#it wraps up kinda easily. also i want to know more about the magic. it was just kinda there when it came up in the plot

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread  

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance

high fantasy romance

a closeted man from a bigoted country has an arranged political marriage to a foreign princess, but when his sexuality is revealed, marries the prince instead

focus on healing from trauma with a side of court politics & mystery

[bigification]

Fit to Fat to Fit - Male TF

Nate stood in his bathroom, staring at his own reflection. "What have you become?" He asked himself. His untamed hair. His big ball belly. His moobs. It physically and mentally weighed him down. He grabbed a measuring tape and wrapped it around his gut. "48 inches, a new high. I'm truly at rock bottom."

He spent a few more minutes poking and prodding at his fat. Being more and more depressed as he discovered new rolls of fat and bulges that stuck out farther than they did before. He then pulled out his phone and started looking at photos of himself from years prior. He landed on one from 3 years ago. He had taken a selfie of himself in a jockstrap.

"That was the beginning of the end for me." Nate stared at the photo. It was taken just after he stopped playing hockey, though he never lost the appetite he had while he played. "Man I thought I was so fat in this photo. It was the first time I realized I was getting fat, but if he could see me now I don't think he would feel so bad. Or maybe he would feel worse knowing this is where he ends up in three years." Nate can't help but to spiral. He thinks of what he could have done differently. Maybe if he just stayed in hockey, or if he just slowed down on his eating after hockey. Maybe he wouldn't end up like this.

In the middle of Nate's spiral of self pity, his boyfriend Andres walked into the bathroom. He noticed the measuring tape on the counter and picked it up.

"You shouldn't worry about it so much, it happens when you're in your thirties and you have an office job." He said trying to cheer Nate up."

"That's not helping. Besides can't you just do your weird magic thing and make us skinny and hot again." Nate sulked.

"For one, I promised never to use that on us. And also you're hot now so why bother." Nate just sulked in response. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I know the feeling." Andres continued. "Before we met, I was so hot, so fit. I was even an underwear model, although that was due in part to me using my power to make myself skinny. But that's beside the point." He pulled up a photo of him from before the two had met and showed it to Nate.

"The point is that I fell in love with a beautiful man with amazing cooking and now look at me. In a couple years I turned into a fatass with a beer belly and I couldn't be happier." Andres gave his gut a jiggle.

Nate seemed to chuckle a little, lightening his mood. Though he still seemed to be unsatisfied with his body. "Can we at least get a personal trainer." Nate asked. "Fine, if you really want to." Andres responded, feeling as though his reassurances failed to comfort his boyfriend.

A couple weeks went by and it was time to meet with their new personal trainer. The couple had tried to begin adjusting their diet to ease into the training, but both of them had gained weight leading up to it. Nate's cooking was just too good to give up so easily. They both drove to the gym and paused in the parking lot to gain their composure before going in.

"Does this shirt make me look fat? I hope it's not too small." Nate asked Andres.

"No you look great!" Andres reassured.

"I'm scared our trainer is gonna be a dick. What if he's like some jock douchebag that's gonna make fun of us for being fat."

"Well we're paying him so I don't think he'll care how fat we are, I don't think he'll be a dick. He looked pretty nice in the photos on the website." Andres pulled up the photo of their trainer. "Ok, he kinda does look like a dick." Andres said. Their trainer was posed in his car, flexing and pointing at his arm with a smug look.

"You know what, don't worry about it. Let's just go in." Andres said quickly as he got out of the car and went to Nate's side of the car to drag him out of the car.

The two sheepishly entered the gym, being that it was the first time they had entered one in years. They made their way to a private office to meet with their trainer to discuss a routine and diet before the training would begin. They knocked on the door and a tall strong young man answered. "Andres and Nate, yes?" He said politely as he let them in. "Take a seat." The trainer said pointing at a couple chairs across the room. The chairs seemed to let out a squeal as the two men sat down.

The session went on normally. The trainer introduced himself as Kent. He then went through a workout schedule and a diet schedule after asking a few basic questions about their life. After a little while, Kent excused himself to get a protein shake before they would finish up the meeting.

While Kent was gone, Nate leaned in toward Andres. "He's nice but he's still kinda scary."

"Well maybe... I could make him less scary." Andres suggested.

"You mean-"

"Ya." Andres interrupted. "Have you ever seen fit to fat to fit?" He asked.

"No, what is it?"

"It's a show where personal trainers gain a lot of weight so they can then lose it with the person they're training. It makes the weight loss feel more personal cuz both of them are losing the weight together." Andres suggested.

"So you're saying we make him fat so he can lose the fat with us." Nate questioned.

"Yes!" Andres responded.

They were both interrupted when Kent entered the room. He sat down at his chair and began typing away at his computer. Andres winked at Nate as he got up and approached Kent. He put his hand on Kent's neck and he almost immediately froze. Fat started to pile into the young man's body. His cut six pack became a large muscle gut that stretched his shirt to its limit. His solid pecs became soft moobs that pressed firmly against his shirt. His arms started to look soft as a thick layer of fat covered his muscle, though they still looked large and imposing. His ass widened until it took up the entire office chair he sat in. And his legs thickened until they permanently rubbed against each other. Andres was feeling generous as a large bulge formed in Kent's pants. Finally Kent's jawline disappeared under a layer of fat and a double chin folded under his shirt stubble.

Andres seemed like he was just about to end the transformation, but wanted to add one final touch. Kent's face seemed to mature as wrinkles formed on his face and his hairline receded. It receded almost to the point of leaving bald. His build also seemed to change as his already broad shoulders broadened and his belly and ass stuck out a bit more. Finally Andres lifted his hand from Kent's neck and sat back down in his seat. "Now he's about our age, and much heavier. He should be no problem." Andres said confidently to Nate.

As if nothing had happened, Kent swung his chair around toward the couple. He lifted his hand up to his gut and began rubbing it.

"Well let's get started."

[pep-the-artemis]

Villain Comparisons

A wild pairing (I know) but there is merit to comparing them both.

Hazbin Hotel and Murder Drones spoilers below (two shows I deeply recommend anyone for watching for really different reasons). I'll try to minimise spoilers.

TL;DR and image transcripts at the bottom.

Firstly, introductions.

Sir Pentious is a former human who ended up in hell and now in pursuit of peer acceptance has become easily manipulated and turned to a life of evil; his desires also lead him to become easily manipulated by people like Vox. He takes on the form of a snake, a creature surrounded with assumptions of evil.

Doll Yurikova is Russian robot from a 'race' formerly enslaved by humanity and corporate greed; due to the experiments conducted on her mother Yeva, Doll became cursed—giving her eldritch powers and driving her to insanity. At a young age she was forced to watch both her parents die at the hands of the genocidal Disassembly Drones and now seeks revenge and to learn the truth about her curse, hoping to find a cure.

(no prizes on guessing which show is darker)

The reason I think this comparison is worth making is because they're both redeemable characters and die a sad, tragic death against the main antagonist who they had zero chance at even scratching... but I think Murder Drones pulls it off better.

Firstly, from the pilot and episode 1, Sir Pentious seems evil for the thrill—he enjoys the destruction, turf wars, and rivalries—but once he enters the happy hotel (calling it that to avoid confusion with the title), these traits seem to disappear. His rivalry turns to crushing and motives seem to shift more towards peer acceptance as mentioned above (he is still has a fascination with war machines but to me that never comes across as evil).

Doll, on the other hand, is straight up a psychopath. She kills without remorse or reason, she's a cannibal, and keeps the corpses of her dead parents in her home. Most of this is because of her curse but not entirely—unlike Uzi with the same curse, Doll shows no remorse or regret for her actions.

Secondly, Sir Pentious is weak AF. He loses every fight he is in. This is meant to be used as comedic value and also to show how he doesn't really belong but its so lame how even in the final battle he is worthless.

Doll, on the other hand, is an utter menace. The only reason the main cast one there first fight with her was because Uzi was immune to her magic and got distracted when her mothers bracelet broke. Doll outclasses the main cast making her a real tangible threat.

Thirdly, Sir Pentious main character flaw is that his is too weak against peer pressure and so his arc is to grow a backbone and act as his own person and not care what others think of him which is what the happy hotel is supporting him with. This is not a critique.

Doll's, on the other hand, main weakness is separate to her motives. She is unwilling to work with others, she fights alone and isolates herself from the world. This is in direct contrast with Uzi who is willing to work with others and understand there past mistakes. So for Doll to start her journey of redemption, she has to accept others into her life which I cannot stress enough is always an option for her, Uzi is constantly wanting to cooperate.

Lets begin wrapping this up—with there final scenes.

The battle of Heaven and Hell, Hell is losing. Realising this Sir Pentious decides he needs to lead the charge head on—he kisses his crush and charges forward in his own death machine attacking Adam head on... then his killed immediately before he can fire a single shot.

The most obvious thing is that this death is not narratively satisfying, he could have landed one hit weakening Adam but no Adam was just too strong of a threat that he didn't even need to even bother.

Then, even though he was killed by an angelic weapon (its kinda murky what Adams blast is exactly...), he gets redeemed... I know they can kill off characters, they did it to Dazzle, but I understand that it would be very dark. The problem is that it defeats the concept of 'a selfless act'. doing a selfless act isn't "do something because later you'll be rewarded", it's "do something because its the right thing to do".

