hands on the hammock first.

"No fair! You got it last time!" Mina pouted, stomping over to sit on the floor by Kaminari with a frown and her arms crossed.

"Rules of the game, my friend. You should've called dibs first" the male smirked and winked at her with a very smug expression because he knew she couldn't really argue back against that. Mina responded by giving him a quick shove, causing the other to roll off the hammock and land face down on the carpet with a thud. Mina started cracking up and Kaminari rubbed his forehead with a pout, giving her the stink eye.

The other three paid no attention to their friends' antics as they took a seat. Every time they went to Sero's room it was the exact same thing with those two. They always fought for the hammock and Sero couldn't understand why they didn't just share it. The day he proposed the idea, Kaminari and Mina had only looked at the ravenette like he had grown two heads.

"Come sit by me, bakubro" Kirishima grinned, lighting up the room with that sharp toothed smile of his, and patted the spot besides him on the bed. Katsuki 'tsked' but went forward anyways and sat down besides the red head. Sero was setting up the playstation in the meantime.

"Don't tell me what to do, hair for brains'' Bakugou huffed but there was no real venom behind his words. Kirishima just laughed and that only seemed to annoy the ash blonde even more though. After Bakugou had finished eating earlier, he had gone back to his room to change into what he usually wore to go to sleep. The plan /was/ to do some light studying then head to bed a bit earlier than he usually did so he was only wearing boxers (or more like the boyshorts Momo had made for him since his own boxers had that bit of extra fabric in the front where his junk was supposed to be) and one of his own soft, grey, all cotton t-shirts. He had flung his bra off the second school was over because screw that. Now he knew why girls always complained about those shits. He kept getting stabbed by the underwire the whole day.

As he sat down beside Eijiro and brought his feet up to sit crossed legged like he always did, Kirishima's eyes wandered down without his permission towards Bakugou's thighs. They were thick and muscular but also soft looking. Smooth and a milky white too. No blemishes or anything so completely unmarked like a blank canvas. Kirishima bets that Bakugou could easily crush a watermelon with those thighs if he wanted to. He wondered what it'll feel like to have his head between th- NO! Kirishima snapped out of it right on time and shook his head side to side fast to get rid of those unmanly thoughts. He was entering dangerous territory there because he can't be thinking of his bro like that! 'Bad Kirishima!' he mentally scolded himself. Bakugou, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the gay panic his best friend was going through as he grabbed a hold of Sero’s pillow to hold (definetely not hug, nope, he will deny it completely) against his chest. 

"I call first round with Mina. You're going down, Ashido'' Kaminari smirked as Sero tossed him the controller. "Bring it, boy!" she smirked, grabbing her own control, and then they were racing each other in mario kart with determined faces, each wanting the other to lose and wallow in defeat first; Mina for Kaminari calling dibs on the hammock first, and Kaminari for Ashido pushing him off.

...

After a few rounds, the gang had decided to switch to another game. This one was a three-player one so Sero had connected a third controller and Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari were playing. Katsuki liked to play video games but not as much as those three and Sero liked it when his friends all had fun so he didn't mind just kicking back and letting them enjoy themselves on his playstation.

The room was filled with yelling and playful banter as Katsuki laid in Sero's bed quietly, just watching his friends. Kirishima had stood up and sat by Ashido on the floor a while ago (which he didn't know why and Kirishima had only stuttered when he asked) so Katsuki had it all to himself. He was feeling a bit sleepy already and he yawned, trying not to fall asleep since he really didn't want to do that in a room that wasn't his. To distract himself, half-lidded eyes went to Sero who was sitting on the floor besides the bed watching his friends in amusement. His eyes lowered until they got to the boy's enlarged elbows where his tape came out of and his eyebrows furrowed. He'd always wondered how they worked. Were they kind of like a tape dispenser? Like was there a huge roll of tape in there? Maybe it was his half conscious mind, but Bakugou ended up sitting up and getting off the bed to plop down right next to Sero.

The black haired boy turned with a bit of surprise to see Bakugou so close but quickly recovered and smiled. "Oh, hey man. Are you having fun?" he asked but Katsuki didn't even answer. He just hummed then crawled over between Sero's legs and sat down slightly sideways, grabbing one of the other boy's arms to bring his elbow closer to his face and study it in curiosity. Sero's face was on fire as he looked anywhere but at the boy/girl sitting practically on his lap holding onto him. Katsuki was so close that Sero was even able to smell the coconut tropical shampoo the blonde used to wash his hair. 'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck' Sero thought to himself, trying to distract himself. It was no use though. Up until now, Sero thought that he was fine. Sure, he thought Katsuki was very pretty as a girl, but he wasn’t really affected or anything like that like how Midoriya, Todoroki, and Kirishima were. Those three tried to hide it but it was so obvious to everyone that they’ve had the hots for Bakugou even before the quirk accident happened. Or at least obvious to everyone except Bakugou himself. 

Sero prided himself in being one of the few that wasn’t constantly staring at their angry blonde classmate, but /now/, no matter how much Sero tried to ignore the fact that a pretty, nice smelling blonde girl was technically sitting on his lap, he couldn't. And even as game night slowly came to an end after Bakugou left, then Kirishima, Mina, then lastly Denki, and Sero was left alone in his dorm to sleep, he still couldn’t stop thinking about his friend either. Well shit.

[word count: 2065]

[enbyprentiss]

Photography

Y/N meets Spencer in a park and asks to take his photo for a project:) Spencer x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff 1.3k words                                                                                                                             ——————————————————————

Every weekend I like to go out to the park by my apartment to people watch. That sounds creepier than it is- - I'm a photographer. Anyway, this Saturday morning was no different. I had already gotten some good photos, but as I continued to wander there was a man who caught my eye. He was sitting at one of the chess tables with a book open, he was tall and slender (with horrible posture), his hair was light brown and curly, he just seemed...approachable.

"Hi- -", he looked up at me and as soon as his eyes met mine a huge blush spread across my face, "Sorry, I- - didn't mean to um- - uh bother you, I just- -", my embarrassment grew the longer I fumbled my words, although he had a small smile on his face. I took a deep breath and shook my head lightly with a smile, "Let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/N. I'm a photographer and on the weekends I take photos of people in the park who peak my interest. So, I was wondering if I could take yours- - and you can totally say 'no', no pressure."

"Oh- - uh...yeah, ok."

"Ok- -", I paused as if asking for his name.

"Oh! Sorry, uh- - Spencer."

"Spencer, that's cute. I like that.", I giggled. He seemed to be at a loss for words because after a few seconds of opening and closing his mouth to no avail, he just flashed a tight lipped smile and nodded. Something about him was oddly charming.

The boy ran a hand over his face as if to cover the blush, "So, how do want me to um...pose?", he chuckled.

"Just act natural. Pretend I'm not here.", I shrugged and smiled.

I spent a few minutes taking photos of him, critiquing and guiding his positioning every now and then. His phone rang a couple of times but he chose to ignore it, until he couldn't anymore. He whipped it out of his pocket and checked the messages.

"Sorry, I have to go but um- -"

"That's ok, don't worry about it", I reached into my pocket and handed him a card, "If you or anyone you know, needs photos, I'd be more than happy to take them.", I smiled.

"Yeah- - yeah, ok. Bye, Y/N."

