#so i was already anxious about that and thought that a swim would tire me out and id be less anxious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaotic-on-main · 1 year ago

Note

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!

#sky's summer event #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #modern au #asks #answered #cw parental trauma #janitor!levi ackerman #janitor!levi #hurt/comfort #fluff #eri.moots

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mistressweems · 2 years ago

Text

Tattoos & Bruises

Chapter 3

Notes: Brain has been a little tired lately. So, this one is a little shorter than the previous two.

“Please come in.” her dulcet voice had shivers shooting up your spine. Soft and soothing yet authoritarian all at the same time. Your hand pausing on the handle. Has it always sounded that why? Walking in you can’t but pause when looking at the woman before you. Her perfectly pinned up style, her colbat blue eyes watching you carefully as you slowly walked towards her desk. Arms folded on her desk; her beautiful red lips pressed finely together. Her features had always been nothing less than absolutely remarkable. Yet suddenly the Junoesque beauty had you nervous and overly aware of how captivating she is.

Your heart was already racing as you heard the knock on the door. The idea of her coming to see you made you anxious after that last evening. Her stubbornness and unwillingness to see where she was going wrong was beyond frustrating, then to go rushing you out as if the matter at hand was not important. While she was a great addition to the Academy and its sport division, all she had done so far was create your blood pressure to rise, and it only got worse as she walked in. She hadn’t said a single word and your frustrations were growing. Hoping that the young woman is not here to cause any more problems. You cant help but take her figure in. Always in black, her clothes hugged her body as if it was a part of her skin. You have never seen her wearing glasses before... why has something so simple made you feel so weak? You knew it was no way to be thinking about her, not only was she a staff member, but she was so much younger than you. Yet seeing her again had your mind running a hundred miles an hour. You wanted to her your name come from those pretty pink lips, you want those pale inked legs wrapped around you. You wanted to own every inch of her.

“I won’t take up much of your time Principal Weems, I know how busy you are” You place your proposal on her desk, you stay standing, wanting this all be over with as quickly as possible. “I wish to take my students away on a team building trip, all the details are in there, where we would be staying, what we would be doing, how long we would be gone for and all the costs. If you could please look it over and let me know. I would have to go a week ahead of the students to get everything ready for their training and team building. So…I’ll just leave that with you and wait to hear what you think.” Bowing you turning on your heels and head for the door.

“I have not dismissed you Coach Ives, sit down please.” You swallow hard at her command as you turn to do as you are told. Sitting down you watch her face, never looking up at you, her right brow is arched but there is what seems to be a slight smirk on her beautiful red lips. Your bit your bottom lip at the thought. Cursing yourself for letting the images slowly back into your mind once again. The only sound is pages turning as she reads through your proposal. It was if she was doing it all on purpose.

“I will have letters sent out to the parents of your students. I think this is a fabulous plan for your swimming team. You can however order another cabin as I will be joining you, from week 1. We travel together the morning of, just seems like the sensible thing to do” She finally looks at up and glares at you. Your heart pounding, you were pretty sure she could hear it.

The longer she stared the more nervous you got, your mouth went dry, and you found yourself avoiding her eyes and staring down at your lap. You rise slowly, giving another bow “I will make the arrangements Principal Weems.” Giving her a slight bow, you turn on your heels and head out. Once outside her office you let out what seemed to be the first breath since entering. Hanging your head, you head to your room. “Well Satine, you are screwed now.”

Why was she so nervous? She has never been nervous around you before. She even avoided eye contact with you, another thing that has never happened between you and the young Coach. But seeing her nervous and the way she bit her lip, you thought you were going to go insane. You are pretty sure you saw her cheeks turn a light shade of red. A week alone with her is just what is called for, a perfect to time to learn everything about this little creature you have hired. A week to find out what makes her tick but most importantly, to try and figure out why the redhead has had you so captivated and intrigued by her since her first interview.

---------

It was 4am when your alarm went off. It had been two weeks since Principal Weems had approved your trip. A trip she is now joining. You had packed your bags the evening before, you had sent her mail just after midnight:

Dear Principal Weems,

I have decided to get ahead start on the day and will be leaving a little earlier. I apologise for the last minute change, but I would like to make sure everything is in order and still get in my own morning training.

I will meet up with you a little later in the morning once you arrive.

Safe travels.

Regards,

Coach S. Ives

Hesitating at first, she was already not overly impressed with you. Once she sees this mail, you knew you where either going to be on thin ice, or you would be handing yourself the noose that she will hang with you with. Either way you would not be able to sit in the same car as her for 3 hours. Your mind would not be able to take it. Taking a deep breath, you hit the send and shut your laptop. No going back now.

You had your car packed and loaded and you were on your way by 4:30am. How were you going to spend a week alone with her? You rub the one sides of your temples and sigh. Having the abilities that you have could be more of a burden than anything else really. To be an empath was one thing… but you came with a bit of a twist… you also had the ability if precognition. Not only do you get you feel what others are feeling, you can see the possibilities of the future.

Your thoughts get broken by the sound of your phone ringing. Your grimace as you already know who is going to be on the other end of that call, and you know that she is not going to be happy either. You decide to ignore the call, it’s a problem that can be delt with later.

Your rest your elbow on the car door and your head on your knuckles. Watching the road ahead you smile slightly as you see your destination up ahead.

You know what she wanted… you could feel it when you were near her, you had seen it as well. That night she came to your apartment, the visions flooded you, each and every possibility that the future holds. The images flashed before your eyes… your hands bound, her hands running over you… her making you beg. While each precognition was similar, none of them currently showed an end, they showed greatness, but they also showed tears. But not one showed a way of avoiding this. If this was meant to happen, no matter what you tried, then why fight it?

You pull over, your face in your hands. You can’t let this happen. You can’t let her know that her feelings are right. Principal Weems can’t be the dominate that you have always hoped for. This is not a situation that you needed in your life. This is your job; it is your boss. You have been down this road before and look where you ended up, broken and abused. You promised yourself never again, that you will never let someone else in, no one can know your past, no one would love you because of your past. Coming out to Jericho was to get away from it all, from the hurt and from the pain. No matter what happens, you will need to keep your distance from Larissa Weems.

You were up early; bags already packed the night before. But you wanted get a few things done for the staff for the week coming up before you and the coach set off. Checking the time, you settle at your desk with your morning coffee. You had an hour before meeting the Coach at the car at 6am. Scanning to see if there are any important mails you find one that catches your eye. Opening it you can’t help but groan. She had already left. This was proving to be more challenging than even you liked. You have bitten your tongue regarding her students and name changing, you have let her eat on her own. Meetings she attended more of, still not enough but it was a start. But this, is was now pushing you to your limits. While she was most fascinating, the day those combat boots stepped through your doors, you knew she was going to be a different kind of trouble for you. It was time for the dark creature to learn her place in your school.

By 6am you were on the road. The more you thought of the email and the Coach the more your temper grew. You have never had a staff member like this in all your years, you were certainly not going to let it happen now. It would seem that the Coach needs training of her own, and you were very ready to start her lessons.

Chapter 4

PS.... Do I need to start a tag list?

#gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems #larissa x oc #larissa weems #girls who like girls #lesbian pride #lgbtq

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briamichellewrites · 3 months ago

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It’s Mike. The drunk guy from last night. Thank you for calling a cab for me. Is there any way I can pay you back? It’s not a problem at all. – Mike

Mike took painkillers to help with his hangover. His head felt nauseous, so he collapsed back into bed after eating a late breakfast/early lunch. When he closed his eyes, the room stopped spinning. This was much better. His stomach was working on absorbing the alcohol. The last time he got drunk was in college. He was still learning about his alcohol tolerance. If he went out again, he would make sure he didn’t overdo it. The bartender declined his offer. He was just happy he made it home safely. The bar hated drunk drivers. They made it their mission to make sure nobody drove home under the influence.

Even if it meant using their money to pay for cab fares. Sometimes they took the customer’s car keys. He smelled disgusting like he had thrown up and wet himself. He looked down and noticed a wet stain. Yes, he did. He went to his closet and grabbed a change of clothes, before going into the bathroom. The bathtub was calling his name. He started the water before grabbing his phone from his bedroom. Just in case anyone tried to get a hold of him. He set it on the ledge before taking off his clothes. It vibrated with a call from Dave. He was anxious to know if he was okay.

“Physically, yes. Mentally, no.”

“I’m coming over.”

“You can do that. Just know that I’m taking a bath right now.”

“Mike, I’ve already seen you naked. Thank you for warning me, anyway.”

After putting the phone back on the ledge, he ducked underneath the water. He hoped it would drag him down. As he held his breath, he saw himself and Jason as little kids. They were swimming around in the community pool. Who could hold their breath the longest? That was one of their favourite games. They would get a warning from the lifeguard. They didn’t know that their game put them at risk of drowning. Oh, well.

They were kids being kids. He came back up to see Dave coming in. As he coughed, he asked if he was okay. He nodded, as his lungs filled with air. Yes, I am. He sat down beside the bathtub, as he wiped the water from his face. Some of it went up his nose. It would eventually come out.

“Mike, I never thought I would see you in the bathtub.”

He laughed. “There’s a first time for everything. I woke up feeling like shit.”

“Take care of yourself. I would join you but that bathtub looks tiny.”

“I think it’s meant for children. I’ll replace it eventually with a bigger one.”

After a while, he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Dave let him dry off and get dressed. He put his dirty clothes away before going downstairs. They talked about Bria getting a new cat, while he made himself something to eat. It didn’t surprise him that she got a new cat. What kind of breed was it? It was a mixed breed. He couldn’t remember what it was. Her father went with her to get it. Jasper. Was that his name? Yeah. Oh, yeah. Now he remembered. It was a different name.

“I think it’s old-fashioned. Her mother’s name is Christina, which is more common.”

“Henry. That’s the cat’s name. Micha and Henry. He was a cute little guy.”

“Henry. That’s an odd name for a cat.”

“I’m pretty sure he came with that name. Anyway, he’s going to be spoilt. She’s going to bring him and Micha over to have a playdate with her parents’ cat. Maybe she would have one with Rob. She mentioned doing that and inviting whoever wanted to come over.”

As much as he wasn’t a cat guy, he thought that was a cute idea. Chester and Joe would probably join them.

Meow. Henry was running around the living room. He had so much energy that he needed to get it out. Bria rolled a ball to him. He got on his hind legs and caught it with his paws. It rolled away from him, so he ran after it. I got you! Micha was watching him playing from his bed. The kitten could play but he was tired. He yawned, showing his teeth. She petted him. Thank you, human.

Mike was self-medicating with men and alcohol. He slept with Chester while they were both under the influence. He was married with a baby on the way, along with a son from his previous girlfriend. But he and his wife were not getting along. She resented him for his career. He felt like he couldn’t talk to her because she didn’t care. There was something special with Mike. He felt safe with him. As a straight guy, he never thought he would be in bed with his best friend.

Alcohol had a way of clouding judgment. Did he regret it? No. He didn’t remember anything, so he wanted to have the experience again while sober. Mikey. His Mikey. He made sure he was okay to get home. Yes, he was. He was hungover, but he was sober enough to drive. Right? When he got home, Samantha was not happy about him being gone all night.

He smelt like alcohol, which made her upset. You’re not supposed to be drinking! He excused himself to the bathroom because he had to throw up. Thankfully, he made it to the toilet. His body and head felt nauseous. He flushed the toilet before rinsing his mouth out with water. She continued talking to him whilst he dragged himself to the bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes. She sat down next to him. The next twenty-four hours were going to be hell.

Nobody knew he was drinking or sleeping with different men he found at the gay bar. He was in denial. I don’t have a problem. He was just having fun. Alcoholics were falling drunk or getting arrested for driving under the influence. That wasn’t him. He could function without alcohol. That was a lie. He drank to get the voices out of his head.

He still did his housework and made his appointments with his therapist. Did she know he was lying? He didn’t know. While he made himself dinner, he had a beer. The house was too quiet, so he put on music. Depeche Mode. Jason introduced him to the band. Chester was a big fan of theirs. Chester. Sweet, sensitive Chester. The world didn’t deserve him. His thoughts got away from him and he almost burnt the vegetables. God, damn it! He scolded himself for not paying attention.

Bria was hanging out with Brad Pitt. She was in demand, so he contacted her through her agent. He asked if they could meet to talk about collaborating on a project. She gave him her address since it was more private than meeting in public. Meow! Micha swiped his paw at Henry, who was annoying him. He jumped out of the way.

Bria picked him up after sitting down. She told him to leave his brother alone. Meow. She scratched his head. It was hard being a kitten sometimes. He just wanted to play. He put his paws on her shirt. Meow. She meowed back to him. I love you. He loved her, too. Brad found her house fairly easily. It had old Hollywood charm and was beautiful. His wife, Jennifer would love it! Especially since it was very private. That was something they were always fighting for. Privacy.

She invited him in while on the phone with someone. I’ll call you back later. After she hung up, she apologised. Her father called her about coming over with the cat. It wasn’t a problem. They introduced themselves. She invited him to her living room, where the cats were hanging out. How many cats did she have? Just two. She introduced them as Micha and Henry.

Meow. Hi, human! He started the conversation by mentioning Topher, who was a friend of hers. Yes, he was. She met him when she did a cameo on his show. They also did a short film together. He was a cool dude. She introduced him to her other friends. He saw the short film they did. It was very good. Thank you. What background did she have? She did acting and dance classes; and theatre as a child in school. As well as piano, guitar and piano lessons. She could also play music by ear. What school did she go to? Le Lycèe Francias de Los Angeles. Was that the French school? Yes.

He was impressed. The more they continued talking, the more he found out about her. She was a singer/songwriter but that was on hold. At the moment, she was a model for Chanel though she wanted to do more acting.

Chester was kicked out, so he landed back at Mike’s. They continued drinking while talking. When they were drunk, they went upstairs. Chester took control of his body. He pushed him against the wall before kissing his neck. You’re mine. Mike groaned as he felt his tongue on his skin. He sucked and licked him until his pants got too tight.

They were pulled down with his underwear. His hands touched him, as he went down his body. He was dragging it out and he hated him for it. Finally, he felt his lips and tongue on him. He sighed in relief, as he finished. Chester went into the bathroom and rinsed out his mouth.

Jason decided to surprise his brother by visiting him. He found the door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open. What he heard shocked him. He went upstairs to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. No, his brother was in bed with another man. They were too involved to notice him standing in the doorway. He heard them groaning and talking to each other. He got the hell out of there! That was not something he wanted to see or hear!

Bria invited him over. Brad just left. They had a great meeting! He wanted to work with her. When he got to the house, she invited him in.

“Jay, you look like you saw a ghost.”

“I... It was worse than that! I went over to surprise Mike. He was in bed with some guy! They didn’t even notice that I was there!”

TMI, dude! She did not need to know that! He joked about being cursed and mentally traumatised. Fuck you. He laughed and groaned. She called him adorable. He wrapped his arms around her. To help him through his traumatic experience, she offered to take him out to dinner. He would love that. She just had to feed her cats first. He let her do that.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

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justamessedupdisneyprincess · 5 months ago

Text

Still got a long way to go with the comic. But when I get ideas for even just some funny dialogue I write it down. Even if it won’t be there until like chapter 6 or something. I just wrote these down and I’m freaking dying! Light spoilers but nothing major. WARNING bits of dark humour. It might take years to be in the comic but anyway-

Just before the water temple

There are only four potions left that can give them the ability to breathe underwater. Ian, Barley and Elliot had to be there so who would the fourth be?

Matt: well. I think this might be a job for me. I am the athlete here, you could use the muscle! I bet ya you all would be tired of swimming long before me.

Barley: Well sorry to burst your bubble but the warrior role is already taken.

Matt: Wha?! Warrior?! You?! Look at that gut! You call that the body of a warrior?! *he pokes at his gut and Barley looks pissed*

Barley: watch it! I may have a big gut on me but I can assure you I have plenty of muscle too! In fact the extra weight merely adds to my strength!

Matt: Oh yeah? Then prove it! Arm wrestle! Right now!

Barley: You’re on! Prepare to lose!

Ian groans

Daisy: what about me then? I love to go swimming!

The merchant there: oh honey, I don’t think the swamps are any place for a child.

Daisy pouts: aww! Why not?

The merchant mentions how there is a giant crocodile like beast that has been lurking in there and endangering those waters with its presence.

Elliot: a beast you say? That sounds like it may be a job for a warden.

Izzy: Eh?

Elliot: Izzy, I believe it would be best if you accompany us!

Later Izzy is nervous to leave Luna with the three, Matt, Daisy and Ebony. She gulps and arrows show her thoughts and doubts over the character.

Ebony: Izzy thinks that she hates her

Matt: jerk

Daisy: naive child

Before Izzy leaves she gives a long list of rules to Daisy before approaching the other two

Izzy: now you better take good care of her. Because I swear if ANYTHING bad happens to her…I will ensure you that your deaths would be the most excruciatingly painful in the goddamn history of the universe.

Ebony: ok. *casual blank poker face*

Matt actually looked a bit unnerved.

Izzy: I will literally rip your intestines out and use them to hang you.

Ebony still looking casual and chill: Ok.

Matt looks terrified.

Izzy then walks off and waves at Daisy, she smiles at her though: now remember, don’t try to feed her anything out of the ordinary! Jackalopes have extremely sensitive tummies and-

Close up of Izzy’s face who looks all anxious: they could die of a stomach ache…

They leave and Daisy waves happily while Matt still looks a bit scared. Ebony is just standing there with her arms crossed.

#onward #disney #pixar #forbidden #forbidden spoiler #forbidden spoilers #barley lightfoot #onward barley #ian lightfoot #izzy sparklberry #izzy the imp #onward ian #matt the minotaur #Ebony the orc #Daisy the Minotaur #luna the jackalope #script #forbidden script #dark humour

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eterealista · 1 year ago

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Sinking feelings.

I am drowning. The current was strong, and it swept me off, and I have been drowning for months. It started out silently, as it usually does, and when I finally noticed it, it was too late, I was underwater already. And it's not that I don't know how to swim, I do. But I have been thrown off by crushing waves so many times before, swam my way out only to get thrown against rocks again so I figured, what's the point?

I am in this weird limbo, constantly worried, anxious and hurting, you know, from all the water. But I don't actually die, and I am getting tired so I must decide whether to swim back up or continue hurting.

Depression sneaks up on you, you feel fine one day and then suddenly you haven't showered in days, your home is messy, and there's takeout packages everywhere. You feel like crawling out of your skin but can't actually move. It's only you, darkness and the unstopping current of pestering thoughts in your head.

I can't breathe under all this water, I can't see surrounded by all this darkness, I can't feel anything but tired.

I constantly see perfect lives on a tiny screen, I read about incredible love and friendship stories and wonder if that will ever be me.

Because at the moment it's just me, in the middle of the ocean, angry, tired, trapped by darkness and uncertainty, willing myself to survive when all my focus is centered on how easy it would be to just let go.

Letting the void consume me. Surrendering. Give up. Let go.

I can't drown and I refuse to keep floating aimlessly, with a heart full of anger, sorrow and regret that sinks me further each day.

I better start swimming then.

-J.

#writing #tw depressing stuff #mental illness #mental health #depressing shit #creative writing #poetry #poem

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sadoeuphemist · 5 years ago

Text

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Climb aboard, then!” But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown. “Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”

“I can’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”

___

...But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the frog felt a subtle motion on its back, and in a panic dived deep beneath the rushing waters, leaving the scorpion to drown.

“It was going to sting me anyway,” muttered the frog, emerging on the other side of the river. “It was inevitable. You all knew it. Everyone knows what those scorpions are like. It was self-defense.”

___

...But no sooner had they cast off from the bank, the frog felt the tip of a stinger pressed lightly against the back of its neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” said the frog.

“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

They swam in silence to the other end of the river, where the scorpion climbed off, leaving the frog fuming.

“After the kindness I showed you!” said the frog. “And you threatened to kill me in return?”

“Kindness?” said the scorpion. “To only invite me on your back after you knew I was defenseless, unable to use my tail without killing myself? My dear frog, I only treated you as I was treated. Your kindness was as poisoned as a scorpion’s sting.”

___

...“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

“You have a point,” the frog acknowledged. “But once we get to dry land, couldn’t you sting me then without repercussion?”

“All I want is to cross the river safely,” said the scorpion. “Once I’m on the other side I would gladly let you be.”

“But I would have to trust you on that,” said the frog. “While you’re pressing a stinger to my neck. By ferrying you to land I’d be be giving up the one deterrent I hold over you.”

“But by the same logic, I can’t possibly withdraw my stinger while we’re still over water,” the scorpion protested.

The frog paused in the middle of the river, treading water. “So, I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

The river rushed around them. The scorpion’s stinger twitched against the frog’s unbroken skin. “I suppose so,” the scorpion said.

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Absolutely not!” said the frog, and dived beneath the waters, and so none of them learned anything.

___

A scorpion, being unable to swim, asked a turtle (as in the original Persian version of the fable) to carry it across the river. The turtle readily agreed, and allowed the scorpion aboard its shell. Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell. The turtle, swimming placidly, failed to notice.

They reached the other side of the river, and parted ways as friends.

___

...Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell.

The turtle, hearing the tap of the scorpion’s sting, was offended at the scorpion’s ungratefulness. Thankfully, having been granted the powers to both defend itself and to punish evil, the turtle sank beneath the waters and drowned the scorpion out of principle.

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” sneered the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back.”

The scorpion pleaded earnestly. “Do you think so little of me? Please, I must cross the river. What would I gain from stinging you? I would only end up drowning myself!”

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Even a scorpion knows to look out for its own skin. Climb aboard, then!”

But as they forged through the rushing waters, the scorpion grew worried. This frog thinks me a ruthless killer, it thought. Would it not be justified in throwing me off now and ridding the world of me? Why else would it agree to this? Every jostle made the scorpion more and more anxious, until the frog surged forward with a particularly large splash, and in panic the scorpion lashed out with its stinger.

“I knew it,” snarled the frog, as they both thrashed and drowned. “A scorpion cannot change its nature.”

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. The frog agreed, but no sooner than they were halfway across the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.

“I’ve only myself to blame,” sighed the frog, as they both sank beneath the waters. “You, you’re a scorpion, I couldn’t have expected anything better. But I knew better, and yet I went against my judgement! And now I’ve doomed us both!”

“You couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion mildly. “It’s your nature.”

___

...“Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”

“Alas, I was of two natures,” said the scorpion. “One said to gratefully ride your back across the river, and the other said to sting you where you stood. And so both fought, and neither won.” It smiled wistfully. “Ah, it would be nice to be just one thing, wouldn’t it? Unadulterated in nature. Without the capacity for conflict or regret.”

___

“By the way,” said the frog, as they swam, “I’ve been meaning to ask: What’s on the other side of the river?”

“It’s the journey,” said the scorpion. “Not the destination.”

___

...“What’s on the other side of anything?” said the scorpion. “A new beginning.”

___

...”Another scorpion to mate with,” said the scorpion. “And more prey to kill, and more living bodies to poison, and a forthcoming lineage of cruelties that you will be culpable in.”

___

...”Nothing we will live to see, I fear,” said the scorpion. “Already the currents are growing stronger, and the river seems like it shall swallow us both. We surge forward, and the shoreline recedes. But does that mean our striving was in vain?”

___

“I love you,” said the scorpion.

The frog glanced upward. “Do you?”

“Absolutely. Can you imagine the fear of drowning? Of course not. You’re a frog. Might as well be scared of breathing air. And yet here I am, clinging to your back, as the waters rage around us. Isn’t that love? Isn’t that trust? Isn’t that necessity? I could not kill you without killing myself. Are we not inseparable in this?”

The frog swam on, the both of them silent.

___

“I’m so tired,” murmured the frog eventually. “How much further to the other side? I don’t know how long we’ve been swimming. I’ve been treading water. And it’s getting so very dark.”

“Shh,” the scorpion said. “Don’t be afraid.”

The frog’s legs kicked out weakly. “How long has it been? We’re lost. We’re lost! We’re doomed to be cast about the waters forever. There is no land. There’s nothing on the other side, don’t you see!”

“Shh, shh,” said the scorpion. “My venom is a hallucinogenic. Beneath its surface, the river is endlessly deep, its currents carrying many things.”

“You - You’ve killed us both,” said the frog, and began to laugh deliriously. “Is this - is this what it’s like to drown?”

“We’ve killed each other,” said the scorpion soothingly. “My venom in my glands now pulsing through your veins, the waters of your birthing pool suffusing my lungs. We are engulfing each other now, drowning in each other. I am breathless. Do you feel it? Do you feel my sting pierced through your heart?”

“What a foolish thing to do,” murmured the frog. “No logic. No logic to it at all.”

“We couldn’t help it,” whispered the scorpion. “It’s our natures. Why else does anything in the world happen? Because we were made for this from birth, darling, every moment inexplicable and inevitable. What a crazy thing it is to fall in love, and yet - It’s all our fault! We are both blameless. We’re together now, darling. It couldn’t have happened any other way.”

___

“It’s funny,” said the frog. “I can’t say that I trust you, really. Or that I even think very much of you and that nasty little stinger of yours to begin with. But I’m doing this for you regardless. It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s strange. Why would I do this? I want to help you, want to go out of my way to help you. I let you climb right onto my back! Now, whyever would I go and do a foolish thing like that?”

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Come aboard, then!” But no sooner had the scorpion mounted the frog’s back than it began to sting, repeatedly, while still safely on the river’s bank.

The frog groaned, thrashing weakly as the venom coursed through its veins, beginning to liquefy its flesh. “Ah,” it muttered. “For some reason I never considered this possibility.”

“Because you were never scared of me,” the scorpion whispered in its ear. “You were never scared of dying. In a past life you wore a shell and sat in judgement. And then you were reborn: soft-skinned, swift, unburdened, as new and vulnerable as a child, moving anew through a world of children. How could anyone ever be cruel, you thought, seeing the precariousness of it all?” The scorpion bowed its head and drank. “How could anyone kill you without killing themselves?”

#fiction

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

Text

They Always Do.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: insecurity

Requested: Nope

Summary: "you're not worried? he seems to be spending a lot of time with her..." "no" "why not?" "because i braced myself for this months ago. they leave, they always do. it's nothing new"

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! The first part of this fic is fluff, angst in the middle, fluff again at the end. Nothing too extreme, just a little one-shot. Enjoy!

---

"Sebastian, Y/N, so glad you made it!" Susan Downey smiled warmly at the couple. "Of course, we couldn't miss the 56th birthday of the one and only Iron Man," Sebastian chuckled, walking into the house with his girlfriend. He put his arm around Y/N, observing the place. "Guys! Hello!" they heard.

"Mr Downey," Y/N greeted politely, turning to smile at the birthday boy. "You must be the girlfriend," he grinned, pulling her into a bear hug. "Yep, that's me." Then he turned to Sebastian, frowning. "Why didn't you introduce her to everyone sooner?" Y/N laughed as Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging.

"Don't ask me, she was the one too chicken to meet you!" Sebastian defended himself, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend. She snorted as Robert let go of her, returning to Sebastian's side. "I guess that's on me," she sighed dramatically, making both men laugh. "Well, enjoy yourselves! Have a drink, have fun!"