Now onto Doll, who's death takes place in three different scenes. The first scene comes in two parts; the first Doll gets the jump on Tessa (who is just a woman with a longsword) and they fight and even with Dolls teleportation and telekinesis, she is unable to land a hit on Tessa. The fight ends with Tessa landing two strikes, one cutting off Dolls eye patch and the other disarming her. This works well to show that Tessa is a real threat while not undermining Dolls skill.

The next half of the scene, leaving Doll alone in the dark, Tessa disappears. An impossible feat in a narrow tunnel. Doll begins to panic and when she finally see's Tessa its too late, she can do nothing and dies. This is so important because it shows just how outmatched; Doll was utterly helpless. This works because of the previous scene which cemented the fact Doll is competent.

So Doll dies without redeeming herself. A real bitter song, she forced herself to live in isolation refusing every chance she was given only to never be given the chance, dying confused and lone just like like how she lived. But her deaths not over.

The second scene shows Doll stumbling out of a hellish pit, her torso ripped apart and entrails pooling out. Her last act before collapsing was leaving the message "дать отпор" (fight back). Her final act was to try and help Uzi, a real glimmer that for her redemption was truly possible but (that she's dead) out of reach.

The final scene is just a simple kick in the teeth, we watch as 'Tessa' devours her entrails, a real mockery... basically Liam Vickers saying "oh she is dead! I cannot stress that fact enough!". Utterly brutal.

Sir Pentious was evil, went searching for redemption, and got everything.

Doll is evil, refused all calls for redemption, and got nothing.

tl;dr

So overall, Murder Drones pulls of tragic character death better because

Doll isn't just a walking punching bag.

It was made explicitly clear that she lost because Tessa was stronger and not because she was weaker.

the show doesn't pull any punches unlike Hazbin hotel which immediately revives Sir Pentious.

Is Sir Pentious a bad character? No, I think he had a mediocre death.

Again, watch both shows. Hazbin Hotel is a great and fun comfort show while Murder Drones is a lot heavier but full of so much small detail it has great rewatchability. Being so different its less about which is better and entirely about which you prefer.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Sir Pentious from Hazbin Hotel. It is a background-less shot with Sir Pentious smiling facing the camera with bold posed arms. /.End ID]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Doll Yurikova from Murder Drones. It is a background-less shot with Doll grimacing facing the camera with limp arms by her side. /.End ID]

[lightineventide]

Book Review: "All Systems Red" by Martha Wells

You know how it goes - you're wandering through a bookstore with no real intention to buy anything, and then you see a relatively small, curiously looking tome in the sci-fi section. Surprisingly, it is cheaper than most new books (in this case, the translated version is from the end of last year), even though the only available edition is hardcover. The premise looks interesting enough, so you, having been kinda disappointed from your last few reads, think "Why not?" - and proceed to have the best reading experience in a long time...

Can't relate? Yeah, I also didn't think I would, until yesterday.

My blog isn't a book review one, so that's the first and probably the only such post that I'll make. But I am so excited that I don't want to miss the chance to try to hook others up to try this book! It's just that good!

The series /The Murderbot Diaries/ is about a cyborg-like (part robot, part human) construct designed as a Security Unit (SecUnit). The SecUnit manages to override its governor module, thus enabling it to develop independence, which it primarily uses to watch media. As it spends more time with a series of caring people (both humans and fellow artificial intelligences), it starts developing friendships and emotional connections, which it finds inconvenient. - premise on our beloved Wikipedia. I think it sums up well a lot of what initially made me curious about the book.

To put it simply, the last few books I've read were more or less disappointing, so I didn't have much expectations for this one, too. However, Murderbot became easily one my favourite book characters of all time after just a few pages! Why? I related a lot to its hesitation to open up to humans 😄 and frustration with the corporate world, while also absolutely loving his dry humor. I strongly recommend this book to all readers, not just sci-fi lovers - it is a lighter read than most from the genre, while still being able to really hook you in and keep you on the edge till the end. The plot moves quickly, while always feeling fleshed-out just the right amount, in my opinion. It's very action-packed, which contributes to the not very taxing but fun experience. I also found the ending to be really satisfying, since it doesn't leave you feeling required to read the next books in the series - it can be a one-off read (bonus: the last twist was unexpected to me and I love how it ties with the book's themes - I think it makes the story unique, but I'll add that under a "Spoilers" cut, just in case). And that's something I've come to really appreciate in newer books. 💙

1000/10 //Maybe the biggest sci-fi nerds won't find this book so endearing, but for everyone else, you most probably won't do wrong by picking it up! It's really entertaining!

Ok, now notes with spoilers:

I feel like Murderbot's decision in the end to leave the crew was the perfect one for its character. As someone who related to it mainly because his unwillingness to open up to people, I was a little disappointed when all signs up until that moment pointed to the usual cheesy happy ending. I think the real one wrapped up this part of the explored themes especially well, unlike in a lot of popular media today. It makes Murderbot's struggles feel real, as such things for sure don't just *magically* disappear. So, many bonus points for that!

[creative-time]

A proper fair well

Well… here we are, I’m actually leaving

I just want to be clear, I love dhmis. The original series, and the pilot, will always have a special place in my heart. I’m still a fan, just not so much of a fan that I would spend like 75% of my life dedicated to a tumblr blog about it anymore.

Maybe it’s just burnout, or the fact that I was so disappointed in the tv series that it finally broke me, or the fact that I started this blog when I was 14 at the beginning of 2016.

I started running this blog when I was 14, and I’m 21 now. For nearly 7 years now. We had some good laughs, I met some people that would change my life, for better or worse. And I could have never imagined that I would gather so many people together like this.

And I really hate to sound ungrateful, but, it still kinda makes me a little sad when people say I’m the dhmis news guy, because this blog was always supposed to be more than that. It was supposed to be ALL of the dhmis fandom. All the art, all the memes, all the conversations. This blog was about you guys! The people who made this fandom even possible! The people who built it from nothing, for everyone now to enjoy. I loved sharing news, but I loved sharing your, and my, creations even more…

I guess being considered the “dhmis news guy” just kinda made me think that I was easily replaceable in the fandom, like… if one day I stopped, someone else would just fill the hole that I was in super easily and no one would really notice I was gone.

I think a lot of people forget that… I’m a person… Creative-Time IS a person… I was a person this whole time… making sure this blog didn’t turn to dust and constantly being ridiculed, mocked, or straight up harassed and sent death threats to the point were I would sometimes cry myself to sleep. But I realized that all that just wasn’t worth the energy, this wasn’t worth the energy.

There’s probably so much more I could say here… I just wouldn’t know where to start. And maybe I’m saying all this super wrong and someone is gonna look through it with a fine-tooth comb and tell everyone that I hate them and tell everyone I’m a horrible person, which perhaps I deserve.

I would like to thank all the people that have actually tried to get to know me, I’m sure you know who you are. You all made running this blog a little bit more happier for me, and I hope you all are happy too, even if we never cross paths again.

I think the only thing that could ever get me back into the fandom and this blog is if there is more dhmis that is actually good, or the pilot get released in HD in some shape or form. Other than that, I think I’m done here…

I won’t be deleting this blog, but I would request no new followers or dms unless it’s the pilot in full hd.

If anyone really wants to ask any follow up questions, please send them to the ask box on my main @cosmicxd but I would like to remind you all, I’m an adult, my friends and mutuals are adults, so if your under the age of 18 I would suggest not following my main because me and my friends are… UNHINGED and we have a whopping ZERO filters. I really don’t want to block any of you but if I know you are a minor and you follow my main anyway, I will not hesitate to block you, so just don’t. thanks I’m advance.

Now, a few things that I should wrap up in a bow.

Here’s what might be the final piece of artwork I do for TeVi and Purple Girl, I will try to make a series to put them in in the future but I want to work on another original series right now so it might not be for a while. So there are not really consider dhmis ocs anymore I guess. Just puppet ocs now

Also, a final update for Mini Mean Steve: Finally found some model magic and Mod Podge glad to say he is finally complete! He will be my most treasured possessions

Thank you for reading all the way through this, and for one final thing

Here a sketch of me kissing icehell Tony and Paige. (Because if im going out, I’m going out with a hell-freezing, earth-shattering BANG!!!)

Thank you all once again, and I’ll see you on the flip side!

-Creative Time

[helianskies]

18 ] - "stop stealing my jumpers!"

With nedport or.....itaport

Does itaport exist outside of my head?

there was an attempt at itaport/portvene bc i was intrigued but i wasnt getting on with it so i uh well nedport it is, anon! sorry! :')

Ours

The first time it happened, Abel took it as a compliment. Henrique had looked not only cosy, but also somewhat amusing, swaddled in a large jumper, the too-long sleeves gathered up his arms, the hem hanging way down below his waist. It had been impossible to resist sneaking up on him from behind, hugging him, risking being smacked by flailing sleeves. And it had been worth it. 

The second time it happened, it was no different. Nor had it been any different the third, forth, fifth, tenth, or twentieth time that Henrique had appeared wearing one of Abel’s nice, thick, woollen jumpers. Something about them suits him. Or perhaps Abel just liked that feeling of the other being constantly wrapped up in his jumper, in his smell, in his warmth.

Today, however, Abel lacks such feelings, such little joys.