"Bye, Spencer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reid rushed into the office, not knowing that he still had a rather big smile on his face.

"Hey, Spence.", JJ waltzed toward him and although it was a simple greeting, she said it in a more curious tone.

"Hi.", he began to pour an ungodly amount of sugar into his cup of coffee.

"What's uh- - going on with you?", she nudged him playfully.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You just seem...extra...happy, today."

"Oh, uh--I don't know. Today's just a...good day, I guess.", he shrugged. Spencer headed towards Garcia's lair.

"Dearest, boy wonder, what can I do for you?", Penelope asked in her usual chipper tone.

"I have an idea, but I have a feeling it's going to take the two of us to convince the rest of the team--"

"I am intrigued, do continue."

"We should do a Christmas card.", Reid smiled.

"Oooh! Yes! I love the way you think 187!", she giggled, "Although I have to wonder what brought this on...?"

"Nothing, I just uh--I met a photographer in the park this morning and--"

"Would this photographer happen to be...oh, I don't know, of the--women variety?", PG question with a raise of an eyebrow and a smirk.

Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "Let's just go try to convince Hotch, please."

"Don't ignore the question, Reid. I am the oracle, I know all."

Despite the woman's several protests Spencer ignored her and led the both of them into Hotch's office. After a few minutes of desperately trying to convince the boss, it seemed the finally got somewhere.

"You two aren't going to let this go until I say yes, are you?"

"Nope."

"Uh-uh."

"Fine."

Penelope squealed and went to go inform the rest of the team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got a call the following Friday from him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. He sounded nervous over the phone, like somehow I'd forgotten who he was. But how could I ever forget a face like Spencer's. So, when he asked me to take photos of him and his team, there was no hesitation. Although, maybe there should've been, because showing up to his work was...scary to say the least. He had never mentioned that he was FBI. And while he, himself, was not intimidating, most people in the lobby of that building were.

"Hey, Y/N--are you ok?", Spencer's concern sounded genuine, he must've seen the nervousness written all over my face.

"Yeah, sorry.", I smiled to try and disguise it, "You just um, never mentioned over the phone that you were 'FBI', so coming here is uh--a lil scary.", I giggled.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Well, there's nothing to be scared of, I promise.", he smiled back and led me through a set of glass doors, "Ok, guys, this is Y/N."

I gave a small wave as I looked at the people before me. Two blonde women, one brunette, a younger dark skin man, and two older gentlemen. The three women exchanged knowing glances, as if this wasn't the first time I'd come up. I mean, of course it wasn't, they had to have talked about my work before to pick me to take their photos. Right?

They ushered me towards a conference room and we spit-balled some ideas before agreeing on a few. Every time Spencer looked at me, I couldn't help but smile and it seemed that everyone else noticed too. I would've been embarrassed if he hadn't returned each smile with his own, but he did. He was just...adorable?...handsome?...pretty?...sweet?...all of the above?. Definitely all of the above.

I finished up taking the photos, and I tried to look back over them, but every time, my eyes landed on him. It took me a few minutes to notice that the group of younger agents were gathered around the desk area, and that I was...well--alone at this round table. I swiveled in my chair and saw that a few agents were standing on either side of Spencer. If I had to guess, he was often the butt of the joke, because as the other agents seemed to be caught up in light-hearted laughter, he seemed horribly embarrassed.

"Ok! Well, once I finish up looking over these, I will email them to Ms. Penelope--just to make sure you guys like them. Um--with that, I will get out of your guys' way.", I laughed a little. They replied with various little 'thank you'’s and 'goodbye's and I did the same.

I had made it partially down the hall towards the elevators, "Y/N?".

I turned to see Spencer, jogging a little to catch up with me, "Yeah, what's up?", seeing his face turn bright pink made mine do the same.

"I-I-I was um--wondering if uh--sorry", he closed his eyes and huffed out a small laugh, "I wanted to know if...you would--maybe want to um--go out some time?", he shrugged with an adorably awkward smile.

"Yeah, sure.", I smiled for the millionth time that day. Seeing just how nervous he was, was just too cute.

"Really?", he seemed shocked but--in a good way.

"Mhm", I nodded.

"Ok, how does next Saturday sound?"

"It's a date.", I leaned up to kiss his cheek lightly, before stepping into the elevator.

Spencer went back into the bullpen, only to be swarmed by his younger colleagues.

"I knew this was about a girl!", Garcia squealed.

"Awww, look at you go Spence.", JJ cooed.

"We knew you could do it, Reid.", Emily encouraged.

"Yeah, and looks like you might get lucky too.", Morgan teased.

"Gross, Morgan.", Spencer replied before walking away in a desperate attempt to hide the bright red shade that had overtaken his face.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Probably you have some request, but I was wondering if you could write a Calum x Reader based on The Moment I Knew where even the guys send her a happy birthday message but Calum was radio silence (If you're interested in it not ending with angst maybe a second part based in The Last Time haha, lol)

The Moment I Knew - C. Hood

Okay so, I had never heard this song before and now I’ve played it on repeat. Your girl lives to write angst so I may have gone a bit too far but I hope you like it!!

I will have a part two done soon! Send me a message so I can tag you in it, if you like!

Thank you for the request, lovie! 💕

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Her 24th birthday should have been a day she spent surrounded by her dear friends and her boyfriend.

Her friends were waiting at Luke and Sierra’s house for their guest it honor who would arrive with Calum.

She should have spent it with a smile stretching her cherry tinted lips, not droplets smearing her perfectly done mascara.

It should have ended in a night of passion, not heartbreak.

It should have been a lot of things, but Calum couldn’t even remember a single day to spend with the woman he claimed to love so much. And Y/N couldn’t sit back and deal with his ignorance and inability to be there for his girl.

You should've been there. Should've burst through the door with that "Baby, I'm right here" smile.

She woke that morning to messages from everybody. Everybody but Calum.

Sierra and Luke has stopped by to wish her a happy birthday, and give her flowers and a dress that Sierra had picked out for the party that night.

Crystal and Michael called to apologize for not stopping by but to wish her a happy birthday and make lunch plans for the following day with promises to see her that night.

Ashton and KayKay took her out for breakfast, something which Calum was meant to attend but she received no reply from him. Her friends tried their hardest to take her mind off of the missing person at their table. They also had promised that Calum would most likely see her later that night.

And it would've felt like a million little shining stars had just aligned. And I would've been so happy.

She didn’t want to pull it, but this was the last straw. In their over year long relationship, he started to slack after their anniversary.

He showed up late for their anniversary dinner, barely replied to her messages, even when he was at home, spent more time out with the guys than paying any mind to Y/N. She thought the last straw was when they had made big plans to spend the day together on Christmas Eve. Her favourite holiday.

Christmas lights glisten, I've got my eye on the door, just waiting for you to walk in.

He didn’t show until late that night. He simply left his present for her sitting under her tree and crawled into bed with her sleeping form.

Still, she pushed aside her feelings of abandonment, for she loved the kiwi man too much.

But this was the most she could take.

The minutes ticked by, and she sat on her lounge, lips stained red, black dress accentuating every part of her body that she felt confident in. Heels slipped onto her feet, that made her walk away more than usual.

She felt like a million bucks when she had gotten ready. Now, she felt like the booby prize.

After all, she must be if Calum couldn’t spare a few hours to attend the party Sierra had planned for her special day.

