#tails definitely gives him a happy mother’s day card as a joke

[0vergrowngraveyard]

everyone wish sonic a happy mother’s day (he is the mom, the dad, and the picket fence)

[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.”

[dweetwise]

day 6: myths

prompt from: cocktober pairing: felix x ace notes: the merman au nobody asked for warnings: suggestive language, drowning mention, teeth mention word count: 1400

Ace is walking back to his hotel in the small hours of the morning, stumbling a little bit from having had one too many drinks over the course of the night. His pockets feel much emptier than before he hit the casino, but he tries not to let it bother him too much; surely, his luck will turn back around for this evening.

The sun is already starting to rise but the beach remains empty, the sun worshippers either safely tucked in their hotel beds or out partying in the nightlife that never seems to quiet down.

A glimmer in the corner of his eye catches Ace's attention, and he sees a man emerging from the stillness of the ocean.

The sun peeking over the horizon casts a golden glow to the man's smooth skin, and Ace watches, enraptured, as he runs a hand through his equally golden hair to smooth the wet locks out of his face.

And holy shit, what a face that is.

Ace engages in a split-second internal fight in what he thinks is his rational side trying once again to curb his impulsiveness.

Fuck it, he's going for a swim.

He approaches the man who doesn't seem to notice him, opting instead to observe the sunrise.

“Out for a morning swim, huh?” Ace asks when he's within earshot, the man flinching in surprise and turning around to face him.

God, that jawline is to die for, and his body—

“Mind if I join you?” he adds, quickly snapping his eyes back to the man’s face.

The handsome stranger regards him silently, and Ace tries not to fidget under the scrutiny.

“Be my guest,” the man says, and holy shit, even his voice is perfect, like silk caressing Ace's ears.

For some reason, despite the liquid courage still buzzing through his veins, Ace feels nervous when he starts removing his clothes. So he resorts to what he does best; run his mouth until something sticks.

“How's the water today?” he asks while shrugging out of his shirt, pretending like he swims even somewhat regularly.

“It's pleasant,” the man hums. “Not too warm, even on the surface.”

Ace thinks that's kind of a weird way to describe the temperature, not knowing anyone who would consider ocean water too warm under any circumstances. But he shoves the thought back, not wanting to be rude.

“Not sure you picked the right place to vacation, if oppressing heat isn’t your thing,” he jokes as he slides his pants down, idly wondering why anyone would visit the sunny beach destination if not to enjoy the climate.

“My family lives here,” the man says, and Ace didn’t expect an explanation but he’s happy the hottie seems content to go along with his small talk nonetheless.

“Ah, the age old answer to why we obediently keep doing shit we hate,” Ace jokes, and it might be too far, maybe the man is one of the few lucky souls who actually has a good relationship with his relatives.

Fortunately he doesn’t seem phased, giving a small one-shoulder shrug and letting Ace focus back on undressing himself.

And then he immediately runs into a problem; his boxers. On one hand, he's far from self-conscious and would rather go skinny dipping than soak the clothing and make the walk back to his hotel uncomfortable. But on the other, he doesn't want to freak out his companion, even though he thinks his intentions are pretty obvious at this point.

He leaves the garment on and takes the first step into the ocean.

And promptly hisses from the sting of cold shooting up his foot. Damn, “not warm” was an understatement!

If it wasn't for the gorgeous man watching him with a challenging little smirk, Ace would nope out of the water real quick and go back to his room to warm up with some whiskey from the mini bar.

But alas, dick prevails over brain, even as said dick isn't a fan of the shift in temperature and starts shriveling up as soon as the water comes up to his knees. In retrospect, the boxers were a great idea.

“How is the water?” the man echoes his earlier question, gauging his reaction and probably seeing right through him.

“It's v-very… refreshing!” Ace manages without his teeth clattering too much, his breath hitching when the water laps at his belly.

Goddamnit, the things he will do to get laid.

When he's finally, finally neck-deep and does a few experimental swim strokes, trying to see if he's going to die from hypothermia or not, his companion smiles in approval.

“Stubborn,” the man offers, and Ace can't help but bark out a laugh.

“You don't know the half of it.”

They swim in silence for a little while as Ace tries to get his body temperature up and his thoughts in order.

“Any particular reason for the swim?” Ace finally manages.

“Hmm,” the man hums in thought, and the simple sound is almost a melody of its own. “Just trying to clear my head.”

There are so many things that are clearly off with this dude, but Ace doesn't care. Besides, isn't he the weird one, seeing a random guy swimming in the middle of the night and deciding to join him?

…Not to mention flirt with him.

“I assume from questions like ‘am I too beautiful for this world’?” he says, and it's definitely not one of his best lines, but it makes his companion perk up in surprise. "By the way, the answer to that is ‘yes’,” he adds, because why the hell not?

And then the beautiful man gives him a beautiful little smile.

“What's your name?” the man asks and Ace almost fails to mask the surprise on his face. That line actually worked?

“Ace,” he says, already prepared to make the familiar speech of how his mother always knew he'd be destined for the cards.

But the man is swimming closer, and Ace suddenly can’t remember any of his well-rehearsed story when the stunning stranger gets right up in his personal space.

“Ace,” he's saying his name in that voice, and he looks even better up close, high cheekbones and shimmering blue eyes— “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Ace says lamely instead of coming up with a witty one-liner, too focused on the man clasping his hands in his own, and they're weirdly cold but incredibly soft and wow, there's really no question of where this is going anymore. He's probably going to ask to take him home—

“Do you know what a siren is?”

The question takes Ace completely off guard, snapping his gaze up from their intertwined hands to look at the man's face.

Just in time to see the cute blue eyes and small smile morph into slit pupils and a toothy smirk showing off fangs that are definitely not human.

He yelps as something wraps around his legs, slimy and scaly and holy fucking shit it's the man's tail, a fish tail, he's heard the legends but he never believed them, but he sure as hell does now, but it’s too late and he's going to drown—

Except he's not sinking. The siren has his legs and arms immobilized, but he's keeping them both afloat, even though he could just dive underwater with Ace and he'd be helpless to stop it.

And despite the weird pupils and sharp teeth, he's looking at Ace almost curiously, as if to gauge his reaction again.

So Ace does what he does second best; defuse with humor.

“At least take me out to dinner before you tie me up.”

Yup, that will definitely either get him killed or thrown back on the beach in disgust.

But the creature merely blinks in confusion, seeming to process the words, and then he huffs out a laugh.

“You're lucky you're cute," the man simply offers, and then he leans in and Ace idly wonders if he's going to eat him. But instead there's a quick, chilly peck on his cheek, followed by a splash of water as the creature releases him and dives back underwater.

And Ace just floats there, staring stupidly at the small ripples formed by the splash, slowly bringing his hand up to his cheek to where the cold lips were just a moment ago.

“Same time tomorrow?” he calls out across the water, a grin spreading over his face when he hears a melodious laugh echoing from somewhere between the waves.

[johnny-and-dora]

how sweet the taste of certainty

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

or, amy tells her parents the shining, golden reason why she can't marry teddy. (a missing scene of my royalty au)

read on ao3 / read the original  -

The morning after she asks Jake to marry her, Amy stops a couple steps short of the heavy dining room doors, heart in her mouth, feet suddenly and brutally rooted to the ground. The eloquent and respectful speech she spent all night planning has seemingly evaporated, leaving her less of a person and more a pile of nervous mush.

“Are you ready?” Rosa meets her gaze, her armour glinting in the summer morning sunshine.

“No.” Amy admits, smiling nervously, calculating the nearest escape route and how long she could survive in the forest based on her existing hunting and foraging skills. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Rosa considers it for a beat. “No. I think it’s crazy, and it might blow up in your face, but I think it’s a good thing. For everyone.”

She can’t help but feel reassured by her best friend’s trademark bluntness, smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair again almost compulsively. It’s just breakfast. A breakfast that may as well be taking place in the middle of a minefield, but still just breakfast. She can handle breakfast.

Amy takes a deep breath, nods at Rosa, and pushes the doors open.

She’s greeted by the tail-end of an idyllic Santiago family meal; her parents sit at the head of the table, looking stoic and serious as usual. Three of her brothers are also dotted around, Julian in the middle of shoving an entire croissant in his mouth as he waves at her. David is mercifully absent. Silver linings. She definitely doesn’t need the golden child around today.

“Amelia – good, we were starting to worry…” Her mom trails off, a weight behind her words that instantly sends an unpleasant lick of irritation down her spine. She clenches her fists, resisting the urge to tell her just how much she really needs to be worried about. Just how close she was to smuggling herself and Jake over the border last night and never looking back.

Amy knows this won’t work unless she’s calm, firm and collected – she needs this to go perfectly, the stakes for this particular conversation so far past the roof they’re practically up in the stratosphere (Jake’s words, not hers). So, instead of letting out all the latent anger kicking around in her chest, she takes a deep breath and smiles politely, the one usually reserved for dukes that condescendingly call her “sweetheart” and then drop their jaws when she can recite state law from memory.

“You guys said you wanted to see me?”

“Prince Theodore has been asking after you. He’s waiting at the West Wing gate.”

“Good. I need to talk to him.” Amy says, forcefully enough that her mother sharply raises an eyebrow, sucking all the air out of the room in the process. “I need to talk to you, too.”

Her mom and dad share a quick, loaded glance. Everyone falls quiet, Tony and Simon no longer squabbling over who gets the last bread roll, Julian letting a blob of jam fall on his shirt without noticing. All eyes are on her as Victor gestures for her to continue – ideally, she’d do this with as little of an audience as possible, but she confesses to Jake later that she couldn’t help but revel slightly in the drama of it all.

She’s Amy Santiago – she’s fluent in five languages, director of the royal art collection, ambassador for human rights and one of the best trade negotiators in the seven kingdoms. She is capable of anything. She can do this. She’d barely last a week in the forest anyway.

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“Amelia…” Her mother sighs disapprovingly – it drills into Amy’s soul, but she stands her ground, making peace with her portrait being one step further away from the mantel. Her father eyes her warily as if he was expecting this.

“No, I know. I know you think it’s what’s best for me. I know a marriage like that worked for you two, and I know that it would benefit the kingdom and that’s great. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love, and you can’t force me to.”

“Accepting his proposal may seem like a risk, but a one worth taking.” Her father says. “He’s good for you, Amy – his reputation, his influence, it could really help you build something. You two are perfectly matched.”

Amy chews her bottom lip, a nervous tic she just can’t shake, gathering her courage. “Maybe in a different situation, Teddy and I would have worked. I see what you see in him. But it’s more than just on principle. I physically can’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

“Because - “Amy says, voice shaking a little, but eyes alight, “-I’m engaged to someone else.”

And, well, there it is. Her whole life changed by a single sentence.

It has the intended effect, increased tenfold thanks to a truly magnificent spit take from Julian as he chokes on his orange juice. Her parents stare at her in stunned disbelief – a wide-eyed Tony pats Julian on the back as his coughing dissolves into laughter. Best of all though, Amy can see Rosa smiling wide and proud in the corner of her eye, and it’s all she needs to feel newly emboldened, heart thumping in a way that makes her feel powerful instead of helpless.

“My God, Amy. I thought I had it with the whole one-night-stand with the Prince of Arabia thing, but you officially just won most dramatic family announcement. Well played.” Julian laughs, uproarious and bright. She’s glad he’s here.

“I…don’t understand. You are…already engaged?” Her mother asks weakly.

“As of last night, yes.” Amy tries to remain as neutral and matter-of-fact as possible, but she can’t help softening at the fresh memory of Jake saying yes over and over again, punctuating each affirmation with a kiss as she laughed, buoyant and alive with unadulterated joy. It’s all still very surreal, especially considering she hasn’t slept since; but if it is all a dream, it’s one she never intends to wake up from.

“I don’t see a ring,” Julian says, a bright grin plastered on his face that Amy ever so slightly mirrors, unable to completely tamp down her happiness any longer. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ring?”

“There is, but he has it. I proposed to him.”

“Oh, of course you did.” Julian shakes his head in a perfect marriage of awe and amusement.

“How…what…who…” Tony stammers – having graciously passed the point of no return, Amy decides to throw all her caution and concern to the wind and dive headfirst into the unknown.

“His name is Jake Peralta and he is the absolute love of my life. I have never been surer about anything than I am about that fact.” She consciously pours every ounce of conviction she has into her words, and it tastes like honey on her tongue, fresh air in her lungs. “He’s a baker and he helps out in the kitchen with Charles and he is the kindest, most loyal, most wonderful person I have ever met.”

There are so many ways to describe him – completely unexpected, completely full of warmth and laughter and more love than she thought any human being was capable of containing. Loving Jake is endlessly surprising, but it’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d never approve of me being with someone who didn’t have ‘reputation’, but the truth is that Jake is good for me in a way that Teddy could never be. He is unconditionally supportive and thoughtful, and he sees me for me, not just as a status symbol or some idealised fairy-tale. I love him and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.”

She says her piece, affection flowing from her almost of its own accord. As she does, she’s flooded with memories – throwing grapes at each other at the picnic they shared in the wildflower meadows beyond the gates. Jake smuggling cupcakes to her to cheer her up on bad days. Him clumsily risking his life climbing through her bedroom window just to help her rehearse her big address at a formal dinner, planting a kiss on her forehead every time she got through a cue card.