Because, while Henrique, already miraculously up and about (he had come into the bedroom and offered Abel his morning cup of coffee) is prancing around once more in one of Abel’s jumpers, when the Dutchman himself goes to get dressed, he opens his cupboard and finds—

“How can I have none to wear…?”

Abel only did the laundry two days ago, and he could have sworn that four of his five jumpers all went back on their hangers, and into his closet in their bedroom. So where on earth…?

The thoughts crosses his mind in a flash—so fast, in fact, when he tries to wrangle it back in it feels like whiplash. But the thought is there, nevertheless, and he can't help but check…

He turns around to face the other closet, which decidedly belongs to Henrique (you can tell whose cupboard is whose quite easily; one is notably neater, the clothes far less creased). He sucks in a slow, deep breath. He opens the doors. And there they are, lined up on the left-hand side: four of Abel's jumpers, that have seemingly magically teleported from one closet to another.

Abel sighs. Perhaps he needs to have a hard conversation with someone and lay down a boundary he'd never thought he'd want or need…

He pulls out one of his jumpers. He carries on getting dressed. And, once all of that is done, and he has returned his warm clothing to their rightful place, he ventures downstairs to find Henrique in the kitchen.

"Sleeping Beauty finally decided to get up then, huh?" his husband remarks over his shoulder as he stirs two cups of coffee. Those too-long sleeves seem to taunt Abel as he approaches. "You know, I'm starting to see why you like getting up early. The amount of stuff I've gotten done in the last hour is insane; I feel so productive!"

Abel hums, the sound rumbling in his throat. He doesn't want to play it down or come across as not interested, but… but he can't help but look from husband to jumper to husband to jumper. And that does not go unnoticed.

“Is everything okay?” Henrique questions, giving Abel a curious, quizzical look as the other struggles to once more tear his gaze away from his beloved cream woolly. “Abe…?”

He takes another patient breath. He knows this is better not left unsaid. So, “I’m going to say something,” he announces, which only seems to amuse the other—the wrong effect, perhaps, “and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

Amusement becomes concern quite fast. "Okay," the other says slowly. "What is it?"

Abel steels himself. He tells him this is the right thing to do. He gestures towards the jumper Henrique is wearing—he even jabs a finger in its direction—and he exclaims, at last, "Stop stealing my jumpers! I'm running out of clothes to wear!"

It takes a few seconds, perhaps, for it to register. And then, Henrique laughs.

"Our jumpers, you mean," his wonderful(ly annoying) husband says—a comment that throws Abel for a loop. "When you agreed to marry me," he continues, "you also kinda agreed to share your stuff with me, too, benzinho."

"I— I don't remember that agreement."

"Mmh, well, that's why you always read the terms and conditions," the other quips, flashing Abel a smile. "You taught me that!”

And with that, Henrique returns to the coffee, and picks up one of the mugs to pass on to Abel. He takes it, of course, but he also can’t believe he’s just been fobbed off like that. This discussion isn’t over, he decides, as he takes a sip of his drink and—ooh, how does he always make such good drinks?—that is that! For now, he’ll let it slide. But he’s taking back his jumpers whether Henrique likes it or not!

Our jumpers… Tch… 

…Well…

…Maybe they could be…

…Sometimes.

[ final wordcount, 790 words! ]

[blindedguilt]

It's been quiet for some time, Leonard had noticed — not unlike the time he spent in the forest. It left him feeling some way he couldn't exactly tell. Was it unease? Possible loneliness? Either one was a feeling he hadn't expected to come back in such a way, but similarly, again, it had dug up a familiar memory of the forest...

Having finished tending to the small bonfire where he sat, Leonard's shoulders dropped and his head leaned back. For the first time since his pact — since meeting Seere — he wished he could be relieved of his blindness if only to confirm he wasn't alone as he thought he was.

The bonfire's warmth kept him comfortable, at least, as did the hope of the momentary thought that echoed throughout his mind: Time would tell.

//So this isn't an easy decision, but after a couple weeks of mulling it over, I've decided to put this blog into semi-permanent hiatus - basically, if things change either with the state of the RPC or my motivation to write I'll be more than eager to return, though it does seem unlikely.

//Things have been quiet lately, and it's of course by no means anyone's fault for being quiet!! (I can't blame them, life and Tumblr bullshit have taken a toll on a large portion of the RPC as a whole lately) But in the end, I think it had more of an effect on my motivation to write than even I expected. I tried for the past year or so to "Get back on my feet", as even now I deeply miss Leonard and being able to write him, but evidentially, I haven't gotten very far QwQ

//That said!! While this could be it for this blog, if anyone wants to discuss plans for plotting or even just chatting over Discord (At the end of the post), lemme know! One of the hardest things about the choice to leave this blog behind is definitely the loss of community that comes with it, there were a lot of people who followed me and that I briefly spoke to these past months who I don't want to cut off a potential friendship with just because of my own personal circumstances!

//And going onto that topic, I won't be shutting down or removing any current drafts or asks in my inbox in the event I ever magically DO get motivation to write again or something changes, and of course, that in turn means the blog itself will be staying as well!! You might have guessed, it goes without saying that this blog and the interactions on it mean a great deal not to just me, but (At least I hope!!) some of you. It's also a bit of why I wanted to "wrap up" the blog with the in-character piece at the top, even given my issues with writing (I may add to it to make it feel more "complete", given I kinda don't like how half-assed it feels currently), it just didn't feel fair to go for what could be forever without letting him speak his final piece. :,)

//I won't spend too long waxing out all the sentimentals, but I've stated over and over how when I first made this blog, I really wasn't expecting it to last much more than a couple weeks before moving onto another character. It's kind of impossible for me to state just how much this blog and all the experiences on it mean to me personally and the impact it's left, both personally, as I mentioned before, but also in my enjoyment and love for Drakengard 1 and 2 and Leonard's character specifically! Being able to dive into his mind and find someone I can put together so easy with such a well-constructed tragedy, it's not much of an overstatement to say that ironically, being able to play and put my own mind and problems away for one I not only cared to look into, but one I could more easily pick apart and explain the actions of while being layered enough and having enough facets to make it interesting. Leonard in a lot of ways was and is a sort of second life for me, but in a way I didn't have to deal with the burden of having a psychical body or firsthand perspective! lmao

//And not to be sounding all overdramatic or anything but as I said, it's letting go of not just what feels sort of like a little hideout or small part of me I like to nurture and keep from falling into rot, but this blog is some of the most fun I've had in a horribly otherwise busy, yes, but very mundane outside life. It's sort of pathetic to admit, but I mean it in the best way I can when I say I haven't really gotten so emotionally engaged with anything in a long time. Just the small interactions and memorable snippets from this blog, both from long-standing partners, people who fell off, or even people I just spoke to once and then never again still play over in my head and definitely spark a lot of joy when I really need it! I'll be honest, there's not one day that goes by where I don't think of at least one interaction I've had here. I remember my pain at being in a different timezone and always falling behind the drama before I went to the US and could finally catch up. To update on that: I'm not doing too well in the US in all honesty, but I'm doing my best to get on my feet and making progress!! One of the first things I always did in difficult situations was, unironically, use this blog to reference some old posts and memes to laugh and think about all the new connections, subplots, and jokes that were going to be shared.

//I guess the final point I'd like to make is a short one, but a major argument I had against shutting down when the thought first entered my mind, and the hardest part of all this is the loss of potentiality. I had a lot planned for Leonard, both things that I actively wanted to do and just general questions of "What kind of people will he meet with next? What will he think of them, and how long will they get to develop with each other?" The thought both of meeting new people and the interactions that could be shared with them, as well as all the different interactions and shenanigans that I thought might be in store when the DOD RPC came back was a major motivator in why I kept trying to fight my writer's block, and why I even kept this blog going for the past year with barely any activity to speak of. Even going on Discord, as you might imagine, can be limiting in its setup compared to just being able to search and see who's out there via tumblr - and joining communities can be quite an issue being a Leonard mun, specifically!!

//But either way, I'll be sure to find my way around it one way or another, and hopefully, by some divine miracle, I'll just end up back at this blog anyways!! Again, the chances are slim, but I'm really holding out here dskhffkdbhdkh

//I think that should be it based off what I wanted to say, Leonard's left nice and comfy at his campfire, and it's getting late so with ALL that said, if we've spoken or never have before (ESPECIALLY if we never have, I like to believe you followed for a reason so I'd love to speak to you so we can get to know each other better, plot, or just chat!!), please consider following me on Discord!! I'm usually on there, and always happy to talk (Unless I'm on Do not Disturb, but that's hardly ever lol):

//My discord is: barnabism

//Anyways, I apologise for the downer announcement, but this has been wracking my brain for the past few days so I'm at least glad just to get the hard part over with. :,)

//Thank you all for over two years of writing!! Please don't be afraid to reach out, and as always, if you have any questions, please ask!! ^^

[adventuretolkienlover]

The Journey's Just Begun (Chapter 1: Epilogue and a Prelude)

Intro: It's here! Yay! My first multi chapter fic! This chapter is based on this piece of fanart by my all time favorite Alchemy Bros artist Cinn-a-mum! So this fanfic I'm writing to give the Alchemy Bros Role Play a more solid ending. It kinda left on a cliffhanger, so I'm hoping to wrap up some loose ends with this! And it's got cute Momma Ulla and Hugo moments too! I hope you guys have fun with this and let's see where it goes. Enjoy! (P.S. This isn't Varigo! This is a Sibling AU of Vat7k. Also called Alchemy Bros! So please don't tag as Varigo! Thank you so much peeps!🫶) EDIT: I fixed some typos! EDIT EDIT: I added a cover!

