#well- holiday soon! that should sort me out

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 2]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

[cw: alcohol]

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

wc: 6k

It was always blistering hot in that damn restaurant.

Countless patrons packed tight into booths and tables throughout the building on that busy Saturday night, and the heat that radiated off of them was near suffocating. Sweat clung to every inch of your skin, especially in your armpits, and you had never found yourself secretly so grateful to be dressed in black because at least the evidence was invisible. 

Despite your discomfort, you performed your job to the best of your ability, per usual. You weaved between tables as you led your guests to their seats, packaged at least twenty to-go orders, and only got yelled at by the waitstaff once for seating a family of five incorrectly. Really it was no different from any other night you worked. Things were always chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori, which made things stressful, but your pay as a hostess was at least manageable. And they turned a blind eye when your hours started hitting over the fifty mark in a week, whereas most other places would be finding ways to get you to cut back in order to not pay you overtime. 

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

Except someone was always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when you saw Row strut through the entrance with an obnoxious pirate hat on her head. Your first instinct was to grab one of the menus and hide your face as if it would disguise you among the backdrop of the crowd behind you. Row was much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence, so you continued to stand at your station with only a slight grimace on your face as she approached. 

“Ahoy, matey,” she exclaimed, though with only half the enthusiasm you knew she could muster. 

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you said. 

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind you,” Row corrected. 

“Right, of course.” 

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me the name Sparrow after him,” she continued. 

The thing was, Row could go on for ages like that, bickering back and forth with you until one of you got sick of it and complained hard enough that the other was forced to stop. Judging by the excitement that pooled in her eyes and the playful way she kept messing with her cheap pirate hat, you knew she could go all night if she needed to. Instead, you sighed as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring things were still going smoothly behind you before you turned your attention back to Row. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you fiddled with the stack of menus in front of you. 

“I’m here to pick you up,” Row responded as if you should have already known the answer. 

Just as you opened your mouth to question her further, the answer smacked the back of your head. Halloween. No wonder why she wore that stupid foam hat. Earlier in the week you had agreed to go to John’s club to celebrate the stupid holiday, and then completely forgot about it. Which is why you neared hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Usually you didn’t mind the extra hours, however, if you had remembered you would have been finishing your night off in a packed nightclub during a holiday, well… you would’ve been home attempting to recharge a long time ago. 

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Row then asked when your silence started to stretch. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you answered as your eyes flickered to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be good to go.” 

In reality, no amount of preparation could ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dreaded arriving at the club the entire ride there. You had only been to John’s club one other time previously for Row’s birthday, and that had been more than enough for you. Despite it being years ago, you could still smell the rancid alcohol and feel the bass of the music ripple through your chest as if it would turn your organs into jelly. Everything was too loud, too much, too close. 

But this was Row. 

So when the two of you stood outside of that hulking building that shook from the inside out, you tried your best not to complain. A deep throb began to gnaw at the soles of your feet from standing for so long, and a tension headache blossomed at your temples, but at least you were offered the solace of entering through the VIP section rather than the main door. Countless people stood outside in line for even the slightest chance of being admitted, which should have made you feel special being allowed through another entrance, but you knew that meant the inside was packed more than work had been. 

Except it got worse. Because it always got worse. 

You almost didn’t recognize the large figure that stood outside of the VIP entrance, but once those dark eyes landed on you, you knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. That odd, searing feeling that had plagued you the night you went to dinner at the Price’s quickly returned as his gaze meandered back and forth between you and Row. They were soft, inquisitive. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend why you were in a place like that. As if he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that. 

“Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted casually. 

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually, his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You could still feel his breath tickle your ear as he leaned over your back to guide your hands into place while playing pool. The sound of him  was a delicious baritone you were certain would haunt you in your sleep. 

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Row teased. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon responded. 

“Shame. Well, Chip and I-” Row continued as she put too much emphasis on your name while she threw her arm around your shoulder, “-are going to get wasted.” 

A slight smirk pulled at Simon’s lips and you couldn’t help but shake your head at Row’s triumphant claim. She could get wasted if she wished. You planned on trying to keep your wits about you best as you could in that foreboding place. 

“That so?” Simon asked. He said it as if he attempted to challenge your friend, but he still stepped to the side and gestured to the open door behind him all the same. “Cheers.” 

There wasn’t any time to glance over your shoulder before Row pressed onward, making sure to drag you along with her. Walking into John’s club was what you imagined walking into hell felt like. Thick, hot air threatened to singe your hair, and you instantly found it hard to breathe. Countless patrons surrounded the entryway, and it appeared that Row wasn’t the only one who felt festive as many of them wore masks, cheap costumes, or on the not-so-rare-occasion, straight lingerie. The cheering and chatting from the dance floor could almost be confused with the screams of the damned, and you found yourself taking deeper breaths than normal in order to supply your brain with enough oxygen to keep going. 

“Come on!” Row shouted. Even with her yelling right into your ear it was nearly impossible to hear her over the mess of music that poured through the speakers around you. “Up top! More room!” 

Despite the fact you were in the VIP section, it was still incredibly crowded. Whenever you thought of a section like that, you usually figured it would be a bit more sparse than that. Perhaps it was just that night, wild and full of insane antics, that caused the crowd to grow larger than expected, but there was slight reprieve to be found on the second floor. Though the elevation was higher, the air felt fresh as it had fewer bodies to attempt to weave through. 

After you and Row got your drinks, the two of you made yourselves at home at a small table on an overhanging balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Surprisingly, it was quieter there than anywhere else, which you realized must have been thanks to the fact you sat behind the speakers for once rather than in front of them. Still, even with the slight break from the usual bustle, you couldn’t help but mess with the straw of your mostly full drink while your foot tapped on the floor. 

“Well?” Row asked you expectantly. She said the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it was the first thing that had been said between the two of you since you had sat down. “How have you been? Really? I feel like we weren’t able to talk the other night with all the extra distractions.” 

“Oh. Well, you know…” you started, but the words died in your throat. 

It was never easy answering a question like that. How were you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you were anything but? All you had done since the dinner at her house was work, and if you weren’t working then you were sleeping with whatever free time you managed to scrounge up. No, the only things worth telling her were the things you couldn’t tell her, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. You had gotten so good at lying, you could almost convince yourself that you were just a very good storyteller. 

Almost. 

“Just work, mostly,” you excused. 

“Oh, come on,” Row groaned. She took a quick sip of her drink (rum, as she made sure to point out) before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you get out? Try to talk to people?” 

You nearly laughed at her questioning. Out of anyone in the world, Row should have known about your inability to really keep friends around. After so many years of knowing one another, those questions almost made it seem like the two of you were strangers. Maybe you were, in some way. 

“I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine,” you said, attempting a bit of humor. 

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invited you somewhere,” Row countered, not as humorous. As if tasting her own venom, she sighed and leaned forward, face softer. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than a little.” 

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raised your cup off the table to take a small sip, only to instantly regret it. Your childish, as Row put it, vodka cranberry was about nine parts vodka and one part cranberry juice. For someone who couldn’t afford to drink all that often, it tasted worse than cough medicine on your tongue, and you nearly choked. 

“What’s there to worry about?” you asked. 

“What isn’t there to worry about?” Row countered. “I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, it seems like you never do anything for you- hell, I don’t even think you’ve managed to score a boyfriend, let alone make it to first-fucking-base.” 

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interjected. 

“My point is,” Row continued, refusing to listen to whatever petty excuses you tried to muster, “I’m terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.” 

It was difficult to believe that a place so full of life could fall so silent, and yet the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, the doctors said. Normal. Typical. Absolutely plaguing. There was nothing you could say in response. Her words stunned you, because unlike usual, she saw right through you. At least she put you out of your misery and continued talking so that you didn’t have to. 

“Look, I… know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Row cut herself off with a chuckle and a slight shake of her head. “I know I didn’t know you before everything happened. Hell, you could have always been like this. But it’s concerning all the same. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.” 

It must have been the alcohol. Surely. Row never talked about the accident, and neither did you. After all those years, a silent rule had settled between the two of you where you would never speak of it. Not when the anniversary of it came around. Not even when the events plagued your sleep. It was easy to pretend you were quiet about it for Row’s sake rather than your own; but really, you didn’t talk about it because you were certain the guilt would choke you on its way out of your throat. 

“It’s not your fault, you know. For surviving,” Row continued. 

You swallowed. 

“I know,” you lied. 

Row raised an eyebrow at you incredulously, and you quickly forced a half smile on your face before she could chastise you for your sloppy deception. Usually you were better at lying, but she had caught you off guard in what you could only assume was quite literally a plea to get your shit together. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you said a bit more truthfully. “That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you. But I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but I’ll… try harder.” 

A bittersweet smile crossed her face and you found your eyes adverting to the cup of bitter liquid in your hands in order to avoid the sight of it. She was much too caring for someone who didn’t deserve it. 

“Well, good. I know it’s more complicated than I’ll ever be able to understand, but I just want to make sure that you know you’re not alone in this. You’ll always have me, no matter what,” she finished, but the words rolled off of her tongue awkwardly. As if she had expected more of a fight from you. 

An awkward silence fell between the two of you after her strange attempt at a confession, yet everything continued to pulse around you. The music that vibrated the very air, the patrons who jumped and danced below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continued. The only thing that had changed was the stale scent in the air. 

“Well, what a way to ruin the fun, huh? Alright, enough sappy talk for the night, I promise,” Row chuckled as she adjusted the foam pirate hat on her head. “I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?” 

Just like Row had claimed, she spent the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it didn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech was so slurred her words blended into the mess of noise around you, and she could hardly hold herself steady when she brought you over to the pool table for what she promised was going to be a quick game. Her inebriation got so concerning you had all but forgotten your anxiety and discomfort in favor of paying extra close attention to your friend, lest she pass out while standing up. 

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you had something to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Despite how late into the night it got, the club only seemed to grow more packed by the minute, and you were certain the roof of that place would pop off any moment. Row seemed completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leaned over the pool table and attempted to make her shot. Your pool game had gone on for at least forty minutes; half in part due to Row missing a majority of her shots, and half in part due to her not being able to shut up long enough to focus on hitting anything properly. 

“This table needs to stop leaning,” Row muttered. 

“It’s not leaning, you’re just drunk,” you corrected. 

“I know that,” she whined. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s leaning.” 

Playfully, you rolled your eyes at her just as she flubbed up another shot. She straightened herself up and attempted to adjust her crooked pirate hat, only to make it worse, though, she didn’t seem to mind all that much as a grin crossed her lips. 

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers, huh?” she teased. 

There was something in the tone of her voice that sent a jolt through your body, and that familiar, yet confusing, heat coursed through your body again. Your skin recalled the way Simon felt against you, how his hands so carefully guided yours, how his voice rattled your eardrum so deliciously… 

“He seems busy with work,” you excused. 

Row’s grin quickly melted into something else at your comment. It wasn’t quite malicious, yet there was something off about it. Like she knew something you didn’t. 

“Shame,” she quipped. “The two of you seemed awfully comfy the other night.” 

Of course she would bring that up. Really, you had tried to forget about that event the entire week, but to no avail. No matter how much you distracted yourself, your mind would always wander back to his words and his warmth. The odd thing was, there wasn’t even anything lustful about it. It had just been the first time a man had touched you and hadn’t made your skin crawl. 

“He was just being helpful,” you claimed. 

“You know, you should just date him,” Row said, ignoring your comment. 

For a moment, all you could do was stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurred. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Bit of an arse but I think you two get on well.”

“Row, I don’t think that’s-” 

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments look like they’re falling apart at the seams, you’re gonna get fucking robbed one of these days.” 

“Really, it’s-”

“He also seems to be having a much better time following us around now that you’re here. He never seems this interested when it’s just me.” 

Ice formed in your veins at her comment, and you found yourself standing there dumbfounded. Following us around? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attempt to look around for him, you were stunned and in too much disbelief to even process it that far. As for Row, her words seemed to have the exact effect she had hoped for, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her grin from you. 

“What? You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” she teased as she gestured to the area behind you. 

It was only then that you braved a glance over your shoulder, and you felt your throat grow dry at the sight of Simon. He sat at one of the small round tables in a chair that obviously didn’t fit him right. Long legs stretched out to the side in order to accommodate his height, and he slouched back something fierce as if he attempted to make himself appear smaller. Luckily his attention seemed to be absorbed by his phone, which casted a dull glow on his face. You weren’t sure you could handle it if you looked back at him just to find him already staring. 

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here, since things can get a little crazy sometimes,” Row explained. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.” 

Things only got worse after that. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to him, her drinking. Her words and insinuations made your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you allowed in your system, and your only saving grace was that John crawled out of his office half past midnight in order to wrangle her in. It was impossible to talk sense into her, it seemed. You watched awkwardly from the sidelines as John steadied your friend by her hips, trying to keep her from swaying too much. All Row could do was giggle as she pulled at John’s shirt in an attempt to kiss him. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gathered too much attention with the scene she caused, but you still found your eyes flickering around the area as if danger lurked just beyond where the light could reach. 

Though you got severe secondhand embarrassment from it all, there was something a little endearing about it all. John’s patience with her was unmatched, and you found him grinning at her more often than he chastised her. They acted as if they were the only two people in the entire building, and you wondered what that must have felt like. To not be so on edge that you felt and saw everything at once. To be so carefree that not even the hellish cheers coming from below could distract them from one another. 

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

You hadn’t even realized Simon had approached you until his fingertips rested on the wood of the pool table in front of you. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to him, but you tried not to stare too long, lest he read every thought hiding in your mind. 

“Huh?” you asked; not because you hadn’t heard him, but because you were somewhat perplexed by his offer. 

“Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time,” he chuckled. 

Everything in you screamed no. Despite his apparent kindness to you and Rows - inebriated - trust in him, you still didn’t exactly know Simon. All he really was to you was a stranger. A kind one, but something unknown all the same, and following a stranger outside always seemed like a bad idea. Still, the air in that building had suffocated you since the very moment you stepped inside, and maybe you were a little too grateful to have an excuse to leave for a little while.

Toward the back area of the VIP section, there was a heavy door that led out to a terrace that overlooked part of the alleyway and the street below. Plenty of people still mingled about, though they appeared much more laid back than the people inside. Cold autumn air chilled your feverish skin as Simon guided you underneath a canopy of lights that hung above your heads and towards a thick metal railing. 

The cold iron felt nice in the palm of your hands, and it was only then that you realized how exhausted you were. Over ten hours of your day had been spent at work, slaving away on your feet, and instead of being able to pass out once you got home, you had been stuck at that cursed club. Of course you adored Row, and you would do anything for her, but going through all that work and effort just to watch her get wasted wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a night well spent. 

“You smoke?” Simon asked as he shuffled his hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

You watched him carefully as he took out a pack of smokes and started beating the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Little hints of the tattoo’s that covered his arms poked out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and you tried your best not to stare. 

“No,” you replied while you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Good,” he hummed. “Don’t start.” 

It didn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it surprisingly wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be, and he was kind in the way he ensured to blow the smoke well out of your way. 

“So, what’re you dressed up as?” he asked. 

You chuckled at his question and stared down at your work uniform. It wasn’t anything special. Just a plain black dress shirt along with matching pants. Black was always the color of choice in the serving industry. It was easier to hide stains that way, be it from food or sweat. 

“Oh uh, a Sapori hostess,” you replied humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.” 

He hummed again. “Sapori. Heard that place is pretty fancy.” 

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concurred. 

“They pay well?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not great.”

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.” 

A sharp breath of air sounded from Simon as he inhaled another long draw from his cigarette, and it was only then that you realized that was probably the longest conversation that you had with someone that wasn’t either Row or someone from work. Not even Marco could force a conversation out of you for that long. It was odd. Foreign. Yet you didn’t want it to end. It was difficult to explain, but talking to Simon came natural, even with the insane heat he sparked inside of you. 

“What about you?” you asked. “I know you work for John, but what do you do for him?” 

“Security, mostly. And whatever odd jobs he assigns,” Simon answered. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I imagine.” 

“Yeah, though I usually am off by midnight most nights.” You laughed as you answered his question, and you weren’t quite sure why. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.” 

“Row?” Simon repeated. “What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?” 

“I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards,” you laughed. 

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckled. There was another pause in the conversation as Simon finished off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it onto the cement at his feet and stomping out the embers. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?” 

You opened your mouth to answer him, only for your lips to instantly seal shut. Really, the story of your nickname was probably more embarrassing than Row’s, or maybe it only felt that way because it was tied to you. Like every little thing about you was pathetic and something to be hidden. 

“A while back, Row’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken just a little bit on the rim. I was too… I don’t know, nervous I guess, to ask for another cup so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Row found out she laughed so hard and said it was like that little teacup from Beauty and the Beast, Chip. She’s called me that ever since.” 

A quiet hum escaped Simon as he fully turned to face you. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he was able to give you his complete and undivided attention. The way he looked at you was strange, and you weren’t sure what to make of the odd churning in your stomach. It wasn’t sickening, nor skin crawling, but it made your insides feel as if they were on fire.

“Cute,” he commented. 

“Riley!” 

Both you and Simon turned at the calling of his name, and it didn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marched out onto the terrace with Row stumbling behind him. She had somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she threw her arms around you the moment you were within reach. 

“I missed you,” she slurred, rum heavy on her breath. 

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you laughed. 

“Too long.”

“Riley,” John repeated again, ignoring his wife’s antics, “would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home alone when she’s this drunk. Take the car, since I’m sure you probably took your bike here, yeah?” 

The man fished a set of keys out of his pocket before handing them to Simon, who shook them around a bit as if he liked the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take care of ‘em.” 

Getting Row into her car proved to be a difficult task, though it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching Simon struggle into his seat. The poor man proved to be significantly taller than Row was, and he managed to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car. After some quiet cursing from him, and merciless giggles from Row, he managed to move the seat back far enough that he wasn’t completely scrunched over, and he took off once he ensured both you and Row were buckled in the back seat. 

“This is what you get for being so tall,” Row teased. “I mean, really. There is no reason for anyone to be that tall.” 

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorted. 

“Yeah, but he puts his inches somewhere more important than height,” she muttered, just low enough for only you to hear. 

By the time you had pulled into the driveway, Row had managed to sober up, but only slightly. Still, Simon made sure to step out of the driver's seat and walk around to the back side of the car in order to help her out. Once she was steady on her own feet, Row turned around to look at you, where she pointed her finger at you as if in warning. 

“Stay,” she ordered.

Confused, you glanced at Simon awkwardly before looking back at her. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

Once you gave your confirmation, she slammed the door shut behind her and allowed Simon to lead her inside of the house. It only took her about three failed attempts to get the keys in the lock so that they could enter the dark and quiet house. Simon was going to leave then, as she had gotten into the house plenty fine. He knew that Row was more than capable of taking care of herself for the night, despite her state, but before he could even turn around, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips. 

“Chip,” she spoke, “I want you to keep an eye on her.” 

Dumbfounded, Simon raised a brow as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Of course.” 

“I don’t just mean tonight,” Row corrected. “I mean, even after tonight. Every day or so if you can manage it.” 

Now, that request truly did confuse him. He had only met you two times, and you seemed plenty capable of taking care of yourself. You were a grown woman, after all, yet Row attempted to make it seem like you were some helpless creature. Then again, he had only met you two times; there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about you, and Row wasn’t one to be overly dramatic. If there was something about you that worried her, it was worth at least hearing her out. 

“She alright?” he questioned. 

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Row sighed. She rubbed at her eyes as if she could remove the drunken haze that clogged her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just… feel a lot better if you were able to look out for her.” 

Keeping an eye on what was essentially his boss’s wife’s sister wasn’t exactly how Simon imagined spending his time, but you seemed like a nice enough girl. Nodding his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced behind his shoulder at the car you sat in. After all, there were only two things Simon Riley was good at doing; fighting, and protecting. 

“Consider it done.” 

Once Simon was done dropping Row off, his next objective was ensuring you got home. The drive to your apartment was much quieter than you had expected, but with it nearing two in the morning you were too tired to say anything coherent. Simon seemed to read this, and instead turned up the volume on whatever radio station Row had been listening to when she picked you up from work. 

You must have nodded off during the drive, because the next thing you knew, your door opened up and Simon stood with his hand stretched out for you to take. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you took his hand and allowed him to help you out of your seat before you started digging through your uniform for your keys. 

“Thank you for the ride, Simon,” you said once you had them in hand. 

“No problem,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. It wasn’t until he glanced at the old, somewhat dilapidating, building that you realized he intended to walk you to your door, just like he had done with Row. “Which floor do you live on?” 

Each step that you took up to the third floor was grueling, and you would have taken the lift had it not been out of order for the last two months. Your feet throbbed with every movement, and by the time you made it to your door you were ready to pass out. Your keys slid into the lock with ease, and with a simple turn of the knob the door swung open to reveal your studio apartment. A few dim lamps were the only light source for the area, but it was more than enough for you to function in to get ready for bed. 

As you turned to face Simon, ready to dismiss him so you could get some well earned sleep, you noticed his  attention had been drawn to your door. Everything in that building was near ancient, but your door and windows were probably the worst. Peeling paint, and rusting brass plagued the door, but he seemed more interested in the plating on the frame. 

“Find something interesting?” you questioned. 

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he muttered in response. His fingers brushed against the old metal plating, and his nails scraped at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” 

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.”

There were a million words that flooded into your mind on why he didn’t need to do that, and you were certain they would have left your mouth had you not been so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his words, all you could do was yawn as you glanced towards your bed, which had been shoved into the far corner of the room. You were about ready to pass out in the spot you stood in. 

“Get some rest, yeah?” he prompted as he placed his hand on the doorknob. 

You turned to face him with a smile, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. The light of the hallway casted a dark shadow on his face, and yet his look of quiet concern still appeared so soft. A small smile graced your lips before you were able to stop it, and you gave him a curt nod. 

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you said, voice nearly at a whisper. 

Even though he was a tall and intimidating man, you did not feel the least bit of fear as you watched him stand in your doorway. Any other time, you most likely would have felt trapped if a large man blocked you from exiting your home, yet there was nothing insidious about Simon. Especially not the small smile that managed to tug at his lips as he began to shut the door. 

“Sweet dreams, love.”

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: no one wanted to play with me as a little kid

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pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (sort of. it's like pre idiots in love. on the cusp of idiots in love), fluff (so much fluff)

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: you know what. let's pretend all of the ages/years make sense. kisses to all of you!