He was radio silence all day. Not a single message. Not even a quick gif of a cat wearing a party hat like Mali-Koa had sent her, although the elder hood had also sent her a long paragraph about how much she adores her and how happy she makes Calum.

If only Calum made her feel like she made him happy. Or that he even wanted her around.

They were now 45 minutes past the time Calum had promised to be there.

She was fuming.

But the time is ticking. People ask me how I've been, as I comb back through my memory, how you said you'd be here.

She can’t quite determine the amount of times that Calum has stood her up. She understands that his music is important to him, but he tells her she is important to him as well. How?

How can he be so sure that she is important to him, when he has left her sitting alone on her birthday. Her birthday.

You said you'd be here

Enough was enough. She stood up from her lounge, straightening her dress out and checking her makeup in the mirror. If Calum wasn’t going to take her to enjoy her birthday, then she would do it herself.

She typed a quick message to Calum before she threw her phone on the abandoned lounge, snatching her keys from a hook and slamming the door closed behind her.

And it was like slow motion. Standing there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress.

“You said you’d be here. Don’t bother showing up tonight. Happy birthday to me, right?”

And they're all laughing as I'm looking around the room. But there was one thing missing, and that was the moment I knew.

She had been at the party for hours, and all she wanted was to go home and drown her sadness in ice cream and flood her pillow with tears. Namely, the pillow that trapped Calum’s scent like a butterfly net.

It was hard to be with her friends, because, even though she was introduced to them as Calum’s friends, each of them became something special to her, and they all grew closer over the time.

Especially Luke and Sierra.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she struggled to settle in the atmosphere without him. For a minute she thought whether he would have come to her if she called him but given the three and a half hours that had passed since her message, she knew he had something better to do.

Or somebody better to be with.

The tears started to fall and her hands started to shake. She had always struggled with abandonment issues, but this experience felt new.

She couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t be with Calum anymore.

And the hours pass by. Now I just wanna be alone but your close friends always seem to know when there's something really wrong.

She trudged down the hall, tears blurring her vision as she forced her way into the bathroom of the house.

Heeled shoes echoed behind her and Sierra’s dark head of hair flooded her gaze as the woman’s arms wrapped around her, letting her sob into her shoulder.

Y/N tries to stop the tears, but the pain is so overwhelming.

Her birthday, the one day in the entire year that she requested her boyfriend to be there for her with no exceptions, he let her down.

Again. Lately, he only let her down.

She couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle being second best. No, third best.

Not even that.

So they follow me down the hall, and there in the bathroom, I try not to fall apart and the sinking feeling starts.

She lowers herself to the ground, her legs no longer supporting her. Sierra crouches with her, still holding her friend through her breakdown.

She knew Y/N struggled with abandonment, as she had gotten the closest to the girl, but she never imagined Calum could be the one to make her feel this way.

“It’s okay, breathe babe. Breathe,” Sierra cooed, stroking the woman’s perfectly done hair. She looked stunning, and that made Sierra’s heart ache more. “I’m sorry he did this, I’m so sorry.”

Y/N sniffed, trying to will her tears to stop. Mascara was most likely smudged on her face, and on the shoulder of Sierra’s royal blue blouse, but she couldn’t contain the emotion that had been building all day.

For months even.

For three months, Calum hadn’t been there for her. If not for the random mornings she would wake up with him by her side, or the fleeting messages of open promises, it was as if she was single.

She might as well be.

“He said he would be here,” she sobbed, her voice sounding more broken than anything Sierra had heard before.

“I know, honey, I know.”

As I say hopelessly, "He said he'd be here"

“Do you wanna tell everybody to head home? You and I can veg out and watch some movies, if you like?” Sierra proposed, rubbing the arms of her friend whose tears had halted.

Y/N shook her head with a small smile on her face, “It’s okay Si. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah? No more tears, I promise.”

What do you say, when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know?

Y/N felt embarrassed to have broken down in such a way in front of her friends. She had always tried to be the tough one, even cracking a smile that very morning when Ashton asked about her absent boyfriend.

But she had hit her limit.

And what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show?

The room was full of so many people, every one of her friends, her siblings, even her parents and some family had made the trip to see her for her birthday. Everybody but Calum.

Almost everybody she loved and held fear was there to witness her standing in her party dress and her red lipstick. Her fixed mascara and now clean face. With her best friend holding her hand and a chocolate cake placed in front of her.

The lit number “24” stared back at her as she tried to ignore the missing piece to the puzzle that was the night.

Their voices faded to the background as they all sung to her, watching as she blew out the candles with one thing on her mind.

‘I wish you were here’

And they're all standing around me singing "Happy birthday to you". But there was one thing missing.

Y/N now knew, she couldn’t be with Calum anymore.

And that was the moment I knew.

Calum had this overwhelming feeling that he was forgetting something. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he knew it was something important.

His fingers plucked the strings of his bass, and his mind ran through the lyrics to a song they were working on for their newest album.

The album has been taking up most of his free thought, for he was determined to get some of the songs just right for when it drops.

His heart dropped when he checked his phone, a message from Y/N that had been sent four hours before.

Guilt boiled in his stomach and he was grabbing his keys, slipping his shoes on and rushing out the door without a second thought.

“You said you’d be here. Don’t bother showing up tonight. Happy birthday to me, right?”

He could feel the malicious intent in the message, and he deserved it. This was the seventh time he had stood her up, and he knew that she had every right to be mad at him.

Even if she told him not to, he was on his way to Luke’s house to apologize to her. He just thanked god that he had already put her present in his car.

He sent a message to his best friend asking if his girl was still there.

Luke replied with a simple and snappy “she left. She doesn’t want to see you.”

He sighed, resting his head against his steering wheel as he dialed the number accompanied by a heart.

Y/N would be alright, he knew it. She would answer the phone, apologize, and tell her he loves her. She would return the sentiment, and all would be well.

Wouldn’t it?

You called me later, and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't make it".

Y/N saw the name show up on her phone as the sound of Calum’s voice floods her dark bedroom.

She made true of her promise to go home, drown her feelings in ice cream and soak her pillow with tears. She just wished that her ringtone for Calum wasn’t his angelic voice singing “If you don’t know.”

She hit the answer button and switched it onto loud speaker so she didn’t need to love from her positioned curled up in the middle of her bed.

“Hey baby, sorry I didn’t make it. Lost track of time writing. I love you so much, happy birthday angel,” his voice transferred through the receiver and she couldn’t bring herself to find an answer other than what is on her mind.

And I said, "I'm sorry too".

“I’m sorry too, Calum,” she answered, feeling her words catch in her throat.

“For what, baby?” He chuckled, brushing off the serious tone of her voice.

She steered her nerves, sitting up and the sound of crinkling sheets temporarily flooded Calum’s ears.

She let out a deep breath, letting the tears fall as she spoke. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t always be a second thought, especially when it’s my birthday and I’m sitting at our friends house crying my eyes out because you couldn’t give me enough respect to tell me you won’t be there for me.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry-“

“So am I, Cal. I can’t be with you anymore. Goodbye.”

And that was the moment I knew.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Fourteen

“What is it?” He asks impatiently. 

“How did she know all this?” The old man whispered to himself, almost amazed as he skimmed the pages. 

“What is it?” Harry asked again, this time louder. 