Chapter 2 ➡️

Summary: Ulla takes her first steps out of the library and is reunited an old acquaintance. Hugo! But will they remember each other?

Trigger Warnings: None!

Ulla gathered the few possessions she had and stuffed them in an old bag. Her son Varian had come and she was finally leaving the library! She was excited to say the least! She slung the bag over her shoulder and ran up to Varian, who was waiting patiently for her nearby.

"I got my things! Let's go!" She exclaimed! She grabbed Varian's hand and pulled him toward where the porthole was.

"Woah! Wait up mom!" Varian laughed.

Ulla stopped in front of the porthole and stared up at it. She could smell the flower scented breeze wafting through. Suddenly she felt a strange sense of joy and nervous butterflies. It had been so long. Will everything be okay? Would Quirin still feel the same about her? What if the world was so different, that she wouldn't know how to cope? "Are you okay mom?" asked Varian. He knew how hard things had been. He wanted to know if she was alright and ready to go through with it. Ulla took one last look at the dusty library that had been her home for eighteen years. Maybe on the outside of this place, things would be different. Maybe they would be scary. But if she did nothing, then none of the good scenarios could happen either. It was time to go. Ulla took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Varian smiled and took her hands in his. Slowly but surely, they walked through the port hole.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hugo, Jacky, and Belle were waiting patiently outside the porthole in the chamber. There was an air of nervousness about them. Until Varian and Ulla came out of the library, there was no way to know if their mission was a success. Belle had taken to quietly sharpening her sword. And Jacky was playing with Cheese and Ruddigar. He rolled a marble he had found across the floor for Cheese to fetch. And Ruddigar was sprawling on his lap enjoying back scratches. Hugo was easily the most nervous. After all, anyone would be nervous about their little brother going through a strange magic porthole. Belle noticed the worry written on Hugo's face and paused her sword sharpening.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Yeah." he said.

"Me too."

"You think he's okay?" Hugo asked.

"Sure! Probably..." said Belle.

"I wonder what Varian's Mom is like?" said Jacky as he rolled a marble across the floor. Cheese took off after it. He caught the marble and brought it back to Jacky.

"I don't know much, but it sounds like she's a lot like Varian." answered Hugo.

"Sooooo, dorky and energetic?" said Belle. Hugo laughed. "I guess." he said.

Suddenly the porthole lit up! Hugo and the rest quickly got to their feet. Varian came through first. Then Ulla. She was being guided by his hands. "It's okay. There you go." said Varian as he helped through. Ulla set her feet down in the chamber floor. "You guys are okay!" said Hugo excitedly! He ran up to Varian and embraced him tightly. Ulla still had her eyes closed. She was just a bit scared of what she'd see. What if it really was all just another dream and she'd see that she was all alone again? Varian walked over to her and gently took her hands.

"Mom. You can open your eyes. It okay."

Slowly she opened them. She saw she was really outside! Finally! After all this time! Her jaw dropped as she looked around. She half laughed half sobbed at the sight of a familiar space. She was truly free. Quickly, she hugged Varian tight as tears streamed down her cheeks. She never wanted to let go of him again. "Wow." thought Hugo. "She really does look like Varian." Hugo couldn't help but feel there was something familiar about her. Her face was one that he felt he'd seen before. Like a deeply hidden memory he couldn't quite reach. Suddenly Ulla realized that there were more people there. Young people like Varian. "Varian, who are these people?" she asked.

Varian suddenly remembered his friends. "Huh? Oh yeah!" He broke away from the hug and pulled her toward his companions. "Mom, this is Belle, Jacky, and Hugo. Everyone, this is my mom!" A round of hellos was said by the group. Jacky ran up to Ulla and shook her hand vigorously.

"Ah man! It's an honor to meet you mam'm! Varian helped us all out our journey! Your son is awesome!"

"Thank you." Ulla chuckled. She liked this one's enthusiasm.

"So," said Belle, "How does it feel to finally be free?"

"Really good, but I'm a little nervous." said Ulla with nervous laugh. Suddenly she noticed the boy Varian called Hugo standing off to the side. He seemed a bit quiet and he was looking down at the floor. Hugo had been trying to figure out what he wanted to say. It was Varian's mother after all. He wanted to make a good impression. Ulla felt there was something familiar about him. It was his eyes. They were so green and beautiful. The most beautiful she'd seen. She was sure she had seen them somewhere before. She smiled and walked over to him. "Hi." She said. Hugo looked up at her. "Oh, hi!" he said.

"Oh man! I have to tell you about Hugo!" said Varian as he walked up to them. "He's been by my side the whole journey. He's like my big brother! Really we're all like siblings! We just found each other along the way and became a family! And Hugo's was always watching out for us! Even when we got sick or hurt! He was basically like everyone's big brother!"

"Really?" said Ulla as she looked over at Hugo. Hugo rubbed his arm shyly. "Well, I did my best." he said.

"And I'm very thankful. Thank you for taking care of my boy and his companions. I owe you."

Hugo blushed and looked down with a smile. He wasn't used to this much genuine praise. Ulla looked him over closely. She laid her finger against the side of her cheek in thought. "You know, I can't help but think I've seen you some where before." Hugo was surprised.

"Me too." he said.

"Hmmm. Okay, I'm gonna ask you a really weird question, but please just humor me." said Ulla. "Do you be any chance come from Bayangor?" Everyone gasped! Hugo looked at her astonished.

"Yes!" he said. "But how did you know?!"

Ulla's eyes widened. "Ohmygosh! Okay, am gonna ask another weird question! Did you come from an old orphanage there on Ivycross Street?" Hugo's jaw dropped. "YES!" he said even more shocked than before!

"I knew it!" said Ulla excitedly! "I saved you when you were little and brought you there!" Hugo stared at her in utter disbelief. "I remembered that I gave you this nick name! I called you Little Human! And I remember how badly I wanted to bring you with me! Do you really remember me?"

"Y-Yes." said Hugo, trying not break into tears. He wasn't going to lie. He was having a hard time trying not to cry. The person that actually cared enough to stop and save him from dying in the streets was standing right in front of him. And it was Varian's Mom! His own best friend's mother! It was almost to much for him to take or understand. Ulla noticed he was clearly in shock. She smiled at him lovingly and she gently cupped Hugo's face in her hands.

"Shhh. It's okay. You're alright." she said softly.

Her touch felt so gentle. And motherly. It wasn't like anything Hugo had ever experienced. Certainly not with Donella. "Look at you. All grown up like Varian." said Ulla. "Who's a Little Human now, huh?" Finally the dam burst and tears came flowing from Hugo's eyes. Ulla pressed her forehead against his. "I knew you special." she said. Hugo flung his arms around her crying and he crumbled to his knees. Ulla went down with him and continued hugging him. She rubbed his back gently. Hugo felt so safe and loved in her embrace. He never wanted to let go. Varian watched in stunned silence. A grin spread across his face. He quickly joined the hug.

"Group hug!" yelled Jacky excitedly! And he dragged Belle into the hug with him! Even Ruddigar and Cheese joined. Everyone seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time. They stayed there for a good long while. It felt so good to know they would never have to feel alone again.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

At the base of the mountain which houses the Demanitus Chamber, a small trap door opened and Varian poked his head out. He climbed out into the open air. Ruddigar was sitting on his shoulder. Varian squinted in the bright sunlight. It felt warm and comforting after being in such a drafty cold room. "Come on guys!" he said as he waved for the rest to come outside.

Hugo and Belle were next. Belle let out a sigh of relief. "Whew! Thank goodness to be out of the dark room!" she said.

"Wait for me guys!" shouted Jacky as he clambered out to join his friends.

"WOO HOO!" Yelled Ulla as she tore out of the chamber and into the sunlight! She completely ran past the kids, plopped down on the cool grass, and stared up at the sky. "Clouds! Wind! Sky! It's paradise! I am BACK baby!" she exclaimed! The kids laughed. Her enthusiasm, while valid, was quite amusing. They sat down next to her and looked out over the land. It was a beautiful view. Varian thought he could see Old Corona from there. Ulla took a deep breath of the fresh air, taking it all in. She put her arm around Varian and pulled him close. Varian instinctively nestled against her. He glanced at Hugo. He had bit of a solemn expression. His gaze seemed to be directed toward the road leading away from Corona.

"Hey mom? I'll be right back." Varian got up and sat down next to Hugo. Somehow, Varian knew what he was thinking. Ruddigar seemed to as well. He laid down next to Hugo. Hugo scratched the critter behind the ears absent-mindedly.

"You don't have to leave you know." said Varian. "You can stay with me."

Hugo looked at him. "Really?"

"Of course!"

"What about your parents?"

"You really think my mom doesn't want you around? She loves you." said Varian as he gave Hugo a playful nudge in the shoulder. "She's practically OUR mom!"

"And your dad?"

"He'll love you."

Hugo hugged his knees unsurely. "I don't know." he said quietly.

"What's going on boys?" said Ulla as she walked up to them.