December 4, 1809 - Dearest, loveliest, most wonderful Y/I (your initial),

I am so sorry I have not written in almost two weeks, though I did enjoy the very strongly worded letter you sent me reminding me of this fact and demanding a response. I wish I had a better excuse, but truthfully, this term has just been hectic. But to answer the question you so politely asked: yes, I will be home in time for Christmas, and I will be staying for New Year's and your birthday (your birthday is not even two weeks after Christmas, darling, give me some credit!). Though I rather think you owe me a present instead of the other way around after calling me an oblivious toad.

As an apology for my silence, I've attached my reading list for the courses I am taking at Oxford this term so you can also read them. I am sure you will be able to find them in your library but do let my mother know if you cannot find them. We should also have copies in our library. I will be heading back to Aubrey Hall in ten days to see the lot of you, and I will eagerly be awaiting all of your thoughts on this term's reading.

Yours, B

You couldn't help the excited gasp that left your lips as soon as you were finished reading Benedict's letter. You hadn't even managed to leave your entryway before you hastily opened the envelope addressed to you, blurting out a thank you to your slightly startled butler, who had been taken aback by your eager rifling of the mail. 

Now that Benedict was at Oxford, you barely got to see him at all, so you were more than a little excited when you read that you would only have to wait ten more days to see him. The three weeks he was home for the winter holiday were the bulk of your in-person interactions with him for the year, as had been the norm for the past three years he had been at university. 

It wasn't all bad, though. Proof of that lay in a box in your bedroom filled with every single letter or note you had received from Benedict while he was away at Oxford. Even the short ones, when he was studying for an exam and barely had time to write a coherent response, had found a place inside your box. You supposed the box contained most of your friendship with Ben over the past three years, neatly organized by date from oldest to newest and separated by term. 

Sometimes, you found yourself missing Benedict more than usual, and you would read through your favorite of his letters. Often, it ended up being the shortest notes that were the sweetest and ones you would read over and over. Even years after he had sent the letters, you found comfort in his messy scrawl after an afternoon playing Pall Mall without Benedict and his typical banter. But once you saw him at Aubrey Hall every December, it would be like no time had passed at all. You kept him up to date on everything happening at home with your family and his, and he told you wild stories from his time at Oxford. 

And although you enjoyed hearing about his life, it was also bittersweet. You were so jealous of him, wishing more than anything that you could go to university, too. But alas, the pesky issue of your gender prevented you from furthering your education. You got as close as you could, though. Benedict would send you all of his readings every term, and you enjoyed discussing the books you read at length when he returned for the holiday season. 

This is not to say that your conversations about literature and art were limited to your in-person time. In fact, most of your correspondence was about the books you were reading or the galleries you had gone to. Ben could spend pages and pages talking about a particular part of a painting, the way the artist had captured the way light filtered through the trees. And you loved every bit of it, engaging in your usual discussions. In a way, if you ignored how much you missed him, it was lovely to have a physical representation of your friendship. 

However, you would soon stop being constrained to receiving correspondence from Ben every few days, and you could simply knock on his door if you were particularly interested in talking about an aspect of your book. Your time at Aubrey Hall had become your favorite time of year, three weeks of daily interactions with your best friend being the absolute best birthday present you could've ever asked for. 

But this year was different. This was the last time you would have to say goodbye at the end of the holidays, seeing as Benedict was graduating in the spring and returning from Oxford permanently. To say you were over the moon was an understatement. You could barely wait to spend hours in his studio watching him paint again or reading aloud to him under the shade of the tree in your backyard on particularly warm days. 

---

August 12, 1799 - Y/I, I thought you would like this one. Yours, B

Bypassing Alex and Anthony having a heated debate about who was better at billiards, Benedict headed straight in your direction across the garden, ignoring Daphne, Colin, Theo, and Bastian, who had been playing some team game that devolved into an argument. Benedict patted your head as he came by to sit beside you on the grass, momentarily drawing your attention away from the massive book on your lap.

Grabbing the book from your lap and transferring it to his own, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

You let out an excited squeal, shaking Benedict's nearest arm with both hands. "It's amazing, Ben! An entire book about flowers, who knew? I've spent hours looking at it already, and I'm not even halfway through! It's got so much information I could die. It's incredible. Thank you so much." Though it was left unsaid, Ben knew these were hours you would have otherwise spent alone. The twins were especially adamant about not having you play with them, and Alex and Anthony were too caught up in their never-ending competitions to pay any attention to you. With your mother and his being occupied with the toddlers, Francesca, Cass, and Eloise, who had only just begun to walk and talk, you and Ben were truly the only odd ones out. But it was no bother to him. He loved when you read aloud to him, and you would happily listen to him talk about his sketches for hours on end, something he could not say about any other member of the Bridgerton-Beaumont cohort. 

Ben could only laugh fondly at your excitement, internally very proud that he had found a book you really enjoyed. "It's called an encyclopedia. There are loads of them about just about anything and everything in the world," he told you, leafing through the book himself. Gently pushing the book back in your direction, he prodded, "Well, go on then. Show me your favorite flowers so far." 

Grabbing the book, you hastily turned the pages until you reached the flowers, starting with the letter 'd.' Standing up, you rushed to the nearest corner of the garden and dug around for a few seconds, coming back with a bunch of small white flowers clutched in your small hands. 

Ben let out a short laugh, but you quickly shushed him, whining, "Stop it! It'll make sense in a second, I promise."

"I didn't say anything!" responded Ben defensively, putting his hands up in the air but unable to conceal the smile you had elicited from him. 

"Okay. Look at the page. The daisies. They're also called Bellis perennis, but that's in Latin. We have them here in the garden! Isn't that lovely?" you said excitedly, placing the flowers beside Ben.

"Oh, that is quite nice, Y/N," he responded, picking one of the daisies up and placing it behind your ear, eliciting a bright smile from you. "Did you know that a Violet is a type of flower? And so is a Primrose."

"You mean both our mums have flower names? That's so fun. I wish everyone could have a flower name," you responded, excited to have learned new information. 

"You could always give your daughters flower names," Ben suggested, enjoying the pure joy you were getting out of this.

"Well, before I have daughters, I would have to get married. And I don't want to do that! I just want to keep reading books. I want to read every single encyclopedia in the world!" you exclaimed, reaching your arms as high as they could go. 

Ben laughed, highly amused by your antics. "Just like me, then. Except instead of reading it's painting," he responded as he laid down fully on the grass, looking up at the sky and feeling particularly thankful that someone understood how he felt. On the other hand, you took the opportunity to dump all of the flowers you had picked onto his torso, arranging and rearranging them into different designs. He could only laugh, not at all bothered that his shirt would surely be dirty now, just happy to watch you enjoy yourself. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up as you tried unsuccessfully to stack the flowers on top of each other. "That's perfect, then. We can get married, I can read, and you can paint, and we can have a daughter and give her a flower name."

"That sounds wonderful! I'm glad that's sorted," he laughed, lifting his head to find you flashing a toothy grin. "D'you like the name Daisy for our daughter, then?"

"That's lovely! And you can paint her a painting of a daisy for her room!" you responded eagerly. Benedict hummed in assent, busy imagining the dynamics of a blissful imaginary marriage. 

---

January 3, 1810 - Y/I, Happiest of birthdays, darling. Come downstairs, where I have a proper gift and card waiting for you. Yours, B

As you came downstairs, you already feared the fate that awaited you. Every year, your birthday would begin with a very extreme and frankly excessive snowball fight involving all the Bridgerton-Beaumont children. You could trust no one. Alliances would easily crumble under pressure, and people were just as likely to betray their siblings as they would someone from the other family. You and Benedict, ordinarily inseparable, could become sworn enemies in the span of two snowballs. You couldn't even trust sweet Hyacinth, only seven years old, to be loyal to any team, seeing as she was an outstanding double agent, a lesson you had all learned the hard way. It was absolute chaos, and you loved every second of it. It didn't matter how old you were; this was always the best part of your birthday.

As soon as you stepped outside, a snowball the size of your fist hit your right shoulder. Slowly turning toward the perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes once you saw it was Gregory, who had helped you defeat Bastian and Francesca in one fell swoop last year. Clearly, that alliance was gone, and you would have to find someone else to rely on this year. 

Since it was your birthday, the fight officially started when you threw the first snowball, and this year, you chose to throw it at Cassandra, your own sister, who had annoyed you at dinner yesterday by incessantly flinging peas at you. Once the tightly packed ball left your hand, all hell broke loose. You were hit in the stomach and leg simultaneously as you fired snowballs in every direction you could, laughing as you did. 

You briefly ducked behind a tree trunk, needing a moment to breathe. You took advantage of the fact that you weren't a target to form a massive snowball. You carefully stepped away from behind the trunk, checking that the coast was clear. Without a second thought, you flung the snowball as hard as you could in the direction of the person closest to you. 

Unfortunately, it hit Benedict straight in the face, blinding him for a few moments. Your mouth hung open, trying not to laugh because you knew you had packed quite a bit of force into your throw. You ran to Ben's side, apologizing as much as possible without bursting into laughter. He cleared the snow from his eyes and turned to you slowly, an evil grin forming on his face. 

"I believe you have just declared war, Miss Beaumont," he said finally. 

You screamed and ran in the opposite direction, knowing he would be absolutely merciless. You couldn't even look back, not wanting to slow down. After a few seconds of frantic sprinting, you felt Ben tackling you onto a massive pile of snow. Both of you were laughing hysterically while trying to catch your breath. He turned you over so you were lying down side by side, both of you panting heavily, looking up at the winter sky. 

"I miss you," you said finally, turning your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you. He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you tightly before he helped you up and brushed the snow off of your coat. 

"I know. I miss you, too. But it'll only be like this for a short while longer, and then you can come round every day and read to me while I paint, yeah?" he said, lifting your chin to look at him. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, his brown eyes not letting yours go. Your eyes flickered to his mouth briefly, your lips parting slightly. Looking back at his eyes, you saw something flash in them that you couldn't quite parse, an expression you hadn't seen before. Finally, you nodded, letting him pull you into him and kiss your forehead, enjoying the warmth and comfort you felt as you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

---

September 17, 1805 - Y/I, I can't believe you had a book about the exact artist I was talking about! I'll pop by yours later to say a proper thank you. Yours, B

Benedict walked into your sitting room, sprawling on the couch before you with his arm behind his head, silently waiting for you to look up from your book. But you had just gotten to an exciting part, and your eyes remained glued to the page, ignoring your best friend's attempt to get your attention. 

You heard him huff and muttered a soft "Just a second, Ben" as your eyes raced across the page, eager to know what happened next. In response, he slid further down the couch and crossed his arms, eliciting a laugh from you and finally drawing you away from your book. 

"You were barely waiting ten seconds, Benedict!" you exclaimed, secretly pleased he was so eager to see you. He was leaving for Oxford in a few weeks, and although you were trying not to think about the reality of him going, you were acutely aware that you would soon be unable to see him every day.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, responding with a teasing, "It felt like ten years!" 

In recent months, the two of you had become inseparable. Your days were spent reading next to him as he painted, listening to him talk about his most recent artworks, or going for nature walks if you found yourself in Aubrey Hall. Anything to keep him close by before he left for Oxford, you reasoned. Though you couldn't help the growing affection, you were feeling, finding it impossible to look away when he tousled his hair just so and being a bit too pleased every time he complimented you. Every handsome smile or cheeky wink he sent your way lit you up inside, melting your heart just a little bit.

The problem was, and of course, there was a problem, that Benedict was always like this. Nothing about his demeanor had changed; your friendship was still the same as it had always been. Except now you found yourself spending a little too much time in the mornings making sure your hair looked good in case he popped by unannounced. Regardless, you knew Ben did not reciprocate your affections, so you tried to ignore these feelings as best as you could, folding them up very small and tucking them neatly in the corner of your heart for later examination.

Now, you found yourself on a couch against a wall of Benedict's studio, reading Romeo and Juliet as he was quietly sketching. This was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. Spend quiet afternoons together, reading and painting, enjoying each other's company. You took a moment to look at him as he scrunched his nose, unhappy with a certain aspect of the sketch. 

He sighed and looked up at you, nodding toward your book. "What has Shakespeare got to say today?"

"That marriage is a death sentence," you replied, voice deadpan. 

Ben burst into laughter. "Oh, come off it. It can't be that bad in real life. That's only a play! Besides, you've still got a while before you have to think about that," he tried to reason with you.

"Well, maybe. But it just sounds so unappealing. I want to do this. What we're doing now. I want to keep doing it. I don't want to be a wife! I just want to read and study," you argued. 

Benedict stood up, coming to sit beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, darling. I'm sorry," but he knew you had more to say.

You groaned, pushing your forehead into his shoulder. "I just don't think I'll ever be happy if I'm forced to marry. And I most likely will be, knowing my mother. She'd rather die than have one of her daughters turn into a spinster," you huffed, missing the sympathetic look you got from Ben. "And who will my husband be? A clueless man with no interest in me beyond my ability to be a good wife? I cannot imagine a worse fate."

---

May 8, 1810 - Y/I, I'll keep this one short, seeing how I'll be properly back in a few days! I've been quite busy with graduation, but I'm excited to come home. Yours, B

You smiled as you placed the last letter you had received from Benedict back in your box. The collection was complete. Three years of correspondence between the two of you finally come to an end. You carefully closed the box and returned downstairs, where a big family gathering was occurring in the garden. 

As soon as you stepped outside, Ben was at your side, chatting your ear off about one thing or another. He had barely left you alone since he had been back, granting you only a few minutes to yourself, but you couldn't complain. You wrapped an arm around his torso as you walked back to the garden table. 

"Oh, you look so darling!" cried Violet, cooing at the two of you. 

"You're proper adults now! Both of you! How the time has passed," your mother added, reaching out to hold Violet's hand. 

Benedict could only smile, too happy to be back at your side to focus on anything else. He had missed you loads while he was at Oxford, but having your arm around him now, he realized just how much he needed you. Ben placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, unable to help himself as you sat down at the table. He sat right next to you, taking one of your hands into his own so he could play with your fingers as you chatted with Primrose and Violet. 

Oxford had been a riot, to be sure, but he was so glad to come home to you.

—

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Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti

[russellsppttemplates]

hey! this is my first time requesting something so i’m not too sure what to ask for !

would love to see some oscar fluff tho 🥹🥹

Note: I'm happy you sent in a request, feel free to always share your ideas! 🫶 also, this was totally not written from personal experience 🙄

Tw: reader accidentally gets hurt

Dating an athlete meant that your holidays would often include adventurous plans like hikes and trails. For this afternoon, Oscar wanted to check out a hike near the beach where you could walk along the coastline.

"You don't have to go if you don't want, love", Oscar assured you as you put on your sports bra, "I want to, it's supposed to be very beautiful and it's a nice change of scenery from the pool", you smiled, getting your trainers, "these should be okay, right? I only have sandals and flip-flops and those are definitely not appropriate footwear", you reasoned, "yes, I don't think it will be slippery, more dusty I think", your boyfriend offered, grabbing his own trainers so he too could lace them and you could get going.

It started quite easily, the steps carved into the rocks from erosion clear and well limited, making you follow Oscar quite easy, "wow, look how blue the sea is!", he gasped as you reached a balcony like area looking out the coast line, waves hitting the rocks and turning into white foam.

"It says here the water line can go up and cover all of those rocks completely", you read on the wooden and metal informative plaque, pointing with your fingers, "Osc!", you squealed when you noticed he was taking a photo of you, "at least warn me first so I can sort myself out!".

"You look beautiful, love", he smiled, shoving his phone back in his pocket and circling his arms around your waist.

"I am sweaty and shiny from the suncream and my hair is all tangled from the wind", you pouted as you tamed down the little hairs that never seemed to lay flat unless they had a lot of product on them.

"You look lovely, believe me", he stole a quick kiss, "let's continue?", he urged, pulling you with him.

The trail started to shrink as the flat ground approached the line where the rock stopped and a couple of feet wrong and you'd be down in the rocky wall in no time, "can you hold my hand, please?", you murmured to Oscar, stretching your hand out while the other one was already grasping the safety steel railing chord, "here, I won't let go, I promise", your boyfriend assured as he laced your hand in his.

"We climbed all of this, so now we have to go down, be careful, okay?", he warned after you had taken a rest break to admire the view.

"It's fine, I'll be careful", you added, getting up and following him down. You didn't see one of the steps, so you went right over it, not measuring the distance properly and falling on your butt.

At the yelp you let out, Oscar was quick to turn around and help you, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked, checking over any injuries, noticing a little cut on your thigh and a graze on your elbow.

"Just bumps and scratches - and a sore butt", you pouted, accepting his hand to be pulled up to a standing position, "can you walk all the way back or fo you want me to carry you?", he wondered, "I'm fine to walk", you smiled, kissing his cheek and carrying on.

As soon as you arrived back at the hotel, Oscar stopped by the reception to ask for a first aid kit, taking it with you to the room so he could help.

"I'm sorry it stings, love", he pouted, kissing your thigh to distract you as he made sure the wound was clean and disinfected, "but it's looking good", he kissed your thigh one last time before moving up to your arm, seeing you had already cleaned it, "I can't put the protective band-aid", you explained, having him help you with it too.

"We can stay here for a bit before you go to lunch, how does that sound?", he suggested as he pulled you to cuddle him, "that sounds good", you kissed his lips before making yourself comfy, "my clumsy girl", he kissed the top of your head.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[trensu]

I keep seeing posts about mother's day and Steve Harrington, and it's all in good fun, I don't wanna ruin anyone's fun times. But also, Steve is actually a teenage boy whose parents are never around and has sort of adopted this weird little nerd boy as his little brother. This weird little nerd boy has a mom who loves him very much and supports his interests and worries about his well-being constantly. Somehow, Steve has gotten included in this and he's got this woman fussing over him, if he's eating enough, if he's dressed warmly enough for the weather and please let her know how much he needs for gas because he takes Dustin places all the time.

And then mother's day is coming up and Dustin wants to get her the perfect present but has no idea what to get her because his mom is focused on him all the time and never really mentions anything she wants or needs so he's low-key panicking when he finally gets a hold of Steve and asks him for help. So Steve and him start going to all sorts of shops trying to find something good, something worthy of Claudia Henderson.

Steve helps him buy an extravagant bouquet because moms and flowers right? Dustin finds a bowtie collar for Mews2. They find a cat themed mother's day card. They order a whole fancy carry out meal from Enzo's. He helps Dustin bake a homemade chocolate cake.

Steve puts on the finishing touches to the dining table while Dustin coaxes Mews2 into the bowtie collar. Then it's almost time for Claudia to come home from her shift look idk what she does for a living in canon but I always imagined her as a hospital nurse and hospitals don't close for holidays or weekends so Steve checks Dustin's hair one last time because Dustin wants to look nice for his mom's nice mother's day dinner. Then Steve is grabbing his keys and saying goodbye.

"Dude, where are you going?" Dustin asks, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, home? You're all set up, and your mom's home soon," Steve responds like, duh, where else would he be going right.

"Yeah, so you should clean up! I can't be the only one looking good for Mom."

Steve blinks. "Man, your mom's not gonna want me getting in the way of her day with you."

"what are you talking about? Have you MET Mom?"

And before they could continue arguing, Claudia walks through the door. She sees the dining table laid out all nice, and her furry boy in a bowtie, her little boy with his hair done, and her other bigger boy looking kind of caught out and blushing.

"oh, my boys!" She says. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Dustin actually--" Steve tries to give Dustin, her actual kid, the credit because he's not about to steal his little bud's thunder but Claudia scoops them both into her arms and peppers them with slightly damp kisses.

"you two didn't have to!" She says. "Oh, let me go get changed from these scrubs. You both sit down, I'll be just a minute. I'm so lucky to have the two sweetest boys in the world." Mews2 takes that moment to meow loudly. "sorry, THREE boys, I didn't forget you, baby."

She shuffles hurriedly to her room, leaving behind a smugly grinning Dustin and a frozen, baffled Steve.

"you heard her," Dustin says, pushing Steve towards an open chair. "We can't disappoint her on mother's day!"

And that's how Steve ended up spending mother's day in a warm home with a loving family, instead of spending the evening alone trying to get a call through to Mrs Harrington with little success.

[coloursparks]

Not Like That

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Summary: Things change over the summer holiday with Sebastian, and then things get messy. Might as well spend the first few weeks of your last year fighting about it. WC: 6.1k Notes: Oh god, the first fic I've written in like six years and I am sure it's shit. I am sorry if characterization is off. It takes me a minute?? I also have zero clue if I want this to be canon compliant or not so there's absolutely no mention of Anne or what happened! Also, no beta so please don't be too harsh. I just wanted to have fun writing a thing and hopefully someone else enjoys it!

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How else am I supposed to look?” you asked Imelda. “Do you hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” she shot back, giving you the same exasperated look you were giving her. “If you don’t say something about it soon, you’re going to lose your chance. I’m not sure I can hold them at bay much longer.”

“I don’t know what chance you think I should have,” you said, though you didn’t sound as confident about it. The fact of the matter was you knew exactly what Imelda was talking about, and she was right. You hated that she was right.

“Sallow’s come back a foot taller and just bigger and you aren’t the only one who’s noticed,” she pointed out. “Violet’s determined to slip him a love potion. I’ve been trying to tell her he’s already involved, but considering I can’t say who, it hasn’t worked all too well.”

“I hate her,” you muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy. 

“You hate anyone who so much as bats an eyelash at him,” Imelda pointed out. “You can save yourself the trouble but just telling him that you fancy him and snog in the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks already.” 

“Imelda!” 

“Or snog him somewhere else. I happen to quite like the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks for that sort of thing, but to each their own,” she said simply, shrugging. She was unashamed, and part of you envied her for it. 

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, giving her a pleading look.

“And why not?”

“Because…because…” you stammered, trying to find a reason that would satisfy your friend. When none came to mind as she stared at you expectantly, you groaned and rested your head on your crossed arms on the table in front of you. “He’s going to have a right laugh at me, Imelda.”

“No, he will not,” she said, poking you in the shoulder. You looked up at her, already defeated and resigned to the fact that despite your years-long pining for Sebastian Sallow, nothing would ever come at it.

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“Because Sallow’s a lot of things, but he’s not that cruel. Besides, for all you know, he could be whining to Ominus about how much he fancies you but thinks he has no chance,” she pointed out. “Now, come on. We’ll be late, and Hecat swore to put me in detention if I was late again.”  The two of you stood from the table in the library where you had been sitting, gathering up your belongings before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

“Why are you so late all the time anyway?” you asked curiously as you held open the door into Central Hall for her. 

“Flying,” she answered simply. 

Of course. It was Imelda - you should have known. 

___

“Mr. Sallow, why must you always duel in my classroom?” 