With that, he walked away. Sebastian noticed a server holding up a tray of drinks and called him over. He handed a glass to Y/N and took one for himself, taking a sip. "Thanks for bringing me over, honey," Y/N smiled and he turned to her, scoffing. "You're my girlfriend! God knows they were dying to meet you," he laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

With that they went around the place, talking to new people, old friends and making new acquaintances. Y/N had a lot of fun meeting Sebastian's co-stars, and especially loved Elizabeth Olsen. Y/N was a huge Marvel fan and one of her favorite works of the MCU was WandaVision. Y/N had fangirled a bit, not gonna lie.

Like that passed an hour. After her feet started hurting, Sebastian decided it was time for the woman to sit down, have a drink and chill out. "Okay doll, here's a glass of champagne, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I'm going there, with Chris and Anthony. I love you." She smiled when he gave her a quick kiss.

"I love you too, and don't worry, I'll find you easy. This place isn't that big."

"I heard that!"

Laughing at her antics, Sebastian gave his girlfriend one more loving kiss before prancing out of the room in search of his best friends, Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie. Y/N relaxed on the comfortable couch with a sigh, sipping on her drink. It all began a year ago, very cheesily, might I add.

Y/N was at her favourite coffee shop when he had walked in. Immediately, fans had him surrounded, but she didn't go over to him. She stayed seated, looking at him, wishing she could go over but she knew how stressful fan interactions were for celebrities. Sebastian had, unfortunately, caught her eye and she had turned beet red, burying her face in her laptop.

He had found her absolutely winsome and after the crowd around him had dissipated, he had wandered over to her table and introduced himself. She was flustered around him, which made him tingly inside. And he had blurted out, "Wanna meet here next Saturday at 7?" They kept their promise and that's how they started dating.

A year ago.

That was a healthy amount of time.

Right?

Y/N couldn't help but have her doubts. All her previous relationships were pathetic failures, where the guy usually got bored of her within 3 months. But now, she had braced herself for rejection (which she knew deep down wasn't coming but it pays to be careful). "Hey."

Startled, she turned to see a kinda young, kinda drunk woman sitting next to her, looking up at her with doe eyes. "Hi," Y/N smiled back politely. "You're— you're the woman!" She had started slurring her words, which made Y/N frown a bit. "I'm… what?" she blinked. "The girl! Who came over with Sebastian Stan, you're his girlfriend!" The woman laughed loudly.

A few heads turned towards them but quickly looked away when they realized that the girl was drunk. "Yep, that's me. Why?" Y/N was now amused. As they talked, she didn't notice Sebastian walking into the room. He had come back to ask Y/N something but had paused in his tracks when he saw her frowning at the young, drunk woman.

Then he inched closer, unabashedly eavesdropping on her conversation. "Yep, saw him spending a lot of time with Ms Lizzie Olsen. If he was mine, girl, I would take that man home and show him who truly belongs to him, if you know what I mean," the girl winked and a sad smile bloomed on Y/N's face. "They're good friends, of course they're gonna spend time together."

Sebastian smiled at her answer. He knew she was different, she didn't get easily jealous and he liked that, since it reduced the number of arguments they had by a lot. His jealousy? Well, that's a story for another time… "You don't mind? He seems to be spending a lot of time with her…" the drunk woman frowned at Y/N.

Well, she was drunk, she wouldn't remember this night anyway, so maybe… it would be good to get some things off her chest.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I braced myself for this months ago. They leave, they always do. It's nothing new," Y/N admitted, swirling the champagne that was swimming in her half-full glass. Sebastian's heart shattered into a million pieces at her words. Before the words were even completely out of her mouth, tears had started stinging in his eyes.

"Y/N?" Startled yet again, Y/N turned to see Sebastian smiling at her. "Seb! Hi, thought you were with your friends!" she grinned at him. "I— uh— something came up, we need to go," he spoke quietly, fidgeting with his hands. Y/N's brows furrowed but she got up, collecting her coat and her purse.

"Can we at least say Happy Birthday to Robert?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." Sebastian managed a weak smile when she gave him a kiss on the cheek, going off to find Robert and Susan. She told them something urgent came up and they allowed the couple to leave. "Seb, let's go!" He followed her out of the house, meekly trailing behind her, the words she said ringing in his ears.

They leave, they always do. It's nothing new.

How had this woman, practically a Goddess, had such bad experiences that she was forced to think that way? He was never going to leave her, having found the perfect woman at last. He got into the driver's seat of his car, and the car ride home was quiet. Y/N was getting anxious. What happened to him? Did something happen at the party?

Once they were home, Sebastian couldn't help himself. "S—" Y/N yelped when he crushed her to his body, hugging her tightly. He took both of them to their shared bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her on his lap and buried his face in her chest, breaking down. "Seb, honey, what's wrong?" Y/N cooed, getting insanely paranoid.

The crying didn't stop for 15 minutes. Y/N, in a futile attempt to get him to stop, was running a hand through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, holding him close. When he took in a shuddering breath, he pulled away and finally looked Y/N in her eyes. "Now are you going to tell me what happened?" she smiled gently.

He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her wrist. "I'm sorry," he croaked out and Y/N frowned. "Sorry for what?" He shook his head, burying his face back in his safe haven. Except, Y/N wasn't having any of that. She pulled him away and dropped a soft kiss to his forehead. "Tell me what happened."

He took in another shaky breath.

"I… I heard you."

"Heard me?" Y/N blinked. "Yes. You were… you were talking to that girl on the couch and she was— she was talking about how I seem to be spending a lot of time with Lizzie and you— you said you didn't mind but she kept on insisting and you said they leave. they always do. I'm not going to leave you, Y/N, I promise. You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I'm not letting you go."

Oh.

"Seb," Y/N whispered, her own eyes now filled to the brim with tears. "Don't cry," he chuckled with a watery voice, wiping her tears off. "It's just— all my relationships before you… the guys were assholes. They always left 2-3 months in. I— I wasn't taking any chances with you, you know… plus, you're kind of a famous guy and you can get so many better women—"

He didn't want to hear it. Better than Y/N? Impossible. He pressed his lips to her, immediately deepening the kiss when she reciprocated. "I promise you, I cannot do any better than you." Y/N smiled shyly at his words and his heart filled with happiness. "Let's go to sleep."

Both of them tired from the crying, they got undressed without trying any funny business. Y/N put on her usual pair of shorts and one of Sebastian's huge t-shirts, getting into the bed where a boxer-clad Sebastian already lay. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his chest, draping an arm around his taut abdomen.

"Comfy?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, doll, I love you."

"I love you too, Seb. Goodnight."

"...Never gonna leave you."

"Not a chance."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you liked it!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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atozfic · 3 years ago

Text

a touch of frost.

pairing. park seonghwa x fem!reader.

synopsis. when the lonely prince had his heart broken, a winter so cold overcame the kingdom of arendelle. decades later, the cold remains, the townsfolk wondering when they’ll see the sun again and the lonely prince longing to feel a touch of warmth.

warnings. lovers to strangers to lovers, frozen au, royalty au, soulmate au, jackfrost!seonghwa, prince!seonghwa, immortal!seonghwa, witch!reader, misogyny, a messy magic system but just go with it, blood, death, mentions of war and famine, stupid references to frozen. smut ( dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, jealous sex, description of male genitalia, bulging, marking, praising, nipple play, clit play, a singular example of name calling, breeding kink- it’s seonghwa, wtf were y’all expecting?, thigh fucking(?), seonghwa has a thing for thighs, temperature play but with a fun and new twist, implied daddy kink, basically a bunch of shit that’s getting me sent to hell )

word count. 23.8k

hyde’s input. she’s finally here and it only took a couple of mental breakdowns. there is a moment in the fic where the reader briefly mentions the way male genitalia looks and she speaks not so nicely (i swear it’s nothing horrible) but this is just where i want to quickly remind everyone there is no correct or best way for any of our genitalia (or bodies in general) to look. we all come in different shapes and sizes and that’s more than okay! also, if anyone can guess who the wolf is, i will give you a mf kiss or something, idk.

watch the fic trailer here !

no one knows why the cold arrived.

it simply did, on a day destined to be warm and lively, and the very peak of the summer season. anxious children had fallen asleep dreaming of frolicking in the water down by the beach, just like adults had dreamt of basking in the summer heat. when the kingdom awoke, however, a collective cry of hysteria would ring out as everyone opened their curtains to find the ground covered in a layer of snow.

they were all so quick to call it a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity, a gift from mother nature. they traded in their swimming costumes and sandals for fur coats and woolly gloves, running out the door to play in the snow instead of the sand, building snowmen instead of sandcastles.

by the end of the bizarre day, each head fell to rest on it’s pillow and drifted off into a land of dreams, thinking of how the next day they would feel the refreshing feeling of waves crashing into them.

they would awaken to snow once more.

the kingdom’s people were never one to dwell on things, however, and decided to continue making the best out of this unexpected splash of white that had painted their land seemingly overnight. children of all ages flooded the neighbourhoods, joining together in a harmless fight made up of snow balls and obnoxious laughter. adults crowded together to gossip about the weather and the recent scandals in the land: who’d been caught cheating on who, what couple was having trouble conceiving, the upcoming coronation.

when king park had announced he was officially stepping back from leading the land of arendelle, the people weeped. decades were spent under the gentle ruling of his fist, decades in which the small kingdom had seen itself flourish into something truly magnificent, a nation envied by all those in it’s surroundings. everyone understood, though, that it was his time to say goodbye. the passing of the years aging him and the passing of his wife breaking him beyond repair.

while the people still mourned the end of his reign, they could all feel a tug of excited nausea at the thought of their next ruler, the eldest of king park’s two sons.

on the third day of snow, folks slowly began to grow tired of it. they’d already made it through the harsh winter, which had eased it’s way into a gentle spring and left them craving the skin-licking heat of the summer.

by the time a week had passed and the chill in the air was beginning to strengthen it’s roots, clamping down and draining the kingdom of it’s nutrients, the people began to demand answers from their royals.

they would receive nothing but silence, the castle doors shutting completely and all forms of communicating with them being cut off.

a whole year passed, in which the kingdom had all prayed for the warmth to return, at least come the next summer. it did not and this alone seemed to confirm people’s greatest fear: the cold was here to stay. it was as if summer had died- in fact, that’s exactly what some people claimed.

answers as to why this had happened would vary from person to person.

the scientists claimed it was inevitable. nothing more than a necessary and unavoidable phase of the earth’s life, who had a pattern of dealing with ice ages in the past. the one thing these scientists could never explain was why the cold only affected arendelle.

the religious claimed it was a punishment sent by the gods. angered one too many times, ignored even more, they’d extracted vengeance on killing the crops and forcing the people into a period of starvation. the religious could never explain what arendelle had done wrong, however, given it’s fairly short history and lack of war crimes.

and then there were the myth believers.

if you asked them, it was like opening up a can of worms, filled with different conspiracy theories. some believed a witch had cursed their land, commissioned by a neighbouring kingdom who had grown a little too envious of their flourishing land, while others believed the ancient myth of the son of winter and the daughter of summer, two lovers ripped apart by death.

come the second year, the castle doors reopened at last, inviting it’s people in to discuss the state of affairs and help calm their nerves ahead of the lack of crops. but, as the people feasted on the sight of the throne room for the first time in years, there was a silent yet collective agreement.

the man sat upon the throne was not king park’s eldest son.

even in your dreams, it is cold.

you were only six years old, a child filled with wanderlust, when you began to realize there was something not quite normal about you. the realization hit you in the school playground, as you and your friends struggled to build a snowman. you all began to talk about the dreams you’d had the night before. the next day, you all done the same. and the day after, and the day after that one too.

your friends had new tales every day, dreams of fighting ferocious dragons and rescuing knights in distress. of feeling the sun’s warmth and watching a field of flowers bloom. your dreams, however, never changed. day in and day out, you had retold the same event. you stopped talking about it once you noticed they’d all stopped listening, having heard it so many times they could recite it themselves.

since then, you never told another soul about the dream you were plagued with every night for as long as you can remember.

a gust of wind has you pulling your coat around you tighter as a howl rings out in the distance. somewhere past the rows of trees, buried deep within the forest, you picture a lone wolf. hungry, tired, lonely and crying out for it’s pack. you don’t linger on the thought for too long, there’s still a few steps left for you to take.

the lake is the same as always: uninviting, terror inducing, frozen. though you should already be used to it, you still feel like a frightened little kid each time you come across it.

it takes you longer than usual to rest your sight on the man.

he stands across the frozen body of water, back turned to you like always. if it wasn’t for the black hair upon his head, moving softly with the cold air, you would have guessed he was a statue.

perfect build, perfect posture, perfectly still.

you know there’s no point prolonging the inevitable and take your first step onto the lake. the ice cracks beneath you with each cautious step, the fragmenting lake giving you no choice but to continue forward, towards the tall stranger. turning back will only lead you to the fate of plunging into the water, something you only needed to experience once to know you never want to again.

he’s either taller up close or you’re shrinking in on yourself, it doesn’t make much of a difference when you reach your hand out slowly, landing a soft tap against his pristinely dressed shoulder. you brace yourself for what always comes next, the man turning around painfully slowly and his voice, steady and present and warm when it reaches your ears.

“yeoleum?”

your eyes snap open, the familiar four walls of your bedroom greeting you as your father’s calls of your name ring through the small house. outside your window, the snow falls a little heavier than the day before and you sigh, swinging your legs off the bed and rising to stretch your body.

year twenty one and, still, you awake without seeing the man’s face.

stood within the grand hall of the castle, surrounded by all kinds of noble people in lavish dresses and tailored suits, the air filled with the sweet scents of perfumes and pastries, the finest of musicians gently playing their instruments of choice to give people a rhythm to move to, there is only one thing on your mind.

your corset is two seconds away from crushing your lungs.

this wouldn’t usually be a problem, if you were literally anywhere else in the world. because right now you’re more than sure of the fact you look short of breath, lungs struggling to pull in a breath of air. you haven’t danced once in the whole evening, unlike most of the people surrounding you, who all easily partnered off with lovers and strangers alike. all you’ve really done is sip expensive champagne, nibble on weird platters of food far too fancy for your taste palate and observe your surroundings. there’s always been something about the royal castle that, despite only having been inside of it a handful of times, has felt like home to you. it’s comforting, familiar, warm.

like a place you once knew, a touch you once felt.

from across the room, you feel your father’s eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. he wants you to go over to him, while you want to do the complete opposite because, if you have to listen to him tell you to put yourself out there one more time this evening, you’re more than certain you’re going to commit arson. the fact he’s only encouraging you so much because he thinks it’s about time you be married off only infuriates you more. it’s the king’s husband’s birthday party, for heaven’s sake.

this isn’t husband bingo or the find-your-perfect-suitor gala!

still, you give in to his incessant staring, knowing it’s unlikely he’ll give up without a huff or a groan. the skirt of your gown makes your steps awkward from how much you’re focusing on not tripping over your own two feet or getting tangled in the rich blue material. you’d already slipped and landed on your ass at every other royal event you’d attended, it's about time you put an end to the embarrassing tradition.

though, as you smack face into the solid chest of a man, you find yourself missing the old tradition.

“i’m so sorry! i was so busy focusing on my own footsteps that i must have-” as your mind registers just exactly who stands in front of you, you feel your face pale as the blood drains from it and your mouth dries up all at once. “your highness!”

there he stands, in all his glory, golden crown resting upon his greying hair and a passive look on his face. against his shoulders rests the royal robe, a deep, blood red and carrying so much history, having been worn by every prior king of arendelle.

including his own father, king park.

if you were to be asked to list everything you know about king felix, you would be at a loss for words. because, the truth is, no matter how many historical texts you’ve read nor how many times you’ve spoken to your grandmother about him, there is little anyone knows. at best, you know he isn’t the rightful king. or, at least, he isn’t who was originally intended to take over the throne after his father stepped down. his elder brother was the rightful king, until the cold came and he disappeared, leaving nothing but questions in his wake. your own father, a loyal general to the kingdom, even speculates if the current king is involved in his brother’s absence.

though no one would ever flat out say it, it has been widely believed king felix had killed for the throne.

the very same king felix who is now stood very openly staring at you. his eyes are wide, unblinking, his gaze unwavering from your face. he looks like he’s been faced with a ghost, rather than just plain old you. it takes a few waves of your hand in his face for the royal to finally regain his posture.

“there’s no need for apologies.” his voice is far deeper than you’d been expecting, such a contrast to the polite smile he wears. “i probably should have watched where i was going.”

you want to deny him, to tell him there is no universe imaginable where he, the king of arendelle, needs to make way for anyone. much less a titleless daughter of a general, a daughter cursed by the touch of mother nature. the sound of him speaking again stops you. you’ve already bumped into him, you aren’t about to interrupt him too.

“your necklace.” he speaks with intrigue, a satin covered hand raising in a gesture towards the pendant dangling above your chest. “it’s very beautiful.”

as if on reflex, your hand flies up to grasp it between your fingers and your eyes drift down, catching sight of the familiar silver snowflake. “this? thank you, your grace, but it is just an old family heirloom. it was passed down from my mother.”

he nods in agreement to your words but his eyes hold a certain look of denial. for the second time this evening, his eyes bore into you, staring you down as if you hold the key to some locked treasure. it’s unnerving, even more so than normal because he’s the king. and he’s staring at you like a crazed man.

perhaps madness really does run in the royal bloodline.

“pardon my staring.” so self-aware, he excuses himself. who are you to deny him of his pardon? “you resemble an old friend of mine, that’s all.”

you go to reply but your father’s moving figure in the distance, squeezing between dancing couples and gossiping nobles, piques your interest. it seems he’s taken it upon himself to approach you, rather than failing to demand you go towards him. the only logical next move is to avoid him, no matter the costs.

the king takes no offence as you politely smile, glance once more at your father and excuse yourself to the lavatories, all under the veil of freshening up. then you make a dash for it, almost tripping as someone’s foot catches your dress under it. two tugs and you rip yourself free with a tear in your skirt, sliding into the hallway right on time for the next dance to commence and sweep your father up amongst the crowd.

it isn’t long after that you decide to head home, heels beginning to make your feet ache and corset long ago suffocating you. fearing the walk to you and your father’s house, you’re lucky enough to bump into a familiar family, who live only a few blocks away from you and are more than happy to let you catch a ride back in their small cart. during the ride, they tell you all about how their daughter had danced the night away with a foreign duke and you tell them all a fake tale of eating yourself sick from all the bites of cake you had.

a part of you wishes you could tell them about your strange interaction with the king, from bumping into him to the way he stared at you with the utmost interest, but something is stopping you. it feels wrong to say out loud, like you’re the one making the interaction weird and making mountains out of mole hills. for all you know, the king is just eccentric and treats all his subjects that way. you’d be foolish to think yourself an exception to any rule.

even in your dream that night, you can’t forget the way he’d looked at your necklace.

something feels off from the moment you feel yourself sink into the dreamscape. there’s no blistering cold, no howling wolf, no frozen lake. in it’s place, there is an artificial heat, emitting from the burning fireplace that crackles in the corner of a grand bedroom. the first thing you really notice is how high above the ceilings are, and then the size of the grandiose, white doors that are brimmed by a gold too shiny to not be real. along the white wood lies delicate, hand painted flowers. the four walls that make up the room are a welcoming beige colour, amplifying the feeling of comfort and belonging.

the bed you lay upon is softer than any cloud, your weightless body feeling like it’s melting into it’s softness. a duvet encases you from the waist down, exposing your naked chest. the pillow your head is resting on is warm, breathing, naked. the chest of a man.

you’re so far from that lake you’ve seen every other dream, but this doesn’t frighten you. it feels right, like you’re reliving a memory from long ago.

“come back to me.” a voice calls from above you. you can’t see the owner’s face but you do feel his chest vibrate along with each soft spoken word.

“what do you mean, my love?” the words leave you against your own will, rehearsed and ready from before your conscious even slipped you into the dream. “i’m right here.”

“you’re lost in your own head again.” the man hums in approval as your finger begins to trace patterns on his naked chest. “i told you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“i know, i know,” it’s hard to not smile when you feel how his own hand tangles itself amongst your hair. you hardly find the time to dwell on the fact this voice, this man is the same who stands across that lake every dream. “but i’m nervous. i’ve never had my portrait done.”

“a fact which is truly disappointing. it’s illegal that no one before has tried to put your beauty onto a canvas.” his hand appears at the level of your eyes and, after zeroing in on how elegant it is, perfect porcelain skin encasing blue veins and sharp nails pointed at the end, you notice something peculiar. a single snowflake, as real as the heart beating below your head, hovers over his palm. “but no worries, we’ll just have to get you used to it, especially now that you’re going to be a queen.”

the silence between you and the man is incredibly intimate as he brings his hand closer to your face. the command for you to open your mouth is soft yet powerful, giving you no choice other than to obey him and let your jaw fall slack, tongue peaking out in anticipation, like you’ve done this a million times before. relief floods your soul as he let’s the snowflake drop onto your waiting tongue, where the cold beauty slowly melts.

“not just any queen, but my queen.” his voice is filled with pride and love, and the utmost devotion, like he’s more than ready to lay down his life for your safety.

his hands are even softer than you expected, clasping your jaw and tilting your head back, your own eyes closing on instinct and welcoming the kiss he lands on your mouth, sighs of contentedness leaving both of you in sync before your eyes flutter open and-

“y/n!”

you fly up in bed, eyes blinded by the sunlight creeping through where your two curtains meet.

your curtains.

you’re awake, back in the disappointingly plain room you call your own, laying upon a lumpy mattress and heated by nothing but your own disgruntled anger. not once have you felt unhappy by the life you live, with both you and your father earning enough to pay your way and live comfortably in your home, but, right now? it’s the most disappointing thing you’ve ever experienced, to live and sleep in this room compared to the one in your dream.

you want to spend more time thinking about the dream and it’s bizarre nature, but you don’t get the chance when your father barges into your room and tells you to get dressed quickly, for no other reason than he has someone waiting in the living room that he wants you to meet. the fact he doesn’t even take the time to chastise you for avoiding him last night, or leaving the event without notifying him, tells you all you need to know.

whoever stands in your living room is more important.

you scramble out of your sheets and pull your closet doors open, reaching for the first dress that appears clean and comfortable. the green fabric fits your torso like a glove, before loosening out at your hips and draping down your body with ease. there’s no overly tight corset or ridiculous amounts of unnecessary fabric beneath the skirt like the dress you’d tore off yourself the night before.

the wooden stairs creak while you make your way down them, alerting your father and his guest of your approaching presence before you can do so verbally but it’s easier this way, because as you take in the sight of the blonde haired young man, chest decorated with an array of honour badges and an expensive looking pocket-watch, you’re unsure you would be able to speak properly.

your father’s next words do nothing but further that feeling.

“ah, y/n! this is who i was telling you about,” he pauses, ushering forward to grasp you by your forearm and pull you down the final step quicker before thrusting you in front of him, just about sending you stumbling into the stranger’s arms. “meet prince taeyong of the southern isles.”

the past two weeks have been filled with prince taeyong’s affection driven actions.

after your less than expected meeting, first thing in the morning, your father had been more than eager to tell you all about the young royal, whom he met while him and his squad of cadets were stationed in their kingdom, serving as aid to them in their war against the northern isles. according to your father, he’d been attempting to introduce you to the prince the night before but you had “gone home earlier due to a stomach bug”, which was code for your father was too embarrassed to admit you’d successfully avoided him the whole evening.

thankfully, the prince had left no more than a few minutes later, his royal duties calling for him.

it would be three days later that your paths crossed again, as you stopped by the military training grounds. it was your routine, every wednesday visiting to watch your father training the younger troops. you’d bring by encouraging words and an apple pie as a treat, though your father had always joked that your pretty dresses and friendly smile were the real treat for the men. you found your father wasn’t alone that afternoon, surrounded by prince taeyong and a few of his brothers.

it had been your father’s idea for the two of you to take a ride around the kingdom grounds together, an excuse to force you to spend time with the prince that had been hidden under the false pretence of him needing a tour of the place, like there aren’t members of arendelle’s royal staff who’s sole purpose is to provide such a thing.

from then onwards, not a day had gone by where the prince hadn’t infiltrated your life in some way. whether he was stopping by your place of employment- a corner shop that’s walls are filled from top to bottom by all kinds of herbs and potions. it’s owned by an elderly woman who always tells you about her youthful days of being a spring witch exploring her earthly powers while doing her best to guide you in your own magical misadventures, despite you being another season of witch.

or if he was coincidentally passing by just as you left to go home for the evening, giving you no choice other than to allow him to escort you through the darkened streets. more than once, he’d tried to drape his expensive fur coat over your shoulders, and every time you’d rejected it by reminding him you’d grown up in this cold kingdom and were far more used to it than him and his southern siblings.

during this time, the prince had also been consistently sending gift after gift to your front door: bouquets of flowers too exotic and colourful to have bloomed in arendelle, chocolates too sweet and expensive to be eaten by you, dresses too soft and detailed to be made by any local seamstress. it all served as fuel to the fire in your father, who was already insisting on telling you over and over how amazing it would be for your family to marry into royalty.

which brings you to now, sat at your dining table and enduring what can only be considered the most painfully awkward dinner of your life.

you’re seated next to your father, with prince taeyong sat across from you and seated next to one of his siblings, who’d very curtly introduced himself as doyoung when you’d greeted them at the front door. the three men have done most of the talking so far, bouncing back and forth between topics of war and politics while you’ve simply picked at your food, finding so much intrigue in the slice of venison resting upon your plate.

it’s either stare at that or risk looking up and making eye contact with one of the princes.

through your listening you discover just exactly how the southern isles are set up. your eyes almost dropped out of their sockets when you heard your father ask about how the other twenty one princes were doing, only for your surprise to be immediately dulled when prince taeyong assured you they weren’t all siblings, but rather cousins.

their kingdom is divided between four pieces of land, each having it’s own royal castle that houses it’s own set of princes. the two princes sat at your table belong to the same isle, meaning they truly are brothers.

“-yet to be discussed properly with the royal’s here, but our own king, lee taemin, certainly thinks it’s a deal that would benefit both parties.” prince doyoung’s voice enters one ear and leaves through the other, your distracted mind not focusing on the conversation.

“then i see no reason as to why king felix will disagree,” your father chimes in, sounding pleased with himself. as smug as the cat who caught the canary. “taking into account our kingdoms long existing alliance.”

“and what about you, y/n? how would you feel about our unification?” that certainly captures your attention, eyes snapping up from your plate to find all three men staring at you intently, awaiting your response.

“what?” you inwardly cringe, knowing your father will be displeased by the lack of manners in your reply.

“ah, perhaps i should do this the proper way.” when prince taeyong’s seat scrapes backwards against the floor and he rises to a stand, every fibre of your being is begging you to tell him to sit back down, to not do what you suspect he’s about to. but you’re paralysed, your heartbeat pounding in your eardrums as you watch him sink down onto one knee and take one of your hands in his. “will you do me the honour of marrying me, y/n?”

the world comes to a halt and comes crashing down, all at once. your heart is jackhammering itself within your ribcage, trying it’s best to jump out and escape. your brain is in meltdown, the prince’s question replaying over and over in your head like a taunt. the snowflake resting on your chest burns your skin, weighing more that it ever has.

everything is wrong.