Their walks around the castle grounds, laughing at stupid inside jokes. Playing cards in the kitchens with Charles, Terry and Rosa. Teaching him how to paint and sketching him in increasingly ridiculous poses. Having dinner with his mom. Stealing away moments behind the stables and on staircases. Most vividly, their countless private rendezvous in the forest, free of all façades and responsibilities and reputations to uphold.

Amy refuses to hide any of it anymore – he is, openly and unashamedly, the man she loves.

No-one speaks, for a little while; she lets her honesty sink in. Her mother is wearing a look of abject horror – her dad’s expression is stony and unreadable, and it startles her when he is the first one to break the silence, directly addressing Rosa standing guard by the door.

“Diaz. Is all of this true?” Rosa glances at Amy, who gives her an encouraging nod. She knows her father has always valued Rosa’s directness as much as Amy does.

“Yes, sir.” She pauses. “And for the record, I’ve known both of these people a long time, and this is the happiest I’ve seen either of them. It’s kind of sickening, actually.”

Her parents exchange glances, a silent conversation Amy isn’t privy too – she’s too busy feeling her heart swell with further affection, this time for her best friend. She and Jake owe so much to Rosa helping them out, relaying messages back and forth and covering for them. When this is all over, Amy’s definitely embroidering a thank you pillow for her to punch.

“I see. Will you please bring this Jake Peralta here for me?” His tone is even and calm, almost unnervingly so. Rosa nods, quickly disappearing. She knows exactly where Jake will be; in the kitchens, probably stress eating day-old pastry and getting a last-minute pep talk from Charles (which is guaranteed to be largely unhelpful and delivered through hysterical tears).

She’d warned him that they’d probably want to meet him; he’d expressed anxiety about it last night, but Amy had quickly reassured him that no-one else’s opinion mattered to her about this. They’re getting married, whether her parents approve or not.

Obviously, she wants them to like him. She’s dedicated a lot of time to making sure he knows he is loved and accepted, and she’s willing to work even harder to wax lyrical about how wonderful he is for the rest of their lives if she has to. For now, though, she just has to focus on not getting them both exiled.

Her dad calmly asks her brothers to leave the table – Julian mutters in protest as he exits, only stopping to brightly clap Amy on the shoulder and earnestly congratulate her with an enthusiastic high five.

“He sounds great, mimi. I can’t wait to meet him.” For once, her older brother is completely sincere, save perhaps for the suggestive wink he gives her, and it’s a touching gesture that eases some of the relentless anxiety building in her gut. Amy dreads to think how insufferable the pair will be when they do finally meet. She can’t wait either.

Part of her is absolutely fucking terrified to be left alone with her parents with her open defiance and violation of their wishes hanging so ominously in the air – Amy Santiago has never been a rule breaker. She’s always worn the stupid fancy dresses even when she’s dying for something more practical and let Gina give her more and more complicated and ridiculous hairstyles and politely mingled with the endless line of boring high-status bachelors as her parents watched on hopefully. She’s always played the role of the only princess to perfection.

But then she thinks of little six-year-old Amy demanding that she be taught the same combat training as her brothers and twelve-year-old Amy petitioning to allow female members into the Royal Guard and, well. They really should have seen this coming from a mile away.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Rosa strides back in, a clearly nervous Jake hurrying forward in her wake. For a moment, her original plan of whisking him away to start a simple life together swims into her head, a powerful urge to protect him surging over her.

But then their eyes meet, and he waves, a small nervous smile on his face. And then she notices, as it catches the sunlight streaming in through the window and glitters as if enchanted, the engagement ring hung proudly around his neck. And she just knows, as sure as the sun will rise, that they can handle anything.

“I understand that you are engaged to my Amy.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake rocks on his heels slightly, nervously fidgeting the way he always does when he’s anxious. “I’m very lucky to know her and I love her very much.” It’s not the most eloquent speech ever performed in this great hall, but it’s by far her favourite.

“How do I know you are good enough for my only daughter?”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m good enough for Amy. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and the best thing that’s happened to me.” He steps closer to her, silently taking and squeezing her hand as he speaks. “But she still chose me, and I promise you that I will spend every moment of the rest of my life trying to be someone worthy of being loved by her.”

She wants to scream from the top of her lungs that he is completely and utterly good enough, and she wants to hurt anyone who has ever made him feel otherwise. Instead, she squeezes back, and mouths I love you while her parents exchange another hushed conversation.

“Well then - it appears there’s nothing we can do to stop you. Nor do I think we should try.” It could be a trick of the light, but she swears that she sees a glimmer of pride in her father’s eye. Her mom clears her throat, clearly still struggling to comprehend the situation.

“Mija, what we want most for you is for you to be happy. Does he make you happy?” She asks – Amy glances at the man beside her and finds her best friend, her fiancé, her favourite person. Easiest solve in the world.

“More than anything.”

“Then that settles that. You two have our blessing.” Her father says, as simply as if he was commenting on the weather. Amy blinks once, then again, her grip on Jake’s hand getting tighter.

“We…we do?”

“Yes, you do. We clearly have much to discuss, but I must first inform Prince Theodore that other arrangements need to be made.”

“I…wow. Thank you. Thank you, so much, I…” Her brain appears to be malfunctioning, so she does the only thing that feels right; she hugs her parents, whispering another strangled thank you, and then hastily pulls a stunned Jake out of the room, now squeezing his hand so tightly it’s probably cutting off all the circulation. If it does hurt, he doesn’t say anything – then again, in the moment neither of them seems able to speak.

She drags him into the nearest room; Holt’s classroom which, blessedly, is currently empty. Heart pounding, she finally meets Jakes gaze. He looks like he’s just found the end of a rainbow.

“Did they just…”

“Yeah. Yes. I think they did.”

“So, we’re…”

“Getting married. Yep. That is a thing that is officially happening.”

There’s a single moment before they’re both collapsing into shocked, near-hysterical laughter, an amalgamation of relief, disbelief, exhaustion and above all else, joy. Amy practically throws herself around him, performing some kind of strangled hybrid of laughing and crying as she buries herself into his shirt.

They stay like that for a while, completely wrapped up in each other. It could be seconds or minutes or maybe even hours – she doesn’t care. Time has ruled their life together for so long; now, it’s an insignificant enemy, no longer precious, unpredictable or finite. It’s bliss.

“Hey, listen. Rosa told me, uh, what you said. To your parents. About me being the love of your life and all that.” Jake says, suddenly adorably shy.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She said it with a disgusted look on her face, but I think she’s secretly rooting for us.”

Amy hums in contentment, making a note to call her a secret sap and then hug her the next time she sees her. Jake clears his throat nervously, calling her attention back to him, all soft and warm honey gaze.

“You’re mine too, by the way.” He says sheepishly. “Just in case…I mean I hope you that know by now, but-“ She smothers his nervous ramblings with a firm kiss, finally. Finally, the abstract brush-strokes and subtle hues of the future they could have together come into sharp focus, vivid and prismatic.

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, future wife.” He grins, kissing her again. She’s sure, now, as her lips meld to his that he is the person she was always meant to come home to, to find a home in.

Amy feels a wave of exhaustion overwhelm her; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the unfortunate side-effects of not sleeping for almost twenty-four hours rapidly take hold. She barely suppresses a yawn, scrunching up her nose as Jake looks at her fondly.

“You wanna go back to bed? I happen to know an excellent nap partner.”

“Oh, great, me too. I’ll see if Hitchcock’s available.” She says, laughing when Jake pouts in offence, draping her arms around him, leaning up so that their noses are almost touching.

“It’s our first day together as an engaged couple. I want to do something special.”

“Ames, we have the rest of our lives to do something special.” He says, gazing down at her with so much undiluted affection that her resolve completely melts away. The rest of their lives. She really likes the sound of that.

“Okay, napping sounds pretty good right now too.”

“Good, because we have about five minutes until I collapse from twelve hours straight of nervous hysteria. Would you mind carrying me to your bedroom?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves him, but also offers him her hand. They soon collapse into Amy’s four-poster bed, quickly pulling the covers over their heads, wriggling around and fighting for space while they giggle like little kids. Amy sleepily leans into him when they’re all settled in, and she’s never felt safer than she does now, being lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“We’re getting married.” She whispers reverently, eyelids heavy – she feels his lips gently ghost against the top of her head in response, perhaps subconsciously as if he were made to do it. They drift off, and the last of her anxiety ebbs and flows away as if merely a bad memory.

It’s the best sleep either of them has had for months.

[mobius-prime]

176. Sonic the Hedgehog #108

Oh… please, come on, man… not this…

Robotnik x 2 = Trouble!

Writer: Benny Lee Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Josh & Aimee Ray

So, did you think that perhaps for once in the history of comic books, that we'd actually seen a major villain die for good? Well, apparently not so! Eggman has detected the strange reality fluctuations caused by Knuckles several days ago, and gleefully demonstrates to the newly-roboticized Snively that one such fluctuation can be localized directly within their lab. What - or who - might this fluctuation affect, you ask?

Just outside of Knothole, the Freedom Fighters are relaxing and playing a nice game of hide and seek, when Tails, who is "it," runs smack into Robotnik, looking battered and scared. They're all, of course, incredibly shocked at his reappearance, and skeptical when he claims that Eggman brought him back, but is even worse than he ever was. He ran for his life, wishing now to seek shelter in Knothole. The Freedom Fighters reluctantly bring him to the king and queen, who get him a checkup by Dr. Quack to ensure he's not merely a robotic duplicate, and then, despite his literal war crimes, just… allow him to stay in the village. With all the people he tortured and terrorized barely more than a year ago. Seriously, not even a trial for his crimes? Nothing?

Robotnik seems to have settled right in, despite Sonic's obvious exasperation, and as the crew flies him to Robotropolis he eagerly speaks about perhaps becoming allies after all this is over, while they mostly ignore him in favor of playing cards. They infiltrate the city and fight a cursory number of shadow-bot guards, and Robotnik leads them to a room with a suspiciously-shaped "computer," inviting them to stand on a platform in the center of it and have Nicole take some readings while he accesses the mainframe. Of course, this is when he shows his true colors, and traps them in an energy field that harnesses the power of Eggman's "matter fluctuator" while the two alternate-universe villains giggle with each other, ecstatic that their plan to erase their enemies seems to be working.

The Freedom Fighters reveal that they knew Robotnik was trying to trick them all along, and only played along so that he would lead them straight to the device that brought him back so they could destroy it. He's baffled by this since he's already been brought, and as he and Eggman begin to fistfight over the failure of their plot the Freedom Fighters leave, satisfied that their job is done. Their true intentions become clear very quickly, as due to Robotnik's manner of return, his molecules were very unstable, and in the middle of the fight he vanishes back into oblivion, causing Eggman to punch Snively accidentally and then become furious at his loss once again.

This story basically ended up going nowhere, as Robotnik really, truly is gone for good this time, but I suspect it was mostly written as a lead-in to the two character files we'll be perusing today - one on the original Robotnik, and the other on Eggman, AKA Robo-Robotnik. We'll be skipping the explanations of their life stories, as we already know all of it - no new information is provided - and instead we'll look at the technical details. First of all are their height and weight. These details are identical for both entities, as they come from near-identical backgrounds in their respective zones. Their height is 189 cm or 6'2", which is only one inch taller than their game counterpart. However, their weight is where we run into a bit of a problem. Given all the tasteless jokes made especially in the early days of the comic about how fat and humongous and gargantuan Robotnik is, how heavy exactly would you imagine he is? I bet you didn't guess 61.7 kg or 135.8 lbs. That is not just an absurdly low weight for a being of his stature, that is my own weight. I'm pretty sure this is just a big oversight on the part of the writer, because there's no way in hell an obese six-foot-tall man shares his weight with an average-height, average-build girl in her early 20s. For Eggman, however, though I'm sure he shared his body type with Robotnik when he existed within his own zone, those stats are likely to be a bit different now due to his being a robot in a new body and all.

As far as their ages, this is where they differ significantly. They shared their early history in their respective zones, so both were born on the same birthday of September 10. However, the original Robotnik died at age 45, almost 46, when the Ultimate Annihilator went off. I include "almost 46" because the character file actually gives an exact date of death, June 13, meaning we now know to the day exactly when Endgame occurred. Endgame played out over the course of three days, so that whole shebang started on June 11, which was also the day Sally supposedly died before the truth was revealed. Please keep this date in mind, it will become important in a few issues. Eggman's reality, on the other hand, diverged a few years before Endgame, resulting in his own roboticization at the age of 43. At this point, his physical age likely "froze" since he was no longer bound by the aging process of flesh and blood, while his mental age continued to progress. His zone's timeline has already surpassed that of Mobius Prime, as in that zone Sonic and Sally were married with children, so mentally he'd more likely be somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. Makes sense to me, though original Robotnik was certainly a little younger than I had imagined him to be.

"…A Girl Named Hope!"

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: J. Axer Colors: Josh & Aimee Ray

Sally has received a letter from Hope Kintobor, who was taken along to Station Square with the rest of the refugees, and decides to bring it to her parents to read it out to them. Hope proves herself to be a very well-spoken young girl in the letter, writing about how when she and her people first landed on the outskirts of Robotropolis and she saw Sonic, she thought he looked scary, as she'd never seen a Mobian before. However, over the course of living in the city, she began to mistrust her uncle after seeing more evidence of his roboticization of Mobians, and eventually realized that the Mobians were better than she had been led to believe after witnessing them rescue both their roboticized brethren and the rest of the Overlanders.