Professor Hecat was only just leaving her office as you and Imelda entered and seemed too busy repairing the collateral damage from Sebastian’s duel with Leander Prewett to notice the two of you sneaking to nearby seats. The room was righting itself as Sebastian raised his hands up to the professor, taking a few steps away from the dueling platform he had been standing on.

“Because, Professor, there isn’t another place where dueling is sanctioned,” he pointed out, his voice conveying innocence he didn’t possess. You rolled your eyes because you knew full well that dueling being sanctioned didn’t stop him from doing it. Crossed Wands meetings and plenty of adventures proved otherwise, and the look Hecat was giving him also showed she knew otherwise.

“Let’s see if we can make it through the term without you destroying my classroom, Mr. Sallow.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, raising his wand and muttering a hasty spell to repair the nearby broken desk. It righted itself in one piece, still smoking slightly. “It won’t happen again.” He shot her a smile before heading to a nearby seat. “Imelda, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize Quidditch players needed N.E.W.T.S. Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to look at her.

“I take no chances,” Imelda replied cooly. “You never know what an opponent will do to get ahead, and knowing how to unjinx a broom can’t hurt.”

“If you say so,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “And my favorite Hufflepuff returns. I was starting to wonder if you even still went here,” he joked, elbowing you gently in the arm. 

“No, still here,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to rub the tingling feeling out of your arm where he had touched you. It was ridiculous, letting a simple touch get to you, but everything was ridiculous when he was involved. 

Before either of you could say anything else, Professor Hecat was calling for the class to focus on her so she could teach. You tried your best to pay attention, but the fact you were next to Sebastian was nothing short of distracting. Words came out of the professor’s mouth and you tried to hold onto them, only for them to slip through your fingers because Sebastian was making that focused face he always made when he was trying to learn something, brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking out as he scribbled on parchment.

It was the first time you had really gotten to see him up close. Sebastian had certainly grown over the summer holiday – he was broader and if there were any doubts, the way his sleeves were pulled taut over his arms put them to rest. He was a head taller than last year, and you cursed him mentally for somehow having even more freckles. He had left sixth year looking more like a boy and returned for seventh year looking like a man, and you certainly hadn’t been the only one who noticed. 

Part of the reason why Sebastian had joked about not knowing if you had come back to Hogwarts was that you hadn’t been able to get his attention before now. You had seen him on the Hogwarts Express, but he and Ominis had been having such an intense-seeming conversation that you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. You had tried to end up in the same carriage on the way up to the school, but before you could tell him that you had room in your carriage, Violet McDowell was pulling him into hers with Sebastian tugging Ominis in too.

Dejected and a little annoyed, you had ridden up to the school in huffy silence with Imelda and Poppy. 

Outside of trying to wave at Sebastian from the Hufflepuff table after the sorting, you hadn’t bothered to get his attention. He was clearly enjoying the attention of the girls that somehow seemed to find every free space around him. You could have sworn that you saw Imelda notice the upset look on your face, but you decided to jab at your roast potatoes instead of looking at the Slytherin table any longer. 

It was the bell to signal the end of class that shook you from your stupor. You had zoned out watching Sebastian, who blissfully hadn’t noticed the attention. Unfortunately for you, Imelda certainly had. She gave you a look that very clearly said that her thoughts from your earlier conversation hadn’t changed. Luckily, before she could say anything about it, Sebastian was ducking in the way.

“Imelda, Quidditch,” he said quickly, noticing he needed to head her off talking about something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“What about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she packed her belongings.

“Tryouts,” Sebastian said simply. “Want to know when they’re happening. Decided to finally try out.” When Imelda gave eyed him suspiciously, like she thought she was walking into a trap of some kind, he sighed and added, “I was told to do something more productive and sanctioned with my time.”

“You’re serious?” Imelda asked. “What position?”

“Beater. You need those, right?”

“We do,” she agreed. She glanced over at you, sighed, and then looked back to Sebastian. “I’m going down to the pitch before Potions if you want to practice before tryouts and I can give you tips to improve.” 

You wanted to laugh. As much as Imelda probably wanted you and Sebastian alone together so you could confess the feelings you still wouldn’t admit to, her love of Quidditch won out. Secretly, you were thankful for it.

“Do you want to join us?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking over at you. “Get a leg up on your Slytherin competition.”

“Hufflepuff still wouldn’t stand a chance,” Imelda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’ve got Divination,” you told him, choosing to ignore Imelda’s teasing. 

“You’re still taking that?” 

You shrugged in response. “I like Professor Onai. Plus, someone has to keep Natty company,” you explained. “You two don’t get bloodied up too bad without me.”

“Don’t worry, if Sallow’s any good, his pretty face will stay pretty,” Imelda laughed, and you knew that she was trying to get a rise out of you. Sebastian, thankfully, seemed a bit preoccupied with the comment himself to notice the color rising in your cheeks. You excused yourself with the excuse of not wanting to be late to class before things could get any more awkward.

____

In the weeks after, you had seen more of Sebastian, and then suddenly a lot less. Unsurprisingly, he ended up making the Quidditch team. With the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, Imelda had them practicing at all hours, meaning that her time to try and press the issue of your feelings for Sebastian was blissfully cut short. 

Luckily, you could at least still spend time with other friends who either didn’t notice what Imelda had or at least had the grace not to press you about it. Without Sebastian around, you seemed to find Ominis on his own more, and the nice part about spending time with him was that he didn’t seem to give a damn about your romantic life nor did he want to divulge on his own the way Poppy and Adelaide had been as of late. You were happy for your friends, but the constant questions about your own because the two Hufflepuffs weren’t as well-versed in your emotions as Imelda was getting to be a little much.

“What do you think you’ll do once you graduate?” 

Ominis had been talking about what his own plans were as the two of you walked toward Hogsmeade. The two of you were friends, sure, but more because you had a mutual friend than because you spent any significant time together before now. You were catching up on the more interesting things now that the two of you were spending time together without Sebastian. 

“When we did career conversations with our Heads of House, I thought I wanted to work for the Ministry but something about it doesn’t feel right anymore,” you told him, stepping out of the way of a witch carrying a stack of books with a cauldron perched precariously on top. “Bit mad to expect a bunch of children to decide what to do with their lives just like that, you know?”

“You sound like Sebastian,” he pointed out, chuckling slightly. “Says he might not bother with curse-breaking at all now. Might want to play Quidditch professionally instead.”

“He hasn’t played in a single game,” you laughed. “The season doesn’t start for another week and he wants to be a professional now?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well,” Ominis started, “you can ask him all about it later. He’s meeting us here after practice–if Imelda’s left enough of the team.” 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” you said casually, trying to ignore the excitement from the news and the slight feeling of dread. As much as you liked Imelda, you hoped she wouldn’t be joining because you weren’t ready for another round of heavy-handed comments about you and Sebastian. 

“The second I said you and I were going to Hogsmeade, he said he was joining,” he explained, shrugging. “You haven’t seen much of him lately, have you?”

“Outside of classes? No,” you sighed. “He seems too busy for me these days.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” you said, biting your lip. 

You didn’t want to get into it with Ominis. He didn’t need to know how much it bugged you to see Sebastian at meal times, talking to the rest of the team or those girls that somehow always seemed to hang around him. He didn’t need to know how disappointed you were every time you couldn’t even get Sebastian’s attention to say hello, and when you did, half the time he was rushing off somewhere. You felt thoroughly left behind and the fact you cared so much about him made it hurt all that much more. The less Ominis knew about all of that, the better. 

“He’s just been busy with Quidditch,” you replied finally, in too airy of a voice to be entirely convincing. 

Thankfully, he let the topic of your mutual friend slide as you got into the village. You had needed to restock for Potions, and Ominis seemed uncharacteristically cheery in Honeydukes 

and you didn’t have the heart to suggest going elsewhere when he wanted to explore. Leaving close to an hour later with your coin purses lighter but pockets heavier, you managed to get into and out of Gladrag’s with only the new scarf you had intended to buy before heading to the Three Broomsticks. 

“There you two are!” Sebastian was sitting at a table in the corner, waving at the two of you. Your heart skipped at the look of the smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back and wave to show that you spotted him. 

“Would you mind grabbing the Butterbeers?” Ominis asked, turning towards the sound of Sebastian’s voice. 

“Consider it done,” you told him, giving him a pat on the arm before heading to the bar. “Sirona! Can I get two Butterbeers?” She waved to show that she heard you, even as she was dealing with something else behind the bar. You looked around to see if there was other students in the pub, and you spotted a few younger Hufflepuffs and, a few tables over, Garreth Weasley and Everett Clopton discussing something on a piece of parchment in front of them. That was…dangerous. 

The only other table of interest was the one you were heading to, and as you looked over at it, you saw Sebastian looking at you, still smiling. You smiled back, feeling a little silly at how easy it was for him to make you feel the way he did.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Sirona commented as she slid two full glasses in front of you. You whipped around, giving her a confused look.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sebastian’s been watching that door like his life depended on it,” she said. “Waiting for you.”

“Well, Ominis doesn’t come to the village often,” you pointed out, taking your drinks. “He was probably just worried about him and won’t admit it. Boys, you know.” 

“Perhaps,” Sirona said, but the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe what you were saying. You pushed what you owed for the drinks toward her, and picked up the Butterbeer. She left it there, and you headed over to your friends. You placed Ominis’ drink in front of him before settling in the free seat.

“If we don’t win, I’m quitting,” Sebastian was telling Ominis.

“Already?” you asked, giving Sebastian an amused look.

“You have no idea what Imelda is like Captain,” he responded, shaking his head. “She woke us up before dawn this morning.”

“I feel like you knew what you were signing up for,” you laughed. “It’s not like it’s a surprise that Imelda is…intense.”

“But add a little power over people,” he sighed, “and you’ll be playing Quidditch every moment you’re not in class or asleep.”

“Just the way she likes it,” you pointed out, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Yeah but…” he trailed off. “When did I tell you that?”

“I told her before,” Ominis piped in. “She talks to you even less than I do. We compare notes,” he added dryly. You laughed at the comment. It was perfectly true. Sebastian and you would talk maybe for a minute before class or after, but Ominis at least saw him in the Slytherin Common Room. The two of you talked about other things, but the conversation would always turn to Sebastian at one point or another. 

Sebastian frowned, but before he could say anything else about it, Ominis was talking about something else. For a while, Sebastian was uncharacteristically quiet as you two chatted about nothing in particular and drank your Butterbeers. Slowly, he became more himself, and you had to admit, it was nice to have what felt like the “old days” back again. It felt like you were back in the Undercroft, and not fighting for Sebastian’s attention. 

Once all three glasses were empty, you stood up and scooped them into your arms. “I’ll go get us more,” you declared, smiling brightly. You didn’t want things to end just yet, so another round of drinks made the most sense. You had barely been up at the bar for a minute when your seat was taken by Violet McDowell. She had pulled the chair closer to Sebastian and was leaning so near him she might as well be in his lap, and Ominis was looking almost as annoyed as you were. Sirona said nothing about the look on your face other than a glance over to your table and a head shake. 

Unable to carry all three drinks, you instead charmed the filled glasses to float in front of you as you headed back to the table. You let the three of them fall with more force than you meant to, causing loud thuds and Butterbeer to slop out over the rims and onto the table. Ominis, who couldn’t know that he should move back the way Sebastian had, got the brunt of the spill.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, more to him than the other two. “Just got away from me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the castle with me?” Violet was simpering, ignoring what had just happened. “You said you’d help me with my Charms work, Bas.” You almost snorted at the nickname but managed to cover it up with a cough.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room later,” Sebastian told her, “go ahead without me.” Violet pouted, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek and look away from her. She was certainly shameless. 

“Fine! But you promised,” Violet huffed before getting up and heading out, ignoring the other two people at the table completely. Ominis was trying to clean up the spilled Butterbeer so he either didn’t notice or care about Violet’s departure. 

“I’m going to wash up,” Ominis said, standing up and shaking his hands. 

“I’m really sorry, Ominis,” you sighed, and he just shook his head.

“Accidents happen.” He disappeared upstairs, leaving you and Sebastian alone for the first time since before the summer holiday. You pulled your chair back to where it had been before Violet showed up and sat down.

Things were quiet between the two of you for a long moment. Both of you seemed more interested in your drinks than speaking, and neither one of you looked at the other. It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence.

“So…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ominis lately,” he mentioned casually. You shrugged, looking over at him.

“I guess,” you agreed. “You and Imelda have been busy with Quidditch, so it’s just been the two of us.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that the only reason?” he asked in the same casual voice, leaning forward as if he was expecting you to spill about some secret mission you and Ominis were planning. It was then that you realized that you hadn’t pulled the chair back all the way, and with your back facing the corner where the table was settled, Sebastian was boxing you in. If Sebastian had looked like he had grown before, close up, he looked to have doubled in size with him so closer now. He seemed almost impossibly broad now, and you felt nothing short of tiny in comparison. You looked up at him, confused, blushing slightly.

“Yes?” you said nervously. “Why would there be another reason?”

“Don’t know,” he responded, settling his arm on the table as he continued to lean towards you, resting his head against his hand. “I haven’t seen you much this year so I thought…” he started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian,” you huffed. “You’re the one who doesn’t have any time for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian looked taken aback at your words. 

“You’re joking, right?” you said, leaning in a little closer as you stared him down. “You’ve barely said two words for me outside of class. You don’t bother to even say hi at meals anymore.”

“I haven’t seen you,” he explained, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Of course, you haven’t seen me.” You rolled your eyes, frustration that had been bubbling finally coming to the surface. “You’re at practice or going to class or busy showing off for Violet and those other girls that follow you around.”

“I’m not showing off for Violet,” he shot back. “Or any of those other girls. I’m not asking them to do that!”

“And you’re not telling them to leave you alone either,” you pointed out, temper creeping into your voice. “You sure seem to be loving the attention every time I see you. Why would you bother looking up to say hi to me when you have…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ominis had reappeared at the table. Sebastian slid back, no longer crowding you into the corner, looking annoyed. 

“Nothing,” he told the other boy. He drained his entire Butterbeer before standing up. “I should head back to the Castle. Quidditch doesn’t leave much time for homework. I should catch up.” He didn’t bother waiting for either of you to say anything before starting to leave.

“Tell Violet we say hi, Bas.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought about it, and there was a small part of you that looked satisfied as a guilty look appeared on his face, but then replaced by a look of defiance. 

“I’ll see you back at the common room, Ominis,” he said and was gone a moment later. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” you sighed. You looked at your drink, not really wanting it anymore. “Can we go back to school? I…uh, I think we’re getting close to curfew.”

“Right,” Ominis agreed, nodding. “Floo powder is faster.”

“Works for me,” you sighed, letting him lead the way over to the fire. 

_____

The first Quidditch match of the season had the entire castle beside itself. You couldn’t share in the enthusiasm-–even fellow Hufflepuffs were excited to see Ravenclaw vs Slytherin—because it meant having to see Sebastian out on the field. Even in classes over the last week, you determinedly avoided so much as looking at him. Imelda, blissfully, was too worked up about the game to notice.

In the end, you decided to go to support her. 

It hadn’t been too bad. Most of the other Hufflepuffs you were sitting with were cheering for Ravenclaw, but you and Poppy were too excited for Imelda to join in. It certainly got you two some looks from people nearby, but the excitement of seeing her score twice in a row made it easy to ignore. Despite your annoyance with him, it was still something else to see Sebastian zip by, sending bludgers toward the Ravenclaw Chasers. 

You weren’t any less glad when you two were waiting for Imelda to come out of the changing room that she was the last one out.

“Sallow went up with the rest of the team before,” she told you as you hugged her.

“I don’t care,” you huffed. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you care? Could have gotten to him before Violet McDowell did.”

“Why would you want to get Sebastian before Violet McDowell?” Poppy asked, looking between you and Imelda. You led the way back up towards the castle, your friends following behind.

“I don’t,” you responded, shaking your head. 

“What happened?” Imelda asked. “He was strange when I mentioned you before too.”

“Nothing happened,” you said. “He’d rather spend time with Violet McDowell? Fine. I don’t care.”

“Why does it matter who Sebastian spends time with?” Poppy asked. Then, she stopped. “Oh, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” you huffed. “Now can we just leave it be?” Poppy, who you two hadn’t stopped for, ran to catch up with you. Imelda just laughed.

“He might be big on reading, but Sallow is as thick as they come,” she chuckled. “Good riddance, I say. You’ll do much better.”

“I always thought you and Ominis were cute together,” Poppy offered. 

“You know, he asked me if there was a reason the two of us were spending so much time alone together,” you half laughed, half scoffed. 

“You’re joking,” Imelda laughed. “When did he come to you with that idea?”

“Met us in Hogsmeade last week. He and I got into an argument and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained. 

“How did I miss this?” Imelda asked, and looked to Poppy. “Did you know about this?”

“No! I didn’t even know she fancied Sebastian,” she said, “no one tells me anything, apparently! All these times we’ve talked about who I fancy and…”

“I don’t fancy Sebastian,” you sighed. “At least, not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You two would be cute together too!”

“I don’t want to ever talk to him again,” you said shortly as the door to the castle swung open. “I also don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“That’s right!” Imelda said brightly, “Outside of Quidditch, Sallow is nothing.” When you shot her a look, she shrugged. “He’s a good Beater, you have to admit. But outside of the pitch, won’t talk to him.”

“Am I still allowed to talk to him?” asked Poppy.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” you replied. 

“Well, you aren’t and Imelda isn’t…” she trailed off, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m just doing it because it’ll annoy him,” Imelda pointed out. “Sounds like fun, right?” You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up.

“Do whatever the two of you wish, but I am not getting involved. I’m going to the library,” you announced. “I have work to do that I ignored to come watch the game.” 

“No fun!” Imelda called.

“What? It’s not like I can join the party anyway.” 

“I’d sneak you in,” she offered. “What about you, Poppy?” 

“No, I really should go check on…” she trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Beasts classroom. 

“No fun, either of you.”

You laughed, waved your goodbyes and made your way upstairs. You were barely a few steps towards the library when a voice made you jump.

“You fancied Sebastian?” 

You spun around to see Ominis nearby. Of course, he’d be in the castle. He probably wouldn’t have even gone down to the game, but leave it to him to be right there at exactly the wrong time. 

“I…” you started, sighing heavily. 

“That was why the two of you argued at The Three Broomsticks?” he guessed. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not really, no. I mean…”

“You were annoyed about Violet McDowell and Sebastian leaving to go with her,” Ominous stated.

“How were you not?” you shot back, panicking slightly. He was right, of course, but something about Ominis knowing felt dangerous. You could trust Imelda not to say anything to Sebastian no matter how much she threatened to, but you couldn’t say the same of Ominis. 

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you felt instead of arguing?”

“It’s not that easy, Ominis,” you sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, no offense. But not anyone else either. Can you just…please don’t say anything about it.”

Ominis shrugged, and you knew that was the closest to a commitment that you’d get. “Does that mean you spend time with me to see him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I’m not desperate for his attention like Violet is. We’ve been friends for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Sebastian, and I’ve been friends with Sebastian,” Ominis countered. “I didn’t think we were friends without him until recently.”

“Well, we are,” you stated. “At least I thought we were.”

“So did I,” he said.

“Then there, we’re friends, Ominis. Regardless of whether or not Sebastian is around,” you told him. 

“Isn’t this the type of thing friends talk about?” 

“I don’t know! Not always. It’s not like you go around telling me who you fancy,” you pointed out. He chuckled.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, nodding. 

“Now, can we please never speak about this again?” you pleaded. “I get enough from Imelda and Poppy just found out and now I know I’m never going to hear the end of it. I just want one friend who doesn’t care about my love life.”

“I promise, we won’t speak of your love life.”

“Thank you, Ominis. I really appreciate it,” you told him, breathing a sigh of relief. 

When the two of you parted ways a little while later, you certainly felt better about the fact that Ominis knew. You still couldn’t say for certain if he’d tell Sebastian or not. Their friendship was much longer than yours, but you at least hoped he’d take your desire to leave it alone into consideration. 

The rest of the night was dedicated to you trying to forget about the last few hours and actually trying to get your homework done. The number of people in the common room was keeping you more on task for once. If you looked busy enough, everyone would leave you alone, and you didn’t have to speak to anyone. A few people stopped to say hi, but the fact you weren’t willing to more than glance up to greet them kept you in a mostly solitary corner. 

Just when the common room was starting to clear out, and you were just about finished with your Charms work, when Poppy came through the entrance. You looked up when she called your name, holding your quill over the parchment.

“There you are!” Poppy sighed, pointing towards the door. “Sebastian’s waiting out there for you.”

“Sebastian is waiting for me,” you repeated, letting the ink drip onto your essay. 

“He is,” she confirmed. “He tried to follow me in. I had to promise to come get you.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Poppy,” you half-whined. You had already had enough uncomfortable conversations about your feelings for one day, and something told you Sebastian wasn’t there to rehash the Quidditch match. Just when you had just about convinced yourself that Ominis was going to keep your conversation between you, Sebastian was attempting to break into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“He really wants to talk to you,” she said, shifting on her feet. 

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that Poppy wasn’t going to tell him to go away. “He made you promise to get me to come out, didn’t he?” Poppy nodded, and you rolled your eyes, dropping his quill down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly, and you offered her a tired smile. 

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I’m annoyed with him, not you. Can you take my stuff upstairs? Just leave it on my bed. Please?”

“Sure,” she said, looking relieved that you weren’t upset with her. 

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you told her. You took a deep breath before heading for the door. You tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Part of you wondered why Sebastian wanted to talk to you. Maybe make it perfectly clear that the only person he had feelings for was Violet or something.

When you stepped out into the hallway, it was to the sight of Sebastian pacing back and forth. He paused when you closed the door behind you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Sebastian, what–” you started, crossing your arms.

“I don’t fancy Violet McDowell,” he blurted out. 

“What?” 

“I don’t fancy her. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe that Ominis told you,” you sighed, rubbing your face. The squirming you felt in the pit of your stomach was back. 

“You talked to Ominis about this?” Sebastian asked, giving you a surprised look.

“Didn’t you?” you responded, staring back at him. 

“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t in the common room when we got back from the match. I thought he was with you until he came back.”

“Then Imelda told you I fancy you,” you guessed. There was no other way he could have found out.

“Imelda knew…what am I talking about, of course, you talk to Imelda about this kind of thing,” Sebastian chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “No, Imelda didn’t tell me either.”

“Then who told you?” you asked, the squirming getting worse. Sebastian looked at you, a satisfied look and a crooked smile on his face.

“You did,” he replied. “Just now.” 

“What?”

“You just said you fancied me,” Sebastian said, amusement written all over his face. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, but you couldn’t let me.” 