“yes!” your father answers on your behalf, unknowingly adding fuel to your rage.

the fire burning in your veins is begging to be released, to lay waste to all your surroundings till nothing remains but you and a pile of ash.

your boss and mentor had told you all about this very feeling before, how the summer witches were persecuted for it. every other season of witches were welcomed, needed, loved when it came to the elements their powers were rooted in, yet the summer witches were considered too volatile, too dangerous. it wasn’t completely baseless, as the fire in their magic is so much harder to control than the elements of earth, wind, or even water.

and right now, you’re struggling to get a hold of it. never has the feeling been so intense, the enchantment on your necklace typically enough to help the heat simmer down yet now it’s almost working with the fire inside of you, lusting for the lick of heat teasing at the tip of your fingers.

all it would take is one snap to ignite it, to have the flame dance between your palms and light up anything it touched, including the puny little prince staring at you with expecting eyes and clutching your hand a little tighter. yes, he’d be the perfect first victim, to get your point across of just exactly how this proposal made you feel and to-

“y/n?”

the calling of your name echos in your head, tugging at your self-control and begging you to get a hold of reality. shocking even yourself, you stand up abruptly, not even registering how your father catches your chair and stables it before it can topple onto the floor.

“i...” your eyes meet taeyong’s, who’s looking up at you almost bored from where he’s still kneeling on the floor. how romantic, truly. “i need to use the bathroom.”

you can hear your father’s voice even after you close the bathroom door, sheepishly apologizing and claiming you’re simply so overcome with joy, you’ve forgotten how to act. and so, as the three men begin to discuss the plans for your upcoming wedding, your plan of action begins.

step number one, climb out the window.

thankful for all those times you snuck out to play as a child, you slip out of it in no time, coming face to face with the frozen ground you and your father call a back-garden.

step number two, reach the front of the house.

a little more complicated, with your back beginning to ache as you crouch past the windows around the side of the building, briefly picking up on the conversation still happening at the dinner table. prince taeyong mentions something about housing arrangements but you couldn’t care less.

step number three, flee the scene.

it’s exactly then, as you swing your leg over the horse and seat yourself upon it’s saddle, that the three men come barging out the front door collectively, each reacting differently to watching you charge off on the animal, galloping away from them and their ridiculous proposal.

prince doyoung shows nothing but disinterest, prince taeyong seems falsely apologetic and your father is attempting to scream after you.

you ride blinded by your own rage, not taking in to consideration exactly where the horse is taking you. all that matters is the constant smacking of the hooves on the cold ground, a reminder of how you’re growing further and further away from your father and his guests with each passing second.

the thing is, you know your reaction may seem unwarranted to some. a prince had dropped down to his knees, asking for your hand in marriage. it’s not even like taeyong is unpleasant to look at, with his sharp facial features and his bright hair. his company isn’t bad either, as reluctant as you were to be in it, he still managed to rouse a laugh from you every now and then. but it’s the way your father is so eager, after only two weeks, to thrust you into marriage with a stranger, a man you hold no affection for, all so he can see himself be elevated in status, becoming the father to a princess.

you come to your senses as a gust of sudden wind hits your face, the coldness of it doing wonders to dim the rage burning within you. you find yourself among rows of frost coated trees, deep in the heart of the forest. one hand drops from the reigns, moving to clasp the pendant around your neck. you close your eyes and take two, three deep breaths as you feel yourself take control once more. and, just as your body begins to calm itself at last, the horse pulls to an abrupt stop, neighing as it stands up on it’s hind legs.

you fall to the floor after failing to keep a footing on the saddle or to grasp the reigns. a noise rings in your ear as your head takes a pounding against the forest floor only to watch as your stallion runs off.

undeterred, you pull yourself up onto your feet again. the first few steps you take are wobbly. you hiss as you grab onto a tree trunk for stability, retracting your hands immediately and finding them all scuffed up from your fall. both of your palms are bleeding, with all kinds of dirt stuck on them.

in the distance, a lone wolf howls.

something feels wrong in the pit of your stomach but your head and hands hold too much pain for you to pay it any mind. the muscles in your leg are screaming for rest as you venture further through the woods, passing tree after tree, eyes shifting around for any sign of a wolf.

you come to an abrupt halt, a gasp escaping you before you can stop it, eyes glued on the frozen lake in front of you. the sinking feeling increases and you’re sure, had you eaten anything, you’d be throwing up just about now. you want to think this isn’t real, that you’re actually passed out from falling off the horse and are now stuck in your twisted dream, but the wind is too cold against your skin, the air smells too fresh, the wolf howls too loudly.

his presence is too real across the body of water.

you step onto the frozen lake before you fully comprehend what’s happening, body moving by what it remembers from all those nights. all you really know is you need to reach the other end of the lake, you need to see that man’s face. the cracking of the ice beneath you isn’t something you don’t hear, rather something you don’t care for. you need to push forward, to end the mystery once and for all.

his back is broader than you remember, covered in the whitest material you’ve ever seen, a contrast to the dark hair resting upon his head. just like in your dream, you reach out to touch his shoulder but he turns around before you get the chance.

his face is like no other you’ve seen before, angled perfectly. his lips are red, inviting, like they’re unaware of the blistering cold. his eyes are sharp, powerful, staring back at you like he’s done so a thousand times before. every little detail, every feature, is too perfect, too beautiful to be real.

his lips part and your head begins to spin, knowing exactly what’s coming next.

“yeoleum?”

with a gasped breath leaving your lungs and the wind knocking the air from under your feet, your eyes roll backwards before your head can smack against the forest floor once more.

your corset doesn’t feel as tight this time around.

that shouldn’t be the first thing you notice, really, stood in the familiar ballroom of the royal castle. the ballroom looks more dated than when you’d last stood within it. the marble walls are shinier, newer, but everything about the party is old fashioned. the decorations, the orchestral music playing, the gowns draped on the slender frames of women you can’t recognise for the life of you.

it’s like you’ve stepped back in time.

but your body, and your heart, seems completely at ease as it confidently carries itself through the crowds of waltzing couples. you throw the occasional smile which is met with waves and greetings. as you pass by a server carrying a tray of champagne flutes, you swipe two off of it and storm ahead, out into the familiar hallway. this time, you head down the opposite end of it, finding an open door with a few twists and turns in your path.

you feel confident, despite the unfamiliarity, when you step out into the night. there’s no snow laying on the ground or cold bite to the air. instead, there are patches of beautiful greenery and flowers more colourful than any ballgown sprouting from the soil. there’s a warmth in the air, that wraps around your waist and tugs you along with it. you seem to have wandered out to where the royal stables are located, if the large steeds poking their heads out to stare at you with beady eyes are any indicator.

a particular horse catches your eye, at the farthest end.

it’s the colour of the kingdom you grew up in, white, and you find it comforting. though you know many in arendelle would kill to experience a season other than winter, there’s something unsettling as you stare out at the hills and bask in how alive they are with the warm climate. this white horse is a reminder of normality, of the snow topped roofs and the frozen grounds you’ve gazed at since the day you were born.

you only manage to run the back of your hand down it’s muzzle twice before you’re interrupted.

“he must like you.”

you spin on your heel, mouth ready to speak yet it falls silent at the face you find a few steps away from you. it’s him again, the man from the lake. only, this time he’s covered in a blue velvet suit that’s littered in all kinds of silver ornaments, a testament to the wealth he must possess.

“i know i’m quite handsome, but do close your mouth.” when he got so close, you have no idea, but suddenly his slender fingers- the same ones you watched conjure up a snowflake dreams ago- clasp your chin and gently push your mouth shut. “we don’t want you catching flies, my lady.”

“why must he like me?” the you that’s conscious, watching the scene unfold through your own two eyes, wants to say so much more. from scoffing at the man’s egotistical words to demanding why he’s moved on from not just plaguing your dreams but now appearing elsewhere too. the you of this moment, this dream, this memory, however, had other plans.

“he’s quite a wild card, very picky with those who he let’s close to him.” the man repeats your earlier actions of stroking the horse’s muzzle, to which the steed leans into his touch and you pick up the way it’s tail swishes a few times. “the fact he let you touch him means something. you’d be surprised with the number of serv-” he halts for a moment, something flickering behind his eyes. “people who complain he’s tried to bite them.”

you can only nod and sip from one of the champagne flutes you’d cramped into your hand. the man notices, taking in the way you seem to cringe at the taste of the alcohol, yet still insist on taking another sip before carefully placing the glass back into your other hand and allowing your free one to stroke the horse’s mane.

“are you expecting someone out here, my lady?” there’s an unspoken insinuation behind his words, that current you doesn’t quite understand yet the you from the moment is utterly mortified by.

“no!” you gasp, almost dropping one of the glasses before you deem it best to hold one in each hand. “what type of woman do you take me for, sir?”

“i only jest, darling.” the way his tongue curls over the word shouldn’t light such a primal feeling within you, yet it does, and you’re suddenly more than thankful for the gown that obscures from his eyes the way your thighs squeeze together. “but you do carry two glasses, it’s not so far fetched for someone to assume you and a partner would be meeting out here for some late night rendezv-”

“they’re both for me.” you snap, the fact somehow feeling less embarrassing than having to endure the man’s insinuations any longer.

“ah, i see.” he nods, that irritatingly handsome smile still plastered across his face as he loads up his next reply. “well, alcoholism is a disease. but do as you will, i suppose.”

“has anyone ever told you you’re rude?” the words fly out of you and you suddenly need another sip of champagne, cheeks heating up with the irritation sprung upon you by this man.

“no. i often find myself surrounded by yes-men, you see.” he openly drags his eyes over your figure, drinking in the way the bodice of your gown perfectly rests upon your torso, accentuating the swell of your breasts before the lace sleeves lay on the top of your arm, leaving a barren exposure of your collarbones and shoulders that he’s basking in. “i take it you’re out here because you’re not much of a dancer, then? and that’s why you’re making friends with a horse, rather than planting yourself in the middle of the ballroom.”

“i can dance!” there’s a need to defend yourself, though you fear he enjoys the whine in your voice. “i just don’t enjoy it.”

“i find people often dislike that which they are not good at.”

you’ve heard tales of women, offended by sleazy men or dishonoured by their partners, who throw their drinks in their faces as the final punch in an argument before stomping away in victory. it’s always seemed ridiculous and, truthfully, overdramatic. yet here you stand, gripping your glass so tightly you’re afraid it may snap in two, as you try your best to not wet his expensive suit.

“i assure you, sir,” you grind your teeth as you address him, jaw clenched in frustration for your failed time of peace and quiet out in the stables. “my dancing skills are more than adequate, i simply do not-”

“then prove it.” he cuts you off.

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“prove it? what are you, a child?”

“i guarantee there is not an inch of me that is childish, my lady.” there he goes again with that tone of voice, sending a pool of warmth down your abdomen. “prove it by sharing a dance with me. just one, and then i promise to allow you to return to your hoofed date.”

“i don’t dance with strangers.” at this point you’re just flat out lying, this beautiful stranger bringing out a side of you you’ve never seen before.

“then let’s fix that.” the man wastes no time in plucking the untouched glass of champagne from your hand, clinking it against the other one in a silent toast before throwing back the drink into his waiting mouth. he empties it in one go, pink tongue darting out to swipe the excess of the bubbled drink from his lower lip. “my name is seong-”

you gasp awake.

candles burn all around you, their wax shamelessly dripping all over the place. you have to wonder if perhaps you’ve died and wound up in some form of an after-life, because the bed you lay upon is too comfortable to be your own, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. the fluffy blanket you’re tucked under carries a weight to it, enveloping you in a reassuring hug whilst you’d dreamt away.

the room’s structure is white as snow: the walls, the floor, the ceilings. it’s unnerving, forcing you into an up-right position as your head darts in every direction. the furniture in the room is dated but expensive, made of lots of dark wood and gold detailing.

an urge to stand up hits you suddenly. you push the blanket off of you and carefully place both feet on the ground. in spite of your unfamiliar surroundings, you find comfort in the fact you still wear the same clothes you’d left the house in. while you slip your shoes back on, your mind betrays you and wonders just what is waiting for you back in your home, where your father likely remains awaiting your return to scold you and then plague you with wedding details.

every step you take echos and kills your plan to sneak out into the hallway quietly. there’s no time to dwell on it, however, as your eyes begin to take in the building around you. the floor running through the hall and down the stairs is adorned by a plush royal blue carpet. the ceilings are so high, they could touch the heavens above. the most eye catching feature, by far, is the chandelier that hangs from the centre of the ceiling above.

it’s large and looming, something you’re incapable of ripping your stare from even as you begin your descent down the staircase. while you want to believe it’s made purely out of diamonds and crystals, something feels off. you must still be dreaming, because you can almost swear the chandelier is made up of ice.

the gentle playing of a piano catches your attention as you step off the stairwell. you follow the sound, past the grand entryway and through a small corridor, all the way to a door that lays wide open, as if daring you to step inside. never one to turn down a challenge, you do so and gasp as the sheer size of the empty ballroom. it’s nearly two sizes bigger than the one in the royal palace.

“you’re awake? good.” the man from your dreams speaks from where he is seated on a piano bench, gentle hands no longer traveling over the keys in a hypnotic pattern.

“i... where am-” for all the years you’d spent seeing his face when you slept, never once had you imagined you’d see him in the flesh, staring at you with so much disinterest. it wounds your pride, for reasons you can’t quite understand. “why are you here?”

“uhm, this is my home?” he’s confused, rightfully, but he’s misunderstanding the meaning behind your question.

“no, why are you here?” you emphasize the word as your hands flail around rather embarrassingly. if you try hard enough, you can picture your mother looking down at you from the heavens and sighing in shame of the mess you’ve become. “like, physically. real.”

“you must have hit your head worse than i believed.” his response only angers you, a different kind of anger to the one he’d made you feel in your dream. he rises from his seat and cautiously takes a few steps towards you.

you take one step back.

“stop avoiding the question!” perhaps you’re beginning to overreact, but the tightness in your chest is only growing and you’re becoming more overwhelmed by not just this but the whole day you’ve had. first a proposal, then falling from a horse, and now dealing with the man who’s face you’ve waited your whole life to see, who’s staring at you like you’re a speck of dust: meaningless, removable?

“i’m not avoiding the question, i just don’t have an answer.” the man, this seong, scowls. he pinches the bridge of his nose as you repeat your question, this time a little louder. “look, you hit your head and you’re obviously quite confused. i’ll have my,” he pauses, searching for the right word. you hear footsteps approaching you from behind, the hairs on your neck beginning to stand as you begin to battle between glancing backwards or keeping your glare fixed on the man in front of you. “friend take you back to the town. it’s unsafe for a lady like yourself to travel alone through these woods.”

right on cue, a cold hand taps you on the shoulder. you turn around and your jaw drops open as you stare at the tall boy. his skin seems to shimmer under the light of the room and you think maybe you really did hit your head too hard, because he looks like he’s made of glass or... snow?

“hi,” his voice is far too deep to the childish smile that appears on his face. “i’m mingi and i like warm hugs.”

the only current relief in your life is knowing you aren’t the only one rolling your eyes at everything prince taeyong says.

at the head of the large dining table sits king felix, head adorned by his heavy crown. you can’t help but wonder if it's a show of power against king taemin, who is sat at the opposite end with a much smaller crown. it seems every prince in the southern isles decided the engagement between you and taeyong was a call for celebration and brought themselves over to arendelle in a matter of days, ships filling up the dock.

you father is present too, seated by your side and wearing a smile so wide it might just split his face. after mingi- who you quickly realised was nothing but a child trapped in a man’s body, with how he giggled shyly when you grabbed his hand after almost slipping on a puddle or the kindness behind every reassuring word he spoke to you- had returned you to be border of the forest, and refused to move until he saw you reach the first set of houses laying in the distance, you arrived home to the scene you were expecting: your father waiting for you, arms crossed and face scowling.

instead of igniting a screaming match, he simply told you your engagement ring had been left on your dresser and you were expected to be wearing it as of the next morning. anytime you tried to bring up how unfair the marriage was, or voice your discomfort with how he expected you to marry the prince in a month’s time and up-end your whole life to move to the southern isles, your father walked away and left you talking to no one but the wall.

now, a week has passed and the ring around your finger still feels wrong, as you play with it and try your best to get through this luncheon with the two royal families, all in honour of your unwanted union.

“which brings me to my next point,” you hear the king of the southern isles speak all of a sudden, your mind forcing you out of your thoughts and back into the grand room within the castle. “are there any specific requests you have, felix, ahead of this marriage?”

it’s amazing, really, how everyone’s opinion on the marriage has been taken into account, except for the bride’s.

“now that you ask, yes. i do.” king felix’s voice is far deeper than anyone else’s in the room, matured with age. it sends shivers down your spine from the sheer power it holds. “i would like to request that miss y/n take up residency in the castle, until the wedding.”

the entire room falls silence scarce for you, who clumsily drops your fork onto the ground. you bend to pick it back up but your actions are forced to a halt by your father’s firm grip on your arm and his disapproving eyes.

“i think it’s our safest option,” the king begins to explain when he gains no real response other than wide eyes and gaping mouths. “prince taeyong is a highly desired bachelor, i fear the people may not react too kindly to hearing he has chosen a bride. i believe i speak for us all when i say miss y/n’s safety and comfort should be the top priority.”

if anyone disagrees with the king, they’re thankfully not dumb enough to voice it and soon, once you yourself nod in approval of the arrangement as his majesty stared at you with that same look in his eyes from the ball, the lunch returns to it’s usual flow of mindless conversations of politics and the little spider in your brain starts to spin a web of plans.

the living proposition is something that could completely work in your favour. for starters, you’d get a break from your father’s incessant need to be breathing down your neck at every hour of the day, and there would be less occasions of prince taeyong stopping by unannounced. secondly, and most importantly, it could give you the perfect chance to talk the king into not blessing your marriage. with the king’s disapproval, no wedding would take place no matter how much your father whined and demanded it of you.

hours later, when the unwarm sun slowly begins to set and the guests all shuffle their way out of the hall, king felix pulls you to the side to announce your residency within the castle is to begin this very same evening.

“are you sure, your highness?” your father is quick to interrupt and it takes every bit of self-control to not roll your eyes. “she hasn’t even got a change of clothing, nor sleepwear. how about we return home, pack and she’ll begin her stay to-”

“thank you for your concern, general, but my lovely staff already have that under control.” it’s then that the king looks at you again. his eyes travel down to the pendant and your hand shoots up to clasp it. “if you’d like to bid your father goodnight and accompany me to the room you’ll be staying in, you’ll find the closet is already full. though, you’re more than welcome to have your own things collected, if that would make you more comfortable.”

the only thing that would bring you real comfort right now is taking off the damned ring from your finger. and, maybe, some answers. answers like why the king looks at you like you’re a ghost, why your father can’t take a second to consider what you want, why prince taeyong had to turn up in the first place.

why had your dreams stopped. why had that man plagued your dreams your whole life, only to disappear after you saw his face.

“goodnight, father. i hope the roads are dry enough for you to ride home safely.” you really do mean it. despite his recent behaviours, your dad was still the man who had raised you, who’d been there for you when both of you lost your mother.

he pulls you closer into what you expect is going to be a hug but is, instead, a kiss on your forehead. the same he used to give you every night that he tucked you into bed. you feel him mumble a couple words of affirmation, more than you hear him, before he steps back, bows his head to the king once and follows after the rest of the guests.

“if you’ll follow me, miss y/n.”

you can hardly believe you’re currently being escorted down the halls of the castle by none other than the king himself- and two palace guards who walk a little ahead of you both. it’s like a fever dream, so strange to hear him speak your name and make lighthearted conversation while you both make your way through the lavish castle.

you can only imagine this is what it feels like to open pandora’s box, this insight you’ve gotten into the king as a person. less than a month ago, you’d known his name and his unplanned claim to the throne. now, he’s allowing you to stay in his home and doing his best to take your comfort into all accounts.

lately, he’s the only one doing so.

“the room comes with two sets of keys, which only you and i shall possess.” he explains, holding up his hand. the jingling of the keys echos ever so slightly and you can only giggle at the older man’s antics. “which is my way of telling you you will have complete privacy. if you do not desire to be visited by anyone,” his words seem innocent but you sense he has a certain prince in mind. “you simply don’t have to open your door. ah, here we are.”

once he unlocks the two large, ceiling-high doors and steps back, signalling you to enter with his hands, you swear you could knock out cold.

because there’s a fireplace burning dimly in the corner. because the back of the door is laced with hand-painted flowers and brimmed with gold. because the walls are a familiar beige colour. because the bed looks softer than a cloud.

because it’s the very same bedroom you’d dreamed of the night of the royal ball.

“it’s a beautiful room, isn’t it?” you can only nod in agreement to the king’s question, too stunned to speak. “i thought you’d find it very homey.”

you step further into the room and it begins to hit you like a train, flashes of laying upon the man’s chest, of him feeding you a snowflake, of you both kissing on that very same bed sending your mind into a frenzied state.

if king felix notices anything, he does not care to acknowledge it.

“i’m free first thing tomorrow morning. i shall come fetch you and give you a tour of the place, help you find your bearings in this obscene castle.” he chuckles and you attempt to mimic him, only for the noise to scratch at your throat. “after all, this is your home. from now on, i mean.”

falling asleep that night feels harder than ever before, as you toss and turn under the sheets. at one point, you begin to overheat and kick the blankets off of your body. it’s not enough, so you stand and rush over to the fire, throwing a glass of water over it and successfully killing it. then, you begin to pace the room, mind a complete mess of what ifs and how comes.

when you do eventually fall asleep, it’s from sheer exhaustion, your body shutting down on itself despite how badly your anxious brain wants to keep you up longer.

for the first time since the forest, you dream.

of hushed confessions and whimpered words. of soft touches and hard kisses. of mornings spent under the intruding rays of sunshine and nights of passion overlooked by the moon.

of him and his cold touch.

mingi wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh the whole way through walking you out of the forest.

when seonghwa had burst through the castle doors, with panic laced in his eyes and you in his arms, mingi had been left paralyzed. seeing your face came as a complete surprise to him, in spite of remembering how father jongho had promised you would return some day.

mingi had always thought he’d have to wait longer for that day to arrive.

seeing you, being around you, speaking to you and having to accept the fact you didn’t know him brought him a pain completely unimaginable. the whole time, he’d been itching to tell you about how much he’d missed you, about how miserable seonghwa had been all those decades without you.

he’d even tried to trigger some form of memory in you, with his introduction, but you’d only met his smiling face with disinterest before snapping your attention back to the prince, demanding one last time that he explain why he’d been in your dreams.

alas, things weren’t exactly like jongho had predicted. you’d been reborn but all those years of making memories had been turned to dust.

now, a week later, mingi has tried his best to forget about the small interaction.

his scatterbrain usually dumps out memories by the gallon- a trait which seonghwa has always cursed himself for not perfecting upon mingi’s creation- yet, this time, the memory is stubborn. it’s lingering, swimming around his conscious and urging him to shed a few tears each night, as he lays in his room and tries to sleep.

today in particular, he awakens on both the literal and figurative wrong side of the bed. with not a proper wink of sleep in the whole night, he stumbles down the halls of the ice palace, one destination in mind.

the door slams against the wall as he forces it open, startling a sleeping seonghwa awake. if mingi were his usual happy self, he’d be teasing the older man over how he’d been clutching against this chest the pillow you’d briefly used.

“what’s wrong?!” seonghwa croaks out, letting the blanket slide off his torso as he sits up.

“you, that’s what.” mingi storms over to the bed, not even asking before he sits himself down on the end of it, glaring at his creator. “why are you just sat in bed, doing nothing?”

if seonghwa was confused before, he’s even more so now as his eyes flutter over to the grandfather clock in his bedroom.

“it’s six am,” he fails to sit cross legged and opts for swinging them over the edge of his mattress, a hand smoothing over his bed-head. “what else should i be doing?”

“you should be out there,” the anger in mingi is becoming too much. his head aches, something he didn’t know was even possible. there’s a sense of urgency, like if he doesn’t get his point across and words out now, they’ll consume him, swallow him whole. “wherever the hell y/n is! that’s where you should be, you imbecile!”

it’s now seonghwa’s turn to get heated, standing up from the mattress in a frustrated state. he’s not even sure who he’s more angry at: mingi, for interrupting his rest and hitting him with the harsh reality, or himself for being too much of a coward to admit his icicle of a friend has a point.

it’s not like he wasn’t expecting this outburst at some point. he could see it in mingi’s whole demeanor the moment he returned from walking you out of the woods. the way he wouldn’t meet seonghwa’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he no longer wore his smile. everything screamed confusion, because why hadn’t seonghwa just confessed? given you the truth when you’d demanded it from him?

“what would you have me do, mingi? huh?” guilt springs forward when he sees the man flinch from where he sits on the bed, seonghwa’s voice booming with rage. “would you have preferred i kept her here? is that what you wanted of me, to stoop so low i keep a stranger hostage here?”

“but she’s not a stranger,” mingi stands to spit his words in the man’s face, towering over him ever so slightly. “ she’s your wi-”

“she may as well be a stranger!” seonghwa cuts him off, yelling becoming the only thing he can do to hold back his own heartbreak, to stop the flood of tears from breaking the dam he’s built up in his eyes over the years. he can’t cry over this, over you, again. too much time has been wasted on empty whimpers. “the only thing her and my yeoleum share in common is a name and a face. that’s it.”

“jongho told us-”

“yeah, well, jongho was wrong.” his chest heaves with each breath he intakes. his fingertips burn with coldness, the gift nature had cursed him with itching to be unleashed, as if it hadn’t already served to condemn the precious land of his kingdom into a frozen state. “did you not see the way she looked at me, mingi? she looked at me like i was her enemy. or, even worse, a stranger, a nobody in her life. how is that fair? he promised me she’d come back just the same, that she’d remember me the second our eyes met.”

a resounding silence has taken over the room. mingi can’t bare to look at his friend, red in the face and teary eyed. it’s painful enough to listen to the tremble in his voice, seeing it is a whole new level of torture.

with a clearing of his throat and a few deep breaths, the emotionless facade he’s been running around with finally returns and seonghwa finds it within him to compose himself.

“she’s a stranger, mingi. we do not know her, just the same as she does not know us.”

had you ever felt such a desire to punch someone before?

you’re unsure but, as you take in the drunken men around you, you’re more than willing to find out just how good your right hook is.

life within the castle has been interesting, to say the very least. the first few days were an array of trials and errors. taking the wrong turns, getting yourself lost in the expanse space of the building. almost losing your bedroom key, only for king felix to kindly hand it to you before you could make your way out of the dining hall.

the king had given you that tour he promised. he’d walked you through the castle, pointing out room after room, sharing what they were used for. he’d taken you down to a familiar set of stables, but no white horse stood in it. you’d even been honoured enough to meet his partner, chan, a prince from a neighbouring island. he’s a rare sight in the kingdom, often opting to skip out on any royal duties his husband has and, really, you can’t blame him.

who wants to sit still and look pretty next to a king for hours on end?

by far, your favourite room within the entire castle is the library. it’s the kind you step into and it instantly envelops you with a need to escape in some written adventures. most of the walls are comprised of books upon books, stacked within the dark wooden bookshelves. as if that weren’t enough, the centre of the room houses more books, with row after row of them, all with different coloured spines and ranging in age and genre. there’s even a small fireplace at the furthest end of the room, where two red leather armchairs rest.

you discovered it’s a great place to avoid prince taeyong in.

unfortunately, you weren’t able to sneak your way in this evening, with said royal spotting you as you made your way in from the gardens. you’d protested, trying to insist you were much too tired, but he eventually roped you into joining him and his brothers for the night.