"Mom? Can Hugo stay with us?" asked Varian.

"Well, if his parents don't mind." Ulla said with a smile.

"I... actually don't have any." said Hugo.

"You don't?" said Ulla in surprise.

"Um. No."

Ulla sat down in front of Hugo. "Don't you have an family or a guardian? Surely you've been adopted by now?"

"No. I'm still an orphan. I mean I did get kinda adopted... But that didn't go well." He subconsciously rubbed one of the scars on his wrist. "But yeah, I don't have a home to go back to."

"Oh well we can't have that! You're coming home with me and Varian!" said Ulla as she took his hands in hers. "Me and my husband will take good care of you."

"You... Really want to do that?" asked Hugo.

"Definitely! Your coming home with us honey!"

"But what about Belle and Jacky?" he asked. "I can't leave them alone."

"We're not going anywhere." said Belle as she and Jacky walked over.

"Yeah dude! We're gonna find places to stay in Corona!" said Jacky. "We won't be far."

"So what do you say Hugo?" said Varian. Everyone looked to Hugo for his answer. Hugo was a bit taken aback. Everything was happening so fast! Ulla noticed the boy was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She thought about how nervous she felt when she was leaving the library. He must feel similar. She rubbed his hands comfortingly.

"It's okay to feel nervous about heading into a new situation." she said. "Especially if the last one was scary. If anyone knows about that, it's me." Hugo smiled a little. "And maybe even though you know the new situation is safe, you still feel scared because it also feels unfamiliar." Hugo nodded. "But I promise you will be okay." She continued. "We all got you. Okay?" Hugo looked into her eyes. Maybe things really would be okay. It couldn't possibly be like his life in Bayangor. Nothing could be that bad. And his friends would be there too. He took a deep breath and decided to take the leap.

"Okay. I'll go." he said.

"Yes!" exclaimed Varian happily! Varian tackled Hugo in a hug! "Easy Varian!" laughed Hugo. "You're crushing my ribs!'

"Aw man! This is great!" said Jacky as he jumped to his feet! "We're all gonna be together and we'll never have to worry about crazy mad scientist ladies ever again!"

"Mad scientist ladies? What mad scientist ladies?" questioned Ulla.

"AH! Nothing!" said Varian while Hugo frantically motioned for Jacky to be quiet. Varian sighed. "We'll tell you later."

"Yeah. Later." Hugo mumbled.

"Come on." said Varian as the group stood up. "Let's go home."

"Yes! I can't wait to see Quirin again!" Ulla exclaimed. "So kids, tell me about your adventures. I want to hear everything!" The kids each took turns telling exciting moments from their adventures as they began down the base of the mountain, toward home. It may have been the end of their adventure, but their journey's just begun.

The End

[mostlymalena]

June 24th 2024 12:40pm

About 20 mins till my meeting so I'll write a little!!

JO AND I GOT THE HOUSE!!

The most magical downtown house with a million plants, a wrap around porch, all hardwood floors, a sunroom, and a giant backyard with a 100 year old magnolia tree growing in it.

I am so blessed its believable.

I had of course some wild thought to flesh out in these pixels but (of course) it has been forgotten in my pillowcase as I slept last night.

Not to worry readers, I per usual, have plenty to discuss with you.

Something I explained to my wonderful Gracie last night:

So after my heart wrenching breakup I was of course single for a while, slept around for a while, alone again, and was kinda doing that off and on shit for a bit. I would see someone and the minute they wanted to know something more than my warm mouth and midnight bed I would break it off (clean) and think of them not a second longer.

My therapist has lovingly let me know that is just a silly protection method. I agree of course. Anyways Grace comes in like an entire hive of honey and sticks herself in all my cracks of life.

This has made me SO uncomfortable. Like crawling out of my skin, gouging out my eyes, hiding in my bed, uncomfortable.

She is doing everything right and more. I never have to asks for anything, like reassurance or help with O or around the house. She plans activities, dates, brings me weekly flowers.

She asked to set a small vase near Emma's ashes and urn so she can cut one of the weekly flowers and have it near emma because "She lives in the house too." Crying in the coffee shop writing that because who is she???

Coming from Paul who broke up with me a week after emma killed herself to Grace who creates a space just for me and Emma. It's new territory for sure.

I have realized Ive been feeling bitter and irritated the past week or two and I have not been able to pinpoint it until I talked it through with G last night.

Grace loves me so fully and EASILY. It comes so easily to her it is not even a second thought. I realized this and it made me sad because I also realized that what I ask for was never a lot and was never hard to provide. What I begged for, for two years, Grace provided instantly without me asking. I felt so angry because I realized it isnt hard. Why was I not good enough for something so bare minimum and so easy..? It hard to get used to. I feel unworthy of it all.

[malleux]

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE

spell [3]. | corpse husband

part one ; part two

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff

-> Warnings: Anxiety, Self Doubt, Cursing, Hate Comments

-> A/N: here’s the long awaited part three! it’s definitely longer than the last chapters, but genuinely thank you all for 300 followers in literally 4 days lol. also, i wrote this under the small assumption that corpse’s main love language is physical touch!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

You didn’t realize that it was possible to shake so much. You were practically panicking- just from standing in front of an apartment door, ready to knock and meet the man who changed your life.

You’d woken up this morning bright and early. The Facetime call was still on with Corpse and small snores could be heard from his line. You had prayed that he’d gotten at least more than an hour, but doubted it as you hung up and sent a message about when you’d be leaving.

Corpse soon messaged back saying that he was awake as you finally finished packing- you’d stopped last night when he called- so you got in your car and drove the two hours it took to get to San Diego.

So now you stood in front of his apartment, practically trembling. Why you were so anxious, you didn’t know. You’d been talking to him for how long now? And it was never awkward.

But things could easily change when you met him in real life, couldn’t they?

You shook those thoughts out of your head and mustered up enough courage to knock on Corpse’s door, already becoming out of breath from such a simple gesture.

A crash sounded from in the apartment, followed by a small ‘fuck’ that made your heart flip. Soon after, the door opened and you looked up, finally coming eye to eye with him. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face, mirroring his own as he smiled at you as well.

“Hi.” You internally smacked yourself for not saying more, but that’s truly all that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Hey. You’re uh- you’re so much prettier in real life.” Corpse responded, looking nearly everywhere but you.

You flushed. “And you’re super attractive, but I already suspected that.”

You could tell he was taken aback by your compliment because he suddenly became even more shy, silently moving out of the doorway and gesturing for you to enter.

“I’m going to film again with everyone in a few minutes, but first I can show you my bedroom so you can make yourself comfortable.” Corpse said after he closed the door. “You can sleep in there and I’ll stay on the couch-“

“Absolutely not.” You interjected, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“But you’re the guest and I’m not about to let you sleep on my couch.”

“And you’re the owner of this apartment and I’m not going to take over your space like that. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Corpse groaned and reached his arm out towards you. You thought he was going to just shove your shoulder away for being stubborn, but instead he wrapped his arm completely around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as a hug. You grinned and turned, giving him a full hug and resting your cheek against his chest as his chin laid on your head.

“I’m for real glad you came to visit.” He murmured into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go. “Do you wanna stream with me tonight or just chill and watch?”

꧁꧂

“Corpse is streaming Among Us again with Sean, Felix, Rae, Sykkuno, Dave, and Leslie!”

“Where’s Y/N? I miss #CorpseY/N !!”

Twitter was truly your go-to platform when you were bored. You’d been scrolling on it for about thirty minutes now, laying on a small couch that Corpse had in his gaming room.

The man himself was sitting across the room at his desk, talking loudly as he defended himself from being accused as Imposter.

You continued to scroll, feeling a little anxious that somehow Corpse just magically knew that you were looking through your ship tag with him. These were your only worried thoughts until you went past your first… unsavory comment of the day.

“Y/N isn’t playing with them again today. Maybe she finally got the hint that they don’t want her around.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored it, but couldn’t help the rather loud sigh that escaped your lips.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to mute the mic for a second. Everything’s good, don’t worry.” Corpse said into his mic before turning around and facing you. “Is everything okay?”

Turning the phone off and laying it on your chest, you contemplated telling Corpse the truth. He’d just worry about you and you didn’t want that. But he already was worried about you- he’d muted Among Us just to check on you.

“Why are people so mean to others?”

Corpse studied you for a minute before patting his lap. “Come here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused. Now come here.”

You stood up and cautiously walked towards the man, who sat before you expectantly. He playfully rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his lap sideways. Your back rested against one arm of his gaming chair while your legs draped across the other.

Corpse had one arm reaching around your back, placing his fingers on the keyboard while the other rested on top of your knees, grabbing the computer mouse. You laid your head on Corpse’s shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck.

“It’s in that shipping hashtag, isn’t it? I swear- whoever says that shit about you is dead wrong. Tell me if it gets worse, I’ll put them back in their fucking place. Nobody gets to decide who I’m with or who’s worthy of me.”

You only nodded and closed your eyes, breathing in Corpse’s cologne as he unmuted his mic once more to defend his honor, much like he was ready to defend you.

꧁꧂

Your body ached.

As you had argued your first day with Corpse, you’d been sleeping on his couch for four days now. The first night was okay- his couch was rather comfortable, but it didn’t compare to a bed. Now, your back, shoulders, and neck were killing you.