“And this book, I, I didn’t even know it still existed, I thought,” he’s talking to himself, but Harry is still listening. 

“Listen to me!” He boomed, Dumbledore knew something. And as far as Harry knew, this something could get Hermione back, or at the very least help him understand what Voldemort might want with her. 

Dumbledore snapped out of it to meet his green eyes. 

“Is this, whatever this is, can we get her back?” Harry almost whispered, pushing down any hope best he could. 

“I’m afraid,” the old man's voice is shaking, “I’m afraid this only endangers Hermione further.” 

Feeling bold, Harry moves forward and tries to snatch the leather bound book Hermione’s been scribbling in. However, Dumbledore is faster despite his age and pulls it out of Potter’s grasp. 

“Harry.” He warns, voice dangerously low. 

The dark haired boy recognized that voice, the last time he heard it was when Dumbledore had told the Gryffindor to get closer to Slughorn, for his memory. 

And it clicks. 

“This is about what you needed from Slughorn, isn’t it?” His voice is stronger than he thought was capable with all the guilt wracking his mind. 

“No one can know.” The white haired man says. 

“Hermione does.” 

“She shouldn’t.” Dumbledore says sharply, “I don’t even know how.” 

“Tell me,” Harry’s begging, “please.” 

The headmaster shakes his head a little, “I don’t even understand it myself, not fully.” 

He sits on the edge of the cot Hermione had been occupying, it still smells like her. He wonders how long that’ll last, “please sir.” 

Sighing in defeat, he sits next to him, “I knew that Voldemort had employed ancient dark magic to keep him so strong and I suspected he shared as much with Professor Slughorn. I believe that Hermione has found the very thing I’ve tasked you with retrieving from Horace’s memory.” He explained. 

“And what is it?” Harry whispers. 

“A horcrux, it conceals a part of a dark wizard or witches soul, the logistics are unclear, but it leads to immortality.” 

“You think he’s made a Horcrux?” The Boy-Who-Lived asks. 

Dumbledore nods, “possibly several, but I can’t be sure. Even I am not fully aware of the extent of these objects, there’s only been one text written on it. I had thought the very book was destroyed decades ago.” 

“The book...” he trails, pointing to the black thing splayed on the ground. 

The old man nods, “yes, it’s contents contain that of Dark Magic. I had every intention to destroy the book myself, but Headmaster Dippet disagreed. By the time I was appointed, I was under the impression a boy named Tom Riddle had obliterated the only copy in existence.” 

“How would Hermione have gotten it?” She’s the last person who’d break any sort of rules. 

Dumbledore shook his head, “I don’t know. It also appears several pages are missing, those I believe outline how to destroy a Horcrux. Miss Granger is exceptionally brilliant, more so than I am, she must’ve hid them away knowing how crucial it was.” 

Harry nodded somberly, pondering on why Hermione didn’t tell him. 

The professor broke his revere, once again sounding frantic, “would anyone know?” 

He shook his head fiercely, “she didn’t tell me. Her and Ron haven’t spoken in a while. Ginny maybe, we can ask,” he began. 

“No!” The man's voice boomed, Harry jumped, “no, no one can know.” He says calmer. 

After a moment, a tense moment, the chosen one speaks with so much conviction, it shakes Albus Dumbledore himself to his very core. 

“No.” 

All the headmaster can do is scrunch his brow in confusion. 

“Ron, he deserves to know.” Harry states. 

Knowing there’s no point in arguing, the old man grants him this mercy, “just him, no one else Harry. This, this changes everything.” 

And though Potter can’t comprehend how important this is, he nods anyway, sensing as much. 

“You have to be strong, Harry. Now more than ever. Mister Weasley, I fear he has the potential to stumble down a long path of darkness. You must steer him of that, you must be strong.” He tells him. 

“I don’t know how,” The chosen one admits quietly, eyes looking around the small room, “Hermione, she’s always been strong enough for the three of us.” 

And it’s true. Whenever Harry is too exhausted to carry on, it’s always Hermione who stays up looking for a solution. It’s Hermione who makes sure he and Ron have a good time at Quidditch despite all the bad. It’s her who keeps them going.

“Now you must find the strength she once possessed. For yourself, for Ron, for Hermione. It’s the best chance she has.” Albus tells him softly.  

Silently, Dumbledore charms both the book and diary, no doubt putting protective enchantments on them as he slides it back into her trunk. 

Just when he makes a move to tell Harry they should go back downstairs and act as if nothing happens, someone speaks. 

“What happens if he finds out Hermione knows?” The young boy's voice is trembling. 

For a brief second Dumbledore’s voice catches in his throat, “I fear for the worst.” Is all he can manage. 

...

Soon they go downstairs, no one questions how long they’ve been gone. Ginny however, does ask if they found anything. Quickly, almost awkwardly, Harry says no. No one seems to catch the lie, except for Ron. 

Before he can question his friend, a small group enters the room. 

Lupin, Tonks, Moody, McGonagall, and Kingsley walk in, however their arrival is anything but joyous. 

Ignoring any niceties being exchanged, he stands numbly as they speak to Dumbledore. A few minutes later, they disburse a few Weasley’s as well. 

“Ronald, would you mind accompanying me outside? I would like to make sure no traces of dark magic were left behind.” He says to the younger boy. 

“Albus, I don’t think that,” Molly tries again delicately. 

“It’s alright Mum. I’ll be fine.” Without another word, he walks to the door, not even bothering with a coat. He hopes the cold air will sting his skin and make him feel something. 

They step outside as Ron wordlessly leads Dumbledore over to the oak tree. 

“What happens if there is dark magic left behind?” The ginger all but whispers. 

Weasley hears the old man's lips smack against each other as he starts to speak, “it’s a very rare, very powerful thing, but it seems those from the noble house of Black are able to master such things.” 

“Such as?” The boy implores. 

“Sometimes, if say an ancient spell, or even something dark like an unforgivable curse is used, a wizard or witch powerful enough may be able to trace the source of the dark magic.” Dumbledore peers over to see Ron looking confused, “essentially, if something other than expelliarmus was used, depending on the spell, Bellatrix is able to call to the connection of her magic here, she can apparate back.” 

Ron hadn't realized it, but they had stopped walking, the tree in sight, but they weren’t exactly there. 

“And if it is there, how do you, you know, stop her?” He gulped. Asking questions was a line of defense, as he tried to block his mind from the thought of an unforgivable curse used on Hermione. 

“I shall expel the magic from the area, strengthen the wards, extend the apparition line.” He assured.

“Bellatrix,” he whispered, “she never, she never passed the wards, Harry, Hermione, and I, we ran out of them.” 

The headmaster nodded, “yes, if nothing else you and your family will be safe as long as you stay within the bounds.” 

Ron opens his mouth to make some snarky comment about what good that did Hermione, but refrains from it. He’d hate to see so much as a hair out of place on someone else’s head he cared about. This was enough pain to last him a lifetime. 

At the silence, the ginger breaks it by continuing his stride to the tree, dreading every second as he goes. 

Again, wanting to avoid the inevitable, he talks again, “I reckon someone should do the same at the Granger’s.” It’s unspoken, but the fact that Death Eaters could go after them is very plausible. Something that’s been eating at Hermione for a while. 

“The wards have been placed around the Granger’s house after the tournament. Hermione requested her parents not know about their placement. The order checks in.” He assures. 