“you must be excited to join us in the southern isles, y/n!” a prince who’d introduced himself as xiaojun suddenly appears next to you, his arm throwing itself over your shoulder as the other one brought up the tanker of beer to his lips.

“yeah!” another of the boys chimes in- jaehyun? their names were hard to keep track of. “i don’t know how you do it!”

“do what?” you ask and are met with a bunch of eyes on you, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“survive the cold!” your fiance is the one speaking this time around, joining his family in staring at you.

“i’ve been here a couple weeks and the sight of snow already makes me feel sick.” the tallest, and calmest, of the princes interjects.

“i literally dreamed about feeling the sun’s heat the other day!”

“our weather is reason enough for someone to be dumb enough to marry taeyong, especially if you’re living in this shit hole.”

“yeah, at least that way you’ll be miserable but in the heat.”

the boys seem to be passing around a figurative ball, each taking their shot at the kingdom you’ve grown up in, the place you call home. and, while you’ve never felt very patriotic, a part of you feels the need to defend the land.

to defend the cold that encompasses it.

because, while there are days where the weather outside is blistering cold and nights where you need at least three blankets to keep yourself warm in bed, you still can’t deny the beauty in the snowy hills or the glassy lakes.

“i guess our weather isn’t for the faint hearted.” you shrug, feeling a little smug with how a few of them begin to puff out their chest, scoffing and mumbling about how they didn’t mind the temperature. “must be why the cold’s never really bothered me.”

the only thing that got you through the rest of the evening was reminding yourself that you’d be free of their obnoxious company once you headed to bed. clearly you were wrong, since prince taeyong is now walking you to your chambers despite how many times you’d denied his offer.

he’d been quiet the entire walk, thankfully, though he did insist in linking your arms. it’s a pity, really, that you two find yourselves in these circumstances because, if your father hadn’t condemned you to a loveless marriage, there's a world where you could see yourself befriending the prince.

he’s kind, always offering to walk you places and bringing you gifts each time you meet. he’s handsome, with a perfect build and a chiseled face. he’s intelligent, teaching you all about his kingdom and how their customs differed to arendelle.

but he lacks something, and you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“are you sure you’re ready to say goodnight so early?” he questions you as you unlock the door to your room and you nearly freeze, feeling his arm suddenly wrap around your waist.

“i woke up too early this morning,” the nervousness is too noticeable in your chuckle. “so i’m just feeling really tired.”

“we don’t have to go back to my brother’s, darling.” his hand gives your waist a squeeze before he pulls you against him, nose nuzzling itself in your hair. it’s the most intimacy the two of you have ever shared and it’s beginning to make your skin prickle. “we could spend some time alone, in your room.”

“taeyong, i really don’t think-”

“young man, i suggest you take your hands off of her and take several steps back.” a familiar voice cuts you off, growing louder the more he approaches you both. “this instance.”

the prince pales with fear and you’re finally able to breathe again, hands no longer stuck to your body. your lungs grow lighter the more distance taeyong puts between you both. this isn’t what two engaged adults should be feeling, suffocated by the other’s presence.

“apologies, your highness. i simply got caught up in her beauty.”

“then see to it that you never do that again.” king felix rolls his eyes and that feeling returns to you, that maybe you’re not the only one who dislikes the situation you’re stuck in. but, what could a king care for when it came to your marital state? “perhaps you do things differently in the southern isles but here, we respect our partners. not only do we respect them but we do not try force our way into their beds, before nor after marriage. now, run along before i decide to ban you from my castle.”

you could cry.

in fact, you’re pretty sure your eyes are filling with tears as you watch your fiance stumble back down from where you’d both came from, head bowed in embarrassment and hands in his pockets. like a child scolded, he leaves your line of sight and you let your back slump against your bedroom door, hand clutching the handle.

all you manage to get out are repeated cries of gratitude, thanking the king for getting you out of that situation. for letting you live in his home.

for being the only one caring about you.

“it’s no trouble, really.” his smile is sincere. when he glances at your necklace, you think back to the first time you two had really spoken, on the dance floor. how he’d been nothing but an unknown monarch, an enigma no one could help you decode. looking at him now, with the long greying hair on his head, the small smile on his lips, the sincerity in his eyes, you can’t believe that what the people say is true.

there is no way this man could kill his own brother, not even for the throne.

“your highness-”

“please, call me felix.”

“felix,” you accentuate, the name feeling new on your tongue. look at you, living in a castle and getting on first name basis with the king. “if you have the time, i’d like to talk to you about something.”

“hmm, i’m a little busy this week,” his answer leaves you feeling a little defeated. of course he was busy, how could you assume otherwise? he didn’t have time to hear some poor girl beg him to unbless her engagement, an engagement that benefits him and- “but i have a few hours free next thursday, if you can handle the wait. we’ll discuss whatever you like over lunch.”

with that in agreement, you bid him farewell for the night and make sure to lock your bedroom doors after entering the room. it doesn’t take long for you to collapse on your bed, body freed from the dress you’d been wearing all day and comfortably free in your flowing nightgown.

no matter how tired you are, however, you can’t seem to fall asleep. there’s an itch inside of you, begging to be satisfied. you need to move, to stand up, to take yourself somewhere.

you need to read.

in no more than ten minutes, you find yourself carefully pushing the door open to the library, and cringing when it creaks ever so slightly. you’d hate to be caught in such a comprising position, wearing nothing but a robe thrown over your nightgown, completely bare footed, hair sticking up in a few different directions.

the usual smell of books welcomes you as you light a candle and begin your venture down the rows of bookshelves. there’s no particular book you’re searching for, you just need something, anything, to steal your mind away for a few moments and remind you that happy endings are possible, if you work hard for them.

something glimmers in the corner of your eye and you halt, the candlelight flickering slightly. a book with a wrinkled spine and a faded blue colour sparks your interest and you reach for it, tugging it out of the shelf. the title alone makes you nauseous.

“the tale of yeoleum and gyeoul.” you scoff, fighting an eye roll. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you doubt there isn’t a single person, neither old nor young, in the whole of arendelle who doesn’t know this story. so famed, some even believe it to be true.

it had been the first thing you learnt to read in school, a classroom full of children squealing over yeoleum and gyeoul, the child of summer and the child of winter. two soulmates, destined to fall in love since the creation of time, stitched together by mother nature when bearing the responsibility of controlling the seasons became too much. the two of them birthed two children: autumn and spring, a perfect blend between them both. autumn carried more of their father’s traits, while spring took after their mother.

and then disaster struck, when something not even mother nature had predicted happened. yeoleum died- or, rather, she was murdered. though the hand that sealed her fate had been none other than gyeoul, the one to blame was an unnamed enemy, hellbent on putting an end to the abomination that was the summer child. ever since then, gyeoul has stewed in his heartbreak, freezing the kingdom till the day his beloved returns to his arms.

if anyone were to ask you, it's a load of shit. the fact anyone over the age of seven believes it to be true is baffling.

with that in mind, you slip the book back into it’s place and decide maybe you are ready for sleep after all.

tiptoeing your way back down to the door, you’re startled when your foot catches on something and trips you over. the candle flies out of your grasp and the light flickers out, leaving you consumed by the darkness. it’s creepy and spine chilling, and you scramble to relight the candle.

only to regret it the moment you do.

the light reveals what you’d tripped over, an old tarp, and what exactly it had been covering.

a portrait stares back at you, old and frayed at the corners but beautiful nonetheless. it depicts a man and a woman, sat on their respective thrones and with crowns resting at either of their sides. by the clothes they wear, there is no need to ponder on their social status. their hands are intertwined and, even though they are nothing but painted figures, the emotions between them are real, palpable, bleeding through the canvas.

it’s the painting’s title that has you retching on the floor, the anxious feeling returning full swing as you scramble out of the library as quickly as possible, tears threatening to spill.

king-to-be park seonghwa and his wife, park y/n.

it takes three days for you to finally take action.

after slamming the door shut to your bedroom and throwing up your dinner from that evening, you crashed onto your bed and fell into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. and in your bed you remained for the next few days, wallowing in your own twisted feelings and out of control thoughts.

if your thoughts were stars, then they were beginning to align and instead of bringing answers, they brought more questions.

on the second day, a knock came to your bedroom door and you’d been less than impressed to find prince taeyong along side four other men, who proceeded to serenade you with some cheesy song as the man you were to marry soon held up a bouquet of roses.

he got two seconds into his apology for his drunken behaviour before you slammed the door shut on his face.

at the very least, you thought a few hours later, it had given you a moment to take your mind off the issue at hand. even if it really had been just that: a moment.

because, how the hell were you supposed to just carry on after seeing that painting?

how does one just waltz right back into normal life, acting like they didn’t just find a portrait of a set of monarchs that not only included the man that had been in your dreams your whole life but your own self right next to him, named his wife and everything?!

the simple answer: you don’t.

instead, you lock yourself up in a room for three days before waking yourself up at the ass-crack of dawn, dressing yourself in the most fitting attire- not some puny dress, but a pair of leathered trousers and a long sleeved shirt, all wrapped under a coat- and storming your way down to the stables.

committing horse-naping is far too easy, you decide as you easily hoist yourself up onto the back of the brown steed, hands clutching the reigns before you command it forward. unlike the last time you sat upon a horse, you have a very clear destination in mind.

the forest.

the trek takes longer than you expected, which simply aids you in divesting further into your spiraling mind. the only realization you’ve managed to come to is that this man, seong or seonghwa or whatever his damned name is, is somehow connected to everything.

he holds the answers.

this time around, you’re glad to watch the horse take off, back in the direction of the town. and you, you tighten your coat around yourself and take your first step back into the forest. with every step, you try to recall the path you’d traveled down along side the overly friendly boy, mingi.

as you pass what you swear is the same tree for the fourth time, your plan is beginning to seem more hopeless. you’d been almost concussed when you were in the palace, how on earth did you expect to find your way back there? and, even if you did, you’d likely be turned away at the door.

there’s a distinct feeling one gets when they’re being watched- stalked is likely a better term here.

first, there’s a shift in the atmosphere, from safety to danger. then, the heart picks up pace and the body screams for more oxygen, as if to throw itself into a state of panic. the hairs on the back of the neck stand to attention. lastly, the need to move faster kicks in, that fight or flight instinct taking over with no hesitance.

you have no such luck, to run, for your stalker is already too close, too hidden in the trees for you to make a proper dash for it. the growls it emits are low and serve as a warning and it gives you the chance to pinpoint, more or less, where your follower is.

the growl turns into a snarl as you turn around slowly. a gust of wind smacks into the back of you and you're more glad than ever of the heavy coat you’d slipped on.

you finally spot them, the two honey dipped eyes staring at you from between the trees. it’s big, bigger than any wolf you’ve seen before. if it’s size isn’t peculiar enough, the marking on its fur certainly is: brown fur stained with white over one side of it’s face. at last, your eyes meet the wolf’s.

you begin to run.

faster than you ever have before. each time your foot meets the ground, there is a pounding in your ears and you’re more than sure the sheer force of the impact is enough to shake the floor of the forest.

the wolf is hot on your trail, growling, snarling and snapping it’s teeth and serving as ammunition to keep moving, keep running for your life. you whizz through trees and leap over fallen trunks, glancing backwards at your opponent every so often. when you see the familiar frozen lake in the distance, you don’t overthink things and continue running across it.

completely ignoring the way the ice is cracking under the weight of your footsteps.

the ground gives way beneath your feet and you drop into the water with a drowned out scream. not even the fire in your veins will conjure itself up, the magic freezing alongside every other part of you. the water is cold and heavy, soaking through your clothes and dragging your head under. you flail your arms, kick your legs, thrash your entire body but none of it is useful. in a kingdom where all bodies of water are frozen over, who learns to swim?

you’re drowning.

it’s a sad reality to accept, that your life should come to an end in this very lake, which you’d stared at every night. when you begin to give in to the ache in your muscles, a cynical voice in your head reassures you that, at least this way, you don’t have to marry any prince.

a hand thrusts itself under the freezing water as you begin to shut your eyes and give in to the lake. it tries once, twice, thrice before, on the fourth try, it succeeds at getting a grasp on one of your arms, slowly pulling you closer to the surface and a second hand joins too, both wrapping themselves around your upper body.

you’ve never felt a cold so intense, your soaked body meeting the cool air. but, at the same time, you’ve never felt a warmth so comforting, your body pulled into someone’s waiting arms, head against a solid chest while strong hands rub up and down at your arms, trying to bring what little heat they can back to your body.

“you’re an idiot.” his voice is low, so low you wouldn’t have realised he was talking if it weren’t for the way his chest vibrated with each word. “i told you it wasn’t safe for you to travel these woods alone.”

“at least,” you’re interrupted by your own heaving lungs, gasping to get more oxygen. “i caught your attention, right?”

seonghwa may roll his eyes but you’re both more than aware of the hint of a smile on his face.

it’s alarming how easily your body melts into the warmth his body is providing you with, fingers cramping up as they grip his cloak and you force yourself closer to him, till you’re sure he can hear every breath you take and feel every beat of your heart. you’re so at ease here, soaked to the bone and in his arms, that you hardly register him struggling to shrug off his cloak or him draping it over you in an attempt to protect you from the cold morning air.

seonghwa tucks an arm under your knees and another by your neck before he slowly rises to a stand, readjusting you once he’s fully stood up, tall and proud and gripping you like you’re a piece of fine china. when he takes his first step, you panic, staring up at him with widened eyes.

“please don’t make me go home.” even if he wanted to, after hearing the vulnerability in your voice and seeing the dimming of the light in your eye, he could never do such a thing.

“i wasn’t planning on it.”

true to his words, the two of you begin a journey of silence through the snowy forest. the only sound are his footsteps, your chattering teeth, the occasional questioning from seonghwa- which you suspect is his way of making sure you’re still with him- and, strangely enough, the padding of the wolf’s paws on the ground.

he must notice you tense as you both approach the ethereal palace and he struggles out a laugh when you gasp.

“why’re you so surprised? it’s hardly like you haven’t been here before.”

“yeah but i was probably half concussed and too angry to really take in this... whole thing.” you can’t tear your eyes away from it, the solid ice building. it almost looks unreal, like an overgrown sculpture someone had carved into the side of a glacier, but the open doors presenting you with a view of the perfectly furnished home are a give away sign that he truly lives in an ice palace.

at least you hadn’t been imagining the chandelier made of ice.

a whine rings from behind you both and seonghwa spins, forcing you both to come face to face with the wolf. it’s head hangs low and it’s tail is tucked so far between it’s legs, a complete display of submission and so different to the wild animal that had chased you all the way to the frozen disaster, snarling and growling at you, like it was ready to stain it’s teeth with your blood.

“i don’t know what you’re whining for, i told you to be nice to guests and look what you ended up doing.” the wolf let’s out a low howl at seonghwa’s words, cowering itself down onto the ground outside. “you’re lucky i have more pressing matters to attend to than giving you into trouble. piss off before i change my mind.”

the wolf whines once more before running off, back into the same woods it had chased you through. he continues his way through the hall, and up the staircase. your eyes watch the chandelier once more, marveling in the way the light shines through the crystalized ice. it’s not long until he’s carrying you back into a familiar bedroom, sitting you on the bed before barreling over to the wardrobe.

“how did you...” you begin, wrapping his coat around you tighter. you’d began to feel warmer a while back but the fabric smells like him.

“talk to the wolf?” he finishes your question, a hint of amusement in his voice as he sifts through the clothes, picking out a random shirt. “change into this. those wet rags are no use if you want to heat up.”

you take the shirt from his hand and he turns his back to you instantly, giving you the privacy you need to disrobe. you’re reluctant to remove his cloak until you realise the shirt he’s handed you smells even more like him. your wet clothes drop to the floor in a puddle and you quickly pull it over yourself before quietly announcing you were done.

“he wasn’t always like that.” is the first thing seonghwa says, when he manages to ignore the initial feeling in his chest at seeing you in his clothes, hair a mess, shivering. he wants to say his only intentions are to take care of someone, that he would be doing this for anyone he found harmed or drowning in the cold of the lake. but he knows it’s not true, that it’s because it was you drowning in the lake. “a wolf, i mean.”

you watch him stride past you, over to the unlit fireplace in the room. wherever he goes, you angle your body to follow his movements. he piles up some fresh wood and places it in the pit. it’s only then, when he’s struggling to light a match, that you carefully shuffle over.

you can hardly stand to face him as you let your body take control, that familiar ripple of warmth rushing down the side of your arm and meeting at your fingertips, in the form of a beautiful dancing flame. you blow on it and it floats down off your hand, landing on the wood and striking an instant fire.

“i’ve not seen you do that since-” your head snaps to seonghwa, who’s face is painted in his own form of shock. shock that he’s almost said too much, shock that, really, he might have already done too much by bringing you here in the first place.

“what did you just-”

he cuts you off nonverbally, hands clasping both your forearms and turning you around before giving you an albeit gentle yet poignant shove towards the large bed.

“get some rest. you’re going to need it.”

rest you needed indeed.

you’d woken up a few hours later with a pounding headache and your skin on fire, though this time for reasons far different than when you had lit the fireplace. seonghwa was sat on the floor, back against a wall as his head lay resting on his bent knees.

as if sensing your eyes on him, his own opened to meet your stare.

in a muted state, the two of you had grazed your eyes over one another. minds fresh from sleep and still a little exhausted, there was no energy to be self-aware, to hold yourselves back from staring at the other. he was the first one to break the eye contact, turning his head to the side. he pushed himself to a stand and carefully approached you. his hand reached out yet never touched you until you nodded affirmatively.

“you’re burning up.” he mumbled to himself, hand resting against your sweaty forehead.

“isn’t it funny how they call it catching a cold, but our bodies burn up?” you replied as you rolled over to lay on your side, forcing his hand off of you.

“that’s your body fighting the virus,” he informed you and, though your eyes were closed, you could already imagine how he’d rolled own or how that tease of a smile lingered on his lips. “but sure, i guess it’s a little ironic.”

you’re not even vaguely sure how many days have passed by with you laying in that bed. had those days not been spent with you working up a sweat and burning in your own skin, you would have found the time to feel guilty for the way seonghwa had been sleeping sat against the wall every night.

you do have to wonder why he didn’t just use one of the other beds in his palace.

but you don’t question him, nor do you protest to the ways he seems hellbent on being your own personal nurse. from making you soup to fluffing your pillow, he’s been at your side any time you need him, not allowing you to so much as lift a finger.

except for lighting the fireplace. that, he let’s you do.

strange as it may seem, even to yourself, you’d come to learn a lot about seonghwa in these few sick days. for starters, he makes excellent tea. it’s perfectly smooth and soothing, trickling down your throat that once burned with pain each time you attempted to speak.

he’s a bit of a clean freak. you have to admire it, really, the way he keeps such a tidy and clean home when it is so large and lived in by no more than him and mingi.

he’s compassionate, much to your surprise. the man you’ve been taken care of by was nothing like the one who first brought you here, all those weeks ago after you’d ended up in the forest by sheer blind rage. you’d woken up at some point, from one of your many naps, and overheard him talking to what you imagined to be the wolf, reassuring it it wasn’t in trouble.

you’ve seen mingi a few times but he seems to be someone who can’t sit still, who needs to go out and do something every day, since he rarely is around. which is how your morning begins today, with mingi popping his head through the doorway and finding only you awake, seonghwa in his usual spot on the ground. the boy does his best to speak quietly, telling you he’ll be back in a few hours before bidding you goodbye and disappearing out of the palace.

rolling onto your side, you watch the sleeping man. he seems younger in his sleep, without that stern look tattooed on his face. you still have so many questions to ask, answers to find but you’ve yet to find time. you could blame it on the fact you’ve been ill but it’s more likely that you were enjoying letting him take care of you a little too much.

an idea appears in your head, forcing you up and out of the large bed. you feel much better, no longer getting lightheaded from simply standing up. grabbing a blanket, you tip toe over to seonghwa’s sleeping form and prepare to drape it over his body, crouching down to do so.

his eyes snap open and he grabs your wrist before you get the chance to.

“sorry...” you whisper, worrying over the fact you’ve woke him up from his slumber. the worry increases by tenfold when his hand let’s go of your wrist and shoots up to cup your cheek. “i never meant to wake you, i was just giving you a-”

“i’ve missed waking up to your face.” his words catch you off guard, just like the way his thumb starts to smooth over your cheek.

and suddenly it all feels like a now or never situation, like you have to take advantage of his vulnerability. you highly doubt another chance will come along sometime soon, where you’ll be able to do this. soon, you won’t even be able to enter the woods, much less this palace, after you’re married off and sent to spend the rest of your days in misery down south.

“who are you, seonghwa?” the thumb on your cheek stops moving. “who are we to each other?”

silence has never felt so nauseating, heavy, cold. you half expect him to shove you away or scream at you. return to the him from the piano bench, telling you you’re nothing but a crazed girl with a head injury.

“i don’t think you’d be asking me that,” he speaks lowly and it’s hypnotizing. every part of him is: his eyes, his lips, his voice. his hands. “if you didn’t already know the answer, y/n.”

the gap between you is lessening with every breath you take, his hand leading you down, down, down till you’re almost sat in his lap and every one of his exhales become your inhales.

his answer is far from the one you wanted it to be. you wanted reassurance, to be told verbatim that everything your pretty little head was thinking was the truth. that the fact you’re inside this palace, under his care is not one of life’s great coincidences but, instead, fate. that everything was falling into it’s place, starting from the moment you finally saw his face at the lake.

because, if he isn’t park seonghwa, the disappeared king of arendelle, and you aren’t park y/n, his supposed wife, you’re unsure that you won’t go insane.

“seonghwa.” you breathe his name out, eyes begging to close while his own are focused on staring down at your mouth, watching the way they moved to speak his name.

no amount of dreaming or reminiscing feels as good as actually hearing you say his name in person.

the past few days were filled by him living in denial, that you were nothing if not an ordinary married couple. him, the dotting husband taking care of his beloved wife and you, the beautiful wife bed ridden from her own misadventures.

“who am i to you?” you’re begging at this point, hands scrunching up the shirt he wears to keep yourself stable, as level-headed as you could possibly be with him so close while your body wants to do nothing but lunge itself into his warmth, let him ruin you in ways you’re beginning to doubt he hasn’t done before.

“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved.” there is no hesitance in his voice, only assertiveness, confidence, love. like he’s never doubted it for a moment.

“how? we don’t... we barely... we just met!” you’re pretty sure your lips just brushed against his own as you spoke, the buzz of the contact sending shivers down your spine. seonghwa must mistake this for you feeling cold, because he wraps his free arm around you and pulls you fully into his warm lap, bodies flush together.

“yes, we did just meet.” he nods, lips pursing together as his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “in this lifetime. but, trust me, my love, there is not a universe in which i do not love you. it’s my fate.”

in a moment driven purely by the mix of emotions swirling around in your chest, your lips crash against his own. the kiss is feverish, filled with a longing that’s finally being fulfilled, even if only for this short moment. you feel your heart lurch in your chest as he takes control, hand trailing to hold the back of your neck and keep you in place, flush against him.

he dominates your mind and body, tilting both your heads to deepen the kiss being exchanged between your mouths. in this moment, you can’t help but let your mind drift off to every kiss you’ve ever shared before.

the first one, technically, was when you were fourteen years old. you and a close friend, tired of being the only ones to yet have felt someone’s lips against their own, decided to share one between each other. it was nothing but a peck, but from that moment on nothing was the same between you and her. every time you caught each other’s eyes, she’d quickly look elsewhere, a red tint on her cheeks.

the next time it happened was with your first boyfriend, or the closest you’d ever come to one. he was the son of one of the military troops your dad commanded, you’d known him for most of your life thanks to parties and trips organized by your own father. you don’t quite remember when you decided to start a relationship, it just progressed naturally. kissing him was like kissing a snail. in other words, slimy and with the occasional poke of his tongue trying to infiltrate your mouth. childish and afraid of confrontation, you opted for the easiest option of avoiding him to end things.

kisses three, four, five and six were at royal balls. a few champagne flutes thrown back- possibly even a few stronger liquors too- and you’d wind up pressed against a pillar, or pressing someone against it. it’s fair to say they were fun but unmemorable.

yet here you are now, in the lap of a man who should be a stranger to you yet the way his lips mold against yours feels like the only thing that’s ever made sense to you. it’s the first kiss that’s ever felt meaningful.

as if he feels you thinking, about past kisses and ex-lovers, seonghwa’s hips grind up into your own. it catches you by surprise to feel how solid his body is beneath you, hard muscles flexing underneath the rough material of his trousers. he repeats the movement once more, taking advantage of the gasp you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth.

melting into his touch, you give him free reign to explore you to his heart’s content. hands trailing over your body, tongue tasting you, hips grinding into you.

“y/n.” he pulls back, eyes staring into your own. all you can do is stare back, lips swollen from his kiss and heavy breathing, fighting back the urge to grind down on him, to get that sweet friction one more time. “we shouldn’t do-”

“shut up.” you pull his lips against your own again.

you’re tired of being told what to do, tired of no one caring about what you want. your dad, prince taeyong, the entire royal family of the southern isles. you’ll be damned if seonghwa does the same.

thankfully, he doesn’t.

securing you against his body, with his arms wrapping around your back and your legs around his waist, he gives you no warning other than to hold on tight as he rises to a stand, using the wall behind him as leverage.

lips messily moving against one another, he blindly takes a step and wobbles, nearly tripping over and dropping you. you opt for trailing kisses down his jaw and onto his exposed neck. you’re dying to rip open the buttons of his shirt, to see if he’s as toned as you remember from those dreams, those memories.

“i need you to tell me you want this before i put you back down because,” seonghwa breaks off in a strangled moan as you suck your mark into him, hands tightening their hold on you as he comes to a stop. “i don’t think i’ll be able to walk away once i put you down on this bed.”

“well that’s what i’d hope.”

“answer me. properly.”

“geez, old man.” you squeal when his hand slips down to pinch your ass, unintentionally pressing your crotches together. when you feel his length, semi-hard in his trousers, rub against you, you're far from complaining. “i want this. i want you.”

a flip switches within him and his whole demeanor changes. you can see it the minute he drops you onto the bed, eyes darker and more predatory while he casts his gaze down at you. hair spread out, chest rising with every breath, wearing nothing but that shirt he’d leant you.

for what feels like an eternity to you and your impatient, hormone driven brain, seonghwa observes you, with a glint in his eyes and an obvious tent in his trousers.

“what are you waiting for?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows as you spread your legs, enticing him to finally make a goddamn move and touch you.

you couldn’t care less if it’s his hands, mouth or cock, you just need to feel him.

“you’re...” he’s caught up in a daydream, that’s all he can think right now. this is nothing more than one of his fantasies of you being there, with him. the lonesome ice has finally driven him to delusions. “so beautiful.”