She describes how most of her life in space, ever since she was two years old, was spent in cryosleep, learning about the history of their home planet, including the details of the Great War between her people and the Mobians. They only ended up returning because their ship's power supply began to fail, but now, she no longer feels at home amongst her people, with the loss of her stepfather and grandmother.

This is honestly a very sweet story, and I'm glad we'll be seeing more of Hope. She was definitely the most interesting character among the Overlanders, and she's obviously a very observant and intelligent girl.

Reunification (Part 3)

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Dawn Best Colors: J&A Ray

Lara-Le is not at all happy about Knuckles' decision to join up with the Legion, even scolding him for what his father will likely think when he finds out. Knuckles becomes defensive and asks her why they can't just hear him out first, and she replies that she thinks he's too much of a threat to her children.

Wow, Lara-Le, you and Wynmacher have been pretty busy then, huh? That's a pretty big gap between your kids' ages there - Knuckles is gonna be seventeen by the time that baby is born, assuming that Mobian echidnas have a similar gestational period to humans. While he and his mother continue to discuss matters, Dimitri goes before the council to argue his case for reuniting echidna society. Most of the members present have obvious misgivings, but one Mitre agrees that society should come back together instead of fighting, though he expresses some disapproval of Dimitri's methods through such extensive cybernetics. While they continue to argue things out, Lara-Su waits outside Lara-Le's apartment, waiting for Knuckles to come out so she can spy on him and ensure he's not killed. He exits, and she follows him to the council chambers, witnessing him talk briefly with Lien-Da on the steps outside the building. She recognizes Lien-Da as "the one person Mom absolutely refuses to talk about." The two go inside, and Knuckles steps forward to express his reluctant support for Dimitri, commanding the respect of those present since they know he's fought with Dimitri many times before. Interestingly, the current echidna government is referred to as "the theocracy" in contrast to Dimitri's "technocracy" - elements of an echidna religion have been hinted at here and there, such as Lara-Le praying in the Aurorium, and the councilor all the way back when Dimitri first "died" quoting from what sounded like some kind of bible, but I think this is the first indication we've ever had that the current government is literally a theocracy, running according to a religious tradition instead of an intellectual one. This puts an interesting - and even more worrying - spin on the whole "banning technology" thing, as real life has shown time and again that religious fundamentalism almost always leads to hypocrisy and needlessly-restricted personal freedoms, which honestly fits exactly with everything that we've seen over the echidnas' history so far. But anyway, while Knuckles says his piece about trying to work together and resolve differences, Lara-Su tries to badger her way into the council chambers, only to be stopped by a guard.

What a cliffhanger! I'm sure there's no way she's interpreting the situation wrong due to not seeing everything that's happened up to this point, right? Right?

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Servamp!Sakuya Ch. 1

“I’m Mahiru Shirota. Fifteen years old. I like to keep things simple; try to keep life uncomplicated. That’s why I picked him up. I didn’t want to just leave him there and regret it later. That would be irritating.”

Mahiru dried off the raccoon with an old towel. He had just given the critter a bath after picking it up off the street. He knew a raccoon wasn’t exactly the most common choice of pet, but if Mahiru hadn’t taken it in, who knows what would’ve happened to it in a big city like Tokyo? Besides, the raccoon seemed calm enough. If it had rabies, it would’ve tried to bite him already, so the young brunette figured it was safe.

As Mahiru rubbed the towel over his new flatmate’s fur, he noticed some strange things about it. First and most obviously, it was albino. Its snout and chest were still a brighter white than the rest of its body, and it still had black rings on its tail and around its eyes, but it was definitely missing some pigment everywhere else. The second thing was the fur around its face. It was long, natty, and almost looked like it had bangs. One clump, in particular, fell over its left eye. In fact, all the fur on the left side of its face was longer than its right.

At last, Mahiru deemed the animal dry enough to wander the apartment. Before he let it go, though, he carefully carded his fingers through the fur falling over its face.

“Poor thing,” he said to the raccoon. “It’s getting in your eye. Hang on.” Slightly surprised when the creature actually stayed put, Mahiru went to his nightstand and searched through the small drawer. Almost instantly, he found what he was looking for: a hairpin with two pink sakura flowers on it. He’d found it in the hallway at school about a year ago, and he kept it in hopes of one day finding its owner. However, thinking simply, if it had already been a year, she had probably replaced it by then. There would probably be no harm in Mahiru using it.

The raccoon stared at him curiously. It tilted its head as Mahiru gently pushed back the fur covering its eye and pinned it back using the hair clip. He laughed as it curled upward in response, seemingly defying gravity. The raccoon raised a little black paw up to feel the accessory. Mahiru could’ve sworn the thing smiled.

“Aww, he likes it,” he said to no one in particular, lifting the animal up off the ground. The raccoon titled its head again, its beady, white eyes staring directly at the teen. “Now, what to name you…?” Mahiru was no animal expert, but he was fairly certain his new friend was male. “Your hairpin has sakura flowers on it, but Sakura’s a little girly…” He mused to himself for a second before gasping with realization. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, making his albino companion jump in his hands. “How about Sakuya?”

There it was again. That satisfied little expression on the fluffy, white face. Mahiru laughed. “Sakuya it is, then!”

“I had no idea I was inviting trouble into my home and putting my life in danger… Until the next day.”

The next day, in a random high school, the students were attempting to plan for the upcoming Culture Festival. Most of the duties had been handed out already. All that was left was to decide who would make the costumes. No one really had any experience with making clothes, so the job was passed around until one student spoke up.

“Why don’t we just get Mahiru to do it?” asked a boy with short, black hair and red eyes. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of his uniform shirt. This boy was Tsubaki Yuushuu, a first year.

“But he’s already in charge of preparing the food,” replied another first year with wavy, light brown hair. Koyuki turned toward his friend with a soft smile. “True,” said Tsubaki, “but it’s not like he has anything else to do since he lives alone. Besides, he’s the only one of us who knows the first thing about sewing. The way, I see it, there’s no other choice!”

“You talk about him like he’s the class maid or something,” said Ryuusei, the last of the trio, with a chuckle. Tsubaki burst out laughing at that. It was an unexpected but admittedly accurate description of their friend. As he was busy slapping his desk in hysterics, the classroom door burst open, revealing Mahiru himself, a black apron over his uniform and a bowl of butter cookies balanced in each hand. The stern look on his face made everyone in the room simultaneously think “angry mother.”

“Seriously, you guys?!” he scolded. “You still haven’t picked someone?! There’s only one job left! How hard can it be?!” “Speak of the devil,” said Tsubaki, having calmed down.

Mahiru let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly! Oh, and here,” he shifted the bowls to draw attention to them. “I made a test batch of cookies, so line up and-“ The entire class immediately swarmed the boy. He yelped as he struggled to balance the sweets. “HEY!” he shouted over his classmates. “I said LINE UP! One at a time! There’s plenty for everyone!”

Within seconds the whole class was gushing over how delicious the freshly-baked cookies were. Still a little annoyed at the stampede, Mahiru shrugged off the compliments with a simple “Well, I like to keep recipes simple,” before taking a bite of his own creation. Once everyone was done eating, the students all took their seats.

“So, costumes are all that’s left, right?” said Mahiru. Everyone nodded. “The person in charge of that will need to know how to sew and have lots of free time.” More nodding. “Well then, thinking simply,” Mahiru pointed to himself, “I’ll have to do it!”

The class erupted into cheers. They could always count on Mahiru to take charge!

(later)

Mahiru, Tsubaki, Koyuki, and Ryuusei strolled down the steps of the school. Mahiru and Tsubaki took the lead while Koyuki and Ryuusei lagged behind side by side, the latter greedily munching on a sandwich.

“Are you sure you can handle making the food and the costumes?” Koyuki asked with a concerned smile. As much as he appreciated Mahiru’s willingness to do all the work, he didn’t want his friend to exhaust himself. Mahiru tended to do this often. The other three recalled when he volunteered for track back in middle school, or when he offered to care for the class pet.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” said Mahiru. “I figured if I can be that someone, then why not just go for it?”

“Still,” said Tsubaki, who was now wearing his sunglasses on his face, “isn’t it a bit unfair that you’re doing everything yourself, Mahiru?” He threw an arm around the brunet. “I’d be happy to help if you’re willing to teach me how to wield a needle-“

“That would just be unnecessary work, especially knowing you!” Mahiru cut off his raven-haired friend. Tsubaki gasped and clutched at his own chest as if in pain.

“You wound me, Mahiru!” he cried, dramatically pressing the back of his free hand to his forehead. “How will I go on knowing my best friend has such little faith in me?!”

Ryuusei swallowed his mouthful before butting in. “He’s got a point though, Mahiru,” he said. “I mean, all that responsibility. Don’t you ever get…overwhelmed?”

“Nah,” Mahiru shrugged. “It’s easier to just do it than to try to make an excuse not to.”

“I don’t get that philosophy, but whatever,” Ryuusei responded. “We owe you one for this, though."

“Yeah!” Koyuki chimed. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you out.”

Tsubaki laughed. “Well, it might take some bribing with me, but I’m here for you, too!”

“What can you even do, Tsubaki?” Mahiru jabbed. “Other than make bad jokes?”

Tsubaki feigned offense. “My jokes are gold, and you know it!”

“At the very least, we can help you shop for supplies,” said Koyuki.

“Thanks, you guys,” said Mahiru.

Tsubaki gasped. “Oh!”

“What is it, Tsubaki?” asked Mahiru.

“You’re not going to the shops near the station, are you?” the raven-haired boy inquired.

“Uhh, yeah, I am. Why?”

“There are rumors going around about that area.” A sinister smile tugged at Tsubaki’s lips as he leaned in. “I heard there’s a vampire on the loose!” The other three met Tsubaki with matching stares of skepticism.

“Seriously, though!” the red-eyed teen defended, smile falling. “There’s an investigation on some kind of street slasher. People have been calling him Tokyo’s Jack the Ripper! He’s already claimed about ten victims, all of them found drained of blood with bite marks on their necks and arms!”

While Mahiru and Ryuusei still weren’t convinced, Koyuki was practically shaking. “Th-that’s really scary!”

Tsubaki grinned, baring his longer-than-average canines. “Of course,” he said, “I could be lying,” and was promptly smacked on the back of the head by Mahiru.

“Don’t do that! You’re gonna give Koyuki a panic attack!”

Said brunet managed to compose himself fairly quickly. “Oh! W-well, if it’s really safe, I’ve got free passes for karaoke by the station if you guys are interested!”

“I’ve got no respect!” Tsubaki replied, sending himself and Ryuusei into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Mahiru said, starting down the road to his apartment building. “I’ve got some laundry I want to finish before I do anything else.” And with that, he sprinted home.

“Hey!” Tsubaki called after him. “Not all of what I said was a lie! Don’t blame me if you get attacked by a vampire~!” “Yeah, yeah!” Mahiru called back.

“I’d actually already heard the rumor about vampires going around. But I had real things to worry about. I wonder if Sakuya’s alright. I hope he didn’t get into trouble while I was gone.”

Arriving at his building, Mahiru stepped into the elevator to get to the seventh floor. A few minutes later and home sweet home. He pulled out his key to unlock his apartment door.

“Sakuya, I’m home!” he called out from the doorway as he removed his shoes. A light from the living room caught his attention, and he could faintly make out pop music. “I could’ve sworn I turned the TV off before I left…” he muttered to himself. Now on guard, he silently approached the living room. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the TV, the only source of light in the apartment as the blinds were closed, playing a rhythm game, was a boy who looked about Mahiru’s age. He had messy, green hair that was swept off to the left. Dressed in black slacks with suspender straps hanging at his waist and a black jacket over a black-and-white-striped button-down shirt, the collar popped. Seeming to notice Mahiru’s presence, the boy turned to face him. His eyes were red and seemed to glow in the dim light. Those eyes widened as the controller fell from his hands, and the song finished with a series of “Miss” sounds.

[fortheheavenssake]

MM Anon 3

MM Anon 3

Oct. 1

MM ANON … 🎼” back to black”🎼…… uncomfortably reunion …… “ AND THE CROWDS WENT…… home”… “blend in with the POC”🤣🤣🤣🤣…… Pressed for time. …… PR with blinkers… don’t Sue the messenger …… Harry on camping…… background colour …… “ bloody African Queen ‘ don’t think so”…… “ returning after their triumphant tour “…… OMG’ it’s definitely her

——————

Oct. 2

MM ANON, This vacuous tart is in need of serious therapy ‘ she’s trying to intimidate the British press who employ Rottweilers as journalists and have brought down whole governments. They string antagonists up by their Gonads and bury pieces of flotsam like nutmeg alive. Not only is this virus on a hiding to nothing,she has underestimated the established reading matter of middle England ‘THE DAILY MAIL. ………… ‘popcorn darlings ‘ popcorn !!!!!!!!!!!