“Oh.” Ron breathes stupidly. Hermione is brilliant, he’s not surprised, he just should’ve realized. He also wishes she didn’t do it alone. 

A Gryffindor through and through, the bravest of them all she was, is, he reminds. Now it’s his turn to be the courageous one, to buck up and face her parents, help the order anyway he could, and get her back. 

And like he can read Ron’s mind, Dumbledore breaks his thoughts, “don’t worry yourself too much Ron, there will be time for that later,” to worry about Hermione’s family, about her, “for now we must focus. One thing at a time.” 

With a huff of air, his shoulders ease the slightest bit, but are still tense. Ron finally steps to the tree, focusing viciously on the unfamiliar incantation Dumbledore whispers rather than the fact Hermione was here not long ago. 

Then something catches his eye. 

As the old man casts the spell, a glowing white light outlines the grass. There’s a few shapes, one is a silhouette of what Ron knows to be Hermione’s crumpled body, two outlines of pairs of shoes, but the other, it’s a rectangle. 

Meaning, something was there on the ground as they apparated away, but it vanished with her. 

After a moment he realizes, heart breaking as he does, “the book.” 

Dumbledore drops his wand at the word. 

“What did you say?” 

“Book,” he chokes out, “the book, she grabbed onto it, it’s gone.” It was a gift, he was supposed to give it to her. Give her that and all the love he had to offer. To show he cared. 

Then with a thud, his back is hitting the tree trunk as Dumbledore’s piercing eyes bore into his own. 

“Book, what book?” He sounds panicked, more frantic than Ron ever imagined he could sound. 

He just stares at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

“Ron!” His voice booms. 

The red head flinches, “a gift- a Christmas gift. It was Hogwarts, A History. That’s all.” He explains quickly. 

At the admission, Dumbledore’s hands slide off his shoulder as he steps back. “My apologies.” The man says rather calmly. 

However, Ron is anything but.  

He slants his eyes to the most respected man in the Wizarding world, not caring less, “this is about that book, isn’t it? The one she’s been holding onto.” Realization strikes again, “Harry showed you, it means something doesn’t it? Come on, out with it!” He commands loudly. 

“Keep your voice down. No one can know.” The white haired man tells him. 

“Tell me what it is! Tell me it can help!” He pleads angrily. 

“Mr.Weasley!” The headmaster roars, making the younger wizard slink back, turning red. “I will tell you what I know, if you swear this information stays strictly between us and Harry. Do you hear me, no one can know, this is life or death.” 

Anxiously, Ron nods. He’s praying to whatever is up there that this information hasn’t reached Hermione. That this proclamation of life and death won’t touch her. 

Dumbledore’s voice drops to a deadly whisper, “Miss Granger seemed to either knowingly or unknowingly, uncovered what I believe is the key to destroying Voldemort.”

Ron shivers at the name. Shivers even more at the prospect of what this could mean.

“The book she’s been immersed in, the last known person in possession of it, was Tom Riddle. I believed it had been destroyed upon his departure.” 

“What’s in the book?” Weasley gulps. 

The old man shakes his head, “dark magic. The darkest magic possible. The type of power that’ll make you wish you rotted in Azkaban rather than meet it’s fate.”

Still, Ron’s brow remains scrunch. 

“A horcrux,” it’s barely audible, “bi products of murder, that if done correctly, can give one immense power, immortality.” He tells in a whisper. 

“How do you destroy one?” It’s the first thing he thinks of, if these ruddy things are out there he wants them gone. 

Regretfully, Albus sighs, “that’s the thing Ron, I believe only Hermione knows how to do that.” 

“Meaning if she found these, whatever, she could then kill Vold,” he stops, “kill him.” He amends. 

“Yes.” He nods slowly. 

“And that’s exactly where she’s been taken to, to him!” Tears sting the corners of his eyes. 

“Listen to me, you are fearing the worst, I doubt Voldemort even knows the extent of the information Hermione has, even if he really does suspect it.” His eyes meet Ron’s glassy ones, “and Miss Granger, she wouldn’t give it up for anything.” 

“You see professor,” Ron chokes, “that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He admits. 

Sadly, Dumbledore nods with sympathy, as he flicks his wand one more time. Ron bites his lip and closes his eyes shut at seeing the outline of Hermione again.  

A moment later, the old man's voice causes him to open them, “there’s no dark magic here.”  He promises. 

Ron let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least it was one last thing to worry about. 

“Now to strengthen,” Albus starts until a shriek sounds from inside the Burrow. 

Without a glance, the ginger takes off toward his house. Surprisingly, Dumbledore doesn’t stray far behind as they clamber into the living room. 

Lupin is dropped to his knees consoling the shaky body. Ginny is backed into a corner horrified. Molly is crying. 

“I don’t, I don’t understand.” McGonagall’s uneasy voice says. 

In front of Ron, is Harry Potter, writhing on the floor and clutching his scar. 

“It’s him.” Is all he can say to the room.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Lazy Wednesdays

Request by Anon: “ Hii! I saw you’re taking requests. Could you pleaaase write a Scott Lang X Reader one? Where Scott gets jealous of another Avenger?💗”

I love Scott Lang and this is awesome. Honestly, I wish I wrote more for him, but I don’t. And I suck for that. Anyway, thanks for requesting him, hun!!!

Summary: Scott loved when Lazy Sundays fell on well, any other day of the week. They were filled with movie marathons, cuddles, and simply enjoying his girlfriend’s presence. However, it seems this day is determined to not go Scott’s way.

Word Count: 1590 words

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a jealous Scott?

Masterlist

Scott loved mornings like this. Lazy Sundays that fell on Wednesdays were meant to be cherished. And he had every intention of doing so. Reaching across the bed, his arm slipped around Y/N’s stomach. Her old college shirt had ridden up in the middle of the night – not that he cared. Scott tugged her closer to him, squeezing her tight and placing a small kiss on her shoulder.

A small breath of laughter made him realize that their morning was about to end. The day was going to begin. Tangling his legs with hers, Scott decided that maybe it would be best to try and trap her. But she always had other ideas.

After all, between the two of them, she was the responsible one.

“Scott,” she murmured, her fingers lightly tracing his arm. He grumbled against her back, shaking his head no. “Baby, we got to get up.”

It was a lazy effort. They both knew that. After all, her face was still happily buried in her pillow, sounding jus as sleepy as he still felt. He shook his head again. “Five more minutes.”

“We can’t.”

Scott pouted as Y/N dragged herself out of bed, barely able to keep his hands away from her. She turned to look at him, laughing when she saw that his hair was sticking out at weird odds and ends. “God, you’re cute,” she muttered. Shaking her head, Y/N placed a small kiss on his forehead.

Flopping onto his stomach, Scott watched her as she took quiet strides to their bathroom. That lazy smile of his was back even as she slipped out of sight. He heard the shower running and groaned. The day had officially started.

--

And four hours later, Scott found himself wishing he could reset the day. He sat in the Avengers living room, hardly able to pay attention to whatever it was that lit up the massive tv. Seriously – why did Tony have such a huge television?

Glancing over his shoulder, he could hear the sound of Y/N’s laugh. It wasn’t one of those sweet, melodic sort of sounds. Y/N laughed with her heart and soul, loud and obnoxious. It was one of his favorite things about her. But it bothered him to hear someone else was getting her to laugh like that.