“thanks.” you cock your head, widening your eyes as you stare up at him in a silent pleading. isn’t this what all your friends had talked about, how they’d seduce men so easily? it seems unfair that he, your supposed husband- ex husband? soulmate? who knows at this point-, is remaining so composed, instead of being already half way through ravishing you. “now can you stick your cock in me or something?”

“huh,” he tsks and leans his hands down on the bed. when his tongue runs along his bottom lip, you think about how it should be you doing that. “you haven’t changed one bit, my lady. still,” his hands slide up the bed. “so,” they wrap around your naked ankles. “desperate.” he yanks you forward before diving down, head first.

much to your displeasure, his lips land on the inside of your thigh. it’s not that it doesn’t feel nice, to have his mouth and tongue coaxing marks onto your skin, but he’s being nothing but a tease and you both know it.

it’s more than embarrassing how wet you already are, still not even properly touched. as degrading as it feels to you, it’s ego inflating for him, to stare right down at the patch of wetness forming in your underwear and know it’s all for him.

“baby,” he coos as his head retracts from your skin, staring up at you while his hands wrap themselves around the meat on your thighs. he’s proud of himself, for keeping his composure despite the fact he’s ready to cum in his pants just from feeling your luscious thighs in his hold once more. god knows how he’s going to endure having them squeeze around his head. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

a fingers trails over your clothed slit and you’re more than eager to react, hips bucking into the little bit of touch he’s allowing you. it sends electricity up your spine and your mind is clouding over, utterly consumed by seonghwa, seonghwa, seonghwa.

you want him in every way, every inch of him on every inch of you.

a tear in your eye is threatening to fall from his teasing alone when he finally grows impatient and shoves the cotton of your panties to the side before his skin is against yours, quenching some of the fire burning in your abdomen. he coats his finger in your essence, eyes fixed down on your soaked pussy the entire time, like a man hypnotized.

“hwa.” the nickname floats out of you with complete ease in a whine, and that seems to do the job, because his digit finally breaches the walls of your crying hole.

his teeth clamp down on his lip as he gives a few experimental roles of his wrist and all you can do is let out a pathetic moan of his name, gasping when another finger soon joins. he scissors them with each thrust they give into your walls.

“you’re so tight.” his comment is more of an observation, like it’s some kind of problem only he can solve. “we’ll have to change that, hmm? get you nice and stretched out around my cock?”

“yes, god, that-” you cry, head throwing back and arching when his thumb begins to rub over your clit. “sounds really good.”

“yeah? you want me to fuck you dumb with my big cock, baby?” seonghwa’s voice is full of mockery, humiliating to a degree that you’re afraid to say is turning you on. never once would you have thought of letting any man nor woman treat you this way, to talk to you like you were incompetent but, there’s something about him being the one doing it that is sending your body into a state of euphoria.

though, that could easily be because of the third finger he’d just added into the mix.

you become so caught up in the way his fingers deliciously stretch you open, how they perfectly curl inside of you and brush against a certain spot that has your legs turning to jelly. in the perfect rhythm of his thumb rubbing over your sensitive nub, like he’s an expert at working your body up into whatever high he’s going to make you feel. in the way his lips have returned to trailing over your thighs, tongue darting out to rub at the flesh every so often, making you wish he’d put it to use on your throbbing cunt.

it distracts you from the mischievous look in his hooded eyes, catching you by surprise when you feel a jolt of cold inside of your hole, leading to a squeal echoing around the room and your walls clamping down on him as an unexpected orgasm ripples through your body.

“you’re still so sensitive, baby.” seonghwa smiles innocently, rolling his tongue over your clit as his fingers continue working at your core, his cold touch guiding you through your pleasure. “how cute.”

“let’s see if you still think that,” his fingers leave you, still soaked with your cum as they grip your thighs to push your legs open for seonghwa to lap up the remaining wetness with his tongue. “when i burn your dick off.”

“believe it or not, that’s not the first time you’ve threatened to do that.”

“oh, i believe it.”

seonghwa crawls up your body and you welcome him with open arms, meeting his lips in another heated kiss. this time, your tongue is the one intruding on his mouth, and even you’re surprised with the effect the taste of you on his tongue has over you. eyes rolling back, moaning into the messy kissing, a whole new rush of wetness spreading over your sensitive core.

you’re displeased to see him pull back from you but, any complaint that would have left you dies as soon as his mouth is on your neck. your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging at the roots while his mouth works you over. his hard on is pressing into you teasingly, the weight of it against your hip heavy on your mind while seonghwa continues the abuse of your neck, pulling back every so often to admire the artwork he’s painting onto you.

so possessive, he can’t help but roll his hips into you, pleased with the marks he’s leaving upon your body.

but you’re both impatient, growing more and more needy with each grind against each other, so seonghwa decides it’s time to put you both out of your misery and detaches himself from you. he kneels up, starring at you on the bed as his hands tug the shirt over his head, exposing the healthy array of muscle on his chest and abdomen.

“close your mouth, darling.” there’s a smirk evident on his face as you quickly do so, not even aware of the fact you’d been openly gawking at him. “you’re beginning to drool.”

“you would too if you had my view.” there’s an air of confidence around you, one you’ve never really felt before. things come so naturally with him, there’s no need to overthink your actions or question the things you want to say.

“something tells me it’s nothing compared to mine.”

as quick as he was to remove his shirt, his trousers are soon disposed of too. in no time, you find yourself staring at the naked glory that is this man, who’s kneeling at the bottom of the bed, hand clamped around his own cock as he begins to give it a few experimental thrusts to alleviate the pent up frustration.

from everyone you’ve ever known, and your own personal experiences too, you’ve gotten nothing but bad rep for the way the male reproductive organ is set up, countless stories of foreign, disfigured looking things. yet, seonghwa’s is nothing like that, with it’s more than adequate length, mouth-watering girth, a pair of glistening balls, a vein the faintest shade of blue that runs down the length of it. all this is topped off by the cute tip, that’s currently an angry red and dripping with pre-cum as he runs his thumb over it.

you lick your lips, thighs clenching at the sight of him.

as if reading your mind, seonghwa removes his hand from his cock and, instead, uses it to grip one side of your panties, already half-shoved aside from his earlier fun.

“as cute as you look in this cum soaked thing,” he murmurs lowly, voice having dropped several octaves long ago as his dialect threatens to make an appearance. “it’s getting in the way.”

without another word, a tearing noise rings in yours ears and your skin stings from the pain of how he’d ripped them off of you. but it doesn’t matter, not when you feel him place himself between your thighs. you watch as he forces your legs shut, knees touching, and almost question him, until you feel him thrust his hips forward. his length runs over your slit, coating itself in your wetness. it drags over your clit deliciously and then you see that pretty tip appear between your closed thighs and the most intoxicating sound leaves seonghwa.

three, four, five more times he fucks himself into your thighs and you find he quite likes it when you clench them as he does so, squeezing his aching cock even harder.

“you ready to take me, angel?” he needs to fuck himself into you already, otherwise he’ll end up emptying his balls all over your shirt covered stomach.

on your queue, seonghwa aligns himself with your hole and slowly begins to push inward. the first thing you feel is burning and you panic, thinking you accidentally had gone through with your earlier threat, until you quickly realise it’s from the pain of your walls being stretched to fit him. he keeps apologizing softly, giving you words of affirmation as he continues to add inch after inch, a hand on your hip while the other one finds your own, intertwining your fingers.

“sweet mother of...” he trails off, now fully inside you and needing to try centre himself, to not lose his composure for your sake. the hand on your hip moves, leaving a cold feeling in it’s absence as seonghwa uses it to support his weight, leaning down to burrow his head into your neck. “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

“hwa,” you let out a shaky breath, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him deeper into you at the same time his mouth goes back to imprinting marks onto your skin, down your collar bone. “move. please. need you to-”

“shh, shh, i know, baby.” he retracts his mouth from you, holding himself higher to stare down at you. a kiss lands on the corner of your mouth, brief and chaste and making you miss the feeling of his lips on yours. “but let’s not go making demands like you’re in charge, okay? i really don’t want to have to teach you a lesson today.”

despite his words, seonghwa gives an experimental thrust. it’s small, with him barely moving an inch, yet it’s enough to have your toes curling.

“besides, you’ve already angered me once, my lady.” his hand returns to yours. instead of lacing your fingers together this time, though, you feel him grasp your hand and yank it up to his eye level.

the blood drains from your face and you swear the world around you feels ice cold as you watch him inspect the ring on your finger. hot, heavy and intruding, it sits on your skin like a wart. without a drop of hesitance, he pulls the ring off of you and flings it over his shoulder to some unknown corner of the room.

“your fiance is cheap, getting you such a tiny, meaningless rock.”

“he’s meaningless, seonghwa, i swear!” you feel need to reassure him, your heart threatening to break under the weight of his cold, dark stare. “my father forced-”

“oh, it makes no difference to me either way.”

slowly, he’s beginning to pull his hips back only to thrust right back into you, his length dragging over your velvety walls. his hand releases yours and grabs at your thigh, tightening your leg’s hold around his body to drive himself deeper inside of you. “you’re mine.”

from there, all hell breaks loose. which, of course, means seonghwa has thrown the idea of self-restraint out of the window, building up the most unforgiving pace as he fucks into you. his nails dig into the flesh on your thigh, leaving crescents behind as yet another mark on your body.

at one particular thrust, where he pulls your body down to meet his and the tip of his cock brushes over that same spot from earlier, your back arches. eyes caught up on the way his shirt rides up your midriff, he sneaks a hand under the material, groaning in pleasure when he makes contact with your bare breasts.

a shiver runs up your back while his cold finger trails over one of your nipples and you can’t help the way your body reacts to his magic, clamping your walls down on him tighter and causing his hips to stutter for a moment.

“do you see this, baby?” seonghwa rasps out, a hand soothing over your lower abdomen and forcing your attention down there. he thrusts and there you see it, the faintest outline of his cock inside of you, thrusting up and bulging against you. “your little hole takes me so well, like your pussy is made for me.”

you’re thrown back into a moaning mess when he picks the pace back up. soon, the intensity of it becomes too much: his cock fucking into you, his hips slapping against your skin, his nails dragging over you, his cold touch lighting a pool of heat within you.

you crumble when his thumb finds your clit again, his magical touch melting against the heat of your throbbing core. wave after wave of pleasure, your orgasm floods over you like a waterfall while seonghwa fights off his own, to guide you through yours.

you have different plans.

“cum in me!” it’s nothing but a cry at this point. you do your best to roll your hips in time with his thrusts, clenching around him. “please, hwa.”

“huh? you’re still my little cum slut?” his head cocks to the side, humour dancing around in his eyes. his tongue runs over his bottom lip for the millionth time. “used to sit and beg daddy to cum in you, like the filthy little angel you are.”

“please.” you’re begging, pleading him to spill his seed into you.

“want me to breed you? fill you full of my cum till that little fiance of yours understands that you’re mine?” you nod eagerly. “what my angel wants, she gets.”

that wouldn’t be the last time he empties himself inside of you because, when that session died down, it didn’t take long for another to commence, this time with you on top. till the early hours of the morning, the two of you rolled around in the luxury of the large bed- and once up against the wall-, moaning into each other’s mouth and rutting against each other’s bodies, the years, decades, lifetime spent apart finally being made up for.

poor mingi returned home only to decide he needs a new roommate.

life was going too good, you think, something like this was bound to happen.

it’s thursday by now, at last, which lead to you finally forcing yourself to detach from seonghwa to go have your talk with the king. he wasn’t exactly pleased, taking you against the wall by the front door of the palace because he needed to “remind you who you belonged to before he let you go back to that male infested castle.”

things had been good, really good.

apart from the more than pleasurable sex you’d both been engaging in- on just about every surface in the building, much to mingi’s displeasure. nothing could help him unsee the sight of you, naked as the day you were born, bent over a grand piano as seonghwa took you from behind.- the two of you had spent time catching up: on life before your death, on the decades spent without you, on your reunion that had been so heartless and anti-climatic it had sent seonghwa into a state of depression.

it wasn’t hard to tell how difficult it had been for seonghwa to isolate himself completely, to leave his own little brother, the boy he’d cherished and grown up with his whole life, thinking he was dead. he confessed to you how, at the beginning of his isolation, he’d sneak down to the border of the forest, in hope of catching a glimpse of his brother, newly thrust into kinghood and trying his best to deal with the loss of not only his sister in law but his older brother too.

“i wanted to be there for him, i did.” he’d said, head resting on your naked shoulder as you traced patterns over his skin. “but i couldn’t be there without you. that castle, it... everywhere i looked, i saw you. arendelle was better off without a ruler like me, my love. they didn’t need some heartbroken man who’d frozen their lands and left them cropless. they needed a king, someone strong and capable of taking care of them. they needed my brother.”

that’s when your plans changed.

initially, you’d requested a meeting with the king to finally convince him to disapprove of your marriage. it made sense, with how he looked at the prince with disgust and how he seemed to care for your opinion, that he would at least hear you out on this offer. now, knowing the relation you two share, knowing that a part of him must realize you were truly reborn, like father jongho had claimed, you had no doubt he’d agree.

your new plan was to tell him seonghwa was alive, no one deserved to know more than him.

“i must say, i’ve missed seeing your face around the castle.” the man across from you speaks with amusement, bringing the dainty cup of tea up to his parted lips and sipping loudly. “i originally thought you were avoiding me.”

“me? avoid you? never.” there’s a bite to your tone, no longer caring for politeness nor niceties. he’s getting in your way, with this unprompted tea he forced you to share with him.

“i apologise, once more, for my actions that evening.” he sighs, like the evening had been a bother for him and not you. “but i would appreciate it if we could cast it aside. we are to be married, after all, next week.” your stomach churns at the thought of marrying prince taeyong. “it would be a horrible way to begin our marriage.”

if you have things go your way, there will be no beginning.

“it’s fine, taeyong.” you settle for saying that instead, taking your own sip of the sweet beverage. “soon, it’ll all be behind us and done with.”

“exactly my thoughts. now let us discuss some wedding details you missed out on during your trip.”

you tune most of his speaking out, the odd mentions of a dress or a cake flavour drifting past your conscious mind. your eyes are plastered on the door, willing it to open and have someone interrupt the two of you, to give you the perfect escape plan to get out of this conversation.

you need to get to the king, no time for this man’s nonsense.

you catch sight of a clock against the wall and your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. three hours. three whole hours he’s had you sat in this room, sipping at cold tea and hearing him talk circles around you. enough is enough.

“forgive me,” you feign a yawn, hand covering your mouth to maintain face. “but i’m rather tired. the trek back was arduous, i’m sure you understand.”

“oh!” the prince is quick to stand from his chair, standing aside and signaling for the door with his hand. there’s a smile on his face that you think aims to relax you but it makes your stomach twist. “go get some rest, please, i insist.”

placing your cup on the table, you stand up and smooth over the front of your dress. it must be that your corset is too tight, that’s what’s causing your uneasy feeling. you bow your head at him as you make your way past, feeling your insides relaxing as your hand wraps around the door handle, twisting it and-

“you’ve got guts, i’ll give you that.”

the room grows colder.

the uneasy feeling grows bigger.

the prince grows closer.

hands wrap around your waist and it makes you feel sick, your mind incapable of stopping itself from comparing his touch to seonghwa’s.

the bile rises up your throat hauntingly slow. taeyong settles himself against the back of your body, his unwanted mouth latching onto your neck. a gasp, brought on by pain instead of pleasure, escapes you as you feel him bite down hardly on your neck, enough to have you wondering if he broke skin, drew blood.

“showing up without your engagement ring in sight and your neck littered in another man’s marks. now that,” he pauses, running his tongue up the expanse of your neck till his lips are right by your ear. “that takes courage. bravo.”

there’s a tug at your neck. and then another one, harsher this time. and one last final pull, filled with rage and a bitter laugh from the prince as your feel the snap of the necklace, his fist encasing the snowflake.

“no, please, i need-”

“you know, i really used to think it was a silly little myth.” he begins to talk so calmly, malice dripping off of every word like a deadly venom. you struggle to turn around and stare him in the face, ready to plead for your necklace, plead for your life. “some bullshit adults fed to children, only to laugh at them behind closed doors for believing it. but, god, meeting you? i just knew it had to be true.”

the prince begins to stroll around the small room, hands behind his back. you watch the pendant in his grasp, swing from side to side and you try to follow him but you’re already growing dizzy.

the room is heating up, or is that just you?

“do you remember when i proposed?” he has the audacity to laugh, a single hand reaching to draw the curtains shut and cut off your view of the snowy courtyard below. “you almost snapped, didn’t you? nearly showed the true kind of abomination you are. kind of disappointing that you didn’t. it really would’ve been an honour to see the yeoleum in action.”

your knees are growing weaker and you stumble, collapsing on the floor next to a sofa. you try push yourself back up with the seat but it’s no use. the warmth is overwhelming. tiny little fibres in your body are ripping apart, the fire nature has cursed you with burning you from the inside out.

“it’s quite beautifully poetic, don’t you think?” you want him to shut up. to leave. to give you that goddamn necklace back. “the very thing that makes you special is the very same thing that will kill you.”

the skin on your arms is beginning to crack, tiny lines of reds and oranges visible as the magic spirals out of control.

“for good this time, of course. no comebacks, no resurrections.” you’re trying, you really are, to channel the power out of you, to make sure that, if you’re about to crash and burn, he’ll be following right after you. “my one regret is that your dear gyeoul won’t be witnessing this. i read he was quite the mess during your first passing, it would’ve been wonderful to see it with my own two eyes.”

“you’re a monster.” tears stream down your face, quickly evaporating at the heat of your own skin.

“now now, let’s not call each other names. i’ve been good to you, my lovely fiance.” that thing he’s always lacked, that stopped you from falling for his charms, finally hits you in the face. sincerity. there is not an inch of it in his whole body. “and you still managed to choose some frozen old freak over me.”

you watch in complete horror as he throws the necklace into the burning fireplace, another one of his heartless laughs cackling out of him. he begins to stalk over to you and you scramble as far back as possible, back pressing into the sofa behind you while your insides continue to burn.

“the only thing that can save you from yourself now is an act of true love,” he scoffs at the word. you’re too far gone to fight against the hands that grasps at your chin, letting him force you to stare right into his eyes. “what a shame in a few hours there will be nobody left who truly loves you.”

“what makes a hero?”

the question had been given to him for years from his own father.

at dinner tables, in tournaments, on trips. his father made it a repeated point to have his sons ponder over the question. they’d both attempt to give him answers: a sword, a steed, armour, courage.

they were always wrong.

“sacrifice.” his father whispered one evening. it was the first dinner they had shared as a family since their mother’s passing, and their father was but a shell of the man he was before. “that is what makes a hero.”

there were many different types of tears exchanged that night: tears for the dead queen, tears of laughter at the silly memories they shared, tears of love as their father promised them both he’d always be there for his sons, tears of admiration as he announced his plans to step down form the throne, tears of honour when he offered his place to seonghwa.

in all his life, he’d yet to have been faced with any true sacrifice.

he couldn’t sit still from the moment you’d left the palace. there was a horrible feeling in his gut and a tugging at his heartstrings, begging him to follow after you, to keep his eye on your retreating figure. he managed to ignore it for a few hours, until mingi made a single comment about feeling uneasy and then he was up, commanding his friend to get dressed.

it was shocking how easily his legs carried him to the doors of the castle. the sight of it alone was enough to send a pang of emotions through his guts, memories of growing up there, of his mother singing him and his brother to sleep, of his father letting them win in fake duels against him, to boost their young egos. memories of you.

of meeting you in the stables and marrying you in the hall. of kissing you in the gardens and loving you relentlessly, unforgivingly.

a man caught his eye, up by a window on what he imagines to be the second floor. they held eye-contact for nothing but a few seconds but it was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. the man shut the curtains, but not before seonghwa managed to spot a familiar piece of jewelry dangling between his fingers.

mingi easily agreed to head up to the room, not needing convincing when the possibility of you being in there, in danger, was brought up. and seonghwa waited, his father’s question replaying over and over.

what makes a hero?

seonghwa finally met that sacrifice.

everything had happened quickly: his mythical name being bellowed across the courtyard, the man from the window calmly making his way down the steps of the castle, the sword in the man’s hand swinging freely as he began to talk, the uneasy feeling in seonghwa growing more intense as his knees began to cave in on him and the blood in his veins began to slowly freeze over.

and now the sword is buried in his chest.

“why are you doing this?” seonghwa manages to ask, voice shaky as he coughs up cold blood.

“finally! someone interested in what i have to say!” the man cheers, kneeling down to come face to face with seonghwa. there’s a smile on his face but iy holds no kindness. “your little lover really is stupid, you know? all she could do was stutter over her own words and throw playground insults. i guess that’s what your brain being on fire does to you.”

“if you layed your hands on her, i’ll-” seonghwa groans as the man turns the handle of the sword ever so slightly, the blade in him moving with it.

“you’ll what?” a heavy snow begins to fall down but seonghwa feels none of it, too consumed with the way his insides are turning to ice. “i didn’t need to lay a hand on her. you two are deadly enough all by yourselves, pathetic little abominations destined to die without the balance of one another.”

a rush of footsteps can be heard, the view of mingi appearing, you in his arms and a group of other men at his back. they halted in their path, watching the scene unfold before them, of the blood pouring onto the horrifically white ground and the way the prince has his hand around the handle.

“i always knew you were garbage, taeyong.” a voice, distinctly deep and familiar to seonghwa, rings out. it’s a little satisfying, among all the pain his body is in, to see the man’s eyes widen in fear, truly a coward and nothing like a hero. “ but i had no idea you were also pathetic. and treacherous. and insane. guards, seize that man.”

seonghwa can’t keep himself up any longer and, as the hand on the handle disappears when it’s owner stands and bolts out of the courtyard, the royal guards hot on his trail, he let’s himself fall on his back. he stares up at the sky and welcomes in the way the snow is falling onto him.

he thinks he could die quite happily like this.

“hwa!” your voice calls out softly.

but not yet, not now.

your face appears above him and he doesn’t need to touch you to feel the heat radiating off of you. it pains him to watch you remove the sword from his chest, and not because of the way it cuts him up some more but because you carelessly wrap your hand around the blunt blade and pull it out with no regard for how it slices your fingers open.

you try to speak again but you crash down on his chest, burning body against his icing skin. neither of you pay mind to the eyes on you, the king in disbelief of the fact his brother is there, not a single sign of having aged one bit and forcing him to witness the death of his sister in law all over again.

a deathly silence rings in the courtyard as the two lovers, soulmates knotted together by the red starring of fate, lay completely still: him on the cold ground and her on his cold body.

a moment passes and their chests no longer rise with any breath.

then another.

and another.

a gasp, faint but there, reaches the king and mingi’s ears and hope lurches forward in both their chests. they take a few steps closer, just in time to see the reopening of seonghwa’s eyes.

the man sits up, cradling his beloved to his chest, where no wound lays any longer and only stains of his blood remain on his clothes. his hands are desperate with how they claw at you, crushing you against his beating chest as he slowly begins to rock you both back and forth.

“come back. please. please don’t leave me again.” his words are getting tangled together as fresh, warm tears run down his face and a sob, violent, painful, alive rips through his chest. “you can’t- i just got you back- please- i love you.”

king felix feels his heart bleed for his brother, who’d been nothing but strong and permanent and there for him their whole childhood, now breaking down for the second time in his infinite lifetime over the loss of his one true love. a broken man, begging the gods and mother nature and anyone who will listen to bring you back to him.

“seonghwa...” mingi speaks with pity, leaning down to place his hand on the man’s shoulder. his movements halt when a strangled sob takes over the man as he burrows his head into your warm neck.

it’s painfully heartbreaking.

it’s viciously gut wrenching.

it’s tears and sobs.

it’s broken and brutal.

it’s an act of true love.

your eyes open.

everyone knows why the warmth returned.

the children of arendelle had rejoiced, awakening to see a single flower had bloomed from the ground and the sun, high in the sky, sharing it’s warmth with all the kingdom, melting the cold away and heating up everyone’s heart.

there was no need to wrap up in layers upon layers of clothing that morning, no cold wind to smack against their skin, no snow to soak through their clothes.

they were so quick to worry it was a once in a lifetime occurrence.

after two, three, four days of blistering heat everyone began to relax, to trust that the warmth was here to stay. families went to the beach for the first time in their lives. they felt the searing pain of sunburn and heat stroke yet still, the smile would not fall from their faces.

to feel the sun’s warmth was to feel alive.

the reunion was heartfelt.

a simple dinner, hosted by felix and his partner, chan, and welcoming only three guests: you, seonghwa and, of course, mingi.

the night was a much needed relief to you all, after the weeks of explaining to the town that yes, the myth had in fact been true and gyeoul had finally gotten his yeolleum back in his arms. now, the children were running around believing every myth of the kingdom to be true: demi-gods and fearsome dragons, werewolves and vampires, evil pirates and trickster genies. every mythical creature under the sun, they believed in it’s existence.

“time has been kind to you, hwa.” felix commented as he’d cut through his slice of steak.

“i can’t say the same for you, yongbok.”

laughter filled everyone’s lungs at the jab seonghwa made at the man’s graying hair and wrinkling skin.

the wedding was beautifully intimate.

with only loved ones in the perimeter, the two of you married down by the frozen lake, on the first official day of winter since the return of the summer season. the ceremony was quick, quaint, perfect for you two.

father jongho, much older than you’d remembered him being, orchestrated the marriage. there were plenty of jokes about how this was his first time marrying the same couple twice, which earned glares from seonghwa and giggles from you.

even that wolf, who’d scared you so much initially but proved to be nothing if not a big puppy, had come down to watch it, tail wagging when you offhandedly thanked him for pushing you into seonghwa’s arms that day, which never would have happened if you hadn’t crashed into the frozen water.

the funeral was painfully slow.

attended by the whole kingdom, not a single face sat without tears streaming down it as they watched the casket be carried down the isle, filled with their beloved king’s body.

father jongho hosted it, speaking beautiful words before handing the floor over to chan to give the eulogy. he himself was much older too, a full head of grey hair as he recounted the memories of his husband’s final years, the happiness that had been felt during them thanks to the return of his older, yet younger looking, brother.

even your father, who you hadn’t been on the best of terms with up until that point, had shed tear after tear. during the service, which was held in the familiar ballroom, he extended his condolences to chan and your husband, before lastly holding you in his frail arms for the first time in a while. he landed a kiss on your forehead before promising you would talk soon, do better to make use of the time you had left together.

the births were agonizingly worth it.

only you, seonghwa, mingi, chan and a wet-nurse were present for them. you’d screamed in agony, hand clasping seonghwa’s in it and telling him over and over about how you’d never allow him to put his wretched penis inside of you ever again, making everyone but your husband laugh.

yeosang and san came first, a set of beautiful boys born on the first day of spring. yeosang was quiet and well-mannered, unlike his twin san, who wreaked havoc everywhere he went yet he done so with the cutest little smile that had both of his parents melting into a puddle of forgiveness.

hongjoong and wooyoung came next, another set of beautiful boys born on the first day of autumn. hongjoong was the quieter one, taking after yeosang, while wooyoung became a double-act with his brother san, who taught him the ways of mischief and how to get away with it.

in your dreams, it is still cold.

frozen lakes and ice palaces fill your mind when you sleep, the memories of your life before dying- the first death- flashing into your subconscious occasionally. you no longer wake up in fear.

it’s never cold in bed, his body pressed against yours, his light breaths tickling at your ear and forcing you to break into a smile, alerting him of the fact you’re finally awake.