———————

MM Anon - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Oct. 2

MM ANON …… Dear Darlings ‘ today is my birthday 🎼 happy birthday to me🎼…………🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂 2nd Oct. 1944. ……… “ a day that live in ignominy” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

—————-

Oct. 2

MM ANON …… Thank you dear Skippy and all your faithful helpers ………… your blog is a joy and a privilege to post on …… GBTQAOGC👑👑👑👑👑 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

You are so welcome! We are honoured to have you join us! You are loved!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

—————

Oct. 2

MM ANON …… A TM visit?…… a pitiful cry for help …… “tears of a Crown”…… “ Philip’ stop swearing!!”…… ink block carnage … a scathing edi-TORY-al……”A Sunday surprise “…… “well,well,well’ fe-MAIL- empowerment”…… Fleet St. circling the wagons …… 🎼 “ Homeward bound, I guess ………” 🎼j…… … ace card archificial …… “SA’ well that was a dud Megs”…… leap-Frog to Calipornia 🤫🤫🤫

—————

Oct. 3

MM ANON …… rogue withdrawal …… a petulant rattle slays fleet st. …… royal analysis paralysis ……… “ settlement now!!!! ……TM lawyers up…… tabloid utopia …… “ This is a bloody tape diversion old thing “…………“A spitting Halloween 🎃 “……… “ remember ‘remember, the 5th of Nov.” …… “ Philip ‘ this year you give the Queen speech”…… 🎆🎇😱🇬🇧💩⚖️⚖️⚖️…… GBTQ.

——————

Oct. 3

MM ANON , UNDER THE RADAR!!!!!!!! The Queen probably has information and physical evidence appertaining to “It” regarding her “ lost” years. During the summer PW spent a week at MI6 at Vauxhall. ( being briefed?) what on? Suddenly this week there’s a story of a certain acquisition of a “tape” the next day , via H. she sues the MOS regarding a letter. (Smoke And Mirrors) The hinges are falling off that locked door on her past ………………………!!!!!!!! Allegedly.

——————

Oct. 4

MM ANON …… Meanwhile at CH…… A Family meeting’ o dear!!…… “ One is apoplectic with disappointment “… (two red faces)…… “ this isn’t a game of happy f%#@k families!!!”…… an atmospheric cut…… legs and tails …… They Aga successful …… in the brown Windsor soup……a green beret chum…… nutmeg begs…… happy Harry …… SS documentary’s doom.

——————-

Oct. 4

MM ANON …… Smoke and Mirrors divert us from the elephant in the doom!!!, nothing to do with nutmegs bawling in the bathroom over being picked on by those nasty hacks 🤣🤣🤣 or hacked phones (it’s a daily mine field for the high profiled) abysmal failure on behalf of their security. It’s the tape darlings ‘ murkmegs very sore-did past. Popcorn’POPCORN 🍿 🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿

—————-

Oct. 5

MM ANON …… chocolate sundae …… don’t give up your day job …… single exit west …… a SMALL diversion … “ is he mine?” …… home alone ………… “ I fear for them Philip” …… Duty calls …… 🎼” you wore out your welcome with random precision “🎼……… “ we must talk Harry”……… jack and Jill went up the hill ……… “ it’s all on This memory stick.

—————

Oct. 5

Does this mean PiersM is a friend of Her Majesty (👑) or a friend of MM?

So many players, so much darkness in this schtick. My brain is fried. Thank you Skippy🐼

——————-

Oct. 6

MM ANON … the Queen …… “ one can’t choose ones family “…… “ Philip loves me doing Melania” …… “I rather liked Donald “ …… “ l frightening Vlad…… “ on our day together she never stopped yapping “ … “Harry ‘ we all make mistakes “… “ the little one, she’s a fireball “ …… “Camilla says she’s illiterate “ … “ what sort of name was that!!!!!”…” What!! Christmas ‘she’ll be lucky “ … “LG ‘ that’s why it’s called the Queens speech ‘ so f#@ck them!!”

————-

Oct. 7

MM ANON …… “MORGAN ‘ a suitable case for treatment” …… sue- da - nam?

————-

Oct. 7

MM ANON … Calapornia Dreem-in…… “ To be ‘ or Not to be…” …… “ I made a bit of a boob”……… “ the real Mc- COY darlings “…… “ artistic lie- sense …… “ not my best work”

—————

Oct. 7

MM ANON …… This is only my opinion on the validity of the alleged article. AN OPINION!! like skippy suggested in all posts , re disclaimer ……… what would be verified in this situation is “ face recognition tech.” ANYBODY?????? 👃🏾👁👄👂

————-

Oct. 7

MM ANON … lets move on!!!!…… fab unfore-tunate…… pre tour panic… …a fleet-ing vengeance …… “ don’t take this personally”…… “ you have TWO choices”…… “ get your bloody head out the sand”…… “it’s crumbling around your feet”……… “ baby ‘ what baby?”…… “we’re gonna need a bigger Bank”…… 🎼” if I was a rich man”🎼

——————

Oct. 8

MM ANON … ABANDON YOURSELF TO GOD AS YOU UNDERSTAND GOD ,GIVE OF YOURSELF SELFLESSLY AND JOIN US ,WE SHALL BE WITH YOU IN THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE SPIRIT AND YOU WILL SURELY MEET SOME OF US AS YOU TRUDGE THE PATH OF HAPPY DESTINY ‘ MAY GOD BLESS YOU AND KEEP YOU UNTIL THEN. thanks to all contributors. MM anon.

—————

Oct. 8

MM ANON … fab two ‘ future Queen……future king …… also rans …… three weddings and a refusal …… Archie-bargy …… a dog with no name …… silent screaming past…… 🎼” there may be trouble ahead “🎼…… “ if I tell you ‘ I’d have to…… “…… everyone is scarfing …… (another private flight)…… Branson island … Mail on payday… … “ please boo the buggers”

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

—————-

Oct. 8

MM ANON …… This is only my opinion on the validity of the alleged article. AN OPINION!! like skippy suggested in all posts , re disclaimer ……… what would be verified in this situation is “ face recognition tech.” ANYBODY?????? 👃🏾👁👄👂

—————

Oct. 9

MM ANON …… “ sorry, not today thank you “…… never EVER explain …… “what happens in house, stays in-house”. ……a special briefing …… another cover-up?…… … glowing anticipation …… special forces …… “unprecedented care”…… a very tired PR …… public appearance nerves …… “we’ll pay you handsomely”…… “she’ll do it or suffer the consequences”

—————-

Oct. 10

MM ANON ……corespondents under the radar …… “MA to MM”…… 🎼” gimme a ticket for an aeroplane”🎼…… “ my baby wrote me a letter” “ I’ve seen the contents of several”…… ‘ thank you LG.”…… “were in need of another f#@ing hole”…… Sheeran a common problem ……” drag her along ‘ your joking”… not seen’ not heard, GOOD!!!!…… Christmas 🧣 scarfs …… 🎼Back in the USA”🎼…… “friends thou hast and their adoption tried ”…(very trying!!!)

——————-

Oct. 10

MM ANON, for Mr Skippy, “ take away my difficulties that victory over them may bear wittiness of thy love ,thy power and thy way of life “ …… GOD BLESS YOU BOTH. 💜💜💜💜🧡🧡🧡🧡

—————

Oct. 11

MM ANON … aggressive tabloid PR…… desperate image…… manipulate a student …… public fear…… ((loving wife and mother))…… 🎼” Money, get away”🎼…… a fence for Harry …… “ how do I milk this”…… most dangerous tour…… “ I guess I never got the memo”…… the natives are getting restless …… nutmegs public anticipation …… Scrambled eggs!!

—————

Oct. 12

MM ANON … Sunday sensation??……… LG will give the word…… lots of dirty dirt…… 🎼” love me or leave me”🎼…… when the going gets tough ……”…… “ not another chicken dinner”…… “ is She nice”…… “ I think you should know something”. …… “ Fair is foul,and foul is fair”…… WOW!! ace down the line!!…… “advantage MOS”… location,location vexation.

—————-

Oct. 13

MM ANON … “ THE MOST ANTICIPATED BOOK …… 🎼”Sparkles spangles, see how they shine, sing-a-linga “🎼…… Tom the Bomb… “A woman of sub-stance🤣”…… maybe ‘ sex lies and video tape … 🎼” when you come to the end of a lollipop”🎼… ……” A kid for two farthings” …… “ you know how to whistle don’t you Harry”…… “an obvious cuckold…… “…… home to roost”

————-

Oct. 13

MM ANON, Tom Bowers , Britain’s most feared biographer is going to write a “TELL ALL” Tome on the evasive one , will we expect 🎼sparkles spangles, your heart will sing , jing-jing-a-ling a 🎼…… OMG, the anticipation for this one is EPIC , 🎼 yachting, hotting, see how she lays ,toss-a-lotta🎼 This author flays his victims alive ‘ WE WAIT IN APOPLECTIC SUSPENSE 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣PLEASE TOM DO TELL “EVERYTHING!, emails,sexts And video tapes. 🎼”Sparkles spangles and deeds”🎼

—————-

Pakistan Tour 14-18

Oct. 14

MM ANON …… Pakistani perfection ……”will anything ever happen?” …… “ she’s a disease” …… HMTQ is feeling the strain ……… oh’ oh , the green eyed monster …… “MA has all the answers” …… ( and the evidence)………” if I had a penny ……… “…………” she got to show, to much gossip!!” ……… “ Harry, Dear heart, pull your head out of the sand” …… “it’s Kismet old thing,kismet!! “

————

Oct. 15

MM ANON ……A sense of humour ‘ tuk tuk …… 🎼nobody does it better 🎼……… REAL ROYALTY …… ‘after the Lord Mayor show came the dustcart …… Charlotte the “NEW”future people’s Princess 👸 …… Little Louie people’s Prince 🤴 ……… “, it’s nutmeg crumble for desert marm,…… “ that’s the bloody way to do it!!!”…… “ what’s that other silly tart doing?”…… “it’s a mystery Philip”

————

Oct. 16

MM ANON …… On the banks of Huntspill River …… a pretty Sum-erset …… O dear ‘ how not to be princely …… 🎼” everybody’s doing the loco- emotion”🎼……… In the real steps of his mother…… “Protocol, dignity and humour “…… Their successes drove her apoplectic …… LIZARDS 🦎 ……” please George ‘ don’t do that”🦎🦎🦎…… … Nanny doesn’t like🦎🦎🦎…… “I miss the children”…… ROYAL AIR FORCE ONE. …… MI6 and the visit??…… “ de visit was spectacular ‘ de-brief was better”. ……” Thanks M.”

————

Oct. 16

MM ANON… nutmegs agenda ‘ write his nauseating tome, push in front, psychologically undermine him , feed his anger and resentment for W&K! , Don’t get near the public ( fears of rejection), continue emotional blackmail, put pressure and endorse his lack of self esteem ,psychotropic drugs?, cry and keep asking him why people hate you ‘, convince him the BRF are against both of them …… question his grasp on reality. This is her agenda ‘ allegedly. Speculation of course.

——————

Oct. 16

MM ANON … after one year of marriage the boys a total wreck , mounting the Dias in Africa all disoriented ,and blubbering at child works , he’s in a psychotic purgatory that she continues to perpetuate. How does Harry dump the faux bump and find true happiness????? Britain is waiting for the inevitable divorce and the English rose Harry will one day meet. It’s Kismet LG ,pure Kismet!! “ Cry God for Harry’………… “.

—————

Oct. 16

MM ANON …Harry’s split second mishap…… A choreographed comforter. …… 🎼” 19th nervous breakdown” 🎼…… a plethora of past lovers … 🎼” we have no secrets”🎼🤣🤣…… The announcement,an unstable Stable. …… 🎼” I’m not in love, so don’t forget it” 🎼……… fixan a vixen. ……… nutmeg on Toast……… MA” is he mine? Yup!! ……” accolades on the return”.

—————

Oct. 17

MM ANON …… Thank you for the wonderful and ingenious humour LH. 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

—————-

Oct. 18

MM ANON …… “Festering,yes”💸💸💸💸”it’s a struggle” 💸💸💸💸……… comment section ‘ #@&*#¥……… “ I was flying “…… 🎼” Never cried when granny died 🎼”……soon,wonderful weekend with the children …… FaceTime mummy’🦎🦎🦎🦎……… “ Kate , ones so proud”…… “ you’re a stalwart William “ …… “ you’re very pretty dressed as a Unicorn 🦄 “…… $h!t !! She’s gone nuclear!, …… well’ that Doc was a load of boll***.…… “shhhh’ I heard that too!!”… gossip darlings ‘ gossip!!… “ all that glitters,”

—————

Oct. 18

MM ANON, OMG , Harry’s festering, nutmegs struggling, Archificial is having an identity problem. ( “ I wanna know who’s my dad’) ……… “ is it mine”, nutmeg gazing towards a distant horizon, someone with a all knowing smirk gazing back from distant horizon ‘. And there both going to try and flog this p!$$poor Documentary to the savvy Brits. Are they both off their f#@ing trolly , who TF wants to see them whining about how they struggle on 20 million a year , not those trying to pay a mortgage.

—————-

Oct. 18

MM ANON , “ not many people asked if I was alright”, well I wasn’t alright…… , Ahhhhhh , what a shame nutmeg,perhaps if you didn’t fake your pregnancy people would have warmed to you ‘ ( NO , DONT THINK SO ). So nutmeg plays the poor me card , poor me, poor me pour me a drink. ………… I wonder what the RPO conversation is when she’s not being obnoxiously present. , she apparently treats everyone like 💩💩💩💩. I have news nutmeg, Britain doesn’t give a $h!t.

——————-

October. 19

MM ANON …… “ O no , not another f%#ing beautiful Sunday “…… All together, a ROYAL reunion 🦄🦎👸🤴… “ she’s not invited, again🧣“……” O Philip, do lets watch this documentary 🤣🤣“ …… “Really, old thing, really ?”…… “ bloody hell , Charlottes a better actress “……… “ Mummy!! I’ve lost my 🦎” ……” What next LG , the Caribbean and North America with the children?”…… “ Mmmm , Marm that would work ,next year’ someone will be jealous!!” …… “ “what’s that ol’ thing , I’m reading skippy Philip”.