“I…what?” you muttered, voice quiet. The words were hitting your ears, but they weren’t making sense to your brain. You stared at him for a long moment, mouth still slightly open as he still had the same look on his face as he watched you process what he had a few moments before.

“You don’t fancy Violet,” you said slowly.

“I don’t,” Sebastian confirmed, chuckling. “I fancy you and you fancy me.”

“You do?”

“Course I do,” he replied, faltering for a moment before pulling you into a hug. The last time the two of you had hugged was to say goodbye at the end of last year, and you hadn’t been much shorter than he was. Now, though, he could easily tuck you under his chin. You managed to uncross your arms and wrap them around him, and he pulled you in closer. As small as he had made you feel at The Three Broomsticks, you were even smaller actually in his arms and you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian told you. “About the whole…” he trailed off, sighing. “Fight? That was a fight, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chuckled, squeezing him before leaning back to look at him properly. “It was about something that didn’t actually happen.” You smiled up at him to show it was all water under the bridge and he smiled back, wider than ever. It wasn’t totally clear which of you made the first move, but then you were kissing and the feeling in your stomach was replaced with the butterflies that you’d felt for the last two years.

When the two of you broke apart, neither of you seemed particularly interested in letting go of each other. The thing that forced the two of you apart was the approaching footsteps of another Hufflepuff trying to get into the common room. Deciding you two needed somewhere more private, you took his hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, squeezing your hand. However, he made no effort to let go of it, and instead just laced your fingers together. 

“Undercroft,” you informed. 

“Great idea,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the match later.”

“If we have time,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “I think we’ll be a little busy. We have a month or two to catch up on, don’t you think?” He laughed, tugging you closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you walked. 

“Definitely,” he agreed. The two of you were all smiles as you walked down the halls, and you were just glad the two of you were on the same page again. It was even better that the page you were on was one where you were the two of you were planning on spending significantly more alone time together from now on.

[cevansbrat0007]

Cross-Country Christmas (Teaser)

Summary: After Ari is left stranded by a surprise winter storm, you find yourself wishing for a little Christmas miracle...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Holiday Themes, Smut, Arguments, Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, More Warnings to Come Minors DNI

A/N: This is only a TEASER, the longer fic is coming soon. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

8:30am on Christmas Day - Bell’s Creek, Texas

“I promise I’ll be fine, Beast.” Drying your tears, you crumble up your tissues in your fist before discarding them in favor of taking a sip of your coffee. “Like you just said, there’ll be other holidays. And certainly other Christmases.”

Ari was still stuck in Omaha. And while you had suspected this call was coming, you hadn’t been prepared for how much the disappointment would affect you.

By all accounts, your Bounty Hunter appeared to be in good spirits, albeit a little tired. He was still on standby, even though all flights were still grounded indefinitely. But you’d at least been happy to hear that he’d somehow managed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

Not only that, but he’d also made a new friend in some guy named Clint. They apparently had a number of things in common, with the most important being that they’d both served overseas. Ari had also alluded to his new buddy being in law enforcement as well. 

But if you were being honest, you’d been so focused on trying to sound positive that you hadn’t quite been able to focus on his words as much as you would’ve liked. Thankfully, Ari seemed keen on having a conversation – even if it felt a bit one-sided.

“The airline keeps offering to put us up for the night. Anyone who accepts will be guaranteed a spot on one of the first flights out.” Ari coughs softly before continuing. “However, if you’re willing to wait a little bit there’s talk about them sweetening the deal with some sort of voucher or somethin’, plus miles and all that shit.” 

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, forcing yourself to take another pull of your now lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. So, Clint and I were thinking…” He trails off, briefly leaning away from the receiver to comment on something you couldn’t see.

“You two were thinking…what?” Your next sip of coffee tastes surprisingly bitter on your tongue. Maybe you would dump out the pot and brew a fresh one. 

“That we should take ‘em up on their offer and just ride this storm out. We take the points, get the voucher, and then maybe in a month or two, we go on a vacation together somewhere nice.” 

“You and Clint?!” You screech, accidentally knocking over your mug in the process. “Shit!” You scramble out of your chair to grab a dish towel and hurriedly mop up the mess. 

“Hate to break it to ya, baby, but Clint’s not really my type.” The Bounty Hunter chuckles into the phone. “I was talking about me and you, Bird. We can pick a destination and have ourselves a holiday do-over.”

A beat goes by before you respond the only way that makes any real, logical sense. Even though it seems to take every last bit of your resolve.  

“Okay.” Your voice comes out small and resigned. 

“Aw now, don’t fret. I’ll be home soon.” Ari does his best to reassure you. “And once I’m back, we will spend every waking minute making up for lost time. You have my word.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I guess we can hold off for a little while longer.” You sniff, wishing you could just go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow. “But you had better keep your promise, Beast. Otherwise I’m gonna have to track down Santa and ask him for a new man.” 

Your half-hearted attempt at humor elicits a short bark of laughter from Ari which, in turn, makes you smile as well. It would be hard, but you could make it 

“Try it, sweet Bird, and I’m telling you right now that I’ll have you in my truck and over my knee before you make it outta the next county.” Comes his gruff response, clearly not enjoying the image of you hanging off another fella’s arm. 

You know without asking that he’s probably not kidding – so you decide to leave it alone. If he wanted to thump his chest a little, then you’d let him. 

“It was a joke.” You tell him when the line falls silent. Standing, you pad towards the fridge on bare feet, stopping once you reach the doors. Yanking one open, you survey the contents, silently wondering if you should even be bothered enough to cook today. Granted, you’d already brined the turkey so –

“Joking about my replacement isn’t funny, Bird.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Especially when I can’t be there in person to plead my case.”

You blow out a harsh breath at the same time as your eyes roll heavenwards. Why couldn't he understand that you needed to crack wise here and there in order to keep from crying?

END TEASER

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 7.6k ❧ warnings: cursing, mm and that’s really it! i mean like they fight and stuff but just read the genre tags lmao ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ author’s note: a starlightkun fic under 10k! it’s a christmas miracle!

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

“Any big holiday plans, Y/N?” Your boss asked as you handed her some documents to sign.

“Oh, staying in town,” you answered nonchalantly. “What about you, ma’am?”

She told you about her own Christmas and New Year plans with her wife, kids, and parents with a bright smile on her face as she flipped through the pages. After giving you the signatures you needed, she handed the papers back to you.

“Can you run those over to Dr. Oh’s office for me? The undergrads all went back home for break.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“After that, you can head out for the day. My Christmas present to you.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am.”

“That, and also this.” She handed you a red envelope before standing up from her desk and closing her laptop. “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Thank you, you too,” you flashed her a genuine smile. “Happy Holidays to your family as well. See you in a week.”

“See you.”

Tucking the envelope into your bag, you quickly tidied up your workstation before heading out of the research lab to do your final task. You were a research fellow at a rather prestigious university, and while running papers would typically be asked of the interns and undergraduate students who helped out in the lab, as your boss—the head of the lab—had already pointed out, classes let out for their Winter Break two weeks ago, so you were fresh out of fresh meat.

You pulled your scarf tight around your nose and lower half of your face as you stepped out into the chilly winter air. Dr. Oh was the Dean of Graduate Studies at the university, and you’d been to his office a couple of times before, so your feet followed a familiar path as you hurried through the cold and into the building. The air was almost oppressively hot inside, and you tore off your scarf as you ran up the stairs.

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

He grabbed a pen and pad of sticky notes off the desk, scribbling something down. “Here’s… my address. Let’s say six?”

You plucked the yellow square from his fingers delicately. “Six.”

“See you then.”

You reached into your bag to affix the sticky note to the red envelope from your research head, then pulled your scarf back out. “See you then, Kun.”

For the next three days, that sticky note sat on your coffee table and stared at you. Even as you went about your day trying not to think about it, busying yourself with jigsaw puzzles, books, and whatever cheesy Christmas movie was on at the time. That yellow square was stuck to your forebrain, plaguing your every waking moment.

Every night you were kept up with memories. You hadn’t seen Kun in three years, since you’d picked up the last of your possessions from your old apartment. The apartment the two of you had lived in together. A brief flash of picking up your things, cut by the first time you’d opened the door to your new place together, hand-in-hand, absolutely bursting with excitement and hope for the future.

As you started getting ready to go over to Kun’s place, your body moved by itself, despite the sinking pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

Rooting through your spare closet, you finally got a small blue box out of the back. You opened it up, a bittersweet sigh leaving your mouth. Nestled in among some tissue and spare ornament hooks was a three-dimensional figure of a sea turtle, covered in glitter and with a navy blue loop of string for hanging coming from its back, but otherwise pretty realistic. You placed it in your bag, carefully cushioned by a scarf.

Before you left, you finally opened your card from your boss. She had written you a very nice note about how much she appreciated your work at the lab, and wishing you all the best in your future endeavors. There was also a gift card loaded up with a considerable amount of money, which you pocketed for later.

Kun’s place wasn’t terribly far from yours, about a fifteen-minute walk, but the heavy snow that was starting to fall slowed you down a bit more. You’d probably have to get a taxi on your way back at this rate. Hopefully your awkward, polite Christmas dinner would be very short.

Knocking on the evergreen-painted door, which sported an elegantly beautiful wreath, you checked the time on your phone. So you were a few minutes late. Oh well.

Kun opened the door with a bright smile, dressed nicely but casual enough in a dark brown knitted sweater, loose-fitting dark pants, and socks with cartoon reindeer on them. “Hey, you made it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped into the warmth of the apartment, and he closed the door behind you.

“When I saw how hard it was snowing out there, I started getting worried.” He helped you out of your thick overcoat, hanging it up on a hook by the front door for you. “I hope you didn’t walk.”

“I did. It wasn’t too bad.” You peeled off your gloves, moving to put them in your purse at the same time that you grabbed something from the bag.

“Did you see they’re forecasting 30 to 90 cm of snow by tomorrow morning? We’ll have to get you a cab home tonight before it gets too bad.” He was still talking as he started leading the way from the narrow hallway entry into the rest of the apartment.

His living room was cozy, especially with the crackling fireplace, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, and festive decorations put up everywhere. One corner was taken up by a modest-sized Christmas tree, covered in colorful lights and an eclectic mix of ornaments.

“Is that a real tree?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Your uh—your Christmas tree purism rubbed off on me... Doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m sweeping up pine needles.”

You chuckled lightly at that, remembering that your first fight as a couple was around your first Christmas together, specifically about whether to get a plastic tree or a real one for his apartment, which you were practically living in at that point. Your family had always gotten real ones when you were growing up, and you could never get behind the fake ones. Kun, on the other hand, didn’t really care either way, but got frustrated when he couldn’t convince you on the cost-saving aspect of being able to reuse your tree every year. The spat fizzled out the very same day, and you ended up having a very cute date when you went to go pick out your first (real) tree together.

“I know I said no gifts, but I don’t think this really counts, since I’m just giving you something back that was yours in the first place.” You brought the sea turtle ornament out, holding it out to him by the loop of string. “It ended up in my stuff and I couldn’t... see you again. Sorry for holding onto it for so long.”

Kun accepted the glittery marine creature in his hand, a fond smile coming to his features. “I thought I’d lost it. Thank you for not uh, throwing it out or something.”

“I paid good money for that, I wasn’t going to be the one to put it in the trash,” you joked half-heartedly, watching as he turned to hang it up on the tree. In the branches among his other ornaments, it looked at home.

Your first date had been to the aquarium, and your first kiss that same day by the sea turtle exhibit, which was why you had picked that specific ornament to give him for your second Christmas together. It was actually from the very same aquarium’s gift shop— meaning that it was wildly overpriced, but cute nevertheless.

“You have a working fireplace, too?” You gestured to the very real fire nearby.

“I do!” He beamed proudly, going to readjust some of the logs, the flames growing to a steadier burn. “I got really lucky with this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you nodded in agreement.

A couple of beats of silence passed, then Kun gestured towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where there was a small square table with four chairs around it, and two places already set across from each other. A few full dishes were already on the table as well, and you wondered how much more food he could be making, as it looked like there was already enough to feed a family of eight at least.

“Smells good,” you commented.

Kun gave you another small smile, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the closed oven. “Thanks. I uh—got excited to cook for someone else again, and sort of went overboard. So you’re welcome to take a bunch of leftovers, too.”

“Cool, thanks.” No fucking way would you be doing that. Taking leftovers home in one of his containers, that you would then have to wash and bring back to him? Absolutely not.

The beeping of a timer went off then, and he spun around to turn off the numbers flashing at him from the stovetop. He opened the oven, putting on oven mitts before taking out the last dish.

After putting it down at the table, he announced, “Alright, dinner’s served!”

You took a seat, watching as Kun continued to bustle around the kitchen. Putting the oven mitts away, turning the oven off, grabbing a wine bottle, corkscrew, and two wine glasses from the cabinets.

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore,” you informed him casually.

“Oh, sorry.” As he went to go put everything away again, you interrupted him.

“You can drink around me, it’s not... anything like that. I’ll be fine. Just sort of lost the taste for it.”

Kun poured a glass for himself over at the counter before putting the bottle away. “So, what can I get you? I have some sparkling water, sodas, eggnog...”

“Just regular water is fine.”

He rushed to do that, and as he set your glass down in front of you, you noted, “You remembered how much ice...”

“You did give me a ten-minute lecture on the proper ratio of ice to water, if you’ll recall.” He took his seat across from you.

“Alright, lecture is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I was simply explaining myself thoroughly so as to not be misunderstood.”

“I understood you crystal clear afterwards,” Kun chuckled, lifting his glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for agreeing to do this kind of weird thing I asked you.”

“Merry Christmas, Kun,” you clinked your glass to his in a toast. “That’s what I do, remember?”

Dinner continued with civil, even sometimes amicable conversation. Mostly catching up on what had happened in both your lives in the past three years, how your families were, your jobs, fairly neutral topics.

Kun had just finished his doctorate program in the spring, and had taken the position with Dr. Oh at your university while he looked for something more aligned with his studies. You wanted to do some research before possibly going back to pursue a doctorate in your own field.

Kun’s family was doing well, his baby brother Chenle was graduating high school in the spring, his middle brother Dejun was now in his fourth year of undergrad at your own alma mater back home, and his parents were going to be celebrating their 30th anniversary next year on a cruise— which they were both very excited about, as it would be their first one.

You had to belatedly break the news to him that your grandmother passed two years ago— she had always loved Kun and you never did have the heart to tell her that the two of you broke up when she would ask where he was on your visits, since her dementia just meant that you would’ve had to re-explain it to her again the next time you saw her. You elected not to mention any of that to Kun in the moment. Other than her passing, your family was alright. Your parents had just gotten a new old cat from the shelter a few months ago, your older sister welcomed her second child, a baby girl, and you happily showed off pictures of your niece, and now five-year-old nephew to Kun.

“Wow... I can’t believe Little Bear is so big,” he gushed at the photo of your nephew on your shoulders.

“Oh, he’s an absolute menace now,” you laughed and shook your head. “That little docile baby you knew who would just fall asleep in anybody’s arms is nowhere to be found.”

“And his sister?”

“Oh, she’s going to be even worse than her brother, I just know it.” You swiped to another photo of the baby, fond grin on your lips.

Kun’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah,” you looked down at your empty plate, having completely forgotten about it in the moment. “It was all really delicious, thanks, Kun.”

“Better than the instant ramen you had planned?”

“By far. You’re a great cook, as always.”

He stood up to grab your plates. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Realizing that this was the end of dinner, of your commitment for the night, you felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. On one hand, it was kind of nice seeing Kun again and being able to catch up—you especially loved hearing about how his little brothers were doing, you had adored doting on them while you were dating, since you were the youngest sibling yourself. But on the other hand, it was all a façade. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room, and it was getting exhausting trying to keep up the friendly chatter and not veer into anything serious, to only put your best foot forward in representing yourself and your life.

“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t think I said that before,” you said indicatively, standing from your seat. “You were right, it was nice being with someone you know, someone who’s from the same place as you, on Christmas.”

Kun gave a half-smile, taking his phone from the table. “We should order you that taxi, huh?”

“Right.”

As you started putting all your layers back on in the hallway, you could hear Kun’s end of the phone call with the cab company.

“What do you mean you’re not dispatching? I know it’s Christmas but— How much?! Seriously?!”

You poked your head out to look at him with concern, but he wasn’t facing you. Instead, he was at the window of the living room, throwing the curtains aside to look out.

“Alright, well, you can’t help that, no, sir. Thank you. Yep, Merry Christmas.”

After he’d hung up without giving his address, you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” You asked cautiously, still slowly pulling on your gloves one finger at a time.

He looked at you over his shoulder, now leaning one forearm against the window. He jerked his head for you to come over. “Come see for yourself.”

You walked over hesitantly, and saw nothing but white. “Oh my God.”

“Forecasts were off a bit. Apparently there’s already been 100cm of snow, and they’re projecting at least another 50 before tomorrow.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Your jaw dropped. “So we’re...”

“Snowed in. Yeah,” he confirmed bluntly. “Guy at the taxi company says they’re not expecting the roads to start being cleared until New Year’s, and they’ll start with businesses and shopping districts first.”

You continued staring at the snow piling up against the window in shock, and Kun took a step back.

“So, you want some eggnog?”

After you had once more removed your coats, scarf, gloves, and boots, you sat down on Kun’s couch, fervently texting all your family. They had apparently seen on the news about the crazy snowstorm hitting your area, and were checking in on you. You reassured them that you were just fine, and were staying at a friend’s place until the storm blew over and the roads cleared. You deigned not to tell them who exactly this ‘friend’ was. You hadn’t told anybody who knew Kun that you were going to his place today, actually. While your family and friends had been supportive of you during the breakup, you could tell how disappointed they were that you two hadn’t worked out—and a couple outright said so. You knew it was in the ‘we’ve never seen you so happy’ sort of way, but that didn’t make it feel any better at the time.

A mug dipped into the top of your vision, accompanied by Kun’s voice. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” you flashed him a smile as you accepted it, and set your phone down on his coffee table. “Just letting the brigade back home know I’m not dead under a hundred meters of snow.”

He sat down in the armchair caddy corner to the end of the couch you were at. “My family has been blowing up my phone, too. For some reason my parents aren’t very amused about Chenle and Dejun daring me to go build the world’s largest snowman right now.”

“Probably have enough snow for it,” you mused. “What is the record for the biggest snowman, do you think?”

“Got to be at least ten meters, right?”

“Oh, definitely way more than that.”

“Really? You think?”

“For sure,” you snorted, picking your phone back up and quickly searching online. “It looks like the official Guinness World Record is 37.21 meters, in Bethel, Maine. But Donnersbachwald, Austria made a snowman that was reportedly 38.04 meters, named Riesi.”

Kun whistled lowly. “Well goddamn.”

“And look!” You turned your phone to show Kun the photo of Riesi. “It’s so cute!”

“Is that a top hat?”

“I think?”

As you looked at the picture one more time and put your phone to the side, you reclined back in your seat, lifting your mug up to your lips to take your first sip of the eggnog. The fire continued crackling in the background, and you hummed a Christmas carol to yourself. So you couldn’t make your great escape exactly how you’d planned. But you and Kun had tolerated each other pretty well so far, you could probably make it out of here in a few days relatively unscathed.

“Hey, uhm, what did you mean earlier?” Kun quietly shattered all of your hopes and dreams for peace with just one vague question.

“Huh? When?”

“When I thanked you for going along with my weird idea to get together for Christmas despite… everything. And you said: ‘It’s what I do, remember?’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh… just… you know— You’d have some weird, or crazy, or slightly irresponsible, or fun idea and I always said yes,” you kept your tone conversational and nostalgic. “Blowing your whole paycheck on a LEGO set that you’d always wanted but your parents would never buy you as a kid, skipping classes in undergrad to laze about your apartment, taking the long way back to your car after Sicheng’s film festival even though it was pouring rain because you remembered I had said on our first date that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain, submitting my paper to the undergraduate research panel…”

“Moving out here,” he filled in for you flatly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before nodding. “Moving here…”

“Is that really how you feel? That I was always dragging you around places, making you do stuff that you didn’t want to do?”

“Kun, we’re going to be stuck in here together for who knows how long, can we not do this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, I knew you were bitter about coming here, but apparently I was holding you hostage the entire four years before that too and had no idea.”

“That is not what I said,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What else am I supposed to think about what you said?”

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You don’t think about it, you don’t read into it, they’re just words! Not everything has a deeper meaning, sometimes people just say stuff, you know.”

“Well you never actually say what you mean, so I have to try to read between the lines.”

“Or maybe I’m saying plenty, and you’re too far up your own ass trying to decipher me like some cosmic puzzle instead of listening to the actual words I’m saying!”

“So I don’t have to ask if you’re still bitter about it, then,” he scoffed.

The final shred of decency and civility left in you burned up right then, and you got to your feet as you exploded, “You convinced me to leave my family, my friends, my home, everything and everyone I knew, to come here for your dreams! And then you told me you didn’t love me anymore! Of course I’m fucking bitter!”

Kun got to his feet too, staring you down intensely. “Then why didn’t you go back home? After you graduated, you stuck around. Why?”

“I was offered the position at the lab—”

“There’s other labs.”

“The studies we’re doing—”

“There’s other studies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you hated it here so much and hated me for dragging you here, why didn’t you take the first chance you had to leave?”

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

His features turned apologetic for a moment. “Y/N—”

“You knew how much I loved you, that I’d follow you anywhere. I chose to study here even though it was my second choice because your top pick had already accepted you. I thought we were planning our life together, but then you dropped me like it was nothing. So why? Why did you stop loving me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Just answer the question, Kun,” you demanded. “Why? You had to have an inkling before you took me from everyone I loved—”

“I didn’t take you anywhere, you’re not some helpless waif! We were grown-ups and we made grown-up decisions!” He raised his voice again, face red with anger and veins bulging in his neck and forehead. “If I remember correctly, I suggested being long-distance while we did our graduate studies.”

“I loved you, Kun! I loved you, and I wanted to see you thriving and to support you from right next to you, not be in the sidelines of your life.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“What?”

“The answer to your question is that I never stopped loving you, actually. I just told you I did.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, slack-jawed, before you were filled with even more white-hot rage than ever, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Y/N, we were fighting every other day, we never saw each other because we were working so much and when we did we just fought—Like this!” He gestured between the two of you zealously as he defended himself. “—about the stupidest stuff. I could see how much you hated being here, and I knew you resented me for bringing you here, but you wouldn’t ever talk to me about it. I thought that if I was the only thing keeping you here, then I needed to stop being so selfish and let you go back home where you would actually be happy again.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me on any of that?”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep inhale through his nose before answering, voice absolutely incensed, “I couldn’t get you to talk about it! Whenever I tried to ask you how you were doing settling in here, how you liked your program, anything, you just gave me these- these hollow smiles and placated me with the same ‘oh, it’s great, I really like it’ over and over again! It was like being in love with a brick wall!”