“i missed you.” he whispers and plants a kiss on your neck, smiling into your skin.

“we were sleeping for a few hours, what reason could you have for missing me?” you laugh as your roll over in his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

“hey! i went decades without you, so trust me when i say i have plenty of reasons for missing you.”

it’s hard sometimes, knowing you two have a much larger history together than your mind will allow you to remember but seonghwa is always here, ready to tell you stories of fights once had and dates once shared.

because he knows this is it, for good this time. no more goodbyes, no more losing you, no more isolation or frozen lands.

“we have about twenty minutes until the kids wake up.”

he feels a smile break out at your comment, arms squeezing you even tighter against him. “are you insinuating what i think you are, my lady?”

instead of a verbal reply, seonghwa feels a touch of warmth.

#ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez series #park seonghwa series #ateez angst #park seonghwa angst #ateez fluff #park seonghwa fluff #yes mingi is olaf

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

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Please wrote more surrogate fics please . could I request one with SakuAtsu or could you just start a series on these. If you'd me comfortable with that. That on IwaOi surrogate fic brought me so much joy. I can't even describe it.

oh my goodness i’d love to!!! it makes me so happy knowing you liked it cause like,,, idk why it’s just special to me :) also im so glad you asked for sakuatsu bc these two ships are basically my favorite jhfgbsj. and yesyes i’d love to have a mini series with like little scenarios of each ship <333

this was insanely long. like insanely.

content warning; artificial insemination, pregnancy, haikyuu manga spoilers, gay people being happy idk

being iwaoi’s surrogate

BEING SAKUATSU’S SURROGATE

↬ it took forever to even get them together, so with a duo as indecisive as them, it’s imaginable how long the decision to raise a child together took. it took a long, long while for that transition from enemies to lovers to be final, and even then, they hadn’t realized how serious their relationship was until they were off getting married and then suddenly wanting a child?

↬ it was something atsumu brought up out of the blue, just casually as they sat side by side on the couch. “wouldn’t it be nice if we raised a child together?” and it stuck with sakusa ever since. he didn’t know why he was obsessively thinking about it as much, but it’s all he could think about. literally. anytime he so much as thought about atsumu with a child, and a child of their own too, his stomach did a thousand and one flips. sakusa was never the biggest fan of children, and he knew that neither was atsumu. but, this would be different, wouldn’t it? Still, he tried to remind himself of the cons; they were pro-athletes, they didn’t have time, they didn’t understand the weight of the responsibility, were they even ready for something like that? somedays it was too tiring to take care of themselves, of each other. were they ready to be responsible for a whole life, someone dependent entirely on them? it seemed too— unrealistic. like something he could only hope to dream about, and just dream about.

↬ until he thought of atsumu with a little kid, a spit image of either one of them, sitting on his lap, giggling and laughing and squealing in glee. and so he decided, there will always be cons, he just has to see if the pros outweighed them. and honestly, they did. they were pro-athletes, sure, but that also meant they were financially stable, and could provide for a child, properly. they were mature now, knew each other very well, and had adapted to living with one another. they had family and friends all around. the kid would for sure grow up loved and cared for, and him and atsumu would add another person to their family. it really seemed like a dream, but this time, an attainable one.

↬ so as he ate dinner with his lover, he blurted out, “let’s raise a child together,” and atsumu honest to god choked on his food. he asked sakusa if he was serious, if he meant it, if this was real, and sakusa’s answer was yes to every single one of his question. yes, he was serious; yes, he meant it; yes, this was real. as real as can be.

↬ they both already knew they wanted a surrogate, and it didn’t matter who was the father. so long as the child was theirs.

↬ finding a surrogate was, well, a pain, to put it into perspective. sakusa was so picky about the “requirements,” if you will, and atsumu was suspicious of every single woman, it was kind of ridiculous really. he just “didn’t trust that they wouldn’t run away with the baby!” in his words. atsumu suggested sakusa’s older sister, which seemed perfect in his head, but sakusa refused, claiming it was 1. extremely weird, and 2. he doubted she’d say yes, with her own life to handle.

↬ and it finally, finally, came to atsumu: he could always just ask, well, you. he had met you during his college years, and since then, he’d been coincidentally crossing paths with you ever since then, and you’d even managed their msby jackals team at some point. it was weirdly ironic how he’s coming back to you, kind of like fate.

↬ so he suggested it to sakusa, and for once, the latter didn’t really have any way to object, except, “what if this inconveniences her?” other than that, you were the perfect candidate. they knew you well, trusted you, knew they could rely on you. and atsumu was sure you wouldn’t run with the baby. with regards to the inconvenience part, well, they could always just deal with that when the time came.

↬ they invited you over for some breakfast two days later, after they’d thought about it properly, endlessly, and figured you were their best option. it was weird seeing them so nervous when you first arrived, like they were breaking up with you or something. atsumu barely ate with how nauseous he felt, and sakusa spent the entire time watching you eat instead, hands fidgeting and legs shaking. it was really weird, but you didn’t bring it up, letting them take their own time to tell you whatever it was they wanted to tell you, because obviously, they clearly had something to say.

↬ after breakfast, you sat in their living room, just watching the tv quietly, until sakusa offered to get you some water. you weren’t really thirsty, but you agreed anyways, unsurprised to see atsumu rise from his own seat a minute later with a, “be right back,” as he headed to the kitchen. you could hear them bickering and whisper-yelling, and if you weren’t starting to grow as nervous as they were, you would’ve had it in you to laugh. they returned looking like they were bearing the most daunting of news, sitting down on the couch perpendicular to you. atsumu’s hands were sweaty and intertwined tightly together, while sakusa tried to remain as composed as possible. it seemed like the dark haired man would speak up, finally, parting his mouth with a deep breath.

↬ but it’s atsumu that blurts out, “please have my baby!— our baby. please have our baby.”

↬ honestly, your first response was to laugh, in disbelief, as you clutch your glass of water. but then you see their faces — god they looked so goddamn scared — and you realized that, they were really serious. they really wanted you to carry their baby for them. holy shit?—

↬ you were mostly speechless after that, stuttering as you ask them to please explain, you’re honored but are they are, have they thought about this? properly? in depth?

↬ to your surprise, they really knew what they were doing. they’d done their research, and thought about a million other options before deciding that you were the best one. they also repeatedly told you that you didn’t have to do this, and that they didn’t want to guilt-trip you into doing it either. they wanted you to say yes only if you yourself wanted to say yes, and if this wouldn’t negatively affect you or halt your life in any way. you were the one that was going to be carrying the baby anyways, weren’t you? at the end of the day, this was all about you.

↬ you asked them for time to think about it, and reminded them that it wasn’t a no. you just wanted to make sure you were making the right decision whichever that ended up being. a few days later, you call them, asking them to meet up one way or another, and atsumu’s even more nervous than he was asking you; not even sakusa’s gentle lips to his temple or large hands soothingly rubbing at his back or his kind words could help him. sakusa himself was insanely anxious. in his head, it seemed like your ‘no,’ would finalize everything. that it would really mean no hope in having a child of their own, their very own.

↬ you invite them over to your home, and the kettle is already boiling when they arrive. you make them tea and make small talk if only to delay the inevitable. but, to each of their surprises, you take a deep breath and say, “i’d be honored to carry your baby for you,” with the brightest, warmest smile. sakusa has to bite his inner cheek to will himself to not cry, because he can’t believe you said yes. you agreed. you’re going to carry their baby. him and atsumu were having a baby.

↬ atsumu doesn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around you, collapsing on top of you in tight hug that you kind of can’t breathe, but you let him, and you laugh when he thanks you for saying yes, that he’ll “be forever in your debt.”

↬ it’s the happiest you’ve seen either of them.

↬ when you’re done with the process of insemination (of course, atsumu does joke that the three of you should go the natural way and have a threesome, to which he earns a smack from his lover and a smack from you, at the same time), the three of you just have to wait, really. it’s the longest period of waiting you’ve ever had to do, but you try to be patient, as patient as you can be. when you wake up one morning and throw up, you look at your period tracking app to see if maybe you were pms’ing. except, you weren’t. you were late. like a good three weeks late.

↬ immediately, you’re booking a doctor’s appointment. you wait to tell sakusa and atsumu after confirming your suspicions, because you don’t want to raise their hopes up for nothing. they’ve already been swimming in a pool of doubts ever since the insemination, calling you everyday to check up on you and ask for any progress. when the doctor confirms your pregnancy — holy shit you were pregnant — the first thing you do is go over to their house. you know it’s not the best idea to show up unannounced, but with how long they’ve been waiting, and how much they’ve been wanting this, the more and more you fed into it, you couldn’t wait any longer to tell them. you arrive, and the moment sakusa opens the door for you, you gasp out, “i’m pregnant.”

↬ sakusa’s quite literally frozen in shock, his mouth pressed in a thin line with eyes wide open, while atsumu walks over and goes, “oh hey,” in greeting before noticing sakusa’s face and just ???? “what’s going on?”

↬ “i’m pregnant.”

↬ “you’re what?”

↬ you show them with tears stinging your eyes the results of the test you’d taken at the doctor’s, and atsumu grips the report so tightly, like it’ll disappear if it slips only slightly from his hands. sakusa’s still in shock, trying to process everything. it takes him a good while before he can function properly again.

↬ the pregnancy itself is a lot smoother than you’d imagined. iwaizumi, as their athletic trainer, although not well versed with pregnancy, knew a lot about health and taking care of yourself in general, so he made sure you were always eating right and healthy. he even accompanied you once when sakusa and atsumu couldn’t, to the doctor, and made sure to ask him specifically what you should and shouldn’t be eating. all of the olympic/national team are more excited than anything. they’re insanely protective over you, and always pamper and care for you you when they can, whether that be back/neck/shoulder massages or giving you their food when they notice you eyeing it or letting you lean entirely on any of them for support as you walk. granted, they do make fun of you, especially the bigger your stomach got, but they mean well, really. suna once made fun of you and, because of the hormones, and because he was genuinely just mean, you started to cry. since then, suna swore off bullying you, at least until you gave birth.

↬ osamu is beyond ecstatic to become an uncle. he’s so excited it makes atsumu incredibly emotional. he goes with his brother on trips to ikea to buy a crib and gifts him an insane amount of baby clothes and always begins a conversation with, “how’s the baby?” every time you’re around, osamu’s hand can be found resting on your stomach, soothingly rubbing, excitedly grinning when he feels a kick. he is just so happy for his brother, he could cry.

↬ you ask them if they want a gender reveal when you find out or to keep it until the delivery of the baby, but they’re both insanely impatient (even though sakusa does try to convince atsumu to wait because it’ll be exciting, he himself isn’t even that convinced of that and they just ask you to tell them). with the help of osamu and his and atsumu’s parents, you organize a gender reveal party. the moment he sees the pink smoke, atsumu cheers so loudly it makes you laugh till your stomach hurt. sakusa’s grinning wider than you’ve ever seen him, grabbing atsumu’s face and kissing him, before pulling you into a tight hug. it’s literally the cutest thing ever, everyone just cheering loudly around you and celebrating with you.

↬ when you go into labor, you’re with neither of them, but with osamu, aran, and kita. they were staying the night at a hotel since they had training away from where they lived, and you were spending the night at osamu’s because the fathers of your baby really didn’t want you to be alone so close to your due date, and who better than osamu? your water didn’t break, but you kept having contractions. you were brushing it off as normal pain at the start, but they started to get worse, and closer together in time. kita, because he’s kita, had been keeping track, and told you how far apart your contractions were. to which you went, “contractions?!”

↬ aran’s calling sakusa and atsumu as kita grabs your bag as osamu grabs his keys and helps you to his car. you really couldn’t have been around a better set of men, because they were perfectly composed the whole time, helping you breathe and stay calm by staying calm themselves, reassuring you that you didn’t need to worry and that you will get to the hospital in time. they did flinch every time you screamed or cried out in pain, but aran held your hand the entire drive there, and kita guided you to steadying yourself as osamu drove as fast as he could.

↬ the issue was with sakusa and atsumu. to say they were freaking out would be an understatement. they were positively losing it. atsumu’s anxiety was louder than sakusa’s, but the latter’s was clear as ever on his pale skin and clammy hands. they were so annoying in the delivery room, literally faring worse off than you, who was pushing a whole baby out of her body. when you finally gave birth to a healthy baby girl, atsumu sobbed and sakusa cried in his hands, so maybe it was alright after all.

↬ they literally couldn’t believe their eyes when the nurse handed you the baby and placed her on your chest. she was so, so tiny, so beautiful, and theirs. honestly, you couldn’t hold back your own tears at the sight of her, and at their reaction to her. you held her in your arms as they thanked you, over and over and over again, for the biggest blessing they could ever receive.

↬ despite the fact that you were simply their surrogate, sakusa and atsumu knew they couldn’t just separate you and your baby, and neither could they just take her home all of a sudden. so for the first few months, you stayed in their guest room, but the baby slept in her own room. it was more difficult than you expected it to be when you were leaving her to go back to your own home, but they promised you repeatedly that they’re not really taking her away. it wasn’t as if you couldn’t visit at any time you wanted to come visit her. but at the end of the day, you knew what you had been signing up for, and that she was their daughter.

↬ she grows up to be a gorgeous woman. she’s interested in volleyball, sure, she’d been raised with volleyball players everywhere around her, but it’s not her immediate passion. atsumu thought he’d be more upset about that than he actually was, because he found out that it didn’t matter at all what she wanted to do. hell, if she wanted to do nothing at all and stay home forever with them, he was 100% on board with that. whatever made her happy and healthy, he was okay with. she grows up to be really close and really comfortable with both of her fathers, and they make sure with every passing day that no matter what, she can always come to them. and she does, about every little thing. and each and every time, they listen and advice and guide her properly. a s parents, they’re a perfect balance of strict and lenient. they set and raise her to never cross those boundaries, but otherwise they give her complete freedom. they respect her privacy, her decisions, everything.

↬ there was a day when she came back home from school, and they had taken a biology class for kids, where a teacher had explained periods to them. obviously, as curious as ever, she’d asked her dads about it, because she didn’t really get it. she wanted to know the how’s and the why’s and the what’s and the when’s. with every passing second atsumu had felt his lifespan shorten. eventually he suggested they call you, who she knew as her ‘aunt’ for the time being, since you were a woman and nobody would really explain it better than you. when she did get her period eventually, and had to sheepishly and shyly ask her dads to go to the store for her because she needed, um, supplies, atsumu lost it. sakusa had to try and calm him down all while laughing as he got ready to go to the store for her, because the drama of miya atsumu never gets old. he just couldn’t believe she was already getting her period. what the hell! what the actual hell!

↬ of course, he proceeded to embarrass her by telling osamu, telling sakusa’s parents, telling his parents. not cool :(

↬ when she was old enough, especially to understand the concept of being a surrogate (oh my god the sex talk was a whole other insufferable thing), they told her about you, and that you were actually her biological mother and not just an ‘auntie.’ she tried to be angry at them for keeping it from her, but she was honestly more excited about finding out than anything. it brought the two of you closer together, and for the next mother’s day, she organized a whole brunch for you, her and her dads, got you a gift, flowers, everything. yeah, you did cry.

↬ you genuinely have never been more satisfied and thankful for a decision like this one, ever, especially because of how much of a blessing the outcome had been.

can u tell this isn’t my first time thinking about this. ever since i posted the iwaoi one i’ve been wanting to do a sakuatsu one, but i didn’t really know whether anyone had enjoyed that or would want more, so thank you for sending in this ask!! love u all mwah <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #atsumu x sakusa #sakuatsu #sakuatsu x reader #atsumu x reader

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stratiotis-nth · 3 years ago

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Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.

He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.

At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.

Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.

Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.

His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.

For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.

“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”

“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”

“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”

No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.

“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.

Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.

“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.

Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.

It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.

This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.

Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.

“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.

“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.

“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel’s heart seized with terror.

“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“

“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”

And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.

People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.

It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.

The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.

Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.

“Whoa, Jesus!”

Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“

The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.

Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.

The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.

Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.

The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.

Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.

But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—

was Castiel himself.

He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.

It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.

He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.

“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.

He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.

“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.

“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.

“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.

“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.

“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?

“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”

“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—

“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.

“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.

What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?

“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.

“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“

“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.

He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.

“Sorry again, man.”

It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.

Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.

It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.

Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.

A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.

The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.

Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.

This could not be happening.

#SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER THIS WAS GETTING TOO LONG AGAIN #IM REALLY BAD ABOUT KEEPING THESE SHORT #BUT I KINDA WANNA WRITE THIS FULLY??#MAYBE? idk #supernatural #cas #castiel #destiel #spn #casdean #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #destiel fandom #destiel fanfic

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fweasleyswhore · 4 years ago

Text

Special To Me: Fred Weasley

requested by @fantastic-fans

a/n is it obvious I have a special spot for goblet of fire fred/george aka long hair times, uh yes. would i want it any other way? uh, no. sorry to my cedric stannies out there - but i think the transition from the fourth to fifth movie where their hair had been chopped off hurt more than cedrics death.

Pairing: Fred x fem!reader / Potter!reader

Summary: Reader struggles to feel significant compared to her twin brother (Harry Potter). These feelings make it hard for her to deal with her growing crush on Fred.

Word Count: 14.9K (i said i liked the idea and yes i did)

Warnings: a tad of angst and self deprecating thoughts (if you are struggling feel free to dm me and talk)

“But…” My eyes looked across the Great Hall table at Harry. His eyes were as wide as mine, shock was evident on his features much as my own. Had the situation been less serious we would have been teased about it, but this was anything but a laughable situation.

I felt Hermione’s hand on mine and she squeezed gently. I could see her looking at me through the corner of my eye but my eyes did not leave my twins. Again? He was constantly being pushed around, things being thrown at him but this year but we figured, this year would be ok.

“Blimey Harry, mind telling us how you didn’t grow a beard but put your name in?” George joked. I barely processed it and before I could punch him Dumbledore spoke again.

“Harry Potter, would you please come up here?” Harry looked at me, then to Ron and Hermione.

“I didn’t put my name in.” He rushed out. His voice was shaky and his eyes began to gloss over. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

I couldn’t respond. I was still just shocked.

“It’s ok Harry, we know. Go up there.” Hermione urged. She squeezed my hand again which grounded me. I hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t let go until she did that. My hand squeezed back. Not faltering but squeezing harder as I watched Harry walk up to Dumbledore, he tripped a few times but caught himself. My gaze didn’t leave him even after he went through the door at the edge of the Great Hall with the other champions. I sat there frozen.

“Love? Did you know he put his name in the cup?” Fred’s voice took me out of my trance. I stopped peering over Hermione’s head and turned to my side. His hand came up and held my shoulder, rubbing gently.

“No, I didn’t,” I spoke. My mind was racing a million minutes a second. I couldn’t stop thinking of our first night back at Hogwarts. Harry and I sat on the floor of the common room, a comfortable silence between us. We had both agreed that this year was going to be good. We both agreed that we were going to have a relaxed year, not push ourselves but enjoy the time at home before we went back to Uncle Vernon. He promised to stop worrying me, of course, I knew that it wasn’t his fault but it still made me feel some sort of peace. “He said he didn’t.” I could feel my eyes tear up. I’m not sure if it was the anger, the confusion, or the fear that set in that was causing it. “Oh don’t cry…” Fred pleaded. His hand that was rubbing my shoulder moved and he pulled me into his chest. I dropped Hermione’s hand and balled my hands around his sweater. He squeezed me tighter to his chest and rubbed my back as I came undone in his hands. I pulled back so my head was no longer pressed against him.

“Why is it always him?!” I nearly shouted. Friends who weren’t watching me come undone before definitely were now. Ron scoffed at my remark and rolled his eyes.

“My thoughts exactly.” He spoke snarkily before grabbing his things and leaving. My teary eyes watched him walk away. I looked at Hermione hoping maybe she understood but she held the same confusion as me. She sent me a sympathetic look before collecting her own things, squeezing my shoulder, and running after Ron.

“Foul git…” George mumbled. He brought his hand around Fred to give my shoulder a squeeze and send me a sympathetic gaze. I returned it and rested my head back on Fred’s chest. His arms were still holding me and that I was thankful for, he brought me in closer and sighed.

“Do you think they are going to make him play? People die in this competition...” I whispered to him.

He rested his head on top of mine and whispered back. “I’m not sure. It’s always something with you Potters isn’t it.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, he was right, sadly it was always us.

I brought my head up to look at him. If he wasn’t holding me I would’ve collapsed, his face was much closer than I thought and our noses almost touched. My face was flushing, I could feel it but I continued.

“Talk a lot yourself, Weasley. I could argue that you have more going on than us.” His smile was intoxicating, I couldn’t refrain from smiling back. Just like that my mood lightened. This was one of the many reasons I loved being around Fred Weasley, he just brings so much happiness into the world. In the worst situations I couldn’t help but find myself smiling because of him.

“Oh, you could? Because...” He leaned in after trailing off, my breath hitched. I was frozen as he leaned in so his lips ghosted over my ear. “You, are all I got going on.” He whispered, my face flushed and I could feel him smirking at me, confident in his ability to make me flush at the smallest things. I pushed my face into his chest again.

“I just want one quiet year,” I spoke into his chest. His arms tightened around me as he began to rub small circles into my back.

“I know. I know.” He spoke into my head. I could feel the vibrations of him talking in his chest. And even though there was hell all around us, I felt safe. I felt safe with him holding me. I tried to push down the bubbling in my stomach. This was our thing, we flirt, we joke but we are friends. He’s comforting a friend, that’s all. I pushed the thoughts aside, getting overwhelmed again wasn’t going to help my already anxious mood.

“We should, erm, go back to the common room.” George’s voice took me out of my trance. Untangling myself from Fred I looked around. Almost everyone had left the Great Hall. A few people stayed finishing up their meals or conversations. Looking around I saw Cedric’s friend group waiting for him.

“Come on, Harry can meet us in the common room,” Fred said standing. He and George outstretched their hands. I rubbed my eyes and rolled them at them before standing and wrapping my arms around theirs. “Attagirl.” Fred said after I linked our arms, earning a laugh from George and jab in the side from me.

Sitting in front of the fire I let my mind wander. Hermione could be heard in the dorms arguing with Ron and I didn’t really want to get in the middle of it. Behind me, Fred and George were talking about a prank they were planning. All around the common room, there was chatter, everyone was doing something, talking to someone, but I couldn’t bring myself to join.

Harry’s name was picked from the cup.

I tried to think back on the day. I was with him practically the whole time, the times I wasn’t Hermione and Ron were. None of us saw him put his name in the cup yet his name got picked. People died in the game. “This challenge isn’t for the weary of the heart, mind you, be absolutely sure you want this before entering your name. The rules have been altered but in the past champions have died. I do not expect any of us will be saying goodbye to our friends but I would not take this lightly.”

“Too bad they have the age limit, Harry you would win that thing so easily.” Ron piped in between bites.

“I think I have enough things trying to kill me in challenges I didn’t sign up for. Don’t think I would enter even if I could.” Harry shot back. He smiled at me from across the table and I remembered our promise, I smiled back.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hermione asked softly, sitting down beside me. Her voice brought me back to the present as her knees hit my legs that I was hugging to my chest. I sighed and leaned back onto the couch where Fred and George were sitting, bumping Fred’s legs slightly.

“We agreed to have a quiet year,” I spoke slowly, a stark contrast to the thoughts inside my head that seemed to be swimming at 100 mph. “Quiet and good. And I understand this isn’t his fault. He didn’t put his name in but he is so tired ‘Mione. I don’t know how much of this he can take.” My voice began to break and tears welled up in my eyes for the second time that night. I was so tired of watching him get broken down to nothing and then being expected to piece himself together again. After last year where we met Sirius, we had hoped that we would be able to run off with him, live with him maybe. But the ministry is still doing everything in their power to capture him, so Harry and I had to go back to Uncle Vernon. Sirius sends us letters and communicates when he can but it still hurts not having him around. It especially hurt Harry. He had this whole life in the countryside dreamt up where we lived with Sirius and after Peter got away he was shattered. That summer I made sure to take more blows from Dudley. Usually, I got away with it being a “lady”, Aunt Petunia made sure to teach her son not to hurt girls, Dudley never saw me as a girl though, I don’t think Aunt Petunia did either but I wasn’t going to argue with it.

“Hey, don’t cry. Listen, tiring yourself isn’t going to help him. If you want a quiet year come hell or high water I will do everything in my power to make sure you get that.” She smiled and looked into my eyes, her eyes held a sense of security I longed for.

“Oh ‘Mione,” I wrapped myself around her in a tight embrace. I knew she wasn’t expecting it but she hugged me back slowly. “Thank you.” I whispered. She nodded into my shoulder.

A few hours passed and I calmed my swimming mind with the work I had been putting off over the summer that was going to be due at the end of the week. Small introductory papers going over what we learned last year. Not difficult but time consuming.

“I think I am going to head to bed.” Hermione spoke. I looked up, it was just us two. George was gone and Fred was sprawled out on the couch behind me, snoring slightly. I giggled at the sight of him, his long legs trying to stay on the couch.

“All right ‘Mione. I think I’m gonna stay and finish this. Wait for Harry to get in.” She nodded and rubbed my shoulder as she stood.

“Wake me up if anything happens or you need to talk.” I nodded and she set off up the stairs. I stood too. Stretching after being curled inward onto myself my joints began to hurt. I walked around the common room blowing out stray candles and tidying up slightly. I went back to my position in front of the couch to finish my potions essay on the new ingredients we learned last year highlighting their properties and effects.

“This is rubbish.” I laughed to myself reading the first few paragraphs. I honestly didn’t remember much from last year. I suppose that's what happens when you meet your criminal godfather and your friend's rat turns out to be one of Voldemort's henchmen.

While making notes on the margins of my essay I heard the portrait hole open. I turned to see Harry walk in, Fred turned slightly but didn’t wake. He didn’t register my eyes on him and he walked wearily towards the boys dorm entrance.

“Harry?” I whispered. He turned around, his pained face made a small smile when he recognized me.

“Oh Y/N!” He rushed over to me and collapsed in my arms. His body wrinkled my papers but I didn’t mind. I was just as fast to grab him back and hold him tightly. Soon I felt my neck grow wet as he heaved in my arms. I rubbed circles into his back and held him tighter.

He pulled back. “Erm, sorry.” He sniffled and rubbed at his face.

“You never have to apologize to me.” I sent him a comforting smile. “They’re making you play?” Although it was a question it sounded more like a statement. Deep down I already knew but I didn’t want to admit it.

“Yeah, so much for a quiet year I guess.” He let out a forced laugh, it sent a wave of pain to see him so broken. He stared at his hands in his lap and sniffled a few times. I looked back at the fire.

“I wish we were the chosen one’s.” I said quietly. “Just to take some of the burden off of-” “Do not ever say that.” He cut me off. I turned to him, his red eyes were wide and his face was full of grief. “Never.” “But Harry-” I tried but to no avail he cut me off again.