—————-

Oct 19

MM ANON , “THEY DON’T MAKE IT EASY”, I’M OKAY, can’t wait for the trawling that the whiner is going to be subjected to. The comments section of the DE&DM and MOS is 95% negative, and aggressively anti Megain. The Mocumentary will only draw more humiliation and subtle sarcasm from the tabloids. Juxtaposition this with the shining success W&K received on their return from Pakistan and you have the pulse of National opinion. The big takeaway is “Nutmeg is hated”.

——————-

[xiumin-on-this-shit]

Good Morning EXO: Kai

After working 65+ hours every week the last three weeks, moving, fighting with my roommates over getting internet, being sick and having four mental break downs I am back!! I’ll update my main stories when I have more time cause it’s about to get dramatic for all of them but I only had a few hours free today so I was only able to write two of these! Enjoy!!

For the lovely @kpopgurl91 hope you like it!!

“Hello there,” I coo at sight of a lone little pup trotting down the street. I scan the street for anyone chasing the pup but come up empty. Crouching down on to my knees I call sweetly, “Come here baby.” The pup pauses and cocks it’s head at me before trotting over happily. The caramel colored fluff ball stares up at me, sniffing my hand for a few moments, it decides that I’m trust worthy enough for it to roll on its’ back, showing its’ belly. I quickly oblige, scratching its’ belly eagerly, cooing at it with a smile.

It’s only five in the morning, making me think the pup has been wandering around since last night. Considering its’ perfectly maintained coat and nice sized belly I assume someone is definitely missing this little guy. A few drops of rain fall from the sky, landing on the pup’s nose, making him jump to his feet and bark at the rain. I bring up my umbrella, hiding myself and the pup from the intensifying shower.

“Should we get breakfast?” I suggest, since I was on my way there anyway. The pup just stares up at me for a moment before jumping up on to my pant leg for attention. I scoop the pup up and continue on my way to the little I should probably be less casual about picking up a strange dog and walking off with it but I’m only walking down the street and he looks hungry. After a short juggling act I manage to stuff the pup into my jacket to keep him warm from the chilly wind. My usual café is about two blocks down but half way there he starts barking like a mad man at another café that is just opening up.

The server unlocking the doors bows his head politely to me, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I respond with a smile, “Sorry about him,” I shush the dog as I brush it’s hair back.

“He probably smells meat,” The server chuckles, “We accept dogs on our patio if you would like to come in, I’ll give him some for free since you would be our first customer.”

“Thank you!” I scurry in, happy to me out of the rain. The server leads me upstairs to the covered patio, I’m thankful for the heat lamps he turns on above the table he sits me at. I pull the puppy out of my jacket and let him sit on my lap.

“Are you a dog walker or something?” The boy questions.

“What makes you ask that?”

“This dog is a regular here with its’ owner,” He puts out a hand, allowing to dog to sniff him properly before going in for a few scratches under his chin.

My eyes light up, “You know the owner! I just found this little guy running down the street alone, figured if I could hang out in the area until someone came running for him.”

“I don’t know his name, he usually wears a mask and a hat so I can’t even really tell you what he looks like other than that he is tall and kind of tan.”

“When does he usually come by?”

“Usually late at night, they were here last night actually!”

“I’m going to sit here for a little while if that is all right, and if he doesn’t show up could I leave my number with you in case he comes by later?”

The boys smiles, “Of course! That man really cares for his dogs, he will be happy to know someone is taking good care of him, could I get you anything to eat?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes please!”

He nods before turning and leaving.

“So I take it you come here often?” I joke with the pup as run my fingers through its fur.

He yips up at me, wagging his tail eagerly.

“How in the world did your owner let you escape? Or are you just a master at getting away?” I sigh wishing he could really answer, “Your dad is probably really worried about you.” We sit there for a little while, the server brings me tea and a few pastries to snack on. The pup is curled up into a ball on my lap, snoring slightly, making me chuckle. A few people begin wandering up and down the alley bellow, I watch them, looking for anyone who may be looking for the pup.

Three cups of tea, two pastries and a helping of meat for the pup, later the sun is starting to peek out finally, I glance at my phone seeing that it is still only 6:15 in the morning. I sigh, considering heading home and checking in the café later.

“Jjanggu! Jjanggu!” Someone calls from the streets.

The pup jumps to attention, staring in the direction of the calls, I follow his gaze to man running down the street in the rain without an umbrella, he’s not even wearing a jacket. The pup yips a few times, the man pauses and spins around a few times.

“Jjang!”

“Up here!” I respond, leaning over the railing just a bit. The man looks up, the bottom half of his face is covered with a mask but I’d know those handsome eyes anywhere. I keep myself from calling out his name but can’t hide the surprise on my face. I take a deep breath, “Are you looking for your dog?”

He nods.

“He’s up here, safe and happily fed, do you want me to bring him down?”

He shakes his head, “I’ll come up.”

I sit down in my chair, taking another deep breath I prepare myself. It only takes a few moment for the man to get up the stairs and to my table. His chest is heaving, he is dripping wet, looks completely freezing, but still manages to look absolutely amazing. Standing in front of me is Kai of EXO, Kim Jongin.

The pup, Jjanggu, is yipping happily at him, making a small smile spread across the tan man’s face, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” But even though Jjang is happy to see his master he doesn’t allow the man to pick him up. The idol reaches for his dog only to earn a little nip from the tiny beast. He looks at his pet with wide eyes, confusion written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly trying to hand the dog over.

“It’s fine,” Jongin waves my worry away quickly, “He likes you. He doesn’t like people. It’s just a little weird.” We both watch as Jjang curls back up in my lap and closes his eyes happily. Jongin just chuckles at his puppy’s attitude. He stands there for a moment longer before he starts to shiver, even under the heat lamp, goose bumps cover his skin.

“You look like your freezing,” I point out awkwardly.

He shrugs, “I’m just a bit chilly.”

“Here, you can take him,” I lift my hands, away from the pup, urging him on.

“He looks comfortable. I would hate to wake him,” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around himself.

“If you are going to be staying than at least let me give you my coat,” I begin pulling the jacket off before he has the chance to respond. He shakes his head.

“I’m okay.”

I scoff, “You are freezing, you are wet and cold and there is nothing wrong with borrowing a lady’s coat as long as you give it back. Now just crouch down just a bit,” I order.

“I’m fine,” He repeats, trying to look strong but ends up looking like a trembling puppy.

“Kim Jongin-ssi,” I warn. He gulps, whether it’s my tone the cold finally setting in  he leans closer, allowing me to wrap the jacket around his shoulders, “There, perfect.”

The tan man’s cheeks are tinted pink, “Thank you for the jacket, and for taking good care of Jjang.”

“It was my pleasure, he actually introduced me to this café so I should be thanking you. Their tea here is amazing.”

He nods, “It’s delicious. We come here whenever I have free time.”

“Speaking of which, you’re Kim Jongin.”

“I am,” The man chuckles. “And you are?”

“Leah.”

“Well Leah-ssi, it’s really nice to meet you.”

“You don’t have to speak formally to me, I’m only a little older than you.”

“Well Leah noona,” His accent forms my name so perfectly it’s like he’s said it a million times before, “Would you mind if I took a seat?”

“Go right a head.”

I expect him to take the seat farthest away but he pulls out the chair next to me and sits down, our knees brushing under the table. “He is a picky person,” He informs me when I go back to running my hands through the pup’s brown curls.

“He probably smells my dogs on me.”

His eyes light up at that, “You have dogs?”

“I do! A kitty too!”

“I take it you left them at home?”

“I did, they are too lazy for walks this early in the morning. Apparently this boy is not.”

“You are very right, he is up early every morning,” He grimaces, making me chuckle.

“That must get a bit annoying with your schedule, I imagine you don’t get to sleep in so often,” My tone is softer near the end as I access the bags under his eyes and the mess of hair on top of his head. He looks so exhausted.

“Again, you are right, but I understand why he does, he gets so excited the few moments I’m actually able to be home with them.”

I nod, “I would be excited too.” The words are out before I have the chance to filter them and access their fangirl levels but it’s too late.

“Really?” His brows go up, a smile spreads across his face.

“I’m sorry, that was weird.”

“It’s no weirder than me thinking how excited I would be to be greeted by that smile of yours every day.”

I blush.

His smile widens, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You look like you would get told that all the time.”

“It’s okay, it’s just different hearing it from you.”

“How are things going over here? I see you found the dog’s owner,” The server returns, he bows his head slightly to Jongin. “I’m sorry for interrupting, here is your check.” The boy holds out the receipt but before I can grab it Jongin snatches it from his hand and begins pulling out his wallet.

“I can pay!” I attempt to take it only to be caught by one of his hands. Long fingers wrap around my thin wrist as his other hand returns the receipt with a card to the server.

“I’ll take a cup of tea too, and another one for her,” Jongin tells him.

The boy nods and rushes away.

“I’m older, I’m supposed to pay,” I point out with my cheeks puffed, feeling anything but older next to the giant.

“I’m the guy, my mother raised me to pay.”

“That’s only for dates and stuff.”

“This could be a date,” He offers with a hopeful smile.

“What? How does that sound safe for you? I could be crazy!”

He laughs, “Are you crazy?”

“No, but-“

He cuts me off, “Then no buts, if you aren’t crazy, and if you are willing, of course, I would really like to make this a date.”

“Why me?”

“A woman who would go out of her way to get one of my babies back to me is a goddess is human skin. I owe you more than just this.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

“Fine, I’m doing it because I want to. Because a beautiful woman is here in front of me with kind eyes and my pickiest pup in her lap, if that isn’t reason enough let me know, I can think of a hundred other reasons I want to sit here and have breakfast with you.”

I nod, “No that’s good enough.”

“Good,” He beams satisfied, “Now about your dogs…”

[golddaggers]

chemistry // part two

pairings: teacher!dylan o'brien x student!reader.

warnings: besides cursing? none.

a/n: look finally decided to realease chapter number two? hahaha :) plus, I’d like to announce that I will be uploading every Saturday. well, the ones I can because university is a bitch. nonetheless, proceed to your reading.

word count: 2,6k+

part one

For some weird reason I was yet to figure out, because it was a lot unlike me, I woke up in an incredible good mood. Which could totally be related to the fact that today was the first sunny morning after weeks enduring grey skies, rain, thick coats and freezing temperatures. Not that I hated all of that, except I did; it made me feel depressed. Plus my hair looked awful.

Yawning tiredly, I stretched out, sitting on my bed. While doing so, my eyes fell to Karen’s sleeping figure all curled up like a ball underneath three sets of sheets on a mattress carefully placed on my carpeted floor. She had decided to stay over the night because we still needed to go over some flash cards to our Algebra exam, that happened to be today, after my mother’s delicious dinner. I wouldn’t be the one to blame her, Louisa Smith was definitely a good cook, which means her belly was probably too full for her to find the strength to leave.

A small laugh slipped past my lips as I got back to my feet, muscles still numb for the amount of hours I stayed in the same position. Either way, I was refreshed to have had, at least once and in a long while, a decent night of sleep; also, the recently made coffee scent alongside the, very likely, scrambled eggs, homemade buns and everything a hungry person could dream about got my stomach complaining, setting my destination to the kitchen room.

The lovely forty year old woman I called mum was humming happily to a song whilst, by smell, squeezing oranges to make my favourite juice. I understood she used cooking as a self defense mechanism to keep herself together; we were still struggling with our father’s departure. It was complicated to even bring up in conversations, so, eventually, we just sort of stopped. I was pretty sure she would get over it. She was the strongest person I had ever known, of course she would.

“Good morning.” I mumbled, hugging her tightly, feeling her tummy shake as the woman laughed. “And this smells great, by the way.”

“Good morning too, sweetheart. What got you up so early?” My mum quizzed, directing me one of her best soothing smiles. “Are you nervous about the test?”

“Yes, obviously.” Rolling my eyes, a tiny smirk curled my lips as I took place at the table. “But it’s not why I’m up. I actually have no idea, but I have this feeling today is going to be great.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, baby girl.”

“I am too, mum, these past weeks haven’t been easy, exactly…”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but you know what? We’re in a much better place now.”

“I think so too.” Supporting my elbows on the table, I watched my mother’s tired traits. “I want you to be happy too, ma.”

“I’m going to be fine!” The older woman looked away, prohibiting me from spotting her probably glassy eyes. “Now eat, before-”

A pale seventeen year old walked inside wearing a ridiculous bright red nightshirt and a sleeping mask controlling the brown mess that her hair was. She smiled kindly to both of us.

“Mrs. Smith, if you were going to say ‘eat before the eating monster arrive’, that would have been a great advice.”

The three of us shared a laugh before reuniting at the already set kitchen table, everything in place so we could eat together; Karen stole to her plate two muffins, three little breads, a couple of bacon’s slices and eggs, obviously. My mum and I just gazed at her, trying to hold our chuckles back. For someone so small, my friend definitely had a huge appetite.

Once the fun moment was over, we conducted a rather great breakfast, discussing light matters and gossiping like three old friends would do. To be honest, while we chatted, I was in awe to see that my mother was indeed improving; you could tell she had no masks on this time. No pretending nor disguising to be okay. It was purely and merely her.

Yes, this surely was a sign that a great day was ahead of me.