“Because I didn’t want youto blame yourself! Because it wasn’t your fault!” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from so much shouting. The white-hot anger was gone, leaving only a cold sorrow inside you as you were confronted with your own admission. You hugged yourself as you followed it up with a much quieter, “It wasn’t your fault, Kun… It’s just been so much easier to blame you this whole time.”

“Y/N…” Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair as his tone changed from anger to remorse, his face softening. “I should’ve made sure our focus was on your career as much as it was on mine. I let my ambitions become the priority for both of us instead of seriously considering yours as well. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for blaming you the whole time. You’re right, I was a grown-up, and I made a grown-up decision.” You shook your head at yourself, staring into the dynamic flames of the fireplace. “It was so much easier to hate you for dragging me here than to hate myself for following you here.”

“I’m sorry for lying, too. When I told you I stopped loving you. I really thought that would get you to leave, to go back home where you could be happy again. But it was just needlessly cruel. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was shaking, and when you looked back at him again, you could see that the whites of his eyes were pink.

“I didn’t go back home because it wouldn’t have meant anything to go back without you,” you finally answered his question, swallowing the lump in your throat. “When we first moved here, and I’d imagine going back home, I would always imagine us going back together. Because it wouldn’t have been home without you, for me. That’s why I stayed. Not because you were here—I really never wanted to see you again. But because you—the you that I wanted, that still loved me—weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry…” He blinked and the first of his tears slipped slowly down his cheek. “I know I said that a lot the first time we did this but… I wasn’t apologizing for the right thing.”

The corners of your lips twitched with a bittersweet, cynical smile. “You didn’t know any of this stuff the first go around.”

“I did know that you loved me. And I really thought that if you could just get over that one little thing then you could be happy again. I underestimated you and what it meant for you to love me.”

“It wasn’t that simple…” You repeated feebly. “You made me happy too, Kun. I should’ve told you that, all of this, everything, instead of pushing it down and letting myself resent you just because that’s what seemed easier at the time. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“None of this was fair on either of us.”

“But saving our relationship wasn’t your sole responsibility, Kun. We were partners, it was on both of us, and I didn’t try.”

“It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault,” Kun declared with another sigh, dropping his body back down in the armchair.

“Yeah…” You sat down in the corner of the couch. “It was…”

The apartment was silent as you took another sip of your eggnog, and Kun wiped his damp cheeks.

“So… now what?” You prompted as you met his gaze.

“You still like jigsaw puzzles?”

Kun and you worked together on a puzzle on the floor of his living room. Once put together, it would show a full Winter Wonderland scene. He had put on Christmas music in the background, and your assembly was interspersed with sing-alongs, easygoing conversation, and long, comfortable stretches of silence.

When the puzzle was about halfway done, you let out a big yawn, briefly checking the time on your phone. “Oh, jeez, it’s after midnight already.”

“I think that’s plenty for tonight,” Kun declared, slowly getting to his feet. “We can finish up the rest tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You twisted around in place to crack your back.

“I’ll go get you some pajamas.” He gave your head a gentle pat before walking off, taking both of your now-empty eggnog mugs with him.

He returned just a couple minutes later in a pair of lounge pants and simple longsleeve shirt, holding out a stack of clothes to you. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kun,” you accepted them gratefully. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Y/N, were you seriously going to wear the same clothes for like a week straight?” He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I mean, you have a washing machine, presumably.”

“And you would’ve… stood by the washing machine naked? Until they were done?”

You covered your face with one hand as you laughed. “Good point, good point.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you fully appraised the clothes as you changed, a funny sort of tug in your chest when you recognized the sweatshirt he’d given you. It was a plain black crewneck sweatshirt, save for a small rose embroidered on the left wrist, just above the cuff. It had always been your favorite of his to take and wear for yourself before.

The sweatshirt was as soft as you’d remembered, and when you put it on, you were awash not only in Kun’s scent, but warm, happy memories of being held, loved, treasured, safe. You folded up your clothes and left them on the bathroom countertop.

The fire had been put out when you returned to the living room, and the lights on the tree unplugged.

“I uhm, I’m not sure where you wanted me to put my clothes, so they’re on the—” You cut yourself off when you looked up from where you’d been fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt to see Kun looking at you with an off-putting, oddly mournful look of tenderness. “What? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your concerns, his voice tight. “That’s fine, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine tomorrow.”

“Do you have some extra bedding I can use out here?”

“What?”

“I mean, your couch already looks super comfy, but a real pillow would sort of be nice…”

“No, no, you can take my bed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Kun, I’ll be fine out here for a few nights,” you pushed back. With humor in your tone, you added, “You’ve done enough sleeping on the couch to last the rest of your life, okay? I think it’s my turn.”

He seemed to understand your joke, but also the sincere intent behind it, and held up his hands in surrender as a smile cracked across his face. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets.”

Kun set up your makeshift bed on the couch for you, with a couple of real pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and heavy quilt to go over that. He refilled your water glass from dinner, and set that down on the coffee table for you.

“Oh, phone charger—”

“I have one.” You stopped him with a hand on his arm, going to grab your purse and root through it. “I keep an extra on me. Never know when your phone is going to die reviewing notes in a random café.”

“Right. Cool.” He watched you plug it into the outlet closest to the pillow end of the couch, then stand back up.

“Well, goodnight, Kun. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks again for coming, and uh, sorry for getting you stuck out here…”

You sat down on the couch, smiling up at him. “Hasn’t been all bad.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a chuckle.

When he still hadn’t moved, you realized the both of you must have been debating the same thing. Should you hug goodnight?

To save yourselves, you opened your arms in a half-invitation, and Kun bent over to give you a one-armed hug, briefly rubbing your back before standing back up. He gave you a final hesitant smile and nod. “Night.”

“Night.”

As you laid down, you could hear him walking across the room, and pause at the threshold. Just as you’d finished readjusting your covers and getting cozy with your head on the pillow, the lights were turned off, and you listened to Kun walk all the way into his room and the door creak closed behind him.

You watched the last of the dying embers in the fireplace as you started trying to sort through your muddied thoughts. You and Kun no longer had the awkwardness of bitter exes, but it had just been replaced with a new kind of awkwardness. Now that you didn’t hate each other, what was left? How did you feel about each other?

You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you fell asleep.

Full-body shivers woke you up, and you blinked rapidly trying to readjust to your surroundings. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, but that did practically nothing. Every inch of you from your fingers to your toes felt like a block of ice, and your muscles were shaking to try to generate some kind of heat. Your teeth even chattered a couple of times.

A hasty look at your phone showed you that it was only two and a half hours after you’d fallen asleep. You turned on your phone flashlight, looking around the walls for the thermostat. Having spotted it at the start of the hallway, you made the hasty decision to throw your blankets off you and run over to it as quick as possible, fumbling to look at the controls. But as best you could tell, the heat was definitely turned on, and it was set to a perfectly comfortable temperature.

You felt terrible for what you were about to do, but you were going to get hypothermia sooner than you would get back to sleep at this rate. Lightly knocking on Kun’s bedroom door, you paid attention for any signs of life. After a moment of no response, you knocked again, a bit louder.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a half-intelligible, confused mumble of your name.

“Yeah, Kun, it’s me,” you responded through the wood.

You heard the sounds of him rolling out of bed, then lumbering over to the door. He opened it, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Y/N, what are you— Shit, it’s a fucking meatlocker out there!” He exclaimed, grabbing at his own arms.

“Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I can’t seem to figure out your thermostat and it’s freezing out here.”

Kun pushed past you, shutting his door tight behind him before going to inspect the thermostat himself. “Doesn’t make sense… The heat should be working fine…”

“Oh.”

“God, of course it’s fucking broken,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N. I’ll go call the maintenance line right now.”

Just a moment later, and you heard more swearing from his room. He came back out with his phone in hand. “Got a text from the management company… Heat in the whole complex is busted, but they can’t get anybody out here until the roads are clear.”

“Shit…”

He spun on his heel back towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s at least a little warmer in my room. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

You followed him in without complaint, and he shut the door firmly behind you. He grabbed a towel from his attached bathroom and stuffed it under the crack of the door.

You couldn’t see much about his bedroom in the dark except for a few vague shapes, but the air felt noticeably warmer in here than it had been in the living room. Kun opened up a couple of drawers on what you were now realizing was a dresser, and grabbed a hoodie for himself, then handed you a zip-up hoodie. It was big enough to fit the sleeves of your sweatshirt through, and you could feel the chattering of your teeth dying down.

Kun sat down on one side of the bed, and indicated to the other side for you. You obliged, following his lead to slip under the covers. The sheet, blankets, and heavy quilt were still pleasantly warm, and you rubbed your frozen feet together in contentment. You accidentally bumped Kun’s leg, a flash of accidental heat.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” You jerked your limbs as far back as you dared without leaving the security of the blankets.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re an icicle,” Kun said disapprovingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he sighed and lifted the blankets in between you two.

“Wh—”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death literally right next to me. Either you come here or I go over there.”

You shuffled a couple inches closer to him, but either he was impatient, or wasn’t sure that you’d follow through, because he moved to close the gap himself, meeting you in the middle and wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

You gulped, and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “That’s a lot better, actually.”

“I was always much warmer than you,” he pointed out.

Readjusting to lay on your side facing the same direction as him, your hand brushed against his that was slung over your middle.

“God, you feel like you’re about to lose your fingers to frostbite, too.” He covered your hand with his.

You instinctively spread your fingers so his would slot together with them, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that you almost burst into tears again on the spot.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You tried and failed to keep your voice casual.

“I think you’re cutting off my circulation now.”

“Oh God, sorry!” You loosened the death grip you didn’t even realized you’d had on his appendages.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you. “Are you warming up?”

You nodded hastily. “For sure. Thank you, again.”

“I was thinking… about earlier.”

“Kun, for real, if there was ever a time not to fight.”

“No, it’s not— Well it is about that, but I’m not looking for a round two, promise.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking… about how I didn’t really accept your apologies, and you didn’t accept mine.”

“That’s fine, Kun. Not every apology is made to be accepted.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not fishing for your forgiveness right now. I was just thinking, about how I’m kind of relieved, that we still haven’t you know, finally gotten our closure or whatever.” His breath was getting quicker. “Because I don’t want this to be over, actually. And closure feels like it’d really be the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and opened them back up again, staring into the inky darkness. “What do you mean by that, Kun?”

“I mean… When I said I never stopped loving you, I didn’t just mean when we broke up. I still do.”

“So you… What? Want to get back together?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“At least talk about it,” he confirmed. “I’ll do anything you want, lovey. Complete restart, take you on a new first date, or we can even just try to be friends first. I’m not saying we have to jump right back in where we left off. I think we need to leave space for the people we’ve become since then but… I know I want to try again.”

You swallowed down your sniffles as you turned over to finally face him. Despite the lack of light, you could find every feature on Kun’s face, holding a caged hopefulness in them. You gently caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Okay…” You murmured. “We can try again. I-I want that too.”

You caught just a flicker of Kun’s bright grin before you were tangling your fingers in his shaggy locks and pulling his mouth to yours. It was somehow even better than you remembered, than you had imagined, because it felt like coming home all at once. Like all of you, body, mind, soul, heart, had come home.

Kun kissed you back just as ardently, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you even closer—if it were even possible. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist, bunching in the fabric at the small of your back.

When your lungs were screaming for air and you were light-headed for more than one reason, you broke away, resting your forehead against his.

“Looks like neither of us followed the no gift rule,” Kun said in the negligible space between your mouths, the tip of his nose bumping yours for a moment. “I think I had my heart gift-wrapped for you from the moment I saw you again.”

You chuckled as you stole one, two more kisses from him. “You’re as cheesy as ever, pooks.”

“I have three years’ worth of lines like that stocked up,” he teased, giving you another peck. “And you’re stuck in here with me until next year, lovey.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

[nancy-reads]

am I the one you think about?

part 2!!

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: having your heart broken before love really blossomed hurts more than it should. but fred's flirty banter never quits. maybe your love story isn't quite over?

warnings: slightly angsty but with a happy ending

authors note: i am so sorry for how long this took! school got crazy and college applications are a nightmare. however, i hope you all had a good holiday season and enjoy this late christmas gift!

part one

CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

You refused to cry as you stomped back to your shop. Fred could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like the two of you were together or anything. He just flirted with you like crazy and you developed a massive crush on him. 

And of course, the girl Fred was kissing was gorgeous. You couldn’t get her face out of your mind. Clear, gorgeous dark skin and eyes, black hair in a braided ponytail that looked effortless, and a tall figure that looked like she was meant to be a model for Quidditch robes. 

You didn’t know how you even thought you could pull someone like him. Fred was gorgeous and strong and funny, and you were just…well, you. Not anything special. 

You swore as you stepped into a massive puddle near your shop. Tears were beginning to prick your eyes, but you blinked them away. You would not cry over a man you knew not even twenty-four hours. 

And it would be better if it didn’t work out, you thought. You were going to be very busy with your shop once it opened, and you wouldn’t have time for any sort of relationship. It would be an absolute logistical nightmare, and you had to focus on your business. 

You nodded to yourself as you stepped inside your shop, decorated with candles, fairy lights, and plants. This was where you belonged. This was the important thing, not some stupid boy you met once. 

*

MAGICAL HERBS AND HEALING GRAND OPENING!!!

You smiled to yourself as you lowered your wand and took in the exterior of your shop. Everything looked perfect. The plants were in place, the widow displays were shining, and best of all, the banner hung front and center, inviting anyone and everyone to come in. 

People were beginning to trickle into Diagon Alley for some early morning shopping, so you rushed inside your shop and flicked the sign from open to closed. You bounced on your heels as you did some final checks to make sure that everything was in place.

You had already checked about seven times, but there wasn’t any harm in one more, was there? 

Soon enough, you didn’t have time to check anything, too busy ringing up the barrage of customers who entered your store. The line was spread throughout the shop, and you couldn’t stop smiling as your products and potions flew off the shelves. 

Your dreams were coming true. Everything was running smoothly, the customers were marveling at the aesthetics of your shop, and you’d gotten many promises to come back.

But the day couldn’t stay perfect forever, and your eyes widened as a familiar face entered the shop. You couldn’t help but notice Fred’s handsome face and body, but you cursed yourself. You would not be thirsting for a taken man.

Attempting to look as busy as possible, you straightened the boxes behind you and fussed with the register. You could feel his stare on your back, and it took every ounce of your will not to turn.

He is a taken man. He has a girlfriend. 

And he is still staring at you.

After a generous amount of time, Fred cleared his throat. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment, and finally began to turn around. As slowly as humanly possible. 

“That excited to see me, huh?”

You ignored him.

“And what are you looking for today sir?”

His eyes widened. “Sir? You haven’t forgotten my name already, have you?”

Taken man. Taken man. Taken man.

This was going to be an exercise in self-control.

“Just-” you paused. “Come on, Fred-”

“I knew you remembered-”

“This isn’t a great time-”

“Well then tell me when is,” Fred said. “I’d be glad to arrange a date.”

Why did he have to say these things?

“Are you really going to make me do this now?” you asked, anger coloring your tone. “It's opening day, and I’d really rather you not ruin it.”

“Ruin it?” he asked, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“You know what? Fine,” you snapped. “Come here after closing. We can talk then. I have customers to help, and I’m sure you do too.”

Fred’s eyebrows were scrunched together, and his mouth pulled into a frown. “I-” he paused when he looked at your face, and a defeated expression appeared on his face. “Okay.”

You stared at him as he left, and a part of you wondered if you’d hallucinated the whole thing. He seemed so earnest, like he actually wanted to talk to you. Like you were important, not some other girl he wanted to have on the side. 

But you couldn’t think like that. He probably had some other ulterior motive.

You turned to the next customer in line. “Hi, how can I help you today?”

*

You had to give him credit, Fred was at your shop door at six pm sharp. You tried to ignore him for a while, but he eventually caught your eye as you wiped down the counters.

He gave you a big smile as you opened the door, and part of you wanted to melt. His smile was so bright and full of ardent hope. His freckles made him look younger, and it really added to the sweetness of his face. 

“So,” Fred began after a moment. “Why didn’t you come see the shop? It’s been weeks.”

You sighed. “Look, Fred. I just don’t think us talking like this is appropriate.”

He scrunched his brows. “Appropriate? Why not?” his eyes widened. “I haven’t been impolite, have I? I swear I’ve never meant to say anything weird, I just like to have a laugh-”

“No! Nothing like that,” you said. “I’m not interested in the kind of relationship you want.” There you said it. You would not be someone’s side piece or a good fuck. You wanted something real.

You should have known he was too good to be true as soon as you hit him with those boxes. 

“Oh,” Fred said, his face falling. “I’m so sorry that I assumed-” he paused, “I mean, yeah, sorry, you’re really busy so…yeah.” He forced a smile and stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

You ignored the disappointment in your chest as the bells rang, signifying Fred had left the shop.

*

The shop was still packed a few days later. You supposed word had spread about your low prices and fast wait times because potions were flying off the shelves. You’d begun to think about hiring someone else to help check people out while you brewed in the back. 

Plus, people seemed to like the idea of a small A&E in the back, and you’d definitely need more help with that. 

You’d just finished restocking some salves when he walked in. His brown eyes sparkled when they met yours, and that easy, earnest smile was back on his face. There was no hesitation or the anxiety you’d seen the other day. He was acting like nothing had happened. 

You hesitatingly smiled when he reached the counter, but your jaw dropped when you noticed the bruise that had formed around his eye. 

“Holy shit, Fred!” without thinking, you reached to touch his black eye. “What happened?”

He scoffed. “This is nothing. We just had a slight malfunction with one of our new products.”

“This doesn’t look very slight.”

“I’m fine. But,” he smirked. “I do appreciate your concern.”

“It’s professional concern,” you muttered as you searched for the anti-bruise cream behind the counter. “You’re not special.”

Fred’s jaw dropped dramatically. “You hurt me, dear lady.”

You snorted. “I think you can take it.”

Fred’s hand brushed yours as you handed him the cream and the anti-swelling potion. Your cheeks flushed, and he gave you a sweet smile as he left the shop. 

You could feel yourself smiling throughout the rest of the day, and you cursed yourself every time.

 He isn’t actually interested. He’s just a flirt. 

*

The next time Fred came in was a week later, and this time he had a cut branching up his arm. Thankfully, it was nearly closing time and most of your customers had trickled out by then. 

“What is this?” you fretted, grabbing his arm. “You hurt yourself again?”

“It was just a small incident with one of the pygmy puffs,” he chuckled. “They don’t like being told what to do.”

“Probably because they’re your orders,” you joked. “They can probably sense the stupidity from a mile away.”

“Hey!” he mock-yelled. “They don’t listen to George either.”

“My point still stands,” you said, tapping the cut with your wand. You held back a shiver as your thumb brushed his strong bicep. Was it just you, or did he have goosebumps?

“You don’t even know George.”

“He’s your brother, so if he’s anything like you, I’d be worried about his intelligence.”

Fred pouted. “They don’t listen to Angelina either, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders, so I think they just don’t listen to anyone.”

You paused your cleaning of his cut for a moment and tried to make your face as neutral as possible. “Who’s Angelina?” Could she be the girl he was kissing?

“Oh she’s George’s girlfriend,” he said, oblivious. You breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I don’t know how they’re still together, honestly she could do so much better, but she likes him, I suppose.”

You hummed, finally letting go of his arm to grab a potion. The cut was just barely a scratch now, but you wanted to make sure it didn’t get infected.

“Make sure you drink this, Fred, tonight and tomorrow morning. It’ll wash out any weird pygmy puff or whatever you call it infection from your body.”

“Yes ma’am!” he saluted and headed for the door. You couldn’t help but watch him make his way back from his shop, a spring in his step and a smile on his gorgeous face.

*

It kept happening. Fred came in with food poisoning, many more bruises, and even boils at one point. They were apparently from his inventions and experiments, but you were starting to get worried. Who gets injured this much?

The last straw was when he walked in with an injured leg. Your A&E hadn’t been opened yet, but you had hired a retired healer to run the counter so you could run in and out on occasion.

You were in the back, mixing a new potion when there was a loud commotion at the entrance. You had a sneaking suspicion of who it was but continued to stir the liquid until Martha poked her head into your office. 

“It’s your boy,” she said. “And I think you’ll want to see this.”

That got you out of your seat immediately. Most of the time Fred’s injuries honestly seemed more like excuses to come see you, for what reason you didn’t know, but Martha’s tone made it seem much more serious.

“What’s wro-” fear shot through you as you saw the pain on Fred’s face, and the fact that he was leaning on….a direct copy of himself?

You weren’t sure whether to be more worried or confused. Had Fred somehow invented a cloning machine? 

As you looked closer, you realized that they weren’t completely alike. The person next to Fred’s face was more rounded, and his nose was slightly bigger. His face was a bit uneven, and there was something off with his ear, but you couldn’t tell from far away. 

Suddenly, it all clicked. 

“You must be George!” you exclaimed. “Fred, you never told me that you had an identical twin!”

“Pleased to finally meet you,” George said, turning to Fred. “I can’t believe you never mentioned we were twins!” He glanced at you, mischief in his eyes. “It’s like you don’t care about me or something.”

“Shut up, George,” Fred said, turning your attention back to him. “I’m sorry to bother you again, darling-” your heart jumped, “-but I’m in quite a bit of pain and I was wondering if you could fix me up again?”

He is just a flirt. He is just a flirt. He is just a flirt. 

“Yes, of course,” you scooped Fred’s other arm over your neck and helped George carry him into the patient room. “Martha! Can you hold down the fort for a bit?”

You didn’t wait to hear her affirmative before slowly and carefully lowering Fred down onto the patient bed. His face was contorted in pain, and you couldn’t help yourself from squeezing his shoulder in support once he was safely in bed. 

“Drink this,” you said as you passed him a cup full of silver liquid. “It’ll make the pain go away for a bit.” Fred gulped it down, and a goofy smile filled his face when he finished. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said lazily.

You could feel heat creeping up your face, but you ignored him.

“Sleep well.”

You cleared your throat and turned to George. 

“Judging from the dirt and the Quidditch robes, I assume he fell off his broom?”

George nodded. “Yeah. He got distracted and a Bludger came flying toward him and…” he made a violent gesture, “Crash!”

You nodded. “Did he fall unconscious at any point, or hit his head?”

“He was a bit confused at first,” George said, hesitating. “He kept asking to come here though. My girlfriend kept trying to convince him to go to St. Mungos, but he wasn’t having it.” George smiled. “Are you two together? Because he kept asking specifically for you.”