“No. I mean it. Half of the time the one thing that keeps me going is knowing that you are ok. Y/N if you had to fight this battle too I think I would break. I want to keep you safe.” He spoke slowly. His voice was lower and I could tell he genuinely felt this way. He grabbed my hands and I nodded.

“It’s not fair, it's always you.” I countered. I knew he was right but I didn’t want to stand idly by while he risked his life for me. “I understand you want to protect me, so you have to understand that I want to do the same. Harry this isn’t just your fight. We will fight with you, you just got roped in as our leader. I will do everything in my power to take even a miniscule amount of that burden off of you.” He was quiet. I looked into his eyes but his eyes were staring at our hands. His eyes were swirling much like how I imagined his head to be right then.

“When I lost you at the World Cup there was a split second I thought you died.” He hung his head even more if that was possible. “I couldn’t bear it Y/N and I knew if it happened it would've been my fault and-” This time I cut him off. I hugged him again and I felt him shake in my arms. I was mentally cursing the world for putting its weight on his shoulders. It wasn’t fair to him.

I pulled back enough so he could see my face. “Never in a million years blame yourself. It’s not and never will be your fault ok. Besides that only proves my point, this isn’t your fight alone.” I gestured to the sleeping form on the couch behind us.

That night rang through my head as I did so. I had linked arms with Hermione and Harry. The twins and Ginny were behind us. We were all trying desperately to find cover and we got pulled in different directions. Hermione’s arm became unlinked with mine and she trailed off with Ron and I got pushed down with Harry.

Scrambling to get up I looked around and Harry was gone. I began to scream his name but too many people were running and my yells were drowned out in the screams. Immediately I felt my body tense up and shake as panic set in. I figured my best shot was to go in the direction we were headed before I got split up from everyone. Trying to push through the crowd was hard, I was shoved around and soon I was sure my shoulders were bruised from the sheer amount of times I got shoved backwards by someone.

A loud scream echoed in the space. I looked around trying to find its origin when a couple tall men ran right into me. They didn’t even register it as they ran right on top of me. Digging their heels into my skin and kicking me. I tried to move when one of them kicked me directly in the head. I crawled into myself, cradling my head and waiting for the group to pass. The burning sensation in my shoulders now spread to my neck and I could feel the blood on my hands as I held my head.

I stood up shakily, nearly falling again as a wave of dizziness swarmed me. My vision was spinning but I tried my best to trudge forward in the direction I thought was the right way.

“Y/N.” I blinked, I know I just heard my name but I can’t see anyone around. “Y/N!”

My head injury must be getting to me. I looked at my feet which were having a hard time moving forward when I heard it again. I tried to turn around but something caught me.

Right then my feet were hoisted off the ground and my abdomen was squeezed. I yelled out and elbowed towards my back trying to fight off my attacker. I was set down and before I could run away strong hands were spinning me around. Immediately recognizing him I jumped into Fred’s arms and he lifted me up. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist. The pain I was feeling faded to the back of my mind as he held me.

“I thought we lost you.” He whispered in my ear. “Never do that again.” “I didn’t try to.” I whispered back. He laughed shallowly.

“I know, just, I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered. His grip on me tightened. The familiar feeling of butterflies erupted in my stomach, something I always felt when he was near. Even though he had been running around he still smelled like cinnamon and fireworks.

“You didn’t lose me Freddie. Never have, never will.” I whispered back. My grip equally tightened trying to communicate the feelings I have felt for a while.

He squeezed me again then set me down. I stood on my shaky legs trying to remain balanced. “Let’s go.” he whispered. Keeping up with him on a normal day was hard; this was damn near impossible.

Fred was tugging at my wrist, he had linked our hands together so I wouldn’t get lost again. I followed him, tripping every now and then but he always caught me. After what felt like hours we managed to the woods where we met with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and George. Immediately Hermione hugged me.

“I can’t breath.” I barely muttered to get out between pants.

“I thought that you had been trampled or…” She trailed off and looked behind me. I turned around but only saw the forest. “Where’s Harry?”

“I thought he was with you?” I looked around. Each Weasley held a similar look on their face of confusion as they looked between themselves then back to us.

Ron walked up to us. “I’ll go find him.” He squeezed my shoulder and looked between me and Hermione. “I’m coming.” Hermione piped up.

“Me too.” I said brushing myself off. They both looked at me like I was insane. “What?!”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding.” Fred said. I had forgotten he was still next to me. He gently grasped at my cheek to turn my head towards him as he inspected the cut on my forehead.

“I bet you all are bleeding. So what? I’m fine, I'm coming.” I pulled out of his gentle touch, immediately feeling cold.

“Your neck is bruised…” Hermione spoke. Again I could feel Fred’s hands on me. He trailed his fingers down the side of my neck, slightly pulling on the collar of my shirt as he inspected my injuries. I could hear him hiss while looking at them but I kept my eyes on Hermione.

“Y/N you could barely keep up with me on our way here. Just stay, please?” Fred’s hand had continued its tour of my body and it brushed my arm as he reached down to grab my hand. I finally peeled my gaze toward his. He was beautiful, his eyes were pleading, his grip tightened slightly so I hung my head in defeat.

“Please be safe.” I looked between Ron and Hermione. He nodded and she smiled before they ran out toward the direction of screams and fire.

I watched them until they disappeared behind some trees.

“Come sit love.” Fred said and he pulled me over to a tree trunk with a base to barely fit the two of us. Once I sat he began inspecting my face again, then my neck and shoulders. Occasionally I would flinch or gasp as he uncovered a new injury or an especially tender bruise, immediately mumbling a ‘sorry’ he would halt his actions before continuing.

He slouched against the tree beside me. I could feel his gaze on me but I kept my eyes trained on the forest where Hermione and Ron had walked out of a few minutes ago.

“You look horrible.” He said. I turned to him with a look of disbelief.

“Gee thanks, only nearly got killed a little while ago.” I shot back. His eyes widened as he realized what he said.

“No! No! Not like that. You’re beautiful I just mean-” I didn’t hear what else he said as I burst out laughing. He looked so panicked it was both heartwarming and hilarious.

“I’m messing Freddie. I know what you mean.” I brought my hand up to ruffle his hair. He huffed and rolled his eyes but he was smiling. I finally looked around us. Across from us a few trees to my right Ginny and George were snoring and leaning on each other. I giggled at the sight and realized how tired I was at that moment.

I yawned and tried to shift around to a comfortable position, something this tree was not allowing me to do. Fred watched me and snickered to himself. I looked up, catching him trying to stifle a laugh as I tried my third position, but gave up and turned so my back was against the tree again.

“Maybe I could get comfortable if your big butt wasn’t in the way.” I shot at him playfully. Looking towards him.

“I’ll have you know I have a tiny butt.” He said leaning down so we were eye level.

“Your butt looks big from where I’m sitting.” I shoot back. He rolls his eyes and smirks at me.

“If my enormous arse is taking up so much of your room why don’t you just sit on me then.” He patted his legs. “According to you I have enough butt to share so I figured I might as well.” He raised his brows at me and it hit me he wasn’t joking. My face warmed up and I prayed he couldn’t see it under the layer of dirt on my face. “Well?” He asked, smoothing out his trousers.

I mustered up my courage and crawled on top of him. I sat on him sideways and rested my head in the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around me immediately. I sighed into him. My pain and uncomfort drifted away as my eyes drifted shut.

“Fred?” He moved his face so he could see me. I didn’t move my head, just brought my hand up to rest on his chest, he understood and rested his head back against the tree.. I could feel his heartbeat in his chest and it made me smile. He hummed in response. “Thank you. Not only for getting me tonight but all the times you just…” I trailed off. I didn’t think before I spoke but I knew what I was trying to say so I continued. “You always make me smile. Thank you.”

His arms tightened around me, and he placed a kiss onto the top of my head. I could feel myself blush so I pushed my head farther into his neck.

“Of course Y/N. Anything for you, love.” I smiled at the nickname. I felt safe as I drifted off. Even the distant screams didn’t disturb me, I focused on Fred’s heart beating under my hand and his hands rubbing small circles in my sides.

“Still haven’t properly thanked him for that.” Harry’s voice brought me back to the present and I smiled at him. That night was terrifying yes, but it's also something I think fondly about in retrospect. It showed how we all cared for each other, jumping up to protect one another, a lot of times I don’t feel like I fit in, that I’m the annoying sister who's included because she doesn’t have any friends. But after that night I realized I do have friends and they are all around me.

“You really should. Poor bloke carried me while I slept and took care of my cuts.” I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Fred’s sleeping figure.

Harry laughed and nodded. A comfortable silence fell between us as we stared at the fire.

“It’s gonna be ok Harry.” I spoke, my voice sounded confident, more confident than I felt inside.

“I know, just gotta get through it first I reckon.” He smiled at me. I nodded and smiled back. “I’m gonna head to bed, love you Y/N.”

“Love you too.” As he walked away I gathered my papers and tried to get them to lay flat but to no avail they were crumpled. I groaned and threw them in my bag and began to walk upstairs.

I ran down the stairs remembering Fred. He was still curled up on the couch snoring softly. I laughed to myself and gently woke him up.

“Fred, love, you should go upstairs.” He groaned and turned to face me. His long hair was a mess and his face was peaceful, he looked amazing, even then.

“Did Harry come in?” I nodded and he groaned again this time while standing, when he stretched his shirt rode up ever so slightly exposing his midriff. My cheeks burned as I looked at his toned torso and the small trail of ginger hair that stopped at his trousers. “Are you alright?”

I looked up to him and swallowed. His eyes showed genuine concern and I mentally slapped myself for drooling over him right in front of him. Luckily though, he didn’t notice.

I nodded. “Harry and I talked, we’re gonna push through.”

“With my help of course.” He smiled down at me.

I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t help but smile back. “I figured that was implied.” I said smugly, poking his chest.

“It better be.” He whispered. His voice was deep and drowsy and it sent a wave through me that made me shiver. I swallowed and looked back up to him.

“Goodnight Fred.” I leaned up on my toes to kiss his cheek. He looked at me stunned. I couldn’t tell if he was blushing from shock or embarrassment so I turned around and walked up the girls dormitory stairs. Why did I do that?

Barely audible I heard him yell after me. “G-Goodnight Y/N!” I smiled, falling asleep thinking of Fred. The weight of my conversation with Harry was gone, I felt dizzy like I was floating. All because of a certain redhead downstairs.

“Dragons! You have got to be joking.” I yelled.

We were steadily approaching the first task. When Hermione wasn’t studying she was helping Harry and I figure out what the tasks were going to be. Hermione was trying to split her time between us and Ron, I was trying to split my time between them and the twins, to say I felt overwhelmed was an understatement. Classes began to pick up in workload and I could barely imagine the stress that Harry was feeling.

“You could be a howler with a voice like that.” George quipped from his usual spot on the couch. I looked up at him and sent him a glare, he put his hands up defensively. “I’m right, it’s a compliment, look you would be much more effective than those damned things, that scared me!”

I rolled my eyes. “Your poor mum has sent you so many howlers, your saying not once did they scare you?” George shrugged and I looked back to Harry in front of me.

“He’s lying you know.” Fred whispered to me. I was sitting on the floor in between his legs where I usually sat. I turned my head to see him better. He glanced at George before leaning down to me again. “I once saw him cry after we got sent one. He was real torn up about it-”

Suddenly George hopped on Fred. I moved away from the couch partially to get a better view of them fighting and partially to not get hit by the flying limbs.

“Ugh would you two stop it! We have a real issue here!” Hermione stood up and hit them both with the book in her hands. George rubbed the back of his head where she had hit him as he sat back down and Fred hissed as he cradled his leg. They both sat back down, George glaring daggers into Fred, occasionally muttering something about him being a ‘Lying git’.

Hermione sat back down next to Harry.

“Is this what the brown dragon looked like?” She asked, pointing to a picture in the book. Harry examined it for a minute before speaking.

“Sure looks a lot more like it than the other ones.” Scratching the back of his neck he looked at her but she was busy reading about the dragon. They started to argue on if Harry had seen scales or skin and I tuned out, looking back over to the twins.

Fred caught my eye and he motioned for me to come back, sitting in my normal position again I smiled as he began to run his fingers through my hair.

“Does it matter much if its scales or skin? I mean, it's a dragon, they have a list of traits they all share, why don’t we tackle that before anything specific.” I interrupted their argument. They both looked at me. Hermione looked like she had swallowed something sower and I laughed to myself at the expression she had. She was about to speak before Harry intervened.

“Brilliant. What’s a common theme?” Hermione rolled her eyes and shut her book aggressively. She picked up spare parchment and a quill and started making a list.

“Well the fiery breath is something to be concerned about.” Fred said. I nodded along with him.

“And the massive talons that will rip you to shreds.” George added. Hermione glared at him and threw a pillow at him. “I’m not wrong!” He said removing the pillow from his face, everyone except Hermione laughed.

“Distraction and Execution. That’s what you need to plan on. I’ve watched these idiots do the same things over and over again and it’s always worked.” I said lifting a hand to point at Fred and George. “Well mostly worked but that’s not the point.” I laughed, George leaned over and flicked my shoulder and Fred ruffled my hair.

“Just use a strength of yours mate, what are you good at?” Fred asked.

Harry looked down at the ground in front of him, muttering things to himself and moving his hands. “I think I’m a fair flyer.”

My jaw dropped “Fair!?” He looked at me worriedly.

“Harry you’re an amazing flyer. Fair barely sums it up.” Hermione said. He looked at us smiling but then his smile dropped. “I’m not allowed a broom.” He said running his hands through his long hair. I frowned.

“You’re allowed a wand, use it.” Fred said. His hands now rested on my shoulders as he leaned in to talk to Harry. Not even thinking I brought my hand up to rest on his. I noticed when he squeezed my hand. I looked up and he smiled at me, I smiled back, relaxing my hand as his wrapped around mine.

“Oh and I’m supposed to hop around with my wand between my legs and hope that makes me fly?” He said rather exacerbated. I knew it was getting to him but now I noticed it. The dark circles under his red eyes. His nails were unkempt, he was picking at them because he was stressed.

“No mate, use a summoning spell.” Fred spoke again. He looked at Fred like he was insane.

“There is a spell for that?” I laughed along with the twins, Harry didn’t believe him.

“There is a spell for everything, uh here.” George lifted his wand while talking. “Accio quill.” Just then Hermione’s quill jumped from her hand and into George’s. Harry watched bewildered. “Here you go, sorry about that.” George said bending over to hand Hermione her quill back who was currently glaring at him. I laughed to myself, poor girl needs to loosen up.

“So if I said ‘Accio Firebolt’ my broom would come to me?” Harry asked. George and Fred nodded and I laughed at his excitement.

Our good banter went quiet as the portrait hole opened. We all turned toward the sound seeing Ron walk in. He looked at all of us avoiding Harry, I sent him a small smile and gestured to the empty space next to me. He stopped for a moment, looking torn, then he looked at Harry and scoffed and rushed up to his room.

Harry focused back on the floor suddenly finding it really interesting. It must suck to have to room with someone so mean I thought. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around.” George spoke obviously trying to diffuse the tension.

“He better!” Hermione nearly yelled. We all looked to see her face turning red. “He’s acting like- like-” She looked around suddenly at a loss for words. “A huge baby!” She finally exclaimed. We all nodded, not trying to further poke the bear.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” She huffed and ran up the dormitory stairs. Harry yelled after her, trying to tell her it wasn’t worth it but I don’t think she listened. Soon enough he had disappeared up the stairs too, leaving me with the twins.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a minute before I felt Fred’s hand slip from mine. I tried to not act disappointed as I let my hand fall back into my lap. Suddenly I felt two hands firmly grasp my waist and I was being hoisted up onto the couch. I squirmed out of Fred’s grasp who was laughing at my red face. George was laughing too but I was focussed on Fred.

“And what was that for?!” I yelled.

“There’s space on the couch, figured you got tired of the floor.” He said in between chuckles.

“Well you could have asked!” I smacked his arm playfully at his antics. I couldn’t even stay mad at him, his smile was too intoxicating.

“Besides we wanted to let you in on-” Fred started.

‘A very special and-” George continued.

“Secret plan.” Fred finished.

I looked between the two. The both held a very serious look on their face which I couldn’t help but giggle at, it was so out of character for them to be serious.

“You two will be the death of me won’t you?” I asked.

“Maybe.” They said in unison which made me laugh harder than before.

It was the day of the first task, I was seated in between Fred and Hermione in my usual seat at breakfast shoving food in my mouth as fast as possible.

“Y/N, please slow down, you are starting to look like Ron.” Hermione said, obviously a little disgusted. Ron’s head whipped up from across the table where he was chewing down on his sausage.

“What?!” He asked. Hermione rolled her eyes and I laughed in between bites.

Once I was satisfied I looked at her. “Sorry, I’m trying to get down to the field as fast as possible to see Harry and also help these two.” I pointed behind me. Their very special secret plan was a portable gambling station to bet on the players. I told them that it was kinda messed up they were betting on our friends being put in life threatening situations, something they rolled their eyes at. After a few promises of chocolate frogs and butterbeer for ‘the next month’, I agreed happily.

Hermione looked at the twins with a disapproving look that they didn’t catch. Her seriousness made me laugh. “See you out there?” I asked. She nodded and I stood up wrapping a scarf around my neck and dragging George away from his bacon and out to the field.

I walked around the pitch, directing people to where Fred and George were collecting bets and finally found where the champions were. I poked my head into the tent and tried to find my twin.

“Y/N?!” I heard a whisper. I whipped my head around and Harry was sulking in the corner of the tent. I motioned for him to come over, he glanced at the other champions who were too busy stretching or meditating to notice my presence before he walked over. As soon as he was in reach I engulfed him in a hug causing us both to stumble a bit.

“You ok?” I searched his features while holding him at arm's length. He nodded and swallowed.

“A bit nervous.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor.

“You got this, out of all the people in this tent you definitely got this.” I whispered. Right then I saw Dumbledore walk in the tent. “I should go.” He nodded and I gave him one more swift hug before running back to the stands to find the twins.

I stayed with them helping them count money and sharing candies I had stuffed in my pocket. More and more people began to fill the stands and I looked around for Hermione or Ron but saw neither. I brushed it off, they would come, they are probably just fighting.

“Hey Y/N! Mind if I sit here?” I looked up to see Neville bundled up tightly. His overgrown hair was swaying slightly against his forehead but was mostly held down with his ear muffs. I smiled and nodded, shifting to make more room on the crowded bench. In doing so I sat flush against Fred with less than an inch of room between me and Neville. We both smiled at each other again before focusing on the arena, waiting for it to start any minute now.

“Hey Neville?” I asked, turning toward him. He looked back at me quickly like I had caught him taking cookies out of the candy jar. “Did you happen to see Hermione on your way down here?” He instantly relaxed, probably thinking I was going to ask him to move. His eyes trailed away from mine as he recounted his steps.

“Yeah I did, she wasn’t walking towards the stands though she was heading toward the field.” I nodded, glad that she was around but slightly upset she didn’t come sit with me like we agreed.

“And Ron?” I asked after a brief moment of silence. His face contorted the same way it had moments earlier as he thought back. “I saw him standing outside the entrance to the stands, he wasn’t moving though.” I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks Neville.” I smiled again even though anger was burning up inside of me. Ron had continued to play this game long enough, he needed to get over himself and help out his friend. His constant bickering and absence was obviously getting to all of us, especially Harry.

I turned to Fred. “Why does your brother have to be such a git?” I asked. George whipped his head around stunned and Fred laughed.

“I don’t know, I guess I took all the good genes and George got stuck with the bad ones.” He said not even looking up from the tally sheet in his hand.

I took his hat off his head and flicked his forehead. “I meant Ron you daft dingus.” This time he looked at me, more because of my actions instead of my words. From behind him I could see George relax and laugh out of relief. He held his signature smirk as he grabbed his hat from my hands and began straightening it out.

“Don’t know, but I don’t think you should worry about that right now.” He said coolly.

“And what should I be worrying about Freddie?” I shot back. My anger began to reside as we fell back into our natural banter.

“This!” He said while pulling his hat over my head. I tried to fight him off but his grip was much stronger than mine. Finally I dropped my hands and slumped in defeat. I could hear his muffled laughter as he began to pull his hands away. I began to pull the hat off when he stopped me halfway.

“No, it looks better on you.” He held a genuine smile as he fixed the hat and smoothed down my hair. I could feel my cheeks warm up and I smiled back before turning my attention back to the field instead of him. My stomach began to stop doing flips as I looked around. Dumbledore was walking up to his box in the stand with the Minister.

“Must be about to start.” I heard Neville say in my direction. I nodded not even sure if he was looking at me as I stared at the champion tent. Just as Dumbledore began to speak, a very angry Hermione pushed her way into the stands sitting on the seat in front of us.

I maneuvered my way down to the stand below me and grabbed her shoulder. Her face was red and her breathing was rapid, I couldn’t tell if it was from the speed she was walking or whatever just happened. I looked at her silently asking about what happened.

“That wench that works for the daily prophet made an accusation saying I was having a love affair with Harry. She saw us hugging and took a photo. Now it's going to be plastered in a Newspaper for the whole school, much less the wizard parts of London to see.” I sent a frown her way. I knew immediately who she was talking about. Rita Skeeter was one of the Daily Prophets biggest reporters. Upon reading any of her articles it is clear that she doesn’t report she gossips and almost half of the things she publishes aren’t true.

I squeezed her shoulder slightly. “You know the only people who read her column and believe it are old ladies who have nothing better to do.” Her eyes met mine again and I could see just how upset she really was. “What if Ron reads it, he’s going to think me and Harry have this secret relationship and he’s never going to forgive us.” Her eyes began to well up. I pulled her into a hug and she hugged me back. We both stayed like that until cheering brought our attention back to the field. Cedric had just walked out of the tent, all our heads turned as a giant Green dragon roared opposite him. Hermione grabbed my hand, squeezing it every time there was a loud noise or big gust of fire.

“How is Harry going to do this?” She looked at me after Cedric had jumped down behind a rock, nearly missing the giant fireball the dragon sent his way. I sent her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

“He’s got this.” She turned back to the field. “He’s got this.” I repeated it again, and a few more times after that trying to convince myself that he would be ok.

Sure enough he was. We were all in the common room, I was smiling up at Harry who had been hoisted up by Fred and George. They were going off about something but I wasn’t paying attention, too happy seeing Harry happy for the first time in the past month. He was smiling, really smiling.

I didn’t notice the egg being passed around until it was back in Harry’s hands.

“Do you want me to open it?” The common room roared. I myself cheered too, heavily anticipating whatever the next task could be. He twisted the top and a scream louder than the one the whole common room produced was let out. Harry fell off the twins shoulders as they backed up and plugged their ears. Harry scrambled on the floor and quickly shut it. The room filled with gasps of relief as we all unplugged our ears. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Fred. He looked at me worriedly and I just nodded, silently communicating that I’m ok. I mirrored his expression and he nodded too. I looked around and saw George standing on my other side and did the same. He nodded and rubbed at his neck.

The room filled with chatter as everyone gave their guess as to what that noise was. A few votes rang for banshee and someone yelled out the cruciatus curse, the room erupted into argument at that. I stood there silently, slightly amused as Dean and Seamus started arguing. I leaned into Fred’s touch slightly which resulted in him slinging his arm around my shoulder. I smiled and looked up at him. His face was slightly pink, and he looked down at me too and flashed me his famous smile, stomach flipped when I looked at him. My cheeks burned up and I cast my gaze back down to the floor and leaned into him more.

Suddenly the room went quiet. I looked around puzzled, following everyone's eyes I saw what caused the interruption. Ron stood in the doorway, he looked scared, kind of like he was about to puke but I came to know that as his nervous face.

“All of you, uh, go back to your knitting. This is going to be awkward enough without you nosy sods listening in.” Fred shouted above the crowd. The only noise through the common room was footsteps as people began to make their way out. Fred began to walk pulling me with him. I turned my head around and sent Harry a thumbs up before falling back in step with Fred as we went up the steps, George and a few other people were behind us. I didn’t pay attention to our accent to our destination as we walked up the stairs. I tried to strain my ears to hear if the boys downstairs were fighting again or making up.

I finally looked up when I was pushed down. I looked around, I was sitting on Fred’s bed, he was laying on his back next to me, George was shuffling some papers around on his desk and Lee Jordan, who I recognized from the Quidditch games, was sitting on his bed reading a book. The realization hit me and I turned to Fred.

“You brought me to your dorm?” I asked. He lifted his arm from covering his eyes as he looked at me. He propped up on his elbows, smirking.

“Do you not want to be here?” He asked, raising his brows. He cocked his head to the side causing his long hair to shake a little bit. I felt myself blush and get nervous again. I tried to push the feeling away so I could reply.

“N-No I don’t mind.” Mentally cursing myself for stuttering in front of him I decide to try and cover it up. “Just surprised you managed to get me past the charm on the door is all.” He scoffed which caused me to smile smugly. “I’m going to assume a seventh year did that huh?”

He rolled his eyes and smiled at me. I found myself smiling back before I even processed it was happening. “Actually,” He drew out the word as he brought himself into a sitting position. “You can thank Georgie over there for that.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head, as I whipped my face between Fred holding in his laughter and an unbothered unaware George, still moving papers around on his desk.

“George Fabian Weasley!” I nearly shouted. His head snapped around as his wide eyes met my own.

“How do you know my middle name?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

I ignored him and pressed on. “Who is she?” He looked between me and a snickering Fred, confusedly. “Who did you break the charm on the dorm door for.” I pressed. He rolled his eyes and went back to his papers. I looked at Fred who was laughing even harder now.

“George! Tell me!” I tried with my best authoritative voice but he didn’t budge, he didn’t even show any sign he heard me at all.

I looked at Fred pleadingly but he just continued to laugh. “‘She’,” Lee spoke, not looking up from his book. “Changes by the week.” My jaw, once again, dropped. Fred was now on the floor having fallen off the bed from laughter. “Hm, actually it changes more by the day.” Lee added. My head whipped around at him. His eyes met mine from over his book, he shrugged and looked back at the pages. My head was spinning.

“My quiet little George…” I started.

“Yeah he’s not very quiet.” Lee spoke again. This revelation earned him a swift kick from George. By now Fred had mostly calmed down, still laughing in between pants and pulling himself back onto the bed next to me.

“You little minx!” I yelled at George. He looked up from his papers and swiveled in his chair so his body was facing me.

“Oh I can assure you darling, I’m not little.” He winked and turned back in his chair. I swear I felt a small part of me die as Lee and Fred erupted into laughter. Fred returned to his position on the floor, laying on his side, howling with laughter as he grasped at his stomach.

The next few days passed by and things were going back to normal, mostly that is. I was now more aware of half of the student body ogling George, if that wasn’t revolting enough a few times I had caught him flirting with different girls. I always took him for a soft and caring type, but I could argue he had more confidence and outgoing personality than Fred and that was a tough thing to beat. I guess I never picked up on it due to our different class schedules, only seeing him at lunch and in between periods, but after seeing him in the act a few times it made sense, he was caring and flirty. More so than Fred, but he was good at hiding these interactions, probably an attribute that contributed to half the Gryffindor girls falling for him. The privacy he provided, partially, I assumed, to avoid teasing from us, made girls feel special. I understood, if he wasn’t one of my best friends and I wasn’t falling for his brother I probably would be after him too.