About twenty minutes later, Karen and I went upstairs to get ourselves ready to go to school. Because it was still a lot early, each one of us took our time to enjoy a warm bath, to pick a nice outfit, fix our hairs, etc, etc. Standard girl stuff, I guess.

“So,” The brown haired girl questioned, brushing her hair and locking it up in a tight pony tail. “You haven’t mentioned your date with Mr. McHottie a single time. Aren’t you going to go?”

“It’s not a date!” I whined, putting on a colourful sundress that fell to the mid of my thighs. Her green eyes glanced at me in disbelief, a smug grin taking over her heart shaped face. “It’s not! This is a class. Strictly professional.”

“Yeah… I just don’t buy it.” Scoffing, she stood and straightened her grey skirt, which matched perfectly her white buttoned blouse, the blue cardigan and also her heels. “You wouldn’t be dressing so nicely if the inner you didn’t think this is more than a casual lecture.”

“You are crazy, Karen.” Shaking my head, I slipped in my normal tennis shoes and put on a jeans jacket, grabbing my already fixed backpack that was placed near my closet’s door. “Can I just be in a good mood for once? Not everything has to be about men, you know.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, I’m just mentioning I’m happy. That’s all. And that it has nothing to do with Mr. O'Brien.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it.” Karen sighed, collecting her bag as well. “But, seriously, who are you denying this for? Me or you?”

The girl left without giving me time to even come up with a proper answer. Of course she had point; Karen knew very well I had had a crush on him a while back, in the tenth grade. But it was over, I was just kid. Furthermore, I highly doubted Mr. O'Brien would even think about the possibility of being with student; he was way too professional for that to happen. Like, friends, I guess, but dating? Not in million years.

A final exhale escaped as I made my way downstairs; I sure as hell needn’t to convince anyone, nor myself, that nothing was happening, because, well, nothing was happening. He was just being nice. That’s all.

“What took you so long, darling?��� My mother questioned as soon as I took my place on the front seat, putting my bag on my lap as I fastened my seat belt. “You look pale too.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” Gazing through the corner of my eye to the back row, I saw Karen shake her head, frowning at my response. “By the way, I might be running late today.”

“Why so?”

“Uh, my chemistry teacher, Mr. O'Brien, offered to help me catch up on the subject. He said I have been off lately.”

“Isn’t Mr. O'Brien the hot one?”

My cheeks quickly reached a scarlet tone as my eyes grew wide to her last sentence. Since when does my mother notice if people are hot or not? I was clearly shocked, yet, Williams broke the tension with a laugh, getting mum to do the same.

“Mum!”

“Just commenting, silly girl. You should see your face.” She stopped under a red sign, looking at me tenderly. “If he says so, I’m okay. Just don’t be so late, alright?”

“Got it.”

Connecting the white earbuds to my phone, I opened the Spotify app and swiftly drowned myself on Sofia Karlberg’s version of the song ‘Toxic’, wishing nothing but to distract myself of all the things that could lead me into thinking of my encounter later with a certain chemistry teacher.

As it turns out, the whole putting out of my mind my own human personification of a Greek God was incredibly hard. I mean, I tried, I really did, but his sinful honey eyes kept haunting me the entire course of my classes. Seriously, why couldn’t him be like my AP Calculus teacher: bald, pudgy and not at all attractive? It would make things a lot easier for me.

Biting my bottom lip to contain a frustrated sigh, I glared at Mrs. Ziemann, trying to focus on her interesting lecture about the end of World War I. She excitedly explained how wrecked both Italy and Germany were once it was over, especially the latter, with the cruel Treaty of Versailles. Oh, well, at least paying attention to that could allow me to forget I was only five minutes away from my meeting.

As the woman finished her presentation, I wrote down a few topics to look upon later when studying the subject, which I needed to do, because this good looking lady was known for her killer exams. On a side note? I may have cried myself after a couple of them.

“And this wraps up our class today.” She smiled solemnly, her pretty blue eyes locked on the back of the class where the lacrosse team was based. “Oh, wait, before you all go, I would like to inform I want, for next week, a paper on the tragic events at the end of World War I.”

This time I didn’t hold back a sigh, taking notes on my journal to do this assignment soon, for next week I also had, oh darn, a chemistry exam. Fate must really think my life is a big fat joke. That’s ought to be it.

I swiftly packed my stuff, placing a handle on my right shoulder and moving away from the class, only to find Karen leant against a wall outside, trying to look casual while chewing gum. Oh, yes, I had to solve this too.

“Please tell me you forgot about our little misunderstanding from earlier today.”

“I didn’t.” Her eyebrows were knitted together, her mouth forming a straight line. “But I’m willing to move past it if you promise to tell me the details of your “class” with Mr.McHottie.”

“You are such a gossiper!” I laughed, stopping at my locker to get my Chemistry book volume two. “I have been trying all day long to not think about it.”

“Let me guess: useless.”

“Damn right it was.”

“Well, he won’t bite you, at least.” The green eyed girl patted my back, a smirk plastered on her face. “Not unless you want to, I guess.”

“You are such a mean whore.” We both chuckled, our next stop being in front of Mr. O'Brien’s office, me knocking at the door twice. “And this is where I leave you, K.”

“Tell me the details!” She whispered, winking at me playfully. “I mean it!”

“Get out! Now!”

Williams raised her thumbs up to me, winking one last time then disappearing in the halls just before the brown haired man, also known as Greek God, also known as my chemistry teacher, opened the door. I certainly wasn’t ready to see him so loose, if that’s the correct term.

His hair was more disheveled than usual, the scruff still framing the beautiful pink lips, his white casual shirt had a button open, revealing an adorable puddle of chest hair, and his red tie was lying over his desk from what I could see. O'Brien directed me a comforting smirk, placing his rather large hand on my back, pulling me to get inside the room. One small comment so we can proceed: did he have a heater on or was it me that just suddenly grew warmer under his touch?

Gripping tighter on my hard covered book, I went forward to take seat on one of the first row’s places whilst he stayed behind to close the door. Okay, first minutes, still not weird. Maybe just a little bit. Why am I so tense?

“Are you okay, Smith?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit nervous…”

“You don’t have to be.” He smirked tenderly, pulling a chair to sit in front of me. “It’s just you and me, plus I won’t do anything to you.”

“Uh, people already think you-”

“Well, I seriously don’t mind what people think. You’re amazing, you know?” His eyes connected with mine for a while until he gazed down at his feet. “I meant as a student. That’s why I picked you to tutor.”

“Thank you, Mr. O'Brien, you are a wonderful teacher as well. I love your lectures so much!”

“That’s relieving, it would be pretty bad if my favourite student didn’t like them.” A small laugh slipped and, suddenly, all the nervousness was gone. “Should we start?”

“Yes, definitely.”

The following hour was simply incredible!

If him teaching to a whole class was good, having him as a mentor was even better. It was like he didn’t have to hold back nor maintain a straight face all the time. Plus the jokes? Damn, I could never have imagined he had such a great sense of humour. I mean, the man had gift on finding the right words to make me laugh like there was no tomorrow.

By the end of our time, I had not only gotten more confident on physical chemistry, but also met a side of my teacher I didn’t know previously. Mr. O'Brien, or Dylan, as he asked me to call him, was a sweet, caring guy. If the fifteen year old version of me had known this, she would be dead and buried now. God, I was a lame kid.

“It was nice being being with today.” He mumbled, nudging my shoulder with his and wearing the best smile in the whole wide world. “I’m glad we’ll be doing this for a few more weeks.”

“I’m glad too.” The watch on my wrist told me it was over six pm, which strictly meant my mum would be all over the place once I got home. “I should get going.”

“Wait, I-I…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, fuck it.”

Not thinking twice, he cupped my cheeks, pressing his perfectly shaped lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. At first I was surprised, however, as his tongue slowly licked stripe at my bottom lip, I melted away, surrendering to his touch. It was definitely nothing I could have ever dreamt about. The way his hands found the crook of my waist, how we moved in perfect sync… Everything felt like this was meant to be.

When air became necessary, we merely glued our foreheads together, gazes boring into one another. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t ideal, but, hell, I enjoyed this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, we shouldn’t-”

I didn’t want to hear the rest, he wouldn’t pop my bubble so soon, therefore, I kissed him again, this time with much more passion and hunger. So strong we were left a heaving mess afterwards.

“You’re an amazing kisser too.” O'Brien whispered, making me giggle. “I mean it.”

“You are one crazy person, O'Brien.”

“I told you should call me Dylan.”

“As you wish, Mr. O'Brien.” Playfully winking at him, I stole another peck, earning a small smile from him. “This is crazy… I mean, someone could have seen us! Oh, fuck, what if one of the cleaning ladies saw us? You could lose your job! Shit!”

“Relax, nobody saw us.” His thumbs massaged my cheekbones, trying to sooth me. “But you can’t tell this to anyone, okay? Not even Miss Williams. Even though I don’t regret one bit, I could really lose my job if this comes out.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone, it will be our little secret.”

“Deal.”

I hid my face on the crook of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating musk of his cologne. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me; I mean, it was too surreal. If it was a rumour about Briannah, I would have believed more, because, well, she did want to do it, but me? Nah, it was messed up. Nonetheless, it wasn’t less real. I was indeed within his arms. And, in that particular moment, I decided to not care about the consequences any longer.

[notsoguiltykpop]

The Tenth Floor pt9

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, humor, probably some angst

Warnings: Strong language, and smut talked about/implied in this chapter

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Yoongi wasn’t in his office on Tuesday morning when you walked in. It wasn’t like him to be late; more often than not, he had already been there for several hours before anyone else even stepped foot into the building. He hadn’t said anything the previous day that he wasn’t coming in, and you turned away from his dark office to find Namjoon.

“Have you heard from Yoongi this morning?” You asked, and Namjoon looked up from his computer with a slight frown. “He’s not here, should we be worried?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head to the side. “It’s the anniversary of his mothers death. He’ll be back in tomorrow.” He went back to whatever he was typing, his attention hardly ever leaving the computer screen.

“Oh.” Was all you could think of to say. He hadn’t said anything to you, but then again, why would he? You still had a job to do whether he was there or not. So you couldn’t quite figure out why you felt the slightest bit hurt by it. Perhaps you could argue that it was rude of him not to say anything to you, but even that sounded petty. He was the CEO, he didn’t owe and explanation to anyone, save maybe for Namjoon who was head of human resources and actually needed to know.

You also felt a strange sadness for Yoongi, the thought of him visiting his mothers grave, perhaps by himself. Or maybe he had gone with his family, that seemed like a much better option in your mind. There was such fondness in his voice the few times he had mentioned her, it was clear she meant a lot to him, and you hoped that he was surrounded by supportive people on a day like this.

You wondered back to your desk with your mind a million miles away. Should you say something to him tomorrow? That you were sorry or something along those lines, or would that simply make him feel worse? That might depend on how long ago it had happened, which you didn’t have the fainest clue. You realized once again how very little you knew about him, and also how much you wanted to change that–not that you should.

It didn’t help that things were still slightly awkward around him, with you constantly trying to remind yourself that he was your boss and that was all he ever should be, and him switching between angry-screaming-CEO-Yoongi and odd-mostly-calm-Yoong. You almost preferred it when he was permanently angry, at least then you knew what to expect from him.

Then again, this other side of Yoongi was (while quite strange) sweet in a way, and almost seemed sane. You could actually have a conversation with him, joke with him even, and he certainly smiled more (though still not as often as normal people). But along with the good came the bad, and it was with out a doubt very bad that the more you got to know him (or tried to), the more you wanted to keep getting to know him–which wasn’t good for keeping the whole boss-employee boundary in tact.

You worked in a bit of a haze the rest of the day. It felt so strange to be there without him, and even Jimin didn’t bother to make constant jabs at you when you passed by his desk. Hoseok came by at one point to inform you that you had been staring at your blank computer screen for a solid ten minutes and that Seokjin was worried. That was when you knew you needed to think about something else. Taehyung wasn’t there, but that could have been for any number of reasons–including that he may have finally gotten bored like Yoongi predicted. Whatever the reason, you were also grateful not to have him there complicating things.

You stood from your desk without much thought, walking back to Yoongi’s empty office absently. You flicked on the light and looked around the mess that it always was. You had no idea how he got anything done in such a wreck, papers were always on the floor surrounding his desk, and the desk itself was so piled up it was almost comical. There was broken glass in one corner, and the filing cabinet in the other wouldn’t close.

You sighed as you made your way into the office–you had finished everything that needed to be done that day, checked and responded to emails, returned calls and reviewed files. So you set about picking up the space, sorting papers and re-stacking them properly. Over the last week and a half, you had learned where and how Yoongi liked things--he just wasn’t good at putting them back where they belonged.

You opened the curtains that blocked off the rather incredible view of the city that Yoongi would have from his office if he ever bothered to move the fabric out of the way. It made the whole space feel better immediately, and you wondered how much more it would help if you opened a window–but you would save that for another day.

Among the papers on his desk, you found an expired credit card, a pair of glasses with one of the lenses missing, and an invitation for a party that happened two months ago. You also found a sticky note that said “call dad” buried under an old spreadsheet. You had no idea if he actually had, so you stuck it next to the many other yellow squares of paper that covered the side of his computer screen.

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice said from the door, and in your haste to stand up, you bumped your head on the underside of Yoongi’s desk where you had been gathering papers from.

“Do you really have no one else to bother?” You sighed as you stood, rubbing where your head had collided with the desk as you gave Jungkook a look. 