Especially when it was one of the Avengers. Scott loved his teammates, don’t get him wrong. But he wasn’t the Captain America. Or a God like Thor. Without the Antman suit, Scott felt pretty average. And when a person spent most of their time around people who could move things with their minds or walk through walls, their self esteem took a bit of a hit.

Craning his neck, Scott tried to catch a glimpse of whoever it might have been. Of course. Sam. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Sam and Y/N had gotten along ever since she joined the team. She encouraged his love of Red Wing, something the rest of the team didn’t quite appreciate. But that didn’t really matter to Scott. He liked that she did the abnormal. It was why she and Cassie got along so well.

Another laugh and Scott felt his heart twist. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous. He did. That sane part of his mind was reminding him that Y/N loved him. Not Sam. Yet…

Scott pushed himself up, catching a very confused Bruce’s eye. “You alright?”

But Scott didn’t pay him any mind. He was fully aware that he might look like an ass for this, but he didn’t really care. That is – until he found himself about to step inside the kitchen. Neither Sam nor Y/N had noticed him yet, their backs to him and looking over something she was showing him.

Scott couldn’t be that guy. The jealous asshole that refused to let her have any guy friends? No. That wasn’t him.

Turning on his heel, Scott decided it was better to get some space. Just take a moment to breathe before he said or did something he might regret.

So lost in his thoughts, Scott didn’t even notice that Y/N had looked over her shoulder and saw him walking away. Her brow furrowed, concern etching itself into her features.

“Everything okay?”

Y/N looked back at Sam. He always noticed when her emotions switched. It wasn’t like she would waste her time trying to hide it. Glancing back where Scott had been, Y/N bit her lip. “I think so?”

--

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Twist.

Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Twist.

Repeat.

Scott’s repeated footsteps trailed the same path over and over again. His feet were threatening to put a hole in the ground, but he didn’t really care. It was a nice distraction. The repetition was anchoring him, pulling him out of his jealousy.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he didn’t even register that Y/N was watching him from the doorway. She tilted her head, noticing the way he was mumbling and grumbling. Whatever was going on in his head, her boyfriend was clearly trying to talk himself out of it. “Scotty?”

The man jumped about a foot in the air, eyes wide as he jerked his head to the door. “Oh! Hi! I – Uh…”

Y/N pushed herself off the doorframe, crossing the room. “Hey. You – Uh…What?” Scott couldn’t stop the nervous smile that appeared as she teased him. Her hands reached for the ones fidgeting at his sides, interlacing their fingers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Scott winced. “It’s really stupid.”

“I’m dating you, Scott.” Y/N grinned as his nose and brow stitched together in confusion. She pressed the spot, forcing his nerves to relax. “Clearly I don’t mind a bit of stupid now and again.”

She was so cute. And sweet. Scott huffed, his forehead dropping against hers. “I got…” He mumbled something incoherent.

“Couldn’t quite catch that.”

Scott groaned. Why was she making this so difficult? Mumbling once more, Scott cleared his throat before finally admitting, “I got…jealous.”

“Jealous?” She repeated the word as if it were the last thing she expected to hear. Scott never seemed to be the jealous type. Flustered? Sure. Chaotic? A bit. Frustrated with idiots? Who wasn’t? But she had never seen jealousy from him. Her mind drifted to her and Sam in the kitchen, laughing and goofing around. “Is this because of me and Sam?”

Scott winced and shook his head. “No.” He squeezed her hands, opening his eyes. “It’s because of me. Y/N, I’m not going to be the guy who gets jealous and declares who you can and can’t be around. I was just – I got insecure.”

“Insecure? You? The cat burglar and infamous Antman?”

He let himself laugh at her teasing, knowing she was just trying to get him to feel better. “Compared to all the guys we surround ourselves with? Y/N, I’m pretty ordinary.”

Y/N frowned, pulling him to the couch in their shared apartment. When they both sat down, Y/N braced her elbow on the back of the couch, her body twisting to face him. “Who told you that?” Silence. Himself. She reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers and giving it a light squeeze. “Scott…I adore you.”

He looked up, brows raised. Scott knew Y/N didn’t get angry often, but he would have thought his getting jealous over something as trivial as her and Sam would have warranted…frustration. Not sympathy. “I’m confused.”

She smiled. “I know.” Kissing his knuckles, Y/N scooted closer and absentmindedly played with his hair. “Why were you jealous?”

“Because…it’s…” He looked down at their hands. “It’s Lazy Wednesday.”

Y/N recalled how Scott had said something about enjoying days where they got a day off. The rare occasion would occur where it happened in the middle of the week. They didn’t have to work. They didn’t have to be superheroes. Cassie would be with her mom. It was just them. She knew Scott adored being a dad and that they both liked their jobs, but being able to just enjoy a day? With no pressure from the outside world?

That was important to him.

“Well…Lazy Wednesdays are super important.” She kissed his shoulder, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her. “And that’s on me for forgetting. We should’ve been in here, curled up and watching movies. Not surrounded by the others.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to – “

“Shush, you.” She chuckled when Scott’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “It’s not a having to. I enjoy our Lazy Wednesdays just as much as you do. Even if they fall on a Monday or Tuesday or any other day of the week. I love them. And we have both talked about how important little things like this are to you.” Moving to sit in his lap, Y/N smiled when she noticed he was paying attention to everything she had to say. Hanging on every word. She loved that about this man. He listened to her. They communicated. It was probably the easiest part of their relationship. “Sometimes you just have to remind me if we’re in the middle of one of those days, okay?”

Scott smiled as he looked up at her, placing a small kiss on her nose. “Okay.”

“Now,” Y/N carded her fingers through his hair. “How does jumping back into pjs, ordering pizza, and watching The Goonies sound?”

Scott grinned like a kid on Christmas. “That,” he kissed her cheek. “Sounds,” then the other. A small kiss on the lips and he murmured, “Absolutely perfect.”

[nonagesimus]

this is all debbie @gaysuperhell fault

Looking back, it felt like Brady lost Jess and gained Sam in the same night.

Some party, right at the start of sophomore year, and Jess had come back after Summer with an edge and vicious smile she hadn't had the year before. Familiar, but something had changed, and she was partying harder, and rolling her eyes whenever Brady tried to ask her about it, and he'd stumbled into her at some frat party where she was being followed by some kind of behemoth. This dude so tall that he made the whole room look slightly off, because people just shouldn’t be that tall. Scrawny, still, just... big.

Jess, already looking frustrated, saw him and said, "Oh, hey, it's Brady, you guys have so much in common, you should be best friends and both stop bothering me." And she'd shoved this guy in Brady's direction and disappeared into the crowd

And the guy had watched her go, sighed, turned to Brady and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Brady," he'd said, accepting the handshake.

Maybe it wasn't that immediate. Jess had still been around after that night, and it wasn't like he and Sam had gotten together immediately. But looking back that was the bit that stood out.

After that it was seeing each other at another party, running into each other at the library, Sam casually asking if he wanted to get lunch on a study break, Brady equally casually asking if Sam would want to come to his dorm room and watch a movie. And that same movie night when some dumb joke made Sam laugh so hard that Brady leant over and kissed him until he stopped.

It became a little less casual, and a little more deliberate after that.