Every day, 7am would roll around and you would wake up, the soreness preventing you from sleeping in longer.

Usually, you would go into Corpse’s room and talk to him as he messed around on his laptop while sitting in his bed, but today when you entered, he was finally sleeping. It was the first time you’d seen him rest since you’d arrived and you quietly left, not wanting to disturb his much-needed sleep.

You made your way to his small kitchen, pulling out the few groceries that he had in his refrigerator to make breakfast.

Corpse often ate fast foods and takeout, and apologized earlier in the week for not having much to eat. You reassured him that it was okay- that him just letting you visit was enough- and now, you were determined to make it up to him with the best breakfast in bed ever.

You were halfway through making breakfast when the soft thump of feet echoed in the doorway before a chin planted itself on your shoulder.

“Whatcha cookin?” You practically shuddered at Corpse’s morning voice before suddenly gasping and shoving him out of the kitchen.

“No! No!” You pushed him back to his room, “Stay! Go back to bed, now!”

Right as you turned to go back to the kitchen, Corpse caught your wrist and pulled you down onto the bed with him. You practically squealed as you fell, making him laugh.

“Why? What’s going on?” He turned to face you with a teasing smile.

“I was making you breakfast in bed! I was gonna surprise you when you woke up, but you ruined it.” You pouted.

“Aw, poor baby.” His hand reached up and brushed a stray hair out of your face before he traced down your jawline, reaching your chin and using his finger to tilt it up. “I think I’ve got a better surprise, though.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but before you could say anything his lips were on yours. Your heart stopped, but you almost immediately melted into his kiss, bringing your own hand up to cup his cheek while his moved to rest on your waist.

Corpse soon propped himself up on his elbow, never once leaving your lips- just deepening the kiss. He smiled and gave you a few more pecks before finally pulling away and looking at you in adoration.

“Those little hate comments? They’re wrong. If anything, I don’t deserve you. You’ve still got me under a little spell and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Corpse, you deserve the world and I’d be honored to be the one to give it to you.”

“God, you’re perfect for me.”

You couldn’t say anything else. You could only lay beneath him, admiring the man who was now yours. Corpse leaned down again to capture you in another kiss, but you suddenly jerked away before you could lose yourself again.

“Shit, the pancakes!”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

spell taglist: @tanchosanke @paoisabelll @save-the-sky @yukinesekki98 @stephn-prkr @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @lustypielita @bi-andready-tocry @coruscaret

corpse taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions @corbins-kinda-smart @harryhighkey @sokkaspaintings @saturn2000 @a-dot-dev @bean04 @helena-way07 @tooturntashbash @locallolli @simonsbluee @redperson58 @reddeserths @annshit @corpsie-bby @emperor-pizza @vacaprincess @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @rolls-and-rolex @supernovavision @bestgirlkonan @hughugh20 @theolwebshooter @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @shinyyoonie @milybones @propertyofdindjarin @qatiee @sunshineandrainyflowers @dontlookatmeidk @kxsmicsmain @corpsesgirl @witchybarb

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[shotorozu]

you like their hands

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, monoma neito (2/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk left unmentioned

post type : headcanons + small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice] not even nsfw

note(s) : i was gonna put denki in this but i had a hard time thinking about what kinda hands he’d have, so i’m putting him in the next post

»»————-　♡　————-««

shinsou hitoshi

his hands are big, and his fingers are quite thick.

really likes wearing rings and bracelets, but he usually doesn’t wear them when he’s working (i’d say that bc wearing jewelry while doing physical activity HURTS)

regarding texture, his hands were initially soft— but due to transferring in the hero course, they roughened up over time

he’ll use hand cream if you want, but he doesn’t go the extra mile. and his nails are trimmed at all times. painting his nails a black color would be great once in a while.

lol i forgot to mention nails in the last post

he notices right away that you like his hands when he catches you staring at them when he’s cracking his knuckles

like.. people have said that his hands are nice, but he doesn’t really say much about them bc they’re not you

scenario

a crack sound is briefly heard in the rather silent room. the scrolling on your phone halts, and your eyes follow the sound of the crack.

ah, he’s cracking his knuckles. you think to yourself, and you’re left just simply admiring the way he applies pressure on a knuckle. who knew that his rather— large hand would look appealing, even while cracking his knuckles.

you snap out of your observation, but instead of just simply going back to whatever you were doing, you’re met with lilac eyes. “you were staring again.”

your cheeks heat up, and you opt to just turn your head to the opposite direction. “sorry,” you apologize. however— that’s not what hitoshi was looking for apparantly.

“if you like my hands alot,” he scoots next to you, hands sliding up and down your arms— his firm grip practically making the pre existing butterflies in your stomach act up again. “then you should’ve said so, kitty.”

is he conscious of his actions? hm. you could say that

he’ll purposely play with his capture tool right in front of you— the material wrapping around his hand. and he can only laugh when you immediately get absorbed into it

the back of his hand will brush against your cheek. then, when he comes in to kiss you, he’ll cup your cheek— kissing you with his other hand resting at your nape

under the table, his hand will start to slide against yours, interlocking hands with you. he’ll act like nothing is happening, but on the inside— he’s taking in your reaction

a little spicy, but when he wants you to look at him— he’ll do that thing where his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, as it almost dips right into your mouth

if he feels a little extra, his hand will also be tugging on your hair (if you’re fine with that. otherwise, he’s sticking to the one above)

oh and he also does that thing where he rests his hand on your neck, thick fingers squeezing your throat lightly.

overall— THIS MAN omg, he’ll entertain your interest in his hand nicely, just for you. and every single thing he does is memorable

kirishima eijirou

his hands are quite normal regarding size, they are almost always veiny, a lot more than bakugou’s actually. i think at some point he was concerned about them

his hands are rather flushed in color, but that’s because of his quirk. his fingers have a few tiny scars here and there,

he occasionally has pen marks on his wrists due to bad penmanship, and his nails.. don’t look the best, but they’re not the worst it’s bc of his quirk

the palms of his hands are ridden with callouses. but he wears them with pride because it’s the pure evidence of his hard work with his training.

but he starts to get worried about them when he goes to hold your hand.

you always had a thing for kirishima’s hands, but you just never had the chance to tell him that. i guess asking you did it for him

scenario

did you even realize how hard you were staring at his hands right now? it happened every single time he enlaced his arms around you, his hands resting at the sides of your arms

at first, he thought it might’ve been because his hands are too rough, or you might’ve been in discomfort— because maybe, just maybe, he accidentally activated his quirk?

the fact that he can’t exactly tell what it is worried him, maybe he should just ask you.

but his worry washed off when you told him upfront that you ‘liked his hands’

“wait so.. you’re staring at my hands because you like them?” kirishima wants to confirm your words, and— so casually, by the way— nod in agreement.

tracing the veins on his hands, you elaborate “your hands are really nice, i can tell how hard you must’ve worked.” pressing your smaller hand against his, you smile.

eijirou takes a moment to process it, but it’s surprisingly quick. “oh t-thanks!” he sheepishly took the compliment, a small blush sporting on his cheeks. “i’m glad it wasn’t because you thought they were weird.”

kirishima unintentionally feeds your interest with his hands. like sometimes.. he’s just not aware of it, but yes— he is feeding your interest well

will always make you compare hand sizes with him, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face when your palms touch

if you allow him, he’ll fix your hair for you. doesn’t matter what hair type you have, he’ll do LOTS of research to know how to style it

those hands are magical

if you get a papercut, or a wound from cooking— he’ll patch you up, then he’ll press a kiss on the bandaid.

he’ll do this thing where he’ll squeeze your sides when you pull in for a hug. but if you’re not okay with that, he’ll opt to just rubbing your back with his hand— rocking you softly as he hugs you

a little spicy, but his hands do wander a lot. you might need to even hold them in place to make sure they don’t go too wild

in addition to that, he’ll just SLIGHTLY, activate his quirk to make sure you’re conscious of his touch. his finger tips gliding against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

but of course, he’s careful. he doesn’t activate it to the point it causes scratch marks, nor will his actions draw blood. he doesn’t wanna do that

in short— kirishima’s a little clueless at first. he wouldn’t really tease you in public, but he’s surprisingly attentive to your interest.

monoma neito

his hands are on the tipping edge of slightly above average. he doesn’t have a lot of veins on his hands, but they do pop out depending on what quirk he’s using

monoma’s hands are pretty spotless of any scars (from cuts, abrasions, etc.) because he gets REALLY annoyed with wounds pretty easily

to the point he’d want to attend to the wound immediately, he doesn’t let them sit— it’s just a personal preference

his nails are at the perfect length. not too long and not too short to the point it hurts, you don’t know how he does it.

wears watches on his wrists, and not the digital type— he sorta acts like he can read it easily, but it takes him a few seconds to even get to know the time

you know this because kendo snitched on him and told you LOL

you secretly hate yourself for this, but you really like his hands because of how he takes care of them. you’d never tell monoma even though you’re dating him

scenario

you’re unsure of yourself on how your boyfriend— monoma, found out about your fascination with his hands. it was supposed to be a secret for the rest of your life, and you only remember talking about it once out loud

which you assumed was a close call, considering that you thought he didn’t hear it at all— but he did.