“I could bother plenty of people, but you’re the most fun.” He grinned at you, stepping further into the office. “Almost everyone else has left for the day. Are you going to stay here by yourself or what?” 

You blinked at him. Was it really that late already? You looked at the clock that sat on Yoongi’s desk, something you didn’t know he even had because it had been previously covered in so many sticky notes. Jungkook wasn’t lying though, it was six o’clock in the evening and most people would be going home about now, some even earlier. “I didn’t realize what time it was.” You said more to yourself than anything else. 

“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?” Jungkook snorted, picking up a paperweight from Yoongi’s desk and inspecting it. “What is this, anyway?” He held it up and your shrugged. 

“How should I know?” 

Jungkook was about to reply when you heard voices from not far off, and they didn’t sound happy. You recognized one as Taehyung’s, and it took you a second to figure out who the second person was. You and Jungkook exchanged a look, and suddenly he had grabbed your hand, pulling you in the opposite direction of the exit and to the tiny closet that Yoongi’s office had in the far right-hand corner. You had no idea what it was for, had never even looked in it, and honestly didn’t want to. If Yoongi was that messy in his office, what must his storage space look like? 

“What the hell?” You started, but he held a finger up to his lips as he opened the door, stepping inside the cramped space and ushering you to follow. You hesitated--following Jungkook into a small space seemed the dumbest thing you could possibly do, not to mention it was pointless--before you heard the tail end of something Yoongi had just said to Taehyung. It was rude, and a little scary. Maybe you didn’t want to talk to him right then. 

“Don’t you want to know what they’re arguing about?” Jungkook asked quietly, and you couldn’t believe that the answer was yes, you were horribly curious. There wasn’t much time to think about it, so you scooted in next to Jungkook, trying to stay as far away from him as possible; which wasn’t easy considering the closet itself was only about two and a half feet wide, and shelves took up a great deal of it. How Jungkook managed to close the door was a wonder, but it wasn’t a moment too soon. You heard Taehyung and Yoongi walk into the office, and then the creak of Yoongi’s desk chair as someone sat down. 

“Fuck off. I don’t know what kind of messed up shit you’re trying to pull, but in case you haven’t noticed, today isn’t a good one to bother me.” Yoongi sounded angry, which you had heard before, but somehow it sounded more genuine this time, like he really was ready to punch Taehyung. 

“Cut the crap, Yoongi. You know why I’m here, and you know what? I don’t give a fuck if you’re in a shit mood. That’s no excuse.” Taehyung sounded pissed, which was completely unlike him. He always seemed to stay calm, level-headed and neutral. “It’s only once a year. One day out of a year isn’t too much to ask.

There was a pause. “Yes. It is.” Yoongi said finally. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I didn’t come here to talk to you, Taehyung--” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Taehyung sneered. “You came here hoping to run into a very particular person, probably to threaten her job, judging by your current mood. You always did replace them if they were a little too nice. Or perhaps you were hoping she’d get your mind off things some other way, like she did the other night. I’m assuming that’s why you used her and then left her in the middle of nowhere Thursday night, anyway.” At his words, you felt your cheeks start to burn, and could practically feel Jungkook’s eyes turning to you in the dark. You should have just made your presence known earlier, it was childish and stupid to hide in a closet when you hadn’t even done anything wrong. You didn’t want to know that Taehyung had jumped to conclusions, and definitely didn’t want Jungkook to hear those conclusions. What if word spread? It wasn’t even true, but it could end your career. “Too bad she already left--though not without cleaning your office, I see.” 

“The fuck are you even talking about?” Yoongi’s voice was so low that you almost couldn’t hear it through the door. Regret gnawed at you, you never should have called Taehyung that night. All you wanted was a friend to drive you home, you hadn’t thought about the consequences of him working with Yoongi until later. “Damn it Taehyung.” You thought bitterly. “Why’d you have to bring that up?” 

“I don’t think I was clear enough before. You need to stay the fuck away from her.” Taehyung warned. “She deserves a hell of a lot better than you.” 

“I’m sorry, who are we talking about again?” Yoongi had switched from angry to mildly annoyed, but you could hear the strain in his voice even from behind a door. “Oh, you must mean my secretary!” You heard him snap his fingers, but you could tell by his voice that he knew exactly who Taehyung was referring to.

“I mean it, Yoongi. If you make her cry again like you did the other night--” Taehyung was cut off by Yoongi, however. 

“And what would you know about that?” 

Damn it damn it damn it, you couldn’t believe Taehyung was doing this to you. Was he trying to ruin things? Did he want Yoongi to hate you, for your life to be made even harder than it was already?

“I know enough.” Taehyung replied somewhat evasively. 

“Good. So you know that that while you were trying to play the nice guy, she was with me, and she enjoyed every fucking second of it. Are you really going to tell me that you’d have done something different, given the opportunity?” 

The pause that followed was too long. So much for Taehyung being a friend. You wanted to leave, to run out the door and never look back, send in your resignation letter and never see anyone from the tenth floor again. But you didn’t think you could handle the embarrassment of walking out of Yoongi’s closet with Jungkook, so you stayed where you were. 

And so much for Yoongi being a decent guy underneath his persona. He was purposefully leading Taehyung to believe that you’d slept with him, and even if it had been true, it wasn’t something you’d want him telling just anyone--and certainly not bragging about it to people he hated.

You didn’t even notice the tears that had pooled in your eyes at first, but suddenly they were streaming down your face. They were mostly due to embarrassment, but also due to anger--at Yoongi, at Taehyung, yourself for thinking that you knew either of them at all, and at Jungkook for somehow convincing you to step into this stupid closet with him. 

“I wouldn’t have left her out in the damn street without a car.” Taehyung snapped finally. 

“You like acting as though you’re so much better than me.” Yoongi sighed. “But we both know that at the end of the day, the girl you liked picked me without hesitation. That’s gotta say something about you, don’t you think?” Yoongi was trying to make Taehyung mad, and you suspected that it was working. “And I assure you, you weren’t anywhere in her mind when she unbuttoned her shirt, or reached for my belt...” 

“Fuck. Even I’m not this bad.” Jungkook whispered, and you reached up to clamp a hand over his mouth. You thought you might actually have a heart attack if you were caught like this with him. 

Yoongi’s words seemed to be the last straw for Taehyung, as you heard a crash from the other side of the door. Shortly after, you heard what you thought might have been a punch, and then some violent swearing, and another crash. Your hand went up to your mouth slowly to cover it. 

“They must really like you.” Jungkook hissed, pulling your hand away from his own mouth. 

“This has nothing to do with me.” You replied just as quietly. “Neither of them would get this bent out of shape over someone they just met. They were looking for a reason to tear each other down, and I just happened to get caught in the middle.” You hadn’t really intended to tell Jungkook of all people this, but the words slipped past your mouth without even realizing. You weren’t sure how you were suddenly so sure of this, but there was no doubt in your mind--you were nothing to either of them but a way to hurt the other.

“Get the fuck out of my office before I call the fucking police.” You heard Yoongi say, sounding out of breath. 

“I’ll tell dad you said hi, asshole.” Taehyung replied, anger clear in his voice. 

“You can tell dad to get hit by a bus.” Yoongi seethed. Taehyung slammed the office door as he left.

A/N Yep, they’re brothers! :D Kind of! You’ll see! Do you trust Taehyung, or Yoongi, or neither? Are they both assholes you hate? Is Jungkook growing on you, or is he still just a douche-canoe that might have just dragged Reader into a closet bc he wanted to be in a small space with her? Haha, thank you for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts and feelings! <3 <3 <3

[bluetriangels]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH HONG KONG AGAINST THE CCP!

You both like mckirk, stucky, cherik, sparrington, and sterek.

Stranger: [Sparrington!]

Stranger: [There's more of you out there and I'm so happy. Do you want to write something?]

You: [there is someone alive! Wow. Thought this place was dead. Sure!]

Stranger: [I'm alive! Yes. Do you prefer canon or AU?]

You: [No preference. Though setting it in canon might need great timing.]

Stranger: [We could always branch out more with AU. The only thing is I may only be able to see Jack in certain situations because of how great he fits in his time era, whilst James is a bit more versatile.]

Stranger: [But I do love canon too, like so much.]

You: [That's true. we could make in an AU within their time period?]

Stranger: [Yes! Did you have any ideas? It's okay if you don't, we could outline stuff and reach a conclusion, I have a few ideas.]

You: [James doesn't have to be the Commodore/Admiral?]

Stranger: [He definitely doesn't! Did you have something else in mind for him? Would he maybe just be an aristocrat? Artist? Writer?]

You: [I didn't consider a writer before but now I love it.]

Stranger: [Maybe he's writing poetry, or novels. Oh, that makes me wonder! Who would you prefer to write for?]

You: [I love them both so no preference there. Maybe he could write plays?]

Stranger: [Oh my gosh, yes! Like a budding Shakespeare. Oh my god I have the perfect idea.]

Stranger: [What if he hires actors, like poor men that fit the bill for what he had in mind and he gets them to perform. Maybe he pays them a small fee - like the host of the show was like, okay I can't pay you much for this so you can't hire well-known actors.]

You: [yes! Starting actors as he's the starting screen writer!]

Stranger: [Well not the host of the show, whoever has ownership of the stage or land.. I'd have to do more research on the proper terminology.]

Stranger: [Yes! Technically Jack's father is a pirate aristocrat. So we could either have him as a delinquent and rebel who's going to see the show or a beggar.]

Stranger: [There was a HUGE divide in London in the 1800s, because of the plague and everything.]

Stranger: [The rich got richer, the poor got poorer.]

You: [Oh that sounds like an amazing idea!]

Stranger: [I don't think it was the plague, actually. It was some other disease that broke out. Sorry, I have SO many events in my mind, they're a bit scrambled atm.]

Stranger: [Would you prefer Jack to be a rebellious aristocrat or a beggar?]

Stranger: [It all comes down to in the long run which would be better for us to expand on.]

You: [Both have their charm really. He could be both]

You: [Too rebelious and ended up like that]

Stranger: [Oh my gosh that's a marvellous idea. Cause then we could have his father looking for him maybe because of the current divide and everythingggg.]

Stranger: [Okay! Who do you want to take? I know you said you had no preference but I like to give a choice anyway.]

You: [I really really really love them both too much to choose :D ]

Stranger: [Can you tell I hate making choices? LOL]

You: [We could throw a dice ]

Stranger: [Ooh, yes!]

You: [if you can't pick either lol

Stranger: [Okay let's do heads or tails. Best out of three. Heads is, I get Jack. Tails is you get Jack.]

Stranger: [You get Jack!]

Stranger: [I've never done Norrington before, this is gonna be exciting.]

You: [I only did Jack once, but I do hope to work on my writing so I'm fine with that hah.]

Stranger: [Same here. I'm always trying to improve.]

Stranger: [What if we start from when Norrington approaches him?]

You: [oh that sounds good!]

Stranger: [Lemmie get us started then!]

Stranger: Writing had always been a passion of his, becoming a playwright was in his cards it seemed. Mother had died during childbirth, whilst his father had formed these ideas about nurturing your son being toxic. Already, as a boy, Norrington had seemed soft, when he'd turned to books, his father had grown disappointed as he'd not loved the cutlass nearly enough as his father would have wished him to. His heart grew fond of the feathered fountain pain, where he'd detailed all his thoughts in ink. The format made itself known, tackling world issues. While he was hoping it would make it onto stage, perhaps the Globe Theatre where the gracious Shakespeare had performed, he mostly wanted to deliver a message in the form of action. While his work wasn't amateur, he was new to the scene and therefore had no reputation to back him up. The owner of the area had said he wouldn't pay him much, therefore to be wise on who he picked. Besides, a name meant everything and his didn't ring with the finer actors, but this would only make his message all that more prominent. Many had joked and said that if he went to the diseased parts of town he would only find illiterates and billigerents. James did not find humour in that. On his horse, he rode through the richer parts of town down to the poor neighbourhoods, their homes falling apart, some of them at the hooves of his steed with their palms outstretched, hoping coin would fall out of his pouch with the heavy trot. When he reached the gate that sectioned them off, he found a few people under the bridge, huddled up in front of a manmade fire. A face stuck out to him, he was told to fear them but what was there to fear? "Excuse me, Sir? May I speak to you?"

You: It was a day like any other. No food unless one managed to steal it, or make enough begging to actually have someone to take pity of them and sell it to them cheaper. Both would still require Jack to move to the outskirts of the richer parts of the town, sooner or later, getting the looks of the rich people. The one that made it obvious just how disgusted they were, how afraid, downright scared they were of getting any and all illnesses. The greed they had was worse than anything people here could have though. Jack was about to get up and start going through the plan, when someone stopped by and Jack opened his mouth slightly, staring up with one eye closed. Huh? "Speak to me?" Jack asked, pointing to himself and looking around for the good measure. People whispered and hissed behind his back - people dressed like this guy, but they didn't usually stop to TALK to him. Huh. "Whatever you're missing, mate, I didn't steal it." Not yet at least.