Brady got ready to go home for Thanksgiving, and Sam didn't. Late one night, tracing his fingers along the veins in Sam's forearm, he asked, "Are you out to your family?" They didn't acknowledge the silent is that why you're not going home that was asked alongside it.

"No," Sam said, voice quiet, nose pressed into Brady's hair. Even quieter. "I'm not, but they don't- We haven't spoken since before college."

Brady pulled him closer.

He went home for Christmas, but stayed for spring break, and he was biting his lip at flights around the date dorms close for Summer and wondering. Sam already had an apartment he was moving into, a shitty, one-bedroom that was probably far enough away from campus to cause an issue, but Sam just chirpily referred to as, "within budget." Brady was already feeling guilty for not thinking about this sooner, if they could've got a better closer place if he hadn't already been moving into a house with some friends, if he should've broken that promise to move in with Sam. If he should be staying for the Summer. He'd asked if Sam wanted to come to stay with his family, but Sam still got cagey about the fact that Brady's parents knew he existed.

Sam, ever practical, just shook his head at him. "Do you want to go see your family?"

"Yes," Brady said.

"Then go," Sam told him, with a kiss to seal it.

Brady sighed. "What if I come back a little early?" he asked. "My place won't be ready yet, would it be alright if I stayed with you for a couple weeks?"

Sam's smile answered the question.

But when Brady did come back, cramming his clothes into the little room left in the apartment, Sam was unhappy. Not at Brady, at least it didn't feel like it. Like, Sam was pleased to see him, he was just distracted, and frustrated, and edgy. Brady arrived on a Thursday and then by seven on Friday evening Sam had disappeared, and wasn't answering phone calls.

He got home sometime approaching dawn, still looking angry, with the stink of stale beer clinging to him, and piles of worn, folded twenties in his pockets. It took Brady a few minutes to realise he wasn't as drunk as he smelled, though he definitely was drunk.

They fought, and they'd fought before but Sam had always wanted to communicate. This time he was recalcitrant, and stubborn. An hour of trying not to wake the neighbours later, and he still hadn't even told Brady where he'd been for ten hours.

"Would it be better if I didn't stay here?" he asked, finally.

Sam flinched. "Do you want to go?"

"That's not what I asked."

Sam nodded, swallowed, the mulish look still on his face. "I gotta take a shower," he said, like he expected Brady to be gone by the time he was done.

When he did come out of the shower, in damp hair and sweatpants, Brady was sitting on the shitty couch he'd helped haul from where Sam found it on the sidewalk, curled up in a pile of blankets they’d found at a Goodwill. The anger wasn't there anymore; instead he looked stricken. Came to the couch, crawled into Brady's arms, and whispered apologies into his neck.

"I don't want to go," Brady said, softly, a little later. "But I want to help you and I can't if you don't talk to me."

Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "There's this dive bar a couple towns over," he said. "Just shitty beer and people making bets on pool, so I went to play a few games."

The confession seemed strikingly out of character, Brady tried to keep his tone neutral. "You left to hustle pool?" At Sam's affirmative noise he continued. "So, what's going on? Do you need the money?"

"No," Sam said, quickly. "No, I mean- I'll use it, but I don't need..." He sighed, wet eyelashes fluttering against Brady's neck. "It's what we did."

And slowly, as the sun rose, a story came spilling out about growing up in motel rooms and back rooms at bars. Of winning cash playing pool, and darts, learning how much to stumble and slur without overdoing it. Driving hours between towns, being the new kid in every school, right up until he left for college. Brady could read novels into the number of things Sam still wasn't telling him, but it was the most he'd spoken about how he grew up ever. So he didn't push, he just rubbed Sam's back and let him talk.

"I guess it's just. It's my junior year," Sam said softly. "It's been two years, and I just..."

"You miss them," Brady said, when it seemed clear Sam wouldn't continue.

"Yeah," Sam said.

Brady didn't let it get far past Christmas before confirming when Sam's lease ended, and at Sam's quizzical look saying, "Well, you don't want to renew this place, right? I'm not going all the way to campus from here every day next year."

Sam's smile was bright, and easy. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm not asking," Brady said, slipping his hands into Sam's back pockets. "I'm assuming. It's very rude of me, but am I wrong?"

So it went.

Senior year, and they were in one side of a rundown duplex, but it was theirs. With Sam's shitty side-walk couch, and dents in the walls from moving Brady's heavy-ass bed frame, and textbooks scattered everywhere. And Sam was considering coming home for Thanksgiving, finally meeting Brady's parents, and it was Halloween, and he still wouldn't wear a costume, but he came to the party, and let Brady toast to his victories, and he smiled.

Brady woke up to him getting up to go to the bathroom, and rolled over into the warm spot he left behind to keep dozing.

Only he wasn't getting up to to the bathroom; there was a thud and muffled voices, and when Brady got up to find him having a hushed conversation with a stranger in a leather jacket, illuminated by the street lamp shining through the window

“Sam?” he asked, still a little hoarse from sleep, and the bar. “What’s going on?”

“Brady,” Sam turned towards him, a look on his face Brady had never seen before. “This is Dean.” He swallowed, hard enough for Brady to see. “My brother.”

“College boy has a roommate,” Dean said, giving Brady a brief once over before looking back to Sam. “How domestic.”

And that was enough to spark something in Sam, to straighten his spine and have him striding across the room to sling an arm around Brady’s waist. “He’s my boyfriend, actually.” His voice was decisive; Brady could feel his heart skipping beats beneath his palm.

That knocked Dean back for a moment - he gave Brady a slightly more thorough look but didn’t comment. “Well, tell your boyfriend I need to borrow you.”

It became clear Sam wasn’t budging, and Dean wasn’t thrilled. There was obvious intent in words, “Dad’s been on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a couple of days.”

Sam’s frustration couldn’t be clearer as he shoved clothes into his backpack. Their apartment was not big enough that Dean couldn’t see them from where he leant against the bench in the kitchen - shit he could probably hear them. But, as much burning curiosity filled Brady’s stomach towards Sam’s brother, Dean was not who he was worried about.

“You know you don’t have to go,” he said.

Sam shot him a brief smile. “It’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t,” Brady said. “I said you didn’t have to go. Three years, they didn’t even call?”

Sam sighed. “I know. But it’s my dad, y’know. And hey, Dean knows about you now, maybe I’ll be on a roll and when we find dad, I’ll tell him too.”

“I could not give two shits what your dad thinks of me,” Brady said, earning a genuine smile that time.

“Look,” Sam said, gripping Brady by the hips and pulling him close, “It’s just a day or two. We’ll find him, and I’ll be back for my interview on Monday.”

“Good,” Brady said, hands sliding to the sides of Sam’s neck. “See, I’m planning to be some hotshot lawyer’s kept boy in a few years, and I’d hate to have to find a new candidate now.”

Sam laughed at that, and said he’d call. They exchanged I love yous, and Brady kissed him goodbye, and if he’d known it was going to be the last time he’d see Sam he never would have let go. But he didn’t, so he watched them drive away in Dean’s loud car, and went back to bed, and sent one last text message that said ‘u better fucking call’ and went back to sleep.

[pastelsandpining]

Last Christmas (Broken Heart)

The fourth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

Cover Art: @neezlebums​ be sure to show some love to the original here! I cannot stress this enough guys, PLEASE go like and reblog his work. He spends hours upon hours on every single cover drawing and it’s super disheartening that he’s getting 8 notes max on things he’s working really hard on. So please give his post as much love as you give mine!