“so i heard you like my hands, huh Y/N?” monoma’s teasing tone does not aid the situation. your cheeks heat up with embarassment, and you can’t get yourself to answer his question— without sounding like a fool anyway.

you fake annoyance, “where’d that come from?” you ask, and monoma doesn’t seem to want to switch the topic

“i’m asking you a question, dear Y/N— i heard you like my hands,” his tone would’ve sounded condescending to any other person, but you can tell that he’s either genuinely curious

or just teasing you, because that’s how he is.

to aid his question, he brushes his fingers along your neck— near your pulse. you jolt, stunned by the sudden action— heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“see,” monoma presses his hand against your chest, where your heart is palpitating, grinning in a way that’s teasing you “it’s true, isn’t it? sweet Y/N has a thing for my hands, hm?”

you furrow your eyebrows, and flick his forehead— and he hisses in reaction, “fine then, i do like your hands.” you finally give in, admitting final defeat.

ever since then, you haven’t heard the end of it

definitely that person that’ll just randomly bring it up to you, no matter what hour of the day it is.

“oh Y/N, you were totally fawning over my hands earlier—”

“i will castrate you.”

you know he means well most of the time, but sometimes he just loves teasing the heck out of you.

but that doesn’t mean he neglects your obvious interest in his hands.

he’ll compliment you, he’s a snarky person in general— but to you, he’s totally smooth with it.

slides his hand from your forearm to your hands, only to bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your hand

squeezes your hand everytime he sees you, it’s kind of a nonverbal greeting at this point

similar to kirishima, he likes comparing hand sizes— teasing you about the size difference (even if it’s not even a big of a difference, he’ll take that chance.)

does this thing where he rubs his thumb against his palm. does it a lot when he’s concentrated about something, or just out of the blue

a little spicy, but he’ll make you tell him what you like about his hands, and what you like about the things he does with those hands of his. if that makes sense

he wants all of the details, doesn’t care if it’s mundane, or things he does when he’s feeling a certain way.

he wants to know, because as soon as you’re done with your spewl, he’ll do exactly what you like, teasing you while he’s at it. and so he can start incorporating those habits whenever he’s around you.

totally someone that’ll make you suck on those fingers. oh, but he’ll purposely get some dessert on them— asking you to suck them off

“good grief, i got some dessert on my fingers again. Y/N, come suck them off”

sometimes he’s serious, sometimes he’s just teasing.

overall— it’s pretty adventurous. he starts to act on it as soon as the revelation is revealed to him.

but i’d say he does just fine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or use my work for audio readings without my consent :))

[teasty]

hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● warnings: chan acts like a dick but he really isn't | illegal gambling/street racing | established relationship | angry sex | (of course) car sex | hair pulling | degradation + praise | dom!chan, sub!reader | fighting :( | semi - public sex | profanity | suggestive dialogue | reader slaps chan once :( | unprotected sex (please be safe!) | choking | kind of a quickie???? | super happy ending because i'm sappy like that

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren��t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight.  This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.”  he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[drakenology]

bestie your little reader x daddy bakugou was immaculate 😚🤌🏻✨

i don't know if your requests are open, but if they are could i request a kenma daddy & little reader?

i have a headcanon that he was like,, kinda "put down" by people because he was a bit scrawny and quiet, so now he's like "i'll show em" and boom,, daddy

if you don't want to that's okay!! or if you'd like to save it for later that's alright as well💖 i hope you're having a good day! stay hydrated and don't forget to eat a good meal!!🤠

HNNNN!!!! how’d you know about my kenma sweet spot???

now i dead ass said I wasn’t gonna write today to give myself a break butt FUCK THAT

the world needs this ok??? also thank you for your request and hope you’re having a great day too. now time to lace up my boots, drink sum iced coffee and run this mf! hope you enjoy ;). I cannon Kenma being an absolute sex god okay? Mean Dom all the way! 

daddy! - daddy!kenma x little!reader

warnings: smut!, daddy kink, little!reader, daddy!kenma, butt plug, overstim?, dacryphilia (idk if i spelled that right...), pussy sounds, yep.

Kenma at first glance is a frail and meek guy. He was known mostly by everyone - including you at first- as a complete introvert who stayed out of the way most of the time, conversations never going as far as hi and bye. But with that, he always felt the need to prove himself as someone who isn’t so meek and quiet. He’ll prove that people shouldn’t underestimate him. So when you started dating him, you were absolutely shocked by his many kinks and insatiable desires. Kenma was the kind of dom many littles dreamed of. He was sweet and a very generous gift giver. 

When you’re the good little girl you were so inclined to be he’d reward you so well; soft kisses and new stuffies & toys to add to your collection to spoil you. He was excited to learn you liked being spoiled and treated like a fragile little girl. So he of course had to introduce his new title as our daddy in style. 

He’d start by leaving noticeable bruises all over your body. Conveniently placed hickies where his teammates could see, since he always demands you dress in practically nothing so everyone can ogle at his gorgeous baby. Short skirts, tops that left nothing to the imagination, thigh high socks; the works. That and a numerous amount of rules were set in place for you to follow behind closed doors; ask permission, say please, use your words. Something in Kenma loved telling you what to do and having you beg and bend at his every whim since he was often so looked over. He loves that you practically rush at the chance to please him and obey him. 

Oh but when you disobey?

He’s more than willing to put you back into your place. 

“What have I told you about little girls who don’t listen, princess? They get..?” Kenma lures you to finish his sentence, wanting to ensure you understand that you’re in trouble. He takes a leather belt- the first blunt object he could get his hands on to spank you into next week- and slides the material over your plump ass. 

“P-Punished..” You answer softly, burying your face into the plush belly of your favorite stuffie. Kenma earns your correct answer with a harsh strike of his belt, your back arching upwards in pain as you sob out an apology. 

“Too late for that princess. Whine all you want. It’ll only make your punishment worse.”  Kenma grunts, hitting the soft flesh of your ass and smoothing the sting over with his hands. He nudges his thumb over the pretty jewel that twinkled in the light, a cute butt plug he got for you to wear from time to time. He pushed it in a bit further, a desperate plea leaving your lips as he smacks your ass again with the thick leather belt. 

“Don’t like it when I punish you, baby?” Kenma asks condescendingly, already knowing the true answer when you mutter out a weak “no”. “Oh, but I think you do, princess. Why else would you act out so much today? You’ve clearly forgotten your place. Allow me to remind you.” 

Suddenly, his slender fingers are sliding against your already slick folds, Kenma sucking his teeth at the wetness of his fingers once he slides them easily inside. “Aww, look how sloppy my little cunt is. And you told me you didn’t like being punished. What a little liar you are.” as his nimble digits hook against your spongey spots, obscene noises filling the room as you cry out for him. Unbeknownst to you, he was going to overstimulate your pretty pussy until you saw stars, until you were begging him for a break. He growls as his hands work their magic on your puffy cunt, the other hand smacking your ass harshly as he brings you to your first blinding orgasm of the night, your greedy walls tightening around his fingers. 

“Hmm. You know what to say, princess.” he mutters once he notices your frantic sentences. 

“C-Can I please cum daddy? P-Please? I’ll be your good girl, daddy I promise jus’ please lemme cu-cum.” You babble, your eyes welling in tears as your toes curl up tightly. Kenma smirks as he burns holes into the back of your head with his eyes, not being able to resist teasing you a bit. 

“You promise, baby?” Kenma says, fingers moving faster as your moans become more desperate and high pitched.

“Yes! Daddy please yes! I-I promise! I p-promise!” You whine, unable to hold back any longer. Kenma tuts and grants you permission, not so mean that he can’t grant his pretty baby the right to cum for him. And so you do, your juices running down his fingers as you twitch and drool all over your teddy bear. 

“One down three more to go, pretty baby. You ready for daddy?” Kenma soothes, a hard cock now resting on your sore ass cheek as his hand makes way into your hair to yank it. You gasp, nodding as you look up at him with tear stained eyes. Before you can speak, his dick is already inside you starting off at a brutal pace. You’re a hiccuping mess, pleading for more as you clench around him already, extremely sensitive and needy. Kenma’s animalistic grunts are echoing past your ears, hand wrapped around your neck to choke you. You gasp, eyes rolling back as his cock hit your cervix over and over again; the white hot pleasure becoming all too much for you to take. 

“Daddyyy!” You scream, Kenma taking that wail as a compliment as he pushed his thumb against your butt plug, wanting yet another volley of your sweet juices to coat his cock. 

“C’mon, princess don’t be selfish. Gimme another..” 

[celeste-clearwater-06]

Hi! Could I please request headcanons with the Durins, Bofur, Dwalin, Legolas, Elrond and anyone you'd like to add (or take out, sorry if that's too many characters) with a reader that tics? Like sometimes, random sounds slip out of them and they repeat them periodically for like a minute or so? Or sometimes hand movements or little gestures? I feel kinda embarassed of mine, so it would really help me. Thank you (also I read the nail polish headcanons and I loved them, you're amazing!)!

Absolutely!! And don't ever feel embarrassed! You are amazing, beautiful and perfect just the way you are!! Hope this meets up to your expectations! I'm not very familiar with tics and such, (I did a bit of research) so let me know how I did with the writing!

Tics (Thorin's Company x reader)

Thorin

At first, our king under the mountain doesn't know what to think

Surely he didn't hear you squeak...