Call the fire department, because your face was scorching. “I-” you stammered. “I thought he had a girlfriend or something?”

George snorted. “Fred? A girlfriend? He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. I was honestly starting to wonder if he was gay and just afraid to tell me or something.”

“Really?” Your mind was spinning. Had you actually just hallucinated seeing Fred kiss someone outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes? “I thought saw him kiss a girl outside your shop a few months ago.” You sighed for a moment. “They looked really happy, so I didn’t want to intervene or anything.”

“That would be news to me,” he paused for a moment, lost in thought. “Wait, what did she look like?”

There was an insistent knock on the door. 

“Sorry, we’re busy right now!” you called. “Ask the counter if you need anything.”

The door burst open, and your jaw dropped when the women came crashing in. She was much less put together than the last time you’d seen her, her hair flying everywhere and her cheeks flushed. But she had the same dark skin and hair, and the same commanding appearance that made you see why Fred liked her. 

“I’m sorry,” you said politely. “But I’m currently busy with a patient. Please wait outside or go to St. Mungos if you-”

“She's fine,” George interrupted. “This is Angelina, my girlfriend.”

Suddenly, it all clicked into place. It wasn’t Fred you’d seen kissing a girl, it was George. Who was kissing his girlfriend. Like a normal person. 

You were completely and utterly stupid. 

“Angelina, this is that girl that Fred won’t shut up about.”

“Oh excellent!” She strolled over to you and stared at you seriously. “Please go out with him. Just to put him out of his misery. All I hear about anymore is him whining that some beautiful girl from the shops won’t date him and I need it to stop,” Her eyes were wide and solemn. “Please.”

George snorted. “Way to expose Freddie there.”

Angelina grinned back at him. “I think he needs it.”

“Well,” you clasped your hands, ignoring the redness in your cheeks. “I’m just going to do a quick skull exam just in case he hit his head, and then I’ll set his leg and let him rest.”

You couldn’t believe you’d messed it up this bad. Of course, you’d just seen Fred’s identical twin kissing his girlfriend. How hadn’t you thought of it before?

You quickly began your work, murmuring spells to yourself as you ensured everything was fine. You winced at the loud crack that sounded when Fred’s leg was set, but a final “Episkey,” finally healed the break.

You turned to face George and Angelina, who were watching with rapt attention. “Fred needs to sleep for an hour or two, just to make sure he doesn’t feel all the pain right away. I’d prefer to keep him here, just to make sure he stays asleep and pain-free, and I’ll also be able to check him over again once he wakes,” you said. “But I’ll do whatever you guys want.”

Angelina elbowed George before he could speak. “I think Fred will be perfectly content with staying here for a few hours.”

“Yup,” George said. “He’ll be fine.”

*

You’d been running in to check on Fred for what probably was close to every 5 minutes for the past hour and a half. Martha had given you multiple suspicious nods and knowing looks every time you stepped out of the back room, and she winked at you as she left at the end of her shift.

The store was closed and empty after another long and busy day, and the urge to go check on Fred was already pulling at you. 

Just in case.

It seemed your intuition had been correct, as he began to stir the moment you opened the door. His nose twitched adorably, and there was a small smile on his face as his eyes opened, the sleep still present in his stare.

Without thinking, you stroked his hair, but Fred didn’t seem to mind. He actually leaned into your touch, the smile on his face growing. It was all so domestic, and you couldn’t stop your own smile from spreading across your face. 

“Your smile is so pretty,” Fred mumbled. “You should do that more.”

Warmth filled your face. “I like yours too,” you sat on the edge of his bed. “Does anything still hurt?”

“Not when I’m looking at someone as beautiful as you.”

“You are shameless!” you giggled, smacking him on the side.

“Are you slapping a patient?” Fred teased. “I’m gonna have to report you to the Ministry.”

“You’re making me wonder if you have brain damage that I missed somewhere.” You said as you helped Fred sit up on the side of the bed. “Let me check again.”

Fred, much to your surprise, passed all of his exams with flying colors.

“First time that’s happened,” he joked. 

“I guess that means you’re sane enough for me to do this.”

You leaned in and brought your lips against his. Fred gasped into your mouth and responded eagerly, his hand rising to cup your face and bring you closer. His mouth was soft and gentle, and you almost wanted to cry with how sweet he was. One of your arms wrapped around his neck, while your other hand grabbed his bicep.

Fred leaned back for a moment, chuckling. “I guess you’re finally free to touch my arms now.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t been thirsting over my arms the entire time we’ve known each other.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed again as he leaned back in, taking control of the kiss this time. He was more passionate now, and you let out a gasp as his tongue brushed against yours. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and you had to break the kiss because you couldn’t stop smiling.

After you leaned back, Fred just stared at you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. Sure, he was already handsome, but that smile made him look ten times better, and even younger than before. His freckles made his smile boyish, and there was childlike joy in his face as he looked at you. 

“What made you change your mind?” Fred asked after a moment, his brows furrowing. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship.”

“So here’s the thing,” you laughed nervously. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “I think you’re the one who needs to get your brain checked, love. Because I think I was being pretty obvious.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be nice to me now.” You poked his chest. “But remember when I told you I’d come over to see your shop the day after we met?”

“Vividly.”

“Yeah, so I ended up seeing George and Angelina kissing in front of the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and since someone,” you stared at him pointedly, “didn’t tell me he had an identical twin, I assumed it was you.”

Fred was silent for a moment. “I have been coming to your shop nonstop for months, and you still thought I had a girlfriend the whole time?”

“Well now it seems stupid-”

He kissed you lightly before you could finish. “You can never make fun of me for being clueless again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to upstage me.”

Fred wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that was on your face, and you were sure Fred had a similar one right next to you. He squeezed your shoulder, and you leaned your head against him. Warmth enveloped you, and you’d never been so comfortable before.

“Don’t worry, love,” Fred said. “You’re the only one I think about.”

*

[misguidedasgardian]

I need to... (4)

... Have fun

MASTERLIST

Summary: Jace says you missed all the fun events for the beginning of the school year, well, except for this one, the annual bonfire and hunt

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of past depression and toxic relationship, cursing, might be underage drinking (depends on the country), eating meat, mentions of an inappropriate relationship, might miss some warnings 

Wordcount: 4,1 k

Notes: DUDESSSS I SAID JACE WAS A VELARYON, BUT IN THIS STORY, HE IS A STRONG, JEJEJE JACAERYS STRONG muahaha, sorry it scaped me…for in this AU, there is no incest no no, (Laenor and Rhaenyra were cousins or sm), anyways, Rhaenyra married Harwin, and had her three beautiful legitimate Strong Boys <3

“I’m Cregan Stark”, he greeted

“Nice to meet you”, you managed to mumble, smiling apologetically

Jace’s roommate didn't change a thing in the dynamic, in fact, he enhanced it, they were even more laughs, more stories, more questions for you, more ribs, more french fries, and more beer, you knew you had BBQ sauce in your face, probably that is the reason he kept looking at you and smiling, but the conversation was so good and funny, you didn't even wanted to get up to go to the bathroom…

You were so comfortable

Until the Tavern closed and you had to go. You hugged everyone else goodbye, you still had the weekend ahead of you and you were looking forward to spending it with them. 

That is when you and Jace decided that you needed to talk….

You had a coffee cup in hand, as you and Jace stood face to face in the gas station (the only thing open at that hour)

“Who wants to start?”, he said, amused

“You start”, you offered

“Well…” he scratch his chin, like some hairs wanted to come out, you giggled, jace always had this baby face but you could tell he was growing out of it quickly, “those were tormentous weeks”

“Tell me”, you encouraged, ready for anything, you had to remind yourself continuously that you were thousands of miles away, they couldn’t… he couldn’t… get to you anymore 

“You know we live in Dragonstone, but as soon as vacations started grandpa wanted us back in King’s Landing, for election week and the holidays, my mom doesn’t like to get photographed with the other party, but we went anyways, and then, we found out”, he started very cryptically 

“What?”, you murmured 

“We didn’t know until I got there, you should had seen Alicent’s face, she looked like she was about to throw up”

“When doesn’t she?”, you snickered

“Aemond at first didn’t want to admit it, as always we asked about you and he didn’t want to answer, and after one week, he even reached out to me and asked me if I knew something about you, and then is when the Lannisters didn’t show… and… the bomb exploded”

“What bomb?”

“That you had ran out on him, with Ben, left him for Winterfell, and you convinced your godmother to go with you”, you opened your mouth wide in rage, “that he didn’t want to admit it, that you two had split, Alicent was so angry and disappointed, specially with the Lannisters, she knows the pull you had on them, Aemond exaggerated the whole thing”

“WHAT?”, you asked, enraged, “the matrix, the glitch and the audacity of that bitch!”

“I know there is something else to it, specially when you sent me that text”, he said, and then he looked at you expectantly

“Jace, Aemond cheated on me, with my plastic arts teacher, he knocked her up and I found out because I saw him fucking her in her desk at school”.

Jace didn’t know if to laugh, cry or throw up, and you could tell by his face

“Are you for real?”, he asked cautiously after a while

“Yes”, you murmured

“Well of course he forgot to mention that, he said that you suffered from some sort of psychotic break and left Dragonstone University with Ben Tallhear”

“Of course he did”, you mocked, sipping on your coffee, he laughed bitterly

“Are they angry about the fact that I left Aemond… or the Lannister part”

“Well, Alicent didn’t say anything in front of us, because she knows we like you, but she used very colorful and disrespectful language when your name came up”, you whined, rubbing your face with your hands, “that you were… easy”

“Of course she did”

“my mom, me and her had a huge fight over it, my mom told her probably Aemond had done something, of course, because you wouldn’t do that”

“Really?”, they defended you, you wanted to cry

“And I also believed that, it was impossible for you to do something like that without reason, and I wanted it to hear that from you, I know how you really are”, he said amicably, “and yes they called Jason and Tyland on hours on end and they couldn’t reach them, it was kind of funny actually”, he laughed, “it works for us the Strongs, and my mother you know she is a liberal…”, he teased, and you smiled

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service”, you mocked 

“Did he really knock her up?”, he asked

“Well, I didn’t see a paternity test”, you offered, throwing your shoulders up, “but the dates match”

“For the gods”, whined Jace, “that is messed up”

“It is”, you sipped on your coffee, “well, not my circus, not my monkeys, at least not anymore”

“You did well in running, and I want you to know, you are still in the Strong’s christmas cards list”, he teased, and laughed

“That is all that matters”, you smiled, but then you looked at his face, the face of the guy who was once your very best friend, and you wanted to cry. Your nose tickled, preventing you for the waterworks, you sniffed

“Hey what’s going on?”, he asked, scared 

“I’m sorry for ghosting you Jace”, you whined, tears in your eyes, he only shook his head and grabbed your hand in his, “I can’t say I regret the whole thing with Aemond, but that certainly I regret, you were my best friend”

“I was very angry at first, but then I could tell something else was going on, I sorry I didn’t try harder to stay”, you only shook your head, and whipped a tear from your face

“It's easy for me to say it now that I messed up and everything went to shit you know?”, you cried, “but I thought about you every day, and I missed you terribly”

“I missed you too”, he said softly, “it didn’t help that we moved to Harrenhal with my mother, but no more, right? you are here now, I’m here now, that what matters”, he said with a bright smile, “right?”

“Right”, you said back, regaining your smile

“Do you want me to put laxatives in Aemond’s food? like we did with Aegon in the Red Keep’s annual labor day party?”, you snorted a laugh

“Gods we were a menace”, you laughed

“Remember when they send us together to the therapist?”

“Yes and we made the therapist need therapy”, you laughed back

“Well, that was not our fault, you know what they say, in a blacksmith’s house, a wooden knife”, you laughed even harder 

You shared smiles and meaningful looks 

He walked you back to your dorm and he kept telling you about all the great things Winterfell had to offer

“What do you think about Sara?”, he asked, and you smiled

“She is great”, you said, “what do you think about Sara?”, you teased back, he blushed

“She is amazing, I like her a lot”, he said, “but… she is the younger sister of my very good friend and roommate, you know?”, he asked, “if I take a shot, I can’t miss”, he said

“You know is love when you start to sound like a sniper”, you laughed 

. . .

You love it here

It had been a week and nobody had asked you what your family did for a living, nobody had judged you for bringing the same backpack for class all week, people here were different, lighter, nicer to be around. 

Your classes were incredible even if you were deferred from the original course, and people there actually wanted to be teamed up with you, they were curious and open minded.

“Its a college for hippies and alternatives”

Again that annoying voice

But you also felt different, you were relaxed, open for good things to happen to you, and people here seemed to know this, you stopped trying so hard, and it came naturally 

Jace had promised you in the spring was much nicer, now you couldn’t really enjoy the beautiful parks all around and inside the campus, but you just got happy by being in the roofed patios of the magnificent castle 

You were waiting for your friends to finish their classes in the cafeteria, and you jumped when your phone rang in your pocket, you grabbed it and when you saw the screen it showed a really strange number, and you just didn’t pick up, you weren’t in the mood for a telemarketer, or to change your phone plan 

“There you are!”, Sara greeted you, you smiled back

“Hey”, you greeted with a wide smile 

“Do you have plans for the weekend?”, she asked, she always seemed like she was running a 100 miles per hour, “because there is this thing…”, you were interrupted when a commotion was being made in the entrance to the big hall, people were howling, guys, men, or that is what it seemed, entered the cafeteria running, and howling, many of them were wearing wolf masks. People started cheering and laughing, applauding, some of the guys got atop the tables and howled, they were like thirty. One of them, and one joined them, jumped in front of you in one of the large communal tables 

“Wolves! wolves! wolves!”, even Sara started cheering and you did as well

“Bonfire!, Bonfire!, Bonfire!”, they started chanting. And they, when the show was over, guys howled one more time and then, they got off the tables and merged all over the people there, like nothing had happened, you and Sara looked at the two persons that got close, and then they took of their masks, it was Jace, and Cregan.

“Well, like I was saying”, continued Sara, “this weekend is Bonfire weekend, and if you have no other plans…”

“Oh, no no, your presence is mandatory I’m afraid”, chuckled Jace

“You heard him”, giggled Sara

“Bonfire then?”, you asked, Cregan was looking at you.

“We are celebrating the end of winter”, Cregan said with a smirk, “is a tradition from a thousand years ago, when they say winters lasted years, and when it showed signs the winter was yielding, they celebrated with huge bonfires, hoping to draw the old gods of winter away”

“That is beautiful”, you whispered

“Anyways, but the big bonfire goes after”, said Jace

“After what?”

“The hunt”, said Jace with a wide smile

“Like… with guns?”, Sara barked out a laugh

“No!”, she laughed, “It's about chasing people in the woods”, teased Sara

“That sounds creepy”, you whined 

“Well at first it was about boys chasing girls”, said Cregan, “then it was girls chasing boys”

“And now?”, you asked

“We are still debating”, he teased and you smiled 

“Anyways, the hunt starts when the sun sets, and then after a few hours of harmless fun in the woods, we come back to campus to enjoy the bonfire, a couple of kegs, vegetarian barbeque, carnivore barbecue, a small get together with the entire campus”, muttered Jace

“I love that”, you smiled

“Anyways, you missed homecoming week, but this is spirit week, and it awesome”, said Jace

“You freshmen know more of the school than I do”, laughed Cregan

“And what activities await us in spirit week?”, you asked, very entertained 

“You get teamed by career”, started Sara, “there is the language department, the law and politics department, the engineering school, the faculty of art, design and architecture, and the scientists, and you compete with each other, everyone on different teams…”

“That sounds cool”, you offered

“The engineers always wins”, muttered Jace, “in most of the competitions anyways”

“And that is next week”, you said

“YES!”, Cheered Sara, your smile was huge, bright and you were so excited, your phone dinged and when you looked at it, you realized you had been added to a huge group chat, of the ADA Faculty

“Ohhh, it started!”, teased Jace and you hid your phone playfully from him

“You go to your own department”, you mocked. Jace was studying public administrations, Cregan was in Business, in the same department.

“How fuuunnnn!”, Sara was as excited as you were, she was an Valyrian Lit mayor, yet another department

Rhaena and Baela entered the Hall, Rhaena was with you in the ADA, but Baela was  in Law

You grabbed Rhaena as she was excited as you

“Teammate!”, you cheered, and you jumped together in fun 

“It’s like a cheerleader on crack”, said Jace

And you felt like you were on crack, I mean, you had never done crack, but you felt ecstatic all the time 

You grabbed Rhaena, forgetting lunch and you trotted outside the hall in the way to the ADA Department building, leaving all of them behind looking at you both walking away with amused glances on their faces 

Specially Cregan, he then looked back at his group of friends with a smile on his face, Jace frowned when he saw him

“Hey”

“What?”, he looked back to catch a last glance of you before you disappeared on the hallway, “she is sweet”, he whispered 

You loved your design career

You had a meeting with the department for spirit week and you had already your shirts made, banners and a plan to win the activities 

And when the sun started setting, you were called in the main park of the college

With all the rest of the Universities

The wolf masks were back on, people were in High spirits, and soon it was even more contagious as you even felt more ecstatic 

“This is officially the beginning for Spirit week!”, said out loud the presenter, that you guessed was a senior, he was a student. Everyone clapped and cheered, “And we have decided that the hunters for this year's hunt will be… all those who identify as girls!”, you cheered, “and the wolfs will be all those who identifies as boys”

Everyone cheered

. . .

“Damn you look good in this colors”, teased Rhaena as she applied “battle paint” in your face, gray lines in different designs all over your face, you giggled

“Gray is a very flattering color, we all look amazing”, you muttered as you finished braiding Sara’s hair

It was like a pagan tradition and you were here for it and to look for the part, so you and the girls decided to meet in the dorm’s huge bathroom to prepare for the hunt, painting your faces, doing crazy and wild hair do’s to each other, you were having so much fun 

After you finished your makeup, you met at the starting line, the sun was about to set, and wood for the huge bonfire was being gathered in the park surrounding the University, in a big valley.

The guys were all gathered in the other side, and they were howling, all with masks, it was hilarious 

“The wolves will start running, and the hunters will follow, five minutes later!”, called a guy with a megaphone

You started chatting with the girls, the school was huge it had many students, and you had gathered a great number

You thought about Jace though, and what he was wearing, this seemed like a cool activity, but you’d rather go and search for someone you knew… flannel shirt and jeans? you believed, with a graphic t-shirt underneath… 

A horn like sound reached the entire valley, and with howls and laughs the great group of people disappeared into the woods, as the sun was hiding

“Remember to stay within the range, and if you get lost just blow a whistle!”, you turned to the girls

“So which strategy are we going with?”

To catch them all, you had to grab the wolf’s ribbon they had around their waist, that is how you hunt them, the one hunter who got most ribbons won a price, probably a six pack of beer or something, nothing mayor

But the girls and you had gossiped all afternoon about which “ribbon” they would like to catch, and who it belonged to

You didn’t even looked at guys’ faces, not yet anyways 

So since Sara hasn't say anything about Jace, you determined you were going to search for your best friend

“Divide and conquer” said Sara with a wide grin

“Divide and conquer”

Were you scared to get lost in the woods? Yes

Did you want to say so? Hell no

This tradition had been going on for years, and nothing ever happened, so you tried to relax, it wasn’t even that dark, even though it was quite early 

“Alright! let’s start this!”, chanted the presenter, “remember you have one hour!”, the horn sounded again and you started running g

it was true what they said about the thrill of the hunt

You felt exhilarating

And as you ran dodging the trees and branches like you were born in those woods, like you knew them by heart, you ran as you felt the chilly air clinging to your clothes and face, and you loved it

You could see your breath ahead of you, it was chilly, winter was clinging on 

You felt like one with the woods as you looked around 

And then, from afar, you saw Jace, or someone who looks like him anyways, and you couldn’t even hold a giggle, and you prepared to pounce, as you approached him quickly and silently

“GOT YOU!”, you announced and you jumped him, literally got over a fallen tree and jumped on top of him, clinging into him like a koala, you searched but his ribbon and removed it, not before feeling his… strange body… not like Jace at all 

As soon as your face landed on his neck, you realized something…

It wasn’t Jace

You released the poor guy from your embrace

He turned around, removing his mask, and you realized, with a comical open mouth, that is was Cregan Stark

“Hey”, you greeted, he smiled down at you, as he was taller than you

“That was interesting”, he whispered with a smirk on his face, and a glint of mischief in his eyes 

“Sorry about that”, you giggled, “for… attacking you… I thought you were Jace”

“Is more than alright”, there was something about him, you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but there it was was, you immediately trusted him, because he was Jacey’s roommate and friend, so it meant he was also your friend by default, so you just smiled apologetically to him

“Let’s join in the party”, he said with a wolfish grin, you smiled widely, “the hour is almost up”

“Let’s do it”, you giggled, “I hope you know this woods more than me because otherwise…”, he laughed

“Yes I do”

You walked side by side through the woods

“Its unusual for people to change schools mid-semester”, he started, you smiled shyly

“Well… I didn't want to stay where I was”, you said shyly, “my dream was always coming here, are you from here? from the North?”, you asked, and he seemed surprised by your question, he looked back at you with interest in his eyes, and then chuckled

“Yes, Yes I’m from around here”, he said

The music could already be heard, a band was playing live, you could already see the magnificent glow of the huge bonfire, and Cregan saw your excitement with a smile of his own, when you came out of the woods you went to the organizers who were waiting for the hunters and the wolves, to make sure everybody came back safely.

With a grin you gave him the ribbon and they marked you up 

With surprise, you’d realize you were one of the last couples, time had flown, and you felt even more exhilarated. You wanted to join the party that was unleashing in the valley, people were already dancing, having fun, the kegs already were out, snacks too. You looked back at Cregan with a smile

“It was a pleasure hunting you Cregan Stark”, you teased

“Well, it was a pleasure being hunted by you”, he said back, his gaze lingered, but you looked away, and then you spotted Rhaena and Baela dancing in the ground, their beautiful hair hard to miss

“They are here!”, you cheered, and you both followed to join the party

The band apparently was from a group of kids of the music program, and they sang rock songs

“You are heeeere”, Bhaela teased, “and with Creeeegan”, she wiggled her eyebrows at you and you just laughed, “mmmmm”

Nothing happened, and then you looked at Sara and she was looking back at you with an arched eyebrow and a smirk, she looked like her brother so much

“Here”, Cregan arrived next to you and offered you a red cup with ale in it

“Thanks”, you took a sip and couldn’t help but moan, it was refreshing, Jace arrived with more beer and smiled widely

“I got to say I truly believe you were going to get lost”, he laughed 

“Well, I was lucky to tackle poor Cregan here thinking it was you!”, you laughed 

Jace looked at Cregan but said nothing, Sara grabbed you for you to start jumping and dancing at the beat of the song. The brand started playing more popular songs, songs you could sing and dance to. You enjoyed the music in a the group that your friends joined, and more people you haven't seen before 

But when you realized you were dancing too close to Cregan and he turned to you to dance with you, your stomach sank.