***This piece really has nothing to do with Christmas but is setting up for a future one that does.

Words: 1601

Summary: Zelda doesn’t quite know what to do and makes a decision she thought she wanted. 

Warnings: So, this is a breakup fic. If things like that negatively affect you, I suggest skipping this one <3

BotW Modern AU with a part two

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist 

There were cans of soda on the table, unopened but still cold to the touch, with a plate of cookies in between them. The TV was on, with the Hyflix selection screen up and ready. There were blankets and pillows piled on the couch, ready to be used for a fort or a nest, or whatever they decided to do with them. Everything looked perfect, and far too normal for the night she was planning. Part of her thought she’d actually never be able to go through with it, and she didn’t know if that comforted her or stressed her out further.

But she didn’t have time to sit around and think about it, contemplating it until she chickened out, because her phone lit up with a text message. Zelda bit her lip and considered texting him to go away, but her legs carried her to the door on instinct and his smile was so bright that she felt nauseated. 

“Hey,” she greeted away, and the smile that crossed her lips was too easy to be fake. 

“Hey,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her nose. She scrunched her face up in response and stepped aside to let him into the apartment. “I brought some ice cream.”

“You remembered! And you just picked it up! You didn’t need to make a special trip,” she scolded, following him into the kitchen. 

“Of course I did. It’s not a movie night without ice cream.” 

Goddesses, why did he have to be so sweet? Zelda tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, then adjusted her shorts, but nothing was helping soothe the anxiety slowly suffocating her. 

“Well, it’s your pick tonight, so, um, hurry it up,” she said, dropping onto the couch and grabbing a pillow.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” he called with a laugh. She sunk into the cushions and hugged the pillow to her chest, fighting to keep the smile off her lips. He could make her smile so easily. Usually, she loved that about him. 

He grabbed the remote from the table and dropped into the space besides her. She curled up against him almost immediately, tucking her feet underneath her, and watched as he scrolled through the movie titles. There were plenty left to watch since they kept adding to their list, but  Zelda almost wanted him to pick a random movie of questionable quality--a movie she wasn’t likely to watch again. But he chose an animated movie, something that looked adorable, and she didn’t say anything as she reached for a drink and popped it open. Link’s arms encircled her and held her close, and she closed her eyes for a moment just to drink it all in. 

All she wanted to do was stop time and stay right there. But she knew better than to believe that was possible and to make pointless wishes. She didn’t have to do this, not really. She liked to think she’d made up her mind, though. 

She tried not to focus on it yet.

Zelda leaned her head on his shoulder and played with his fingers just to give her something to do. His hands were soft and he gave her gentle squeezes every now and then, making her heart burst inside of her chest. 

“She reminds me of you,” Link said, pointing towards the TV. She lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s crazy smart, and she’s a little badass.”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder against him and shaking her head.

“Then he reminds me of you because he’s an idiot.”

It was Link’s turn to laugh. She almost cut it off with a kiss before thinking better of it and instead going back to her original position. Hardly ten minutes had passed before he spoke again, and it seemed she wasn’t as subtle as she was trying to be because he paused the movie and took her hands.

“Zel, you’ve been really quiet. Are you okay?”

“No,” she admitted, without thinking much about it. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, bringing one of his hands up to cup her cheek. A simple gesture, one he’d done a thousand times over, was enough to break her into tears. “Zel..”

“I-I.. we need to break up,” she said quickly, wiping furiously at her eyes. Link paused, searching her eyes with a frown. His expression ripped her heart in pieces, but the words were out now and she couldn’t take them back.

“..why?” he asked, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. She’d planned this. She wanted it to go better than this. She had a speech planned and everything, a whole explanation of why, but all she could manage was a pathetic:

“I don’t know.”

Link cupped her face again, brushing gently at the never ending tears, and he didn’t say a word. Then, he nodded once. 

“Okay. Okay, take a breath, Zelda. I’m.. I’m gonna make some tea, and we’re gonna talk about this. Okay?”

Zelda nodded and once he’d disappeared into the kitchen, she took her pillow and buried her face in it. If she cried any harder, she’d suffocate. But that was fine with her. If she suffocated, she wouldn’t have to see the heartbreak on his face. 

Link didn’t return until he had two cups of warm tea in his hands. By then, she was able to breathe again. She took the mug from his hands but didn’t bother offering a smile. It wouldn’t help anything if she did, she was sure. He left a space between them when he sat too, which was fitting. But it still brought her heartache.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked, extending a hand to her. She took it, and she didn’t know if she appreciated or hated how patient he was being.

“I just.. goddesses, this is a mess.”

“Take your time.”

Zelda shook her head and when he squeezed her hand she almost burst into tears again. 

“I’m scared, I guess. I mean, we’re starting college and we’re going to be so far apart and..”

“I’d call you every night and I’d drive out to see you any time you said the word.”

“I know you would--” that’s what made it worse, “but I can’t.. I mean, if we get busy.. I don’t know how to balance everything yet. I just thought maybe it’d be safer for us if we.. took a little break until we figured it all out. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we got halfway into the semester and.. and I couldn’t handle it.”

It sounded pathetic. It sounded like excuses. All of her genuine concerns that could’ve been handled in a conversation sounded like an easy way out and she hated it. She’d rehearsed this all week, all day, and she was so frustrated at how awful it’d come out. She dropped her face into her pillow again, because she couldn’t look at him. But his fingers, warm from the cup of tea, threaded through her hair.

“Zelda.. I respect you. Is this what you want?” he asked. 

“Yes. I don’t know,” she repeated, lifting her head from the pillow and wiping her eyes.

“Do you want to try, or do you think we should just.. take a break, see how the semester goes..?” 

He looked so upset. Goddesses, she felt sick. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tears were welling up again. He must’ve noticed, because he sighed softly and pulled her against his chest. Zelda held tightly onto his shirt, fighting to keep her breathing even. It was no use though, because his fingers were back in her hair, and she was soaking his shirt. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against her head. “And if you need a break, we can take one. I’m willing to wait for you to figure things out. And if you decide that it’s better for you, then I won’t try to, like, beg you to take me back or anything.”

Zelda giggled weakly, tilting her head so she could look up at him.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’m gonna go,” he said with a tiny smile as he stood from the couch. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

She knew that wasn’t the reason, and it didn’t make her feel any better. But she nodded and said, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish the movie.”

“I’ll forgive you if I can get a kiss for the road.” 

She knew what he meant by that, too. She stood up anyway with a weak smile of her own and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He held her close, with his arms around her waist, and she didn’t want him to let go. But he did, and she tried not to reach for him when he stepped away.

“Text me when you’re home?” she asked.

“Always.” 

And then he was gone. Zelda locked her apartment door behind him and leaned back against it, burying her face in her hands. She’d gotten what she thought she wanted. She should’ve felt relieved, but all she really felt was regret. 

Link had never been anything but kind and loving to her. He didn’t deserve this. It was why she didn’t go after him. He’d left her to cry in peace, and she owed it to him to do the same. 

Why did she do this? What did she gain but a broken heart, something she brought upon herself? 

Her phone lit up again. 

[I’m home. Keep the ice cream <3]

Continued in Day 10 - Missed Connections