Stranger: It wasn't an every day thing, hooves on cobblestone, but when they rode through they didn't stop. They had the gatekeeper at the ready to open the heavy metal doors, in hopes that any pestilence will be kicked off by the wind brushing through their coats. They had to ride to the port at times, or other neighbouring lands where they would trade silk or food. It's what kept the town running, at least a part of it. That's why when the man was confused, James wasn't surprised. His father had influenced him far more than he would have liked, regarding the way the poor were viewed. The only thing he feared was disease, it was prominent because of their lack of medical care, anything they touched would have to somehow be sterilised. That's something he paid close attention to. A matter of fact, when one woman began her coughing fit, he stepped aside, praying to God above to help him make it out alive. Illness was a very serious thing, even something minor could kill someone and he had to think about his friends and family, he didn't want to spread it onto them. "I'm aware. I have a proposal for you." Minimum wage was two shillings an hour, and he decided he would up the pay to twice that or more. "I am willing to pay you five shillings an hour for a favour."

You: Jack opened his mouth, then blinked when he woman started coughing. Oh great. Another one. It wasn't good if people here were sick. And if he remembered correctly, this woman had those two small sons running around - whom he didn't see running around for a while now, actually. He sighed, before pulling off his coat, offering it to the woman as she passed, before lightly making the shooing motions at her. He didn't plan to get sick, thank you very much. He sighed and turned back to the guy, looking him up and down slowly. He wasn't bad looking. And it wouldn't be the first time people from the inner city came to the corners to see if there was someone mostly clean for a quick satisfaction for them... but Five shillings wasn't that much for a 'favor' like that. Someone else might just be tempted though. Wait. "Five an hour?" He asked, his eyes narrowing. Either this man trusted himself too much or it was something else entirely. "What favor are we talking about here?"

Stranger: If he could count the times a Navy soldier came bragging about the lass he... did things to, he wouldn't have any room left, not even on his toes. It was a despicable thing, really. Among their superiors, they never said a word as it was viewed as a rather dastardly thing to do but every one of them knew the other did it, even if it was an unspoken crime. What bothered him more was the way they spoke about the women, how they dehumanized them, it was always some fellow bragging in a piggish way about how he'd done her and she did this and that, never mentioning their silent cries for help. That was their only way of making money. "I've written a play, I would like for you to perform it along with a few other people I'm going to pick. I'll be providing you with some training, the script and help if you require it. And er, it's policy that you're checked with a fine bill of health," he's saying, "I'll be referring you to my personal doctor." The kindness this man had, offering her his coat like that.. they watched out for one another down here, you'd not see that among richer men. They'd laugh at someone's misery, they would let them wallow in it. What had they become? It was never a wonderful time, with what went on with pirates, wars, but now.. it was getting increasingly worse, he could see the desperation on their faces, their hollowed out cheeks, the dirt on their face... No wonder they never stopped, they'd.. they'd feel exactly like he was feeling now and it was better to ignore that.

You: Jack rolled his eyes at the man. Of course. Too scared to bring sickness to wherever he was from. It made sense, because no one would want to get sick - no one would want to bring the threat to their own lives to their own home, obviously, but it was still irritating. THough still... five shillings for something as playing pretend and to have him checked to make sure he was healthy? Jack would be stupid if he didn't take it. "I'm not paying for the doctor." He said and his eyes narrowed. "Also no knives on the guy." He did not trust doctors that were too happy with seeing blood of their patients. "How long would it last then? How long would you need us there per day?" He asked, his mind already counting the money. It wouldn't make more than stealing a heavy money bag, but Jack won't have to rush to hide at least.

Stranger: Per day. Of course, he was counting his money. "I would not expect a poor man to pay for a doctor. That's absurd." That's why he was limiting the crew, they would each play two characters they fit the criteria of, it would lessen the medical bills that were going to rack up. Besides, the owner wanted a large percentage of the final pay. About twenty-five, he said, which was a lot considering the turn out might not be good and he'd be losing money. It was playing the devil's hand, really, with his actors coming from poor neighbourhoods but he'd already sent his assistant to distribute the hand drawn flyers all across town. Another man by the name of Swann had promised to put in a great word for him, he was more of a father to him than his own but he'd never say so. "Eight hours every day. We are to work hard as the play is only in a couple of weeks. Two, actually. I am hoping it won't be a complete disaster. If any of you fail to meet the requirements, I'll have to terminate our contract and you'll leave empty-handed. I'm not, by any means, tolerating impertinence towards my hard work or others that are doing their best to make their wage. Agreed?" There was no hesitance in his voice, it was stern, boisterous, with his brows knitted together tightly. There was a contract he had written up that had been wrung into a scroll and put in the saddlebag.

You: That would make forty a day. Forty. That would make sure that there was enough food, for him and Gibbs. That would make sure he could get some of the warm blankets he wanted to, and maybe even get rid of some of the holes in the house. He grinned, wide and happy, before leaning closer to the man, nodding. "Of course, sir." He said, snatching the scroll from the man's hands, opening it and not even reading it through. "Got anything for me to sign it with? Not my blood I'm guessing, since you're not sure if it's not icky yet." He beamed, nodding. "How many people are you even looking for?"

Stranger: Forty shillings was no joke to a beggar. That would be around two hundred and four pounds, whereas the working man made about sixteen pounds every week. That would definitely cover the costs of many things, it would feed a town, really. It would repair holes, provide shelter, who knows what these people bought? They certainly had to prioritise one thing over the other. They couldn't go around buying paintings or fabulous ink. When he was about to open his mouth again, he heard protesting begin at the back of the crowd, "Fancy that? One of us gets plucked off when they need us. They don't seem to care otherwise," he's snapping. That seemed to create an uproar, with a woman rising, making James cower but not because he was a coward, but because he saw the boils on her face. "We've got little ones out here! Dyin' in 'ar arms, they are!" Clearing his throat, James is attempting to ignore the protesting, blinking his eyes but it only got louder. To which he responded, then, "I'm terribly sorry... I.. wish things were different but I'm working on it," he's saying, handing Jack the pen and waiting. "A few more, my play isn't very long."

You: Jack huffed, quickly signing down his name without thinking, before pushing the parchment at the guy and turning around to face the crowd. "Now, now, let's calm down, shall we?" He asked, before motioning to the guy. "We're talking to the rising star here, a future maestro." He said, grinning. Sometimes these people needed things explained. Not that Jack minded. They were still much more truthful than the rich lot, much more feeling and caring and knew how to share. "Which means if his plays are good, he'll need more people to work for him. Which means he'll be looking for more people." He pointed out shrugging. "He could've picked anyone really, could've gotten to the tavern and picked whomever there, but mates, he came /here/." He grinned. "You know what that means? It means that if we won't try to hunt him down with this yelling and stop being annoying, he'll come here again, for other people. That's a good situation. Now stop gawking around being annoying and at least pretend you're doing something so he won't think we're not hard working. Shoo, Shooo." He said, shaking his head, before turning to the man again. "Sorry, mate. People here get touchy about the likes of you."

Stranger: [Think we can continue elsewhere? My bunny is being a nutter at the moment and my mum's over.]

Stranger: [It's fine if you don't do it outside omegle but just thought I'd ask since this ship is so rare and I'm enjoying it.]

You: [Bunny.]

You: [beanXD]

Stranger: [OH MY GOD]

Stranger: [Gem?]

You: [aye XDXD]

Stranger: [OH MY GODDDD HAHAHAH]

Stranger: [This is amazing. I'll talk to you on Discord. I'm saving this log. <3]

Stranger: [See you in a bit.]

Stranger has disconnected.

[germanottaisgodxo]

1-100

Get to know me

1. NameRachael

2. Age22

3. City that you live inFalkirk

4. What do most people not know about you?Can’t tell you that

5. What do most people know you for?My love for Lady Gaga

6. HobbiesVolunteering, reading, listening to music

7. What are your passions?See above 😛 also eating a 6pack of Walkers in like 10 minutes

8. What do you search for in a significant other?Not currently looking for a significant other tbh

7. What are you most proud of?How far I’ve came this year in terms of my mental health

8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love?A while ago

9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it?Pokemon & Yugioh cards when I was a kid

10. List 10 things off of your bucket list.Go to FranceDye my hair a weird colour (like green or pink) Own a catGo bungee jumpingSkydiveGo to AustraliaMeet Lady GagaSee Jon Richardson & Russell Howard liveMeet some of my internet friendsGo to Japan

11. What was the last thing you learned?What gift aid means when you’re selling stuff in a charity shop

12. How many relationships have you been in?0

13. Turn onsIdk

14. Turn offs^^

15. Favorite foodPickled onion crisps

16. Favorite drinkIrn Bru

17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received?Ipod

18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic?I’m really trying to be more optimistic

19. Do you sleep during class?Wish I could 😂

20. What is the most expensive thing you own?Probably my couch, it was somewhere between £800 & £900

21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own?My phone

22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone?Just the one seeing as I never put it down 😂😂

23. Text or call?Text

24. Opinion on long distance?If you love the person then the distance is worth it

25. What is your definition of success?Doing well at something

26. Favorite song?Currently? Taylor Swift’s gorgeousDavid Guetta/Charlie XCX’s dirty sexy moneyLittle Mix’s powerDua Lipa’s new rules

27. Favorite artist?Lady Gaga

28. Celebrity crush/crushes?Stefani Germanotta 😉

29. When was the last time you read for fun?I just finished a book half an hour ago, though it was that much of a pain to read it took me like 2 weeks to get through it

30. Favorite flower?Thistle

31. What is the best gift you could receive right now?For my internet provider to put my damn services back on cause I DID just pay them 😑

32. Any guilty pleasures?Food hahahaha

33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself?The way I see myself cause I automatically think to answer “everything” when I’m asked this question & I shouldn’t think like that

34. What do you search for in a friend?Same sense of humour, can wind each other up but doesn’t cross the line, understanding, looks out for me, teaches me stuff but isn’t patronising about it, kind, patient, can talk about really weird/personal stuff

35. How many times have you said “I love you” in the past month?None

36. Where did you last go other than your room/home?To my volunteering for a meeting

37. Why do bad things happen to good people?No idea

38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye?Shouldn’t that say be stabbed in the back ? But both can hurt a huge amount, it depends on the situation

39. How many green shirts do you own?2

40. Do you like anime?I did when I was a teenager

41. What do you invest the most time in?Volunteering/work experience & trying to better my mental health

42. What was the name of the last book you read?Mother, mother

43. What’s the difference between loving and liking someone?Liking someone is thinking that person is perfect/has no flaws but loving someone is knowing that they do actually have flaws/aren’t perfect but still loving them anyway

44. Where are you most productive?Volunteering (when I’m not on the verge of a panic attack 😂😂)

45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends.Gossiping/complainingJust generally hanging out & talking about a load of shite

46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone.EatingSleeping Scrolling social media

47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist?As nice as it would be, it’s not likely cause there will always be something or someone disrupting the peace

48. Do you have any allergies?Nah

49. When was the last time you cussed at someone?Today at my volunteers meeting cause I wasn’t allowed to eat the sausage rolls 😂

50. What was the last promise you made?Oooh, I can’t remember

51. What was your last dream about?Don’t think you want to know hahaha

52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be?Think I’d just give the tickets to my friend & her boyfriend and their babies so they could go a family holiday, they could go to Florida too cause she likes it there ☺

53. How many countries have you visited?(Including the other 3 of Britain) 8/9

54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.)Music

56. When was the last time somebody complimented you?Yesterday

56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself?The way I act

57. Do you consider yourself mature?No 😎

58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr?I’ve wasted every damn day on here for the past 6 years

59. What is your favorite quote?“Life’s too short to spend it at war with yourself”

60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be?Don’t think I would tbh

61. What is your greatest accomplishment?Fighting back against my depression

62. Do you believe in the death penalty?Nah

63. What are your goals for life?Be less self hatingSelf forgivenessBe financially secureMove back to the town where my family stayGet a job that I like Finally get in a relationship Have a cat (or 10)

64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now?I dunno, probs pooping

65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world.France

66. What were you like in 2013?Too far up my own arse 😐

67. Do you have a job?Other than voluntary stuff, nah

68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend.I can’t think of a “story” to tell

69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be?Judgement/close-mindedness

70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before?Quite a few

71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website?Snapchat

72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?Taking the money & running away with it

73. Does money equal happiness?Nope, you could be the richest person in the world & still be violently depressed; as nice as it would be to be financially secure you could just as easily be totally alone & a mess

74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime?Don’t think I have tbh

75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime?It’s been ongoing since birth

76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told?My life

77. When was the last time you looked at the news?Never, it doesn’t interest me

78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say?Buy me a McDonald’s

79. What is your favorite animal?Cat!!!!!!!

80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it?Nah cause it wouldn’t be worth the jail sentence/trying to explain why I did it etc

81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at?Hmm, I can’t think

82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get?Whenever I feel like it & it can vary from a couple of hours to over 16 hours

83. Does age necessarily equal maturity?Nope, I know people in their mid 30’s who honestly act like nursery aged kids

84. What is your favorite clothing store?Primark

85. In the winter- beanies or gloves?Gloves, I don’t like hats

86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail?Wings for flying purposes

87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it?Depends on the person

88. What do you fear the most?Dogs, lifts, the dark

89. How many digits of pi can you recite?Just the standard 3.14 😂

90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be?None of them

91. Describe yourself in one word.Freezing

92. Describe your last victory.Winning at bingo hahaha

93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen?People at one of my volunteering who put everything on their baked potatoes 😐 (cheese, tuna, coleslaw, beans & onion)

94. What is something you will never forget?The people I’ve met

95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail?Forget it!!

96. Have you ever broken a bone before?Nope

97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody?Hate

98. Coffee or tea?Neither 😷

99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way?Just really trying to change the way I view myself & the world tbh

100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today?Just the one