You felt nervous, in a way that you didn't like, you felt again that need, that pressure to make a good impression, to not do something foolish, feelings that constipated you, that binded you not to move, not to speak, so before he came closer you turned and kept dancing with the girls

You weren’t ready

Cregan seemed like a good guy

But the wounds were still fresh

The music was blazing, the beer was flowing, the warmth of the bonfire was heating your cheeks, and you danced with your new friends all night. 

And you got… HAMMERED 

Very wasted, you still had control over your actions, but you giggled uncontrollably and hugged Sara who was just as drunk as you were.

Hours had passed, it was over midnight and the party had died down, the bonfire had extinguished and the band had stopped playing.

Jace and Cregan led you back to their place, your dorm had a big and strict policy regarding drunkenness and poor behavior, and they were as drunk as you, and didn’t think things more clearly, their apartment was closest. 

So they took you both to their student building of apartments, 

Cregan helped the two of you get in his bed, the queen bed in one of the rooms, and you cuddled with Sara on the bed under Cregan’s sweet eyes. He left you when you fell asleep, and Cregan went to Jace’s room 

“Our girls invaded my room”, said Cregan with an entertained smile, “so move”

Cregan laid down right next to Jace, and both looked at the ceiling in silence, until Jace frowned

“Our girls?”, he asked, looking at his friend, and he sighed, “what do you mean?”

“Well, she is your best friend, and Sara is my sister, right?”, he said dismissively

 “Cregan… please don’t fuck my friend”, pleaded Jacaerys, “she is been trough enough already…I don’t think she is ready…”

“Oh Jacey, I’m not going to fuck her”, Jace relaxed for a second before he frowned, “first I’m going to date her”, he continued, “then I will ask her to be my girlfriend, then I’m going to make sweet love to her”

Jace sighed, rolling his eyes

“Come on”, he whined

“I’m teasing”, he said softly, “she is going through something, I can see it”, he said looking for imaginary shapes in the ceiling paint, “but I can wait, I want to get to know her”

One day, when you were walking by the oldest wing, the department of Laws and Politics, you stopped suddenly when you saw a huge copper plate by the entrance, curious about what it dais, your faculty was more modern than the rest, more new, so you were truly interested in the history of this campus and town 

“The Stark building, in honor of House Stark, who donated their family estate for the higher purpose of education and development of the children of the North, 1600 AC”, you read, and then you looked up with shame.

More than 400 years ago…

Stark

Oh so he really was from around here, you giggled to yourself 

More notes: I clearly been watching too many american movies JAJA, obviously this is fanfiction in all its glory, Universities where I’m from are bored as f*ck, so I decided to put some color jajaja

This chapter came up weird, Cregan is already smitten and reader is not quite convinced 

I again say that I was not completely sure to share this, I don't why, but I wanted to show reader in a different environment, she is getting to know everyone and that Cregan is already like that wolf cartoon with the big eyes... anyways... next chapter we are back to the drama! wuju

taglist!!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen

[imtotallyokandnormal]

Hello!! May I request Sal Fisher x reader who is severely afraid of physical touch? Like to the point where it takes them a while to even touch someone with a piece of fabric in between their hand and the person. Also if the reader is seriously sarcastic, teasing and the type who laughs everything off but easily gets flustered at any sort of romance?

Maybe even the first time they touch Sal without some sort of fabric covering their hand.

Thank you!!

AH YAY MY FIRST SAL REQUEST!!! I'M SO EXCITED- okay so disclaimer first and foremost I am definitely not gonna pretend like I know what it's like to be afraid of physical touch, so I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. And if there's anything you'd want me to correct in this please let me know!

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: mentions of fears regarding touch (purposefully left vague), but don't worry it ends up in fluff, also sex joke I dunno if that counts for a warning

Image link: tell me about your guys' favorite holidays!

》☆Sal Fisher Dating a Touch Averse Reader☆《

- Sal hasn't ever seriously questioned why you didn't like to be touched. As far as he knew, whether it was a dislike or genuine fear or hatred, it wasn't his business and he didn't ever want to push you.

- One thing that drew him to you was your ability to take what you dish out. The way your sarcastic remarks could be met with the same intensity and it'd be laughed off and continued, an easy flow of lighthearted jabs. He liked that about you. There wasn't any malicious intent in the way you both joked, and you both understood.

- Though, this attitude you have always seemed to be a possible double-edged sword. You may be able to laugh things off, but he knew it could be a curtain for you, to hide how you really felt about certain things. Especially when it came to touch. He always had a feeling there was something more to it than you were expressing. He knew those feelings all too well.

- So, he worked around it. Whenever you came over to the house he made sure everyone else knew you were coming, just to be sure any possible touchiness would be kept to a minimum. He gave you your own designated spot on the couch, or even your own chair to yourself.

- One thing he learned was that doing things for you felt just as good as any touch that he could give you. Making you a nice cup of your favorite drink, giving you dumb things that reminded him of your inside jokes, small things to show he cares. And trust me, he thinks it's very cute when you get embarrassed about it (he teases you lightly about it).

- It'd be a surprise if one day you wanted to try physical affection with him. Whatever your reasoning might have been, Sal would ask if that's really alright with you and it's definitely what you want. The last thing he would want is to cross a boundary.

- He'd suggest starting out slow with touching hands, maybe getting a pair of gloves for you both to wear. He figures from what he's learned about you it might be easier if the contact wasn't direct and had sort of a shield. He'd also suggest a kind of safeword (not the sexual kind, but you should totally pick on him for that).

- Oh, don't you worry about any reactions you might have during this either. Strong reactions, subtle, whether you flinch away slightly or start having big physical reactions to it, he'd be patient. No matter what it was, he spoke to you softly and drew away if it was too much.

- If you were alright with it, he'd gradually let you get used to his touch. This is only during times where you're prepared and he makes sure you can back out any time. Eventually, if you felt good about it, he'd ask you if you wanted to try touching hands with the gloves off.

- It didn't matter how much time it took. It didn't matter if it took forever. In every way, at every step of the way, Sal was so deeply proud of you. As soon as both of your hands met for the first time he couldn't hold back his smile, knowing that he'd earned your trust enough to do this with him.

- No matter how much physical contact you can handle, Sal makes sure to work with you every step of the way.

[thegainingdesk]

I've been hovering between 36" and 38" trousers for a little while. I've noticed this past week that my trousers were getting uncomfortable every time I wore them, but for the life of me I couldn't find any of my 38s. A couple of pairs were definitely in the wash, but I knew for a fact there's at least one clean pair somewhere. Whatever, they're pinching but I'll live in these 36s for a while and just be glad that I've officially, unequivocally made the transition up a size.

I actually bothered checking the label today. These are my 38s. My 36s won't just be "pinching", they're completely out of the question. And I don't want to say "I wear 40" waist trousers" if I've not actually tried them on, but... I mean, I'd better buy a couple of pairs, right? Should I pick up a pair of 42s? For that inevitable moment?

There's something so utterly visceral about outgrowing clothes. The increasing tightness against your growing body, contrasting with the blessed relief, the comfortable looseness once you size-up - and knowing, knowing, that soon you'll fill up all that extra space too, that soon these clothes will be the ones that are too tight, too restricting, too small, ready for the process to repeat.

Maybe, to some extent it's because it's so much easier to compare clothing sizes - weights are tricky. I see someone the same weight as me and I think how much bigger they look, or how my gut is rounder, or my thighs are softer, or their moobs bigger . Clothes sizes are official - we wear the same size, we fill the same volume. You're still in 36s? Ah, shame, I've just bought a pair of 40s.

Over the summer I went on a short holiday with friends. At one point, me and one of my closest friends were just lounging about on the sofa in our pyjamas, half-asleep, Wimbledon on in the background while everyone was out. We both sort-of woke up at about the same point, and he made a little comment about my shirt riding up. I tried to tug my shirt down and he just laughed because clearly it wasn't working. Now, this friend is straight, but we're close, he's made some jokes about my weight gain, he's at least semi-aware that I at least don't mind the added weight (a story for a different time), so he doesn't particularly mind my gut sticking out a touch, but he says I should probably put on something a bit more covering before everyone else is back.

And as I'm changing I realise that I was wearing a large t-shirt. Now, at the time I was sort of between L and XL - both worked, I could tell L's were getting a little restrictive, and I had a desired trajectory towards adding some X's, so my wardrobe was a bit of a mix of the two, but up until that point, large shirts had definitely fit. All of a sudden, they're not just a little tight, or I can feel the difference or whatever, they're indecently small - literally, someone had just told me to change to make myself decent. And that's a large; it's in the name, right? It's not huge but it's large. Larger than average. Larger than most people.

And this friend is a lot smaller than me - he wears small and medium shirts. All of a sudden I'm realising that this shirt, the shirt I'd just outgrown, that I'll never fit into again, would be way too big for him. I'm not just bigger than him, I'm bigger than people who are bigger than him. If he asks me to borrow a shirt, I have to apologise for how my old, too-tight shirt from the back of my wardrobe will be too big for him, but it'll work in a pinch. I ask him if I can borrow a shirt and I'll burst out of it like a scene from one of my stories.

Better buy some 2XL's ready for the next time he has to make a comment like that. Some 42s as well. Hopefully I'll be in them before Wimbledon rolls round again.

[poetrysmackdown]

some informal thoughts

hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!

my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.

my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.

There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).

anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.

[onmyyan]

A/N: Lil something sweet for ya Happy Valentine's!! Yandere Gotham Sirens X reader

TW'S: YANDERE, DRUGGING

Coming home to a cold, nearly empty apartment on Valentine's day was the last thing you wanted to do, but alas, your previous plans of getting baked and watching all five Twilight movies had to be postponed as sweet, kindhearted you agreed to cover your married coworkers shift so she could spend the love filled day with her wife.

Eight grueling hours later, here you were, shuffling in your house with a well earned yawn, when your eyes registered the hue of pink coming from the heart shaped lights on the wall, lights that you definitely didn't leave there earlier, all at once any tiredness you had left your body.

You definitely needed new locks. This was the first thought you had after taking in your fully decorated apartment.

Pink, red, and black streamers were pinned to your walls, a giant teddy bear with X's for eyes sat dead center on your couch besides him was your typical heart shaped box of chocolates but the front of the package had been doodled on, stick figures of a woman with pigtails and what looked like you littered the front, each in an adorable display of affection.

In the bear's fuzzy arms sat a red and black card tucked snug, when you picked it up a rainfall of gold glitter hit the floor, but before you could read said card your Tabby cat Socks sauntered his way into the living room, he rubbed against your legs in his familiar greeting, it was only then you noticed the new diamond encrusted collar wrapped around his neck, the gems twinkling in the pink light and before you could question that, he lead you back towards your bedroom, where an entire collection of shimmering gems and jewelry were laid out like a feast, the no doubt expensive items seemed so out of place against your cheap sheets, each item was placed with a care you couldn't help but notice, the small note beside it simply read, ' A gem like yourself needs to be locked away so no one can steal you, as such, you should also only have the finest jewels kiss your skin, this is just a taste.'- S. K.

A red lipstick stain sealed the small message.

Mind still reeling, your socked feet rushed back into your small living room, it was here you took note of what appeared to be your last gift.

The Venus flytrap sitting idly in your windowsill looked beautiful in the warm light, when you approached the carnivorous plant, it seemed to brighten up, actually reaching out to curl against your hand, sort of like a cat. Planted in the soil beside it was a note written in cursive. 'A beautiful flora for you my little rosebud, when and if I am not around to protect you, our small friend here eats more than flies.'-P. I.

You gaped at the scene, it felt as if you were dreaming, you tried in vain to wrap your head around it all when finally, you remembered the card in your hand and haistly opened it, glitter be damned.

'Happy Valentine's day Honey! Did we surprise ya? I know we did, hope we didn't scare you baby, you just looked so sad earlier! :( not okay for my Darlin' to be upset on this capitalistic holiday we all know and love! I personally could not let that slide, so me and the girls did a little somethin' small to show ya how much we care! Selena said I shouldn't bother with a long note because by now the drugs will be kicking in, but don't worry a single hair on that pretty little head, Ivy's a pro, bet your brains gettin' all fuzzy huh? Gotta be careful touching suspicious letters left in your place babes! Best part is, when ya wake up, you'll be home, your real home, and we're never lettin' go. Xoxo- your soon to be favorite. -H. Q.

[docholligay]

Choose Your own Adventure April 2024

Thank you to everyone who has continued to support this silly project! Your comments mean so much to me and keep me going as i power through some real struggles with writing, thank you!

Fareeha Amari often asked for counsel, she would tell you. There were people with much greater knowledge and skill, and it would be arrogant of her to assume that only she understood every situation as it arose. Fareeha believed that iron sharpened iron, and if one wanted to be sharp, one had to accept that a bit of you was going to get shaved off, now and again. She was perfectly content to accept a bit of humbling, in order to be made keener. 

What had not occurred to her, in taking Doc’s counsel, was that it required her to take Haruka’s, whatever that had been. Even less had it occurred to her that Haruka would not have taken into account the rain and damp, and that they were on a road where someone was sure to come by, whereas Lena was wandering somewhere on the moors like a misplaced Romantic. The van had assured shelter. If Lena had managed to get to the house, there was no guarantee it was occupied. Morning would come soon enough. 

All of these things Fareeha’s mind had assured her Haruka would notice also. 

“I think we should go to the house,” Haruka stated with the broad confidence of the ignorant, “It’ll be smarter to be where there’s maybe, a phone, and something to eat.” 

“I do have MREs in the van, of course.” 

Fareeha stopped herself, took a breath. She, Fareeha, had decided upon this question. In doing that, it was only Fareeha who had decided the answer was acceptable, no matter which it was. Fareeha had decided to allow Haruka to help, and Fareeha had handed her the choices. There was no one to blame but herself, for the error. 

“Yes,” she continued, “I do see the...thought, behind going to the house.” 

Haruka’s thought was the same as Lena’s, that she was tired of sitting still, and wanted to be making some sort of progress. That while sitting was wise, it was not entertaining. The difference being that, whatever Lena’s flaws were, and Fareeha was happy to enumerate them, she was a skilled field officer in excellent physical condition, with above average reflexes and occasionally aggravatingly good instincts. If she found herself in a dangerous situation, the past had shown she could generally find her way back out of it. 

Fareeha did not have the same confidence about a line of inexperienced laymen following her like a herd of baby ducks through the wet and dark. 

But there was no going back on the decision she had made, not without making things much worse and all but guaranteeing that the Kaiohs would in no way fund their work. This was not, as Fareeha saw it, an acceptable cost. The security of the world mattered more than her annoyance and personal pride. 

So she nodded to Haruka and Mina. “We should pack as lightly as we can, but we should pack. The owners could take us to a hotel or inn.” 

Mina looked around into the damp and dark. “Yeah, this place is just teeming with Holiday Inns.” 

Fareeha focused in on her, as an eagle might a rabbit, but Mina only returned her look with a smile. She shook her head, nodded, and turned back to the van, opening the door and sticking her head inside toward Doc and Angela, who were sitting beside each other, chatting awkwardly. 

“Haruka has said we should go to the house. After Lena.” 

Angela gave a small nod and a smile, picking up her puffy coat with one hand. Fareeha put a large black military backpack over one shoulder, and a slightly tattered backpack with a garish flag in the round over the other. She looked to Doc. 

“It would be better to stay here.” 

“Well,” Doc hurriedly shoved things into her own backpack, “I mean…ya didn’t ask me. Is all.” 

Fareeha huffed, and then looked to Angela, her voice softening at the edges. “Do you have everything you need?” 

“Yes,” she put on her coat, and touched Fareeha’s shoulder, “Let me be having that. I can carry it myself.” Fareeha opened her mouth to protest. “Carry for the guests.” 

Doc twisted herself out of the van, keeping a narrow but necessary margin from Fareeha, and shuffled herself over toward where Mina and Haruka were standing. Mina continued to simply look in her direction, occasionally looking out toward the house, as she shuffled the extra bags onto her back. Haruka, it seemed, had a sudden recognition of the masculinity points at play, and hurried over to Fareeha, taking the bags off her and dropping her own duffel bag into the mud in the process. She frowned, but made no eye contact with Fareeha, only flung her and Mina’s bags over her shoulder and walked away. 

Fareeha would say that she often asked for counsel, when it was warranted. As she marched toward the group, ready to lead them to their next location, a hopeful encampment where the evening would somehow turn around, she had a distasteful memory of counsel she had not asked for. 

“It’s just not as I’m sure touring a few posh prats around is an excellent use of resources.” 

“I was unaware you were so concerned over bookkeeping.” 

“Right,” she put the pint glass down with a firm thump, “I should know better than to tell you anything when you’ve decided on it. Lovely! Let’s ‘ave the whole Kaioh family along! I’ll make egg and cress sandwiches and we’ll,” she wriggled her shoulders and stuck her nose in the air, “luncheon in the park, like little bohemians. Oh we WILL be charming, eh?” 

“You are wrong.” Fareeha felt her jaw set. “And I will remember it, when we get the money.” 

“Brilliant! See that you do. See that you remember me when it’s going pear-shaped, as well.” 

Fareeha stopped, closed her eyes, turned around, and opened the van, picking up a blue RAF backpack with a rainbow keychain hanging off one of the zipper pulls.  

___

Stepping through the window, Lena’s foot squeaked against the dark wood of the floor, the shout of a parvenue barrelling into the darkness. It should have echoed, given the wood and plaster, but itsead that squeak from the audacious canvas shoe was swallowed whole, gulped, and never heard from again. 

Lena drew her other foot through the window, and dripped onto that centuries old floor, paused by the confrontation of that deep grey. It might have been easier if it were the absolute dark of a cave, a place people were never meant to live, but this was a house. Wasn’t it? People had lived here for ages, and parties and weddings and dinners must have been had here. Crowds must have gathered under the portico she had climbed. 

That slight light, the one that might have been the moon reflected off the gilt mirrors hung on the wall, was like the mist in a graveyard. 

She shook her head. It wasn’t even that dark. The room was even a nice shade of mint green, with pink soft furnishings accenting the rich tans and golds of the furniture. Yes, now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that this had been a woman’s room, and since when had she felt uncomfortable in a woman’s room? 

Assured of her own silliness, Lena stepped from the wood to the carpet, half-wishing she had removed her shoes. Maybe less than half, since she hadn’t done it. The plush of it sank beneath her, and her eyes drifted up to the figure of a woman with a pair of little dogs, woven into the faded tapestry behind the bed. 

“Sorry about all this,” She tipped her sopping hat with a grin, “‘ate to be a bother.” 

A ripple went through the room, and Lena held her breath. When she was a child, Lena spent endless nights over with her cousins, the lot of them all piled in the same room across a few beds. Some nights, when she had come back from a trip to the bathroom, she had known at least one of them was feigning sleep, lying with their eyes closed but waiting for Lena to walk by so they could grab her ankle, or pinch her, shouting, and then erupt into a pile of giggles. She knew the feeling, before the jump. She knew it like she knew the scar on Oliver’s ankle, or the way Parvati shook her head when she was annoyed. She would bet her life on it. 

Something in this room was pretending to be asleep. 

___

It was a longer walk to the house, barely visible in the storm, than Fareeha had thought it would be. The road, or what could be called a road, was muddy and 

Doc was the most questionable factor. It wasn’t that Fareeha suspected she had sabotaged the van, exactly--for a start, she had not had the opportunity--but there was something about the way she watched the group. On the one hand, she was a researcher, and, apparently specialized in knowing something about Haruka. Probably a tabloid journalist, or something. Hadn’t she told Angela she was writing a book on the Kaioh family? On the other, they had only her word this was true. She knew something about Haruka, of course, but if she were an enemy agent she would have the same sort of information. 

It was not the way she watched Haruka and Minako that gave her pause. It was the way she watched her, and Angela, and Lena. It was the sense of familiarity she seemed to have with them contrasted with the intense discomfort she seemed to be feeling. Of course, if she were an enemy agent, she could be hoped to be better at it, but Fareeha knew less of Talon training pipeline than she would like. 

There was the difficulty that Haruka had asked her along, and so, if Doc was involved with Talon, Haruka was likely compromised as well. Fareeha would take that into consideration at a later time. Now, there was the primary concern. 

As Doc walked a few paces behind her, quiet, looking at the stars and listening oh so carefully to the conversations 

“Why are you acting so nervous?” 

Doc practically jumped back, shaking her head and rubbing a thumb across the strap of her backpack. “What’d’ya mean, nervous? I just don’t know you people from Adam.” 

“Except Haruka, of course.” Fareeha stopped. “As you are an expert in her history.” 

“I guess, in an ancillary sort of way.” Doc shrugged, squaring her shoulders and continuing to walk, not meeting Fareeha’s eye.  “But you get me. It’s like hanging out with a research project. You I don’t know at all. You’re what, some kinda soldier with a god complex? Why wouldn’t I be jumpy?” 

“A God complex?” Fareeha strode alongside her. 

“Yeah I shouldna said that last part out loud.” Doc continued her march, but turned to Fareeha now and then, like a terrier ready to nip. “Judge, jury, executioner, right? Doesnt’ take long to see that. I mean, when someone puts it all out there. Your mom was like that too, yeah? Must run in the family something fierce.” 

Fareeha ground her molars together. “I am nothing like my mother.” 

“If you say so!” Doc gave a wave of her hand and hurried on down the path toward the house. 

Mina looked back to her. “Heh. That was pretty good, actually.” 

Doc scowled into the night, trudging past, biting out the words of many a lesbian before her. 

“Shut up, Minako.” 

___

“‘Ello?” 

Lena called down a long hallway where deep curtains shaded the windows. There was no one here, she knew it. Not a single light had been on in the house, and it was the chilly damp of a house shut up for the winter, and yet the feeling of someone in the place, not watching her, necessarily but listening to her, waiting for her footbal, breathing quietly in the darkness, pushed her onward. 

She went to grab one of the curtains, pull it back to see into the night, but drew her hand back. It felt intimate somehow, like grabbing a skirt and flipping it up, exposing the indecency to the world. Lena couldn’t shame it that way. She was a gentlewoman, in manner if not in birth, wasn’t she? She couldn’t mistreat the place, when it had let her in. 

“But I need to see.” 