All classes had been postponed today. It was a month until the next challenge so none of us really knew what was going on. I assumed that we were all going to be scolded for something as each house was instructed to meet in their tower at 12 for a ‘Special Presentation’ at breakfast.

Walking up to the specified room in the tower with Hermione I asked her what she thought it was. She shrugged and huffed something about it being ridiculous they cancelled all of our classes. I laughed and shoved her slightly.

“Loosen up woman.” I giggled as she glared at me. Before she could start her rant Ron and Harry walked up to us. Harry walked in step with me and Ron wiggled his way between me and Hermione.

“I don’t know what you and Y/N were talking about but she’s right, you do need to loosen up.” Harry and I laughed immediately knowing what was happening next. Hermione slapped Ron on the shoulder, scolding him and calling him Ronald. “Bloody Hermione, you’re only proving my point.” He said grabbing me and switching our places, I stumbled a bit but fell back in step with them. Hermione huffed and walked ahead of us, Ron followed shouting apologies that only made her walk faster. I laughed again, happy things were all back to normal.

“So?” I turned to Harry. He mirrored my expression happily laughing to himself as he turned to face me. He raised his eyebrows at me, urging me to continue. “When do you think they will finally get together?” He began to laugh again so I jabbed in the ribs with my elbow. “I’m serious.” I whined.

He stifled his laughter. “So am I, honestly Y/N, Ron is such a ditz he’s not gonna realize he likes her until after we graduate.” I hummed and turned my head so I was facing forward again.

“I have more faith in him than that.” He just laughed at me again. Once we reached the rather large room I noticed McGonigal separating the boys and girls into different sides of the room. I left Harry and sat next to Hermione. Filch was busy trying to set up a record player, the occasional scratch was heard as his shaky hand tried to place the needle just right.

I looked around and saw Fred and George whispering to themselves against a wall. George said something and Fred pushed him away and gave him a weird look. He turned back to face McGonigal when he made eye contact with me. He smiled at me, I sent him a smile back. I mouthed ‘do you know what's going on’ to which he shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something back when George pushed him, George had a look of disbelief on his face and I watched them bicker. It felt like watching a sitcom on mute and I laughed as the both waved their arms around while explaining their points. My attention snapped back to McGonigal as she cleared her throat, her shaky voice filled the expansive room as she explained that Hogwarts would host a ball on Christmas eve.

Hermione looked at me, eyes wide with disbelief and my palms began to sweat. A ball? I had no clue how this was going to play out, or what it even really consisted of. All I knew in that moment was there was only one person I was interested in going with. I looked across the room to him, his brown eyes were already locked on me. My stomach backflipped. He was looking at me? His eyes looked immediately to the floor after catching mine. I could see George snicker from beside Fred but my eyes didn’t avert his. He was probably just scanning the room. My heart sank as I realized. I looked away but not before his head looked up and we caught eyes again. I felt like his eyes held the key to the universe. My face heated up and as my head screamed at me that this couldn’t possibly mean anything I tore my eyes away from him and focused on the speech McGonigal was giving.

I barely heard anything she said, making out ‘well mannered frivolity’ I gave up and gave into my thoughts. Focusing on the words swimming through the sea of my brain instead of the ones coming out of her mouth. I was still staring at the floor when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You ok Y/N?” Hermione asked. I looked up to see most of the students already gone and the last few shuffling out. I nodded.

“Just thinking about what I could wear.” I lied coolly. She gave me an odd look before pulling me up and locking our arms together. She spoke excitedly about the ball all the way back to the dorm. I nodded and hummed, not registering a word she said.

“So…” I looked up to see Fred sit next to me at breakfast. He usually skipped breakfast or showed up at the last minute before class. Hermione and I had agreed to meet at breakfast an hour early and study for our potions exam. There were a few other people from all houses sitting about eating breakfast, the atmosphere was really quiet and calm, or it was until my favorite ginger showed up.

“So?” I asked him, placing my quill down and shutting my book. He put his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands, smiling. “It’s quite early for you isn’t it.”

He held his lazy smile as he nodded. “I heard you were going to be down here, couldn’t pass up the chance to tease you.” He winked at me. I rolled my eyes at him trying desperately to kill each and every last butterfly flapping their wings in my stomach at that moment.

“Tease me about what exactly?” I asked mirroring his position.

“Who are you taking to the ball?” The question stopped me in my tracks. I froze. The ball was two weeks away and I didn’t have a date, much less a dress. Fred’s ‘teasing’ was scaring me, what were his motives, why was he interested in who I was taking, was he going to ask me? The questions filled my head and I forgot to answer.

“Y/N?” His voice had brought me back to reality. Fred was staring at me with a concerned look.

“At the moment, nobody. Why are you asking?” Fred’s concern dissipated as I answered. He smiled momentarily before shrugging.

“Just wanted to take the piss out of him is all.” He looked away from me at the food and began stacking up his plate.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, sitting a little straighter. He cleared his throat and continued to stack his plate. Without looking at me he spoke.

“You deserve someone special is all, I know the guys in this school and not many of them can be coined special.” I was taken aback. Where were these words coming from. I couldn’t tell if this had a romantic protectiveness or a platonic one. I pushed farther.

“Who are you taking to the ball?” I asked. This was it, this was the moment I was either going to be ecstatic or heart broken.

He smiled at his plate and looked over to me. “I have someone in mind. Haven’t asked her yet though.” He returned to his food, shoving some toast in his mouth.

“May I ask why?” He stopped chewing for a minute then hastily swallowed.

“I really like her, and well, erm, I don’t want to muck it up.” He didn’t look at me, he was looking at his hands. I was shocked. We trusted each other but it was rare he was truly vulnerable, especially of his own accord. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed slightly. His eyes traveled up to mine.

“I’m sure that whatever way you ask she will love it. You’re a special guy Freddie, you will think of something.” He smiled at me. I hope my hint didn’t fall on deaf ears and he understood what I was trying to communicate. “And a tip, you can never go wrong with a chocolate frog and some flowers.” He laughed and squeezed my hand before letting go.

He ate while I continued to study and it was comfortable. I enjoyed his presence but mentally I was screaming. After the rereading the third paragraph for the fifth time I felt a shift beside me. Fred was standing up and collecting his things. He grabbed his bag and looked at me, I smiled and gave a little wave.

He grabbed my shoulder, leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Leaning in, he whispered a thank you and took off down the Great Hall. I watched him disappear out the doors, completely stunned. Suddenly I was whipped around and faced with a shocked Hermione.

“You better tell me what that was about.” She said sternly.

As a smile crept onto my face I looked at her and let out an airy laugh. “Honestly ‘Mione, I don’t know.”

That day had passed and some more, it was now the weekend before the ball. I was still dateless but I still held out hope as Fred was as well. Hermione had nagged me all week to tell her what was going on, once I finally confessed she screamed an ‘I knew it’. As much as her teasing got annoying it was quite nice being able to talk to someone about it and share the little moments I had with someone, we often spent our nights trying to decode what Fred had said to me and Ron to her. She told me about Krum and his incessant pestering, he had asked her three times before she said yes, giving up hope that Ron would ask.

I tried to keep her spirits up, Krum was much more of a gentleman and he was kind. It was better than nothing.

“Morning!” Ginny yelled bursting through the room. I shrieked and pulled my pants on faster, trying to cover up. “Sorry!” She yelled and covered her eyes. I laughed as she slowly moved her hand to make sure I was covered before fully looking at me.

“It’s dress day!” She squealed. I smiled back, Ginny was attending the ball with Neville. Hermione and I knew she fancied Harry but just like Ron he never mustered up the courage to ask her so she went with a friend.

Hermione knocked on the door before coming in. I walked over and nudged Ginny. “Did you see that? That’s what normal people do, knock.” She rolled her eyes and nudged me back making me laugh. Ginny was a dear friend of mine, her and I shared a similar sense of humor and she often told me secrets about the twins so I could torture them. She noticed my liking for Fred long before Hermione, Since her first year she’s been teasing me about it. I didn’t mind though, it was nice coming from her. She always ended a brutal joke by calling me her favorite sister.

“Are you two ready? The train is going to leave soon.” Hermione pulled us out of our moment and we nodded, happily skipping down stairs.

“And where are you three lovely ladies headed.” George spoke from behind us at the portrait hole. Fred ran up behind him pulling on his F sweater and trying to fix his hair as fast as possible. He looked up and I waved, he returned my gesture with a smile.

“Probably the same as you.” Ginny said turning back around, she pulled me with her. Her speed and strength nearly made me fall down the stairs.

“Mind if we join you?” I heard Fred ask. Immediately I got excited and nervous at the same time.

I started to say yes when Ginny cut me off.

“To buy dresses?” She snorted. I sent her a glare she didn’t see. Still being pulled down the stairs I couldn’t turn around and non-verbally answer without falling flat on my face.

“Just to Hogsmeade in general.” George replied.

I looked to Ginny pleadingly. We already had a similar conversation with Harry, then Ron, who we both turned down saying it was a ‘girls trip only’. She caught onto my stare and rolled her eyes.

“On the train then you leave us, we won’t have your boyness ruining our girls day.” Finally we reached the bottom of the steps. I turned to see George rolling his eyes and Fred pouting. I managed to shoot them a thumbs up before Ginny grabbed my arm and pulled me forward again.

The train ride was fun. The boys talked about their plan to stalk up on Zonko products and Honeydukes candies. I reminded them of their debt to me to which they reminded me of my ‘girls day’ so we agreed it would be paid on the next trip. Fred was uncharacteristically quiet. He spent most of the ride looking out the window and messing with his hands. I placed my hand on his bouncing knee looking up at him. His head whipped around to face me, eyes wide.

“You alright love?” I asked quietly, in case he wasn’t I wouldn’t be announcing it to the whole compartment. He nodded his face curling up in a sweet smile that my stomach tie itself in knots and my breathing faltered.

“Never better love.” He replied. His hand came and softly wrapped itself around mine. I smiled looking at our intertwined hands. He continued to look out the window for the rest of the ride but he was no longer fidgeting or shaking his leg.

Arriving at Hogsmeade we said our goodbyes and separated. I dramatically reached my arm out for the twins as Ginny and Hermione pulled me towards the dress shop. They laughed at my performance before turning around walking towards the many shops George said they would be visiting. Turning myself around I noticed both Ginny and Hermione staring at me.

“What?!” I shared a glance between the two.

“What were you and Fred whispering about on the train?” Hermione asked.

“We all saw you holding hands by the way.” Ginny pretended to gag after she said this, making me laugh.

I groaned. “Nothing really, he didn’t ask me if that’s what you are wondering.” I threw my face in my hands. Hermione gently peeled my hands away.

“He will, don’t worry.” I tried to smile at her but I could barely muster one up.

Ginny unlinked her arm with mine to open the door to the dress shop. Walking in I saw at least three levels, all lined with beautifully made gowns and skirts. I heard both Ginny and Hermione squeal as they lunged toward some rack up front. I laughed but squealed myself as I looked around. Everything looked so magical, as a witch this shouldn’t surprise me but I had never seen such beautifully made gowns before.

I looked through the racks, not thinking much or really liking anything enough to try it on. Moving up the levels I continued my search until I found it.

There was a mannequin in front of a display, every few seconds she would twirl or strike a pose, displaying her clothes. She was wearing a black corset. It stopped under the collarbone, the sleeves were made of a sheer fabric and had an intricate design sewn in them with lace, they covered the whole shoulder and puffed out a bit. The skirt was white. It had many layers, all the same length but with ribbon sewn across the semi sheer fabric so it looked tiered. I immediately knew this was the dress for me. I quickly scanned the racks trying to find my size in the skirt and corset.

I tried it on and paid as soon as it was off. Hermione caught me coming out of her dressing room. She ran up to me.

“You got yours already?” I nodded and gestured towards the woman who was delicately wrapping it up to place it in a bag. Her eyes widened and fear set into my stomach, what if she hated it.

“Oh Y/N! You are going to look so beautiful!” She wrapped me into a hug that I eagerly returned before slipping off into another isle. I walked back to the cashier and took my bag from her thanking her.

“Would you mind telling those two I went to the Three Broomsticks.” The woman nodded and I smiled at her.

I made my way back to the front of the shop. I was excited about my dress and the dance I had forgotten I didn’t have a date. Lost in thought I bumped into someone while leaving the shop.

“My bad!” I said backing up to let them through. I recognized them as three Hufflepuffs’ a year above me.

“No worries.” One of them said walking past. I let them pass before going back to the door to leave. As I did I caught part of their conversation.

“Did you see Fred ask Angelina out in Honeydukes?! It was the cutest!”

“Oh I know! And how he spelt her name out with jellybeans, it was adorable.”

I froze. My body felt cold and heavy all at the same time. Using the little strength I had left I turned around.

“I’m sorry, did you say Fred? As in Fred Weasley?” The girls whipped around and nodded frantically. One of them went to say something but I cut her off already having heard too much. “Hm, cute.”

The cold air hit my face as I walked away from the shop. It didn’t help the stinging in my eyes or pain in my lungs and I trudged forward. I made it to the Three Broomsticks and tucked myself in a booth in the corner. The room was empty except for a few Ravenclaws reading so I turned back around and stared at the wall as I felt myself push over the brink. Tears streamed down my cheeks with their own ferocity. I shook as silent sobs wracked through my body. I stayed there, crying and heaving for I don’t know how long. Eventually I put my head down as my eyes dried, unable to form any more tears I stared at my shoes.

How could I be so stupid to think that he liked me? My eyes welled up again, something I wasn’t even sure was possible and another sob wracked through my body. This one made noise so I quickly bit my tongue to stop myself for notifying anyone around me. The pain was overwhelming but I didn’t stop until I tasted iron on my tongue and my mouth felt more wet than usual.

I sat there swallowing my blood and trying to breath normally. Eventually I felt a presence. I looked up to see Hermione and Ginny standing over me confused.

“He asked Angelina. He never liked me.” They both looked at each other and then me. I relayed what happened to them and they comforted me. I sat with my head on Hermione’s shoulder sniffling and kicking my dress under the table.

Not any good now.

We sat there until the next scheduled train time. Only being there for a few hours we were one of the only ones to return that early. I trudged back to the common room where Ron and Harry sat on the couch. They watched us walk in, Harry immediately stood up after seeing me. I tried to walk past him but he caught me in his arms. I didn’t bother to hug him back. I just stood there, feeling uncomfortable and cold. He pulled off of me when he felt me not hug back, still holding onto me he looked between Ginny and Hermione.

“What happened?” I stood there, cringing slightly as they went over what happened. Harry looked back at me and sent me a sympathetic smile.

“Oi, since when did Y/N like Fred?!” Ron asked from the couch. I felt like I could fall over right then. Wanting nothing more than to disappear I moved my head and sent him a glare.

“Are you really that thick Ronald? She’s liked him since they met and your idiotic brother just broke her heart. Honestly if you paid any attention to the people around you instead of the food on your plate you would notice these things. Maybe even notice when someone is interested in you!” Hermione huffed out. She turned red realizing what she had said and looked away from him.

“Who fancies me?” Ron asked sitting up. Hermione huffed again and hugged her bag to her chest storming upstairs.

“I’ll kill him.” Ginny said from behind me.

“Not without me you aren’t.” Harry said. The two smiled at each other.

“I’ll help, he can be bloody awful sometimes, still need to get him back from turning my hair green.” Ron said leaning back.

I looked at him. “No offense Ron but are you completely unaware of anything that just happened or are you choosing to be a git?” His eyes widened and he raised his arms defensively.

“Don’t take your anger out on me! I didn’t break your bloody heart.” As the words left his lips he muttered a small ‘oh’, realizing his actions weren’t helping the situation at all. He jumped off the couch and gave me a small awkward hug before stepping back and patting me on the head. Any other day I would have been amused at his cluelessness but today I didn’t have the strength.

Harry looked at him like he just strangled a puppy. He swiftly smacked him on the head.

“I’m gonna, erm, go now.” I said. I gripped my bag tighter, the dress seemed to gain more weight the more I resented it. I walked over to the stairs when Harry called my name again. Turning around so I could see him he looked at me with the same intensity he did when we talked after his name was chosen.

“I meant what I said. I’ll kill him.” I smiled before muttering a ‘whatever’ and waving them off. Too emotionally drained to say or do anything about his protectiveness. I felt like an idiot, I felt like I had climbed one of the biggest mountains only for it to cave in and swallow me whole and throwing me into the deepest and darkest part of the earth. I was now below ground at this point.

I spent the next few days in my dorm. Hermione would bring me food and ask me to come hang out and enjoy the break but I always waved her off, I either had a book to read or an essay to do. She would give up and walk out of the room eventually. She knew why, I was too afraid of seeing Fred, knowing well Harry, Ron, and Ginny have told him everything by now. I couldn’t take the extra embarrassment, I hadn’t fully recovered from my last blow. The dress had been discarded under my bed. Still in its wrapping and the bag I just threw it out of sight.

Taking a bite out of my toast I flipped through pride and prejudice. I envied Lizzy for having her affections returned. Getting lost in the book was one way I managed to escape. I snuck out late at night, surely when everyone was asleep to go sit in the common room for a change of scenery, a few times I walked up to the astronomy tower and looked at the stars. Besides being deathly cold it was peaceful. Learning from past mistakes I made sure to bring blankets or an extra jacket when I ventured out. I had a few goodies and pillows stuffed in an empty cabinet so I didn’t need to lug all my things out at once. The astronomy tower had become my space. I really enjoyed it there, it was quiet and peaceful and not once was I disturbed, that could have equally been due to the time I would go but no matter to me, it was my space.

A knock at the door pulled me away from the world that had engulfed me in my book. I groaned, signaling to whoever was out there that they could come in. The door didn’t open, they just knocked again. I groaned, louder this time, nothing happened so I threw down my book and toast and walked to the door. I opened it expecting to see Hermione but Harry was there instead.

“Harry?” He didn’t respond, he just engulfed me into a hug. Finally he pulled away and looked at me. I knew he was judging my appearance but I didn’t care much, I wasn’t leaving my room so there was no need to look good or try. I wore old clothes that barely fit, my eyes were red from my lack of sleep and there were definite bags under them. My hair was thrown up into a messy bun, the lack of effort evident as it barely held up.

“Y/N…” He took me in. Not letting him eye me up and down I turned and returned to my scrunched position on my bed and picked up my book. Harry stood in the doorway awkwardly. Any other time I would have laughed at him for his lame social skills but I didn’t have the energy today.

“So, what brings you here?” I asked, not looking up from my book. I wasn’t reading it. I just didn’t want to see the way he looked at me. His eyes were full of pity and I didn’t want that. I just wanted to sulk alone and he was throwing a wrench in my plans.

“I haven’t seen you in days.” I hummed a response and picked up my toast. “Y/N you gotta get out of here.” I put my book down and looked at him.

“Have you gone mad?” I was suddenly angry. How could he tell me to do that. Throw myself back out there and get destroyed again. “I am not leaving this room until classes pick back up.” I huffed. He walked over and sat at the end of the bed.

“You and I are going to hang out with Ron and Hermione today. Ginny agreed to join. We are going to visit Hagrid and walk up to the Shrieking shack, we all miss you. I think Hermione is going mad not having you around and Ginny keeps complaining that her favorite sister is missing.” I smiled before the pain set back in. She only called me her sister because she knew I liked Fred.

“Harry I’m sorry. I can’t. What if he’s there, I feel like a total idiot and…” He cut me off. “Y/N, I will drag you out of this bed if you do not get up and come with us. We miss you ok, if anything happens we will be there.” I groaned and threw my head in my hands. I knew this was going to happen. I was going to lose one of my friends because my feelings got in the way. Ginny kept asking me to stay with her at the burrow, I could never agree now. Fred hates me. Tears welled up in my eyes, it was a feeling I was very familiar with lately.

I nodded giving in. I stood up and pushed through some drawers trying to find some appropriate clothes while holding in my tears. Watching me get up he walked toward the door.

“Today will be brilliant, I promise.”

My attempt to dodge the plans didn’t work. After Harry shut the door I showered, got dressed and tried my best to cover up the signs I was crying. I looked tired but if you didn’t look too closely I looked nice. I walked over to the door but ended up standing there. I was afraid to move, afraid to see him, afraid of him seeing me. I didn’t have the courage to ask if Harry spoke with him. He probably did, I didn’t want to hear my second hand rejection. After about ten minutes Harry opened the door. I looked at him furiously shaking my head no.

“I thought this might happen.” Hope swelled up as I thought he would give in and leave me alone. “Ron! I need you!”

“What?!” I yelled. He sent me a sympathetic look before turning back to the door. I looked at the doorway where Ron had just made his way up the steps.

“Nice to see you Y/N.” He greeted as both Harry and him starting walking towards me. Realization struck at what they were planning on doing and I scrambled to get away. Ron and Harry picked up their pace and cornered me. I gave them both a pleading look, silently asking for them to leave me alone. “Sorry.” They both repeated the phrase as they locked their arms under mine and pulled me toward the door. I squirmed a bit and tried to fight but as we passed the door I figured it was no use. They were both much stronger than me.

I made it to the bottom of the steps where Hermione and Ginny were whispering. Ron and Harry let go of me and stood in front of the entrance to the dorms like deranged bouncers.

Hermione looked up and ran towards me, engulfing me in a tight hug. “I miss you.” I nodded and patted her back, just trying to get this day over with.

Meeting with Hagrid was nice, his warm house always felt comforting and I stayed curled up in an armchair with Fang the majority of the time. I didn’t talk much unless someone had talked to me. When we left Hagrid patted my back gently and gave me a small smile. “I hope yer feel better Potter.” I smiled back and nodded. His gruff voice gave a hum and I jogged up to the group who were a little ways ahead of me.

The way to the Shrieking Shack was filled with talk over the next task. Hermione and Harry talked about the egg. Ginny hung onto my arm as we navigated across the uneven ground stabling each other. Eventually after watching Ron fall for the third time I grabbed him and locked our arms. He smiled at me and I smiled back. It didn’t feel as forced this time. The heavy feeling on my shoulders lifted as we walked. Their company mending small parts of my soul in a comfortable silence.

Standing outside the fence of the Shrieking Shack we all hesitated before we continued. We knew what it looked like but it was still slightly creepy. Hermione brought up a few times how it would be cool to explore the house. Ron disagreed immediately, Harry was indifferent but I was, or used to be, bloody excited. The closer we got the harder Ron’s grip became on my arm and the slower his movement became.

“Merlin Ron, speed it up would you?” He looked at me swallowing, nodding he did as I asked. Looking forward Harry and Hermione had turned and were staring at me, I realized I hadn’t spoken since we were at Hagrid's. I just shrugged and urged them forward.

“So, who is going in first.” Ginny asked as we all stopped outside the front door.

“I’m bloody not.” Ron replied grumpily. We all shared a laugh at him and got quiet again. I felt like everyone was staring at me so I shrugged.

“Move aside then.” Harry smiled as I pushed the door open. The house grumbled as I walked in. The familiar moving feeling set in as I took a few steps forward. Looking around I saw soft light filtering in through one of the rooms, I walked toward it. I walked into the living room, it was the only room that looked nice. The rest of the house was destroyed but this one had been fixed up. Small candles were floating in the air and the fireplace was roaring. The couch was stocked with a ton of blankets, the table in front of it had a shelf filled with a few books, games and a basket. On the top of the table were chocolate frogs and green daisies. I felt out of place.

“I think we are interrupting someone’s date.” I called back, still admiring the room. When I turned around no one was there.

“Y/N.” Turning back around I saw Fred walking towards me. I felt my breathing halt and my eyes tear up. I looked around the room, anywhere but him, expecting to see Angelina pop out of wherever he was.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to disrupt your d-date. I will be going now.” I turned around and tried to run to the door. Before I could even step away he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. The sudden action caused me to become flush against him. He wrapped his arms around me like I was going to break, holding me gently but tightly against his chest. I was frozen in place, I didn’t breathe, I just waited for him to speak.

“Y/N, I didn’t ask Angelina, George did.” The breath I was holding in suddenly released. I felt relief wash over me, then like a thousand bricks, guilt hit me. I pulled my head away to look at him and pulled my hands up to rest on his chest.

“You didn’t?” My eyes were still teary and he was slightly blurry. One of his hands came up and cupped my cheek, his thumb brushed away a stray tear.

“No, I-I wanted to ask you. Then you left and I thought you found out about it and left to avoid me, that was, until I got back and got tackled by Ginny and Harry.” I laughed at the thought of them tackling him.

“You want to go with me?” I blurted out, realizing what he said. He smiled at me, the arm around my waist tightened.

“If you will have me, yes. I understand if you don’t want to, after I made you cry.” He looked sadly at the floor, his smile gone. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down into a tight hug. He reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

“Of course I want to go with you Freddie.” I spoke into his neck. He squeezed me and lifted me up spinning. I squealed and held onto him tighter instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist. One of his hands trailed down under my thigh to help support me in the new position. He stopped spinning and I pulled away to see him.

Some of his long hair had fallen into his face. I lifted a hand and brushed it away and tucked some behind his ear. His smile grew brighter and his face got a little warmer. I let my hand fall slightly, cradling his jaw. His eyes looked into mine and in that moment I felt complete. As we stared at each other I watched as his eyes would dart from my eyes to my lips.

“May I?” He asked and leaned his head closer to mine. I didn’t answer verbally, I just closed the gap between us. Our lips moved against each other trying to find a rhythm and balance. Once we did it was perfect, our lips moved against each other in sync. He squeezed my thigh causing me to gasp, he used that to his advantage as he slid his tongue into my mouth and I let him, grabbing tighter onto his neck. I ran my fingers through his hair and tugged slightly at the hair at the bottom of his neck. The moment was perfect.

For two seconds.

Immediately we heard whooping and cheering along with a loud banging noise. Fred tightened his grip on me as we looked around. Turning we saw Ginny, Ron, and Hermione cheering. Harry was there banging on the window. Fred put me down and I laughed at them. Fred ushered them off which they did. Harry didn’t leave before glaring at Fred and mouthing a threatening ‘I’m watching you’.

He turned back to me. “Should I be worried?” He asked.

I shrugged. “No, I don’t think so, unless you break my heart.”

“Good thing I wasn’t planning on it.” I smiled up to him. Standing on my toes I pecked his cheek before pulling him to the couch. Fred had prepared a small station with books and games for us to pass the time as well as a whole meal tucked away in the basket.

“This is beyond perfect Freddie, I don’t know how to thank you.” I said looking around. It was all just so amazing I was afraid I was dreaming. I looked back to the boy in front of me. He was looking at me, smiling.

“You can... thank me by agreeing to my girlfriend.” He said scooting closer to me on the couch. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I brought my hand up to his chest.

“Did I not already?” I asked. He laughed but looked back at me expectantly. He wanted a real answer. “Yes!” I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t stop the smile spreading to my face. He smiled back and we kissed. This one lasted much longer not being interrupted and already having a rhythm down. When we pulled apart for air we were both panting slightly.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that more often.” He said, smirking. I smacked him playfully and reached over to grab a chocolate frog. The rest of the day was spent eating and talking and enjoying each other's company. We didn’t pick up a book or game Fred had prepared, too infatuated with each other.

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