To be honest, he thought you were doing it to annoy him, since your first interaction, you might have gotten off on the wrong foot 😅

And it wasn't the easiest to explain to Thorin, knowing he can be a tad thick-headed sometimes

It took a while to help him comprehend and had never seen it in your light

He understands now though, and has the most patience you have ever seen

He's never been more understanding to one person, even with his stubborn and sometimes grumpy demeanor

Thorin knows you can't help it, which is why he's instantly overprotective of you

If anyone dares make one comment, he's on their case like CRAZY

"Y/N can not help it, gilthock!"

"If you improperly console with her/him/them again, you'll face the wrath of my kin."

When the company was being chased down by Beorn, your tics were triggered and the great skin-changer could hear you from inside, clawing at the door with fury

You felt terrible, not able to contain the short exclamations and noises slipping from your mouth

But Thorin sent an icy glare to anyone who tried to hush you or tell you to keep it down

He's constantly reminding you that it's not your fault, and has become like a fatherly figure to you... Or perhaps, something more 😉

Fili and Kili

Unsurprisingly, both are also very confused little princes

Fili seems to have a bit more understanding of the seriousness of the situation, or at least maturity

(He is next in line to be king after all)

It took a while for them to adjust, since they'd never met anyone with tics before

One night, as you all sat down by the fire, the company grew a bit rowdy, which became stressful for our poor Y/N

Your tics were triggered easily by then with short yelps, and lines of curses that even made bofur blush

Ofc, you couldn't control it, but since the company had little idea of what was going on

the two brothers were quick to rush to your aid, rubbing a hand on your back as you let out a frustrated groan

"What's wrong with her, Oin?"

"I'm not sure. Is it a curse?"

"Probably dark magic!" Dori gasped

You just shook your head and managed to explain your predicament through tics that annoyed the absolute shit out of you

and embarrassed you as well >:(

After that, the princes were stuck to you like flies to honey

They would always ride their ponies by yours, offer to carry your bags, spend all day cheering you up

And more often than not, you would become less stressed and the thought of your tics would float away in the wind 😌✨

Hell, they even stood up to their own uncle after he continued to press some stressful questions about your unfortunate condition

Even if Fili and Kili are both very aware of the randomness of your outbursts, they still treat you as a normal part of the company

They'd hate for you to feel "out-of-place" as Kili put it, in their traveling party

You are so important to them both, and they'd never let you get hurt

Bofur

Meet Mr. Comedic relief

Whenever Bofur had first met you, he giggled at your little tics

Of course, he'd never meant to make you feel bad, he just thought they were absolutely adorable

Sometimes he playfully teased you about it, and that certainly didn't make you feel better

One night, he had gotten the others in the company to join him in his seemingly harmless jesting,

You just forced out laughter, hoping to convince them that you too, thought it hilarious

But after everyone had fallen asleep by the dying fire, your quiet sobs and tics were what stirred bofur

He came over and asked what was wrong, apparent worry shining in his deep brown eyes

So, reluctantly, you explained why you had little outbursts

Bofur felt awful

"Oh...oh. Oh I'm so sorry lass/laddie/leddie! I never meant any harm!"

He wrapped his huge arms around you in a big bear hug

Bofur never wanted to make anyone feel bad about themselves, especially you (his favorite member of the company 🥺)

"It's okay Bo. It's not your fault that they happen."

It takes a while for you to convince him he's not at fault, and once you do, he's never reluctant to approach you and spark up a silly conversation 😊

He has THE BEST stories

Is very good at keeping your thoughts away from your tics and cheering you up during stressful or upsetting situations

You call him "Bofur-Bear" 🥺

And he adores you so much

He doesn't really know how to react when you have ongoing outbursts, that go on for a minute or two

So he makes really corny jokes and stupidly hilarious innuendos that extract giggles from you while your having an episode

He will never let you go 🥴👉👈

Dwalin

(This Gif is so GOD DAMN FUNNY 💀)

Dwalin is, in some ways, like Thorin

Except 10x more grumpy 🙄

That's okay though, because we still love him 🥰

SUPER confused

At first, he was kinda rude :/

Said it was "disturbing to his duties"

tHAT HURT-

But one night, in the quiet of Rivendell, after everyone else had fallen asleep, you walked around the kingdom to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the elvish land

Dwalin had followed you, and when he called your name, you jumped in surprise, and it sparked a string of swearing

His eyes widened in shock in first, and then some incredible happened

He smiled :)

Just a tiny little grin, that was hardly noticeable under his thick mustache, but a smile nonetheless

"I didn't know ya' could use yer mouth like that."

You grumbled and turned back to the balcony, trying to rid yourself of his company

Regardless, he took heavy steps next to you, and slapped a thick hand against your back, as a friendly gesture

"Why are being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked incredulously

Dwalin sighed, but before he could answer, you yelled and slapped your hands against the marble railing

"I hadn't meant ta upset ya' that much."

You just shook your head, and proceeded to describe to him what was really going on

After that, Dwalin was silent, but gave a quick nod

He still needed time to really let the information seep through his thick head

You thought you had scared him off at first, but as your journey continued on, Dwalin actually grew closer than before

Whenever an enemy was nearby, he would look for you first, and place you behind h, out of harms way

Extra dinner? Dwalin made sure you were the first to get second portions, despite your humble protests

He gets teased by the rest of the company, and though he'll never openly admit it, he's grown very fond of you 🥴

He's not really the best at picking up on your social cues, like if he's being way overprotective

Though he tries his best, he also won't can't treat you like a regular person, more like someone who's physically injured

"Come on, Y/N let me carry ya'"

"Dwalin, seriously, I'm fine, I know how to walk-"

*picks you up anyways*

Overall, very sweet, just a bit excessive sometimes 😅❤

I just decided to stick with these few characters if you don't mind, since I have a lot of other requests to fill out, but I hope these are okay!! Thank you for your request, and I hope these were accurate enough 😅🥰

You're amazing, beautiful and never feel ashamed or embarrassed for something you can't control!! Stay strong!! ❤

[glattandblade]

Fluff Alphabet with C!Technoblade

By Author Glatt

hi! so heres a filler inbetween fics, im currently writing 3 and im trying to take my time, so in the mean time i whipped up this, im also posting an nsfw one later :)

Warnings: none

Hc Template by: @ magical-warlock 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Techno usually likes to stay inside, cuddling you and bonding over books you read, sometimes you guys go adventuring together but techno is pretty protective

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Techno could care less about looks, but he usually prefers his s/o abit heavier since it reminds him of aphrodite!

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Techno would be great at this, having known how it feels. He’d learn what you need, trying not to overwhelm you and just wrap you in a blanket and hand you water/whatever you need and hold you.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Techno doesn't really have a picture in mind, but he does know he will be with his s/o forever, he's dedicated to you, he’s content how it is now, so he’ll do whatever you want

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dominant! Definitely dominant.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It would take a lot to piss off techno, considering he’s head over heels with you, it would take a bit to forgive you.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Very grateful! Techno is grateful for every day with you, and he thanks the gods they gifted him with you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Techno likes to be fairly honest about everything, even the voices, but he refuses to reshare anything from battles or certain things the voices say, they don't want to make his s/o uncomfortable or anything.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Techno definitely had his life lit up, he was getting rather lonely alone in his cottage, but he looked forward to coming home from battles.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Techno wouldn't get jealous too easily, he knows you love him as much as he does, although he does have times he gets jealous. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

I dont think techno would be too good at kissing at first, his first kiss would be with you, very clumsy but he’d learn quick and get good at it.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Oh god- it was awkward.  Techno has never done this before, what was the proper way? He asked philza’s opinion, and he ended up on your doorstep with a gold bracelet, and asked to court you.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Techno would definitely marry you, i feel he’d propose somewhere you were the most happy (like if you liked going adventuring to x) the marriage would be great, although he was always worried about losing you.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Techno would start calling the reader Porkchop! It kinda stuck, i think it would come from phil! And also princess, hes HUGE on princess/prince, because you are one in his eyes!

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Its not obvious at all, people were shocked when it came out you were dating, he never really talked about you and you never did PDA, he likes to keep it in private.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Techno prefers not to do PDA, but if asked he will confirm hes in a relationship with you, if you really wanted to he’d hold your hand in public.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s quite tall! So it makes for great cuddles, that and i feel like he would always have an instinct to trade, just like piglins. So when you got him gifts, he would give plenty of gifts back :)

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Techno wouldnt be that romantic at first, hes still getting the hang of it, but as time goes on he would be more romantic, he’d be rather creative.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course! Techno would reassure you and do everything in his power to help achieve your goals.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He’d be down to try out new things, but he prefers to keep to a certain routine

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows you pretty well, and he is empathetic but sometimes you get into fights bc hes a sarcastic asshole and he doesn't seem sarcastic and seems /srs

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It means so much to him. Man would be taken back to be executed if it meant your safety

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Techno gets embarrassed by it, but he loves when you scratch the back of his ears, it feels nice! If hes having a rather bad day, you guys will cuddle and you’ll just scratch his ears

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private? Fuck yes. Man is rather touchy

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Well, hes usually out killing, so killing (get it ig) he’d be kinda urked and you could tell lol

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Like stated, he’d sacrifice himself for you, he’s hell-bent on keeping you safe, since he's such a big target from everyone.

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