Why had she said that out loud? Lena talked to herself all the time, of course. She was just a chatty sort, even when no one else was there. How many times had Emily come upstairs with a smile, saying she didn’t want to interrupt the animated conversation? That was all. 

She took a step forward, and her hand rested on a candleholder with a thick taper. Well. Wouldn’t do her much good, but the thought was nice. She nearly said thank you. 

The drawer. What about the drawer? She wasn’t sure, it had simply entered her head that there was a drawer in the marble-topped desk, and sure enough, there was, and sure enough, there were matches there. Of course there had been. It had been waiting for her. 

“Stop that.” This time, she meant to speak. There was no one here to assume she’d gone looney, so why not? 

The candle was old, and the high flame glowered with the brightness of the tallow types, throwing light into the red velvet curtains, plush red rugs on the floor, edged with small benches, their carved claws digging into the dark floor, backs covered in the same deep, hot red. 

Beautiful. Respectable. Storied and old. Worth looking at. Worth looking after. This was what England was made of, is these resolute buildings of stone, and these resolute families, and these resolute histories, and to be next to that was to be a part of England itself.

Lena jumped back, the flame jumping alongside her. 

“Naw mate, not me.” She flung the curtain open, letting the moon cast her false silver against the false gold. “Place is empty. Nothing ‘ere. Lena, there’s nothing ‘ere. You’re tired, is all. Tired and told yourself too many stories. Fareeha’s going to think you’ve lost it once and for all. Just some ‘ouse for a bunch of poncey--” 

She looked back into the dark behind her. 

“Bunch of poncey little parasites. Outlasted you, didn’t we? Can’t keep me out now, Lady and Lord of whatever!” 

She laughed as she went down the hallway, but could not convince herself it was a joke. ___

Everything would be different once they reached the house. This much was certain. Fareeha would retake control of the situation, and they would quickly find a way to contact someone, and everyone would get a room in some motel. That would give everyone a chance to regroup. That would give everyone a chance to relax. They would see how ridiculous they had all been when their stomachs were full and they were rested. 

Even Fareeha was looking forward to the prospect of resting next to Angela in the quiet. Some tours of duty seemed longer than others. 

As the house came into view, Fareeha could not help but notice that there were no lights inside, nor any other sign of Lena having arrived. Fareeha put up with a fair amount of silliness from Lena, because her talents were invaluable, she would readily admit, and she considered her a good friend, she would admit less readily. But this was irresponsible. Short of lying injured in a ditch, Lena had no excuse for this. 

She marched to the front of the house, along the wide approach, taking the long way along the drive rather than crossing the lawn. Fareeha did not notice the carvings on the door, the depth and detail in them or their flaws of age, and the moon did not blind her as it glinted off the silver knocker, and the house did not whisper to her through those shabby shrubs as she strode toward the door. Fareeha did not hear the opening lines of negotiation as she readied to strike. 

Before Fareeha’s unstoppable fist could meet the immovable wood, the door opened wide with a deep, dark, creak.

Who should we follow next?

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 54

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

all i want for christmas by tusslee

“Listen,” Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers in his hands, “I’m as bad at this as you probably are and this is going to be really cheesy, but that’s the way I was raised and I know I act like an idiot around pretty girls, but I’m an even bigger idiot around you. Go ahead and try to guess why that is. No, actually don't do that."

this one is gonna be an xmas special!! even though im writing this before halloween lol. anyways. this was so cute!! lance being all stressed about what he should get keith bc he's all in love w him any everything. so real.

2. You're Here (Where You Should Be) by @blue-wanderer

"And if you’re worried about the cameras just take care of them.” “Take care—! Take care of them? With what, Keith?” “I don’t know?” Keith asks, busily testing his foothold in the gate and generally ignoring the rising storm cloud of ire behind him. “With a gun?” “A gun? This isn’t some sort of black ops storming an enemy base thing! This is a Christmas tree thing!” “I don’t see a difference? You’re the sharpshooter. Shoot out the cameras.” “Let me just pull a gun out of my ass, Keith!” “OK, problem solved,” Keith agrees, taking another step up the gate. “Nothing is solved you dumb country space redneck!”

Or Keith and Lance may be disasters at decorating, but Christmas still manages to work its magic on them.

i bookmarked this like a year ago and let me tell you all i needed to hear was dumb country space redneck and i was hooked 😭😭 and it lived up to the name fr. hate the canon ending? want lance to not be a farmer while still acknowledging his struggles with homesickness? want some whipped keith and meddlesome kosmo? want some cheesy xmas feels? click ahead!

3. make my wish come true by angelbolt

“A world where one has to fight for custody of one’s boyfriend is a godless one,” Lance muttered, slumping so he was leaning against Hunk. Shiro exchanged some final words with Kolivan before the screen blipped out. Ah yes, the ideal Christmas Eve: long boring talks and war meetings. Wonderful. ❆❅❆ keith comes home for christmas.

fun game idea: take a shot every time you see a klance xmas fic with a mariah carey lyric. lol. ANYWAYS yall know me and established relationship + early season dynamics!! i am obsessed!! and this fic delivers!! grumpy lance pov who just wants the rest of the world to fuck off for a couple days so he can have his bf around. he's such a voice of the people

4. i'll be home for christmas by @thespacenico

A severe bout of winter weather threatens to stop Shiro from making it home for his first Christmas with Keith. Shiro is ready to do whatever it takes to keep his promise.

okay this one is from darcy's i've got you brother, which i am obsessed with and have cried over several times, and which just recently updated! this fic is so cute and a adashi with young keith always fucking gets to me, man. they're just so. shiro being so desperately determined to keep his promise to young keith who has had so many promises broken that he doesnt even expect shiro to try. but is happy that he does. sobbing.

5. the greatest gift of all by dumpsterdiva

Keith’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he stammered, “D-do you really mean that?” Lance looked a bit sheepish as he said, “I… It’s crazy, right? I mean, it’s way too soon. You know I was kidding.” Keith straightened up. “Well, I’m not. Marry me.” “What?!” “You heard me, you coward. Marry me.” “That’s the worst proposal ever!” “Worse than you threatening me with marriage so I would stop talking about how amazing you are?”

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PROPOSAL FICS. i feel ksjbskdbqjdbqwlwd about them. okay. and throw in a christmas setting??? and banter?? and a MODERN AU?? i am doing my best, people. this fic had me shoving a pillow into my face and screaming.

that’s it for today!! happy holidays! merry christmas!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[all-the-things-2020]

Summary: When you land on a backwater planet for a routine job, your feelings for your bounty hunter boss are revealed, thanks to a local holiday tradition.

Rating: PG-13 (implied sexual activity but everything happens off screen)

Notes: This was written in 2020, before we knew Grogu’s name. I wrote it for the Pedros12DaysofChristmas gift exchange on tumblr as a gift for @djarinslover.

Word count: 3600+

Tags: @morallyinept Jett, please add to your Festive Fic Rec List 🎄❄️🎁

The wind whipped across the plain that lay outside the little town. You huddled into your coat, which was not thick enough for this weather. Din’s cape plastered itself to his back and the Child he carried whined at the cold. “It’s not far,” Din said. “I’ll keep you warm, kid.” The green child snuggled closer and made an inquiring noise. “And we’ll get something to eat. I promise.” The Child cooed and snuggled closer, his tiny clawed hand clutching at the smooth beskar of Din’s breastplate. You marveled at how well the two communicated, considering the Child couldn’t talk yet. Of course, you and Din were often able to communicate without words, even though his face was always hidden by his helmet.

The ramp rumbled closed behind you as the three of you made your way to the gate of the town. It was another nondescript settlement on a nondescript planet; somewhere that should have been a safe hiding place for a being on the run, but Din was a relentless hunter and very rarely failed to find his quarry. You were surprised that he hadn’t simply left you and the Child on board while he checked out this new lead, but you had learned not to question him when it came to bounty hunting. That was his area of expertise, not yours.

There was a gateway of sorts over the road into town, and it was bedecked with boughs of some evergreen plant that smelled spicy and stringent. Bunches of red and white berries were tied here and there with bright yellow ribbons.

You stepped a bit closer to Din as you entered the town. The houses looked empty, although some had colorful lights hanging in the windows, and most of them had boughs hanging over the door frame. “Where is everyone?” you asked, disconcerted by the lack of people and the empty echoes of your feet against the walls.

Din shifted the Child in his arms and grunted. “Must be in the center of town for the festival,” he said briefly.

“Festival?”

He nodded, but kept walking. “It’s the Midyear Festival. Winter solstice or something like that. I thought the kid might enjoy seeing it.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small pouch of credits, which he handed to you. “There’s sure to be some food for sale. Maybe you can find him a toy or something, keep him from stealing the knob off my gearshift all the time.”

You hid your smile, knowing that Din would just get brusque and dismissive if he saw it. You took the pouch and slipped it into the inside pocket of your coat. “And it gives you a good excuse to be here, too,” you said. “Bringing the kid to see the festival. Who’d be suspicious of that?”

Din turned his helmeted head slightly and you just knew he was rolling his eyes at you; the man could convey a full range of emotions with just a tilt of the head or shift in body weight. You’d learned to read him well during your time aboard the Razor Crest. You just wondered what it would take to get him to express the emotions you were almost certain were lurking just underneath the surface of what he’d allow himself to feel.

The town square was packed with beings of all kinds, eating and drinking and shopping at the booths that had sprung up around the perimeter. They were all decked out with the same evergreen boughs and berries. Din handed the Child to you. “Here, find him something to eat and look around at the wares,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. It shouldn’t take me long to get the information I need and then we can move on.”

You held the Child close as the two of you watched Din walk away, his cape swaying behind him as he strode across the square. He didn’t have to weave his way through the crowd; they parted in front of him. You felt a swell of … not exactly pride, since it was mixed with a healthy dose of lust ...Din looked good as always, and you had to remind yourself that so far he’d treated you as no more than a crewmate.

“Come on, kiddo,” you said once Din had been swallowed up by the crowd. “Let’s get you something yummy to eat.”

The Child made it clear that he wanted one of the large, sugar dusted cookies that several children were carrying around, and you quickly found the booth that was selling them. You purchased two and found a place to sit down. You and the Child nibbled at your treats, watching everyone in their festival finery. “They sure are dressed up, aren’t they?” you said. The Child continued to munch on his cookie, but he pricked his ears up, so you knew he was listening. “Think we’ll ever have money to waste on fancy clothes like that? Yeah, probably not. Your dad’s pretty tight with the purse strings. And fuel and ship repairs are expensive.” You sighed. Life was better now that you were traveling with the Mandalorian and his strange little foundling, but it was never easy in this part of the galaxy.

Once the cookies were gone (and part of yours might have mysteriously found its way into the kid’s hands), you picked the Child up and wandered around the square, looking at the sights. At one booth, you found an assortment of wooden toys which you found charming but which barely got a glance from the Child. What he did like were the shiny ornaments that hung from a large bough in the next booth over.

“Those look awfully fragile, kiddo,” you said doubtfully.

“But you would be wrong,” said the young woman behind the counter at the booth. “They are made of durasteel, hand painted and beautiful, but guaranteed to withstand the wildest gaggle of children and/or beasts.” She took down the one that had caught the Child’s eye, a silvery globe just big enough for both of his little hands to grasp, painted all over with geometric shapes in a brilliant azure blue. As the Child reached desperately for it, you knew you’d never hear the end of it if you didn’t get it for him.

“How much?” you asked, sure it was going to be outrageously priced and Din would be mad at you for spending so much on a useless bauble.

“Five credits,” the woman said. She tilted her head, taking in your patched trousers and the raggedy hem on the Child’s robe. “Let’s say four. Can’t let a kid go without a Midyear present, can we?”

You would have gladly paid five, but bit your tongue. A credit saved was a credit earned, after all. You handed over the money and the Child cooed as he examined the beautiful ball in his hands.

“And what about for you?” the young woman asked. “Do you have your sprig of laramin yet?”

“My sprig of what?” you asked.

She nodded. “Figured you for an offworlder,” she said, reaching up to pull a bundle of blue and white leaves down from a rack at the back of the stall. “Laramin,” she said, holding it out to you. “Almost sold out, so you’re just in time.” She held it up above her head. “It’s a tradition. At midnight on Midyear Day, you try to get your sweetheart under the laramin. Legend has it, if you kiss them under the laramin leaves at midnight, they’ll love you forever.” She gave you an appraising look. “I saw you come into the square with that tall fellow in the shiny armor. I’ll bet you’d like to get him under the laramin.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, but still asked the price of the bundle of leaves. One credit, and she threw in some silver ribbon to hang it from. “Little guy might want to play with it, after. Since it matches his ornament and all,” she said. You thanked her and tucked the sprig of laramin in your pocket next to the credit pouch.

You took another turn around the square, but the Child only had eyes for his ball, and soon you settled back down on a bench to wait for Din. You’d bought a couple more of those cookies, but hidden them away from the Child. You wanted to save at least one for Din, although who knew when he’d have a chance to eat it. He always snatched a bite here or there when you and the kid were asleep or busy.

Finally, you saw his shiny helmet weaving its way through the crowd, swiveling back and forth as he scanned the crowd for you. You suppressed the urge to stand up and wave; Din was a skilled hunter and he’d find you and the Child easily enough. Besides, you didn’t want to seem desperate or anything. You thought guiltily of the sprig of leaves in your pocket and your face got hot. It was ridiculous and a waste of money, but at least you’d saved the credit you spent on it when the vendor cut the price on the Child’s bauble.

Din reached you. “Come on,” he said, motioning for you to stand. He picked up the Child, who held out his new treasure for inspection. “Hmm … very nice, buddy. You do like shiny things, don’t you?” The Child chirped his agreement and returned to admiring the blue and silver ornament. Din turned to you. “Did you get yourself anything?”

You were flustered. “Um, I bought the kid and me each a cookie earlier, and I got a few more to take with us. So you can have one later. They’re pretty good.” You were rambling, but you didn’t want to admit you’d bought the laramin sprig. You’d toss it in the trash compactor when you got back to the ship.

Din simply nodded and began to walk. “We can stay overnight and head after the quarry in the morning,” he said as you followed him through the crowd. “I don’t think he’ll be on the move for a while, according to the intel I got.”

The ship was quiet and cold when you arrived, but that was normal. It just seemed darker than usual because you’d come from the brightly lit festival. Din closed up the ramp and busied himself with a check of his arsenal. “Keep an eye on the kid,” he said. “He’ll probably be busy with his new toy, but still, I don’t want him getting near the weapons.”

You nodded and took the Child into the tiny bunk where he and Din slept. The Child had a hammock strung from the ceiling; the sleeping area took up the entire bottom of the bunk, which you secretly thought looked more like a storage closet than a bedroom, but it wasn’t your ship. Your own sleeping area was a pile of blankets on top of a foam pad tucked behind some crates between the main hold and the carbonite freezer. It wasn’t fancy, but at least you had more room than Din and the kid had.

You sat with your back to the bunk entrance, with the Child in front of you, so he was blocked from getting out. The little womp rat was stealthy and you’d learned that unless you could see him at all times, he was capable of slipping past you and getting into trouble. Right now, though, he was enthralled with his new shiny toy and happy to sit and burble at it. You slid the packet of cookies out of your pocket, worried they would get crushed. The Child perked up at the sight of them, but you said, “Not right now. Wait until your dad’s done, then we’ll all have one, okay?” His ears drooped a bit, but he returned to the toy with only a tiny sigh.

You also pulled out the credit pouch. You would return it to Din when you gave him his cookie. The sprig of laramin came with it, the silver ribbon tangled around the pouch.

“What’s that?”

Din was almost as sneaky as his little green kid. “Oh, just a decoration,” you said, hiding your face by looking down at the Child. “The girl who sold us the ornament insisted I take one. No charge.” You dropped the laramin on the bed and held out the pouch. “Here’s what’s left of your credits.”

Din held out his gloved hand and took the pouch gently. He didn’t open it, or even test its weight, even though you knew he was always careful with his money. “Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly.

“What?”

“I told you when you came aboard, I don’t tolerate lying,” he said, tucking the credit pouch back into a pocket. “I know what that is.” He pointed at the bedraggled bunch of laramin leaves. “It’s some sort of love charm or something, isn’t it?”

You took a deep breath before you spoke. “It’s a decoration,” you repeated. “You hang it up and if you can kiss your sweetheart under it at midnight on Midyear Day, then the legend says they’ll love you forever. It’s silly. I just took it because the girl insisted. We can throw it away.”

You reached for the leaves, ready to crumble them into a wad, but Din was faster. He picked up the bundle and dangled it over your head by the silver ribbon. “No, let’s hang it up,” he said. “We could use some decoration in this old bucket.” You turned around in the bunk, wondering what he was going to do.

He reached up and tied the ribbon over an exposed girder. “There,” he said. “Festive, don’t you think?” Then he turned abruptly and headed up the ladder to the cockpit.

“What was that all about?” you asked the Child, who had crept up beside you. He stared at you for a moment, then shrugged and went back to admiring his ball.

You could hear Din moving around up in the cockpit but he wasn’t planning to move the ship until morning. Had he gotten embarrassed by the laramin? Was he trying to pretend nothing had happened to spare your feelings? You’d tried your best to hide your attraction to him, but the man was a hunter; he noticed details. He was probably well aware of the way you watched him, the way your eyes lingered over certain parts of his anatomy as he moved. And you were sure he knew how you tensed up when he moved close to you, how hard you resisted leaning into his touch when he laid a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at the wilted sprig of laramin, just hanging there mocking you.

It was getting late, so you arranged your bed, which usually got messed up during the day, either from the movements of the ship as it flew, or the feet of the Child, who pattered around the hold when he got restless. The kid slowly followed you, his eyes starting to droop. When he yawned, you scooped him up and tucked him into his hammock. “Your dad will be down pretty soon,” you told him, even though you didn’t know what the hell Din was doing up there.

With the kid in bed, and Din busy, you pulled off your boots and got ready to crawl into your nest of blankets. You had just untied the string that held your hair back out of your face when you heard Din’s boots on the ladder. You looked up. He glanced briefly at you and then ducked into the bunk. Oh, well.

“Here,” Din said, suddenly looming over you. He was holding out a scrap of old blanket.

“What?” You took the piece of fabric, wondering what was going on.

“Put it on,” he said curtly, making a circling motion around his head. “Cover your eyes.”

“Um, okay,” you said, twisting the fabric and wrapping it around your face. You tied it behind your head. It was an effective blindfold; you couldn’t see a thing through it’s tight weave.

“Good,” Din said. He reached out and took your hand. “Stand up.” When you did, he moved his hand to your shoulder. “Over here.”

You shuffled after him in your stocking feet. The floor of the hold was cold and hard through your socks. Din carefully adjusted your position and then stood quietly. “What’s going on?” you asked, but he shushed you.

“Almost time,” he said. When the alarm on his chronometer beeped, you heard him take a deep breath, followed by the click and slight hiss of his helmet being detached. You held your breath. Was he … was he really …

A gloved hand stroked your cheek and slid behind your head, holding it steady. “I’m not sure how to do this,” Din said quietly. His voice wasn’t distorted by the vo-coder in the helmet and you heard a nervous quaver in it. “I’ve … I’ve never done this before,” he whispered.

Your heart was pounding. It was happening. “That’s okay,” you said softly. “Just do what feels right.” You lifted your hand to touch his face, the face you’d imagined so many times. You gently traced the curve of his cheek, the sharp ridge of his nose, the soft pillows of his lips. You felt his breath hitch as you slid your fingers back and forth against his lips. Then he brushed your hand out of the way and pressed those lips against yours.

It was everything you had imagined, and more. His lips were soft and clumsy as he kissed you, his fingers tightening in your hair as he held your head in place. You lifted your other hand to the back of his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, giving a gentle tug as he pulled back from the kiss. “How was that?” he asked breathlessly.

“Not bad,” you said. “But you definitely need practice.” You pulled him closer and kissed him harder, sliding your tongue along the seam between his lips, until he parted them and you were able to deepen the kiss. When your tongue darted into his mouth, he gasped and his free arm wrapped around your waist. You responded by pressing your body against his armored chest, wishing he’d shed more than his helmet.

After a few minutes, you came up for air. “Happy Midyear,” Din said, his voice raspy.

You laughed and pressed your head against his shoulder pauldron. “Was that my present?” you teased.

“The first of many, I hope,” Din said hesitantly. “I … I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me, but when I saw the laramin sprig, I thought, what the hell.” His arms tightened around you and pulled you closer to him, squishing you against his armored body.

“Is the kid asleep?” you asked.

“I think so,” he replied. “I closed the door to the bunk.”

You chuckled. “Good idea. He doesn’t need to see this.” You pulled Din’s head down for another kiss, and started backing toward where you thought your bed was. Din steered you by the shoulders until you felt the edge of your foam pad under your feet.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said. “I’ve been dying to find out what’s under all that beskar.” He laughed and kissed you again.

**************************************

When you woke the next morning, you were alone. Your blindfold was gone. Your clothes were folded neatly on a crate next to your bed. You could hear Din talking softly to the Child in the cockpit.

You got up carefully, stiff and sore in places that hadn’t seen much activity recently. You got dressed and made your way to the ‘fresher. After you’d splashed a little water on your face, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

“Good morning,” Din said quietly. He was in the pilot’s seat, the Child perched on his lap, watching as he entered coordinates and ran through the pre-launch sequence. The new durasteel ball was clutched in the Child’s hand and the knob had been returned to the lever where it belonged.

“Good morning,” you replied. Din waved you closer and as you came alongside the chair, he slid his hand to the small of your back. You leaned down to greet the Child, who babbled to you about something.

Din sat back in the pilot’s seat. He gently placed the Child on the floor. “Get in your chair and buckle in,” he told the small creature. As the kid toddled toward his seat, Din tilted his helmet up to look at you. His hand returned to your waist. “Last night …,” he began.

You cut him off. “It’s okay if it was just the holiday,” you said. “It’s okay if it never happens again.”

He shook his head. “No, it … it wasn’t just the holiday. I’d like it to happen again. It’s just … I can’t let you see my face. It will have to be like that.” His hand slid gently up and down against your back.

You leaned over him and pressed a kiss against the cold beskar of his helmet. “It’s fine,” you said. “I know how important The Way is to you. I would never ask you to abandon it.”

Din was silent for a long moment, then nodded his head. He pulled away from you. “Okay, then. You’d better get buckled in. We’re taking off in two minutes.”

You took your seat next to the Child. Din finished the last few checks and pressed a button to ignite the engines. As the ship began to lift off the surface, you noticed something dangling above the control panel, jiggling with the vibrations of the ship. A bedraggled sprig of blue and white leaves, tied tightly with a silver ribbon.