mirkwoodshewolf

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Can I have this dance; Johnny Storm x reader

*Author's note*

Okay so after my first F4 fanfic I decided to make a new one. DON'T WORRY NO SPOILERS IN THIS ONE. Just some fluffy Johnny storm flirty banter between both characters that is also border-line teasing but it'll all make sense later. This was also HEAVILY inspired after revisiting HSM3 soundtrack and hearing the wonderful love song ballad "Can I have this dance?" hence the title of the fic so I hope all of you have a listen to this song whilst reading it especially towards the end. I promise it REALLY sets the mood :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@austynparksandpizza

_______________________________________________________

Johnny Storm had come to accept a lot of things in his brief lifetime.  He had to accept suddenly getting super powers after flying through a cosmic storm while on a space exploration with his big sis, his brother in law, and a dear friend of his.  He had to accept that he now held a huge public image and was required to do certain things like photoshoots, company sponsorships, and being the ‘Single hot bachelor of the month’.

But what he couldn’t accept was attending a Gala party and be expected to learn how to properly waltz.  Reed and Sue had just finished a business deal with a big corporation in Mumbai and in celebration of a new partnership, a gala ball was said to happen and everyone was required to attend.

To Johnny however that meant one of two things; One, he’d be forced to wear a monkey-suit as he’s deemed a traditional tuxedo, and two, he’d have to learn how to properly waltz.  Which he’s too impatient to learn and he’d never admit it to anyone but he’s got two left feet.  As Johnny sulked in his room with his space helmet on his head, Sue came in saying as she picked up some of his records all scattered on the floor.

“You gonna sit there and pout all day or are you gonna head downstairs to get fitted? The tailor’s here.”

“Why did we agree to have this be a ball? Why not a normal gala party with food and drinks like everything else?”

“Because the Emperor wanted to have a traditional celebration in honor of our new partnership. But don’t worry, I got your little problem solved.”

“Little problem? Sue you’re making me sound like I got a—” Sue gave him a look daring him to finish his statement.  “I wasn’t going to say that! I was going to say in the lines of being a fear of dancing. Well I don’t!”

“You’re right. It’s slow dancing you can’t stand.”

“Sue I swear to God…..”

“Cool it hothead, just go to this address later today at 4 o’clock. She’ll be waiting for you then. And don’t try to flirt with her, please.”

“Her? Well now you gotta tell me more, who is she? What is this place I’m going to exactly?” Sue ignored her brother and left his room setting his records properly onto his desk.

“4 o’clock! Don’t be late!” she then left his room leaving Johnny clueless as he looked down at the piece of paper she had just given him and saw that it was a flyer for a dance school right in the streets of Broadway.  “Broadway huh? Who would’ve thought.”

Nonetheless, he did as his sister suggested and went to the address just as 4 o’clock was about to strike.  It was a normal looking building just like everything else in the neighborhood.  He went inside the door and walked up the stairs until he could hear some feet pounding in rhythm.

“That’s it, that’s it guys c’mon! Hit it harder Janice. Lock that arm in Andre. There you go Dorinda hit it! Hit! Hit! Yes very good!” he peeked in the room and saw a bunch of people dancing in perfect synchronization.  Popping their arms to the beat of the music, feet stomping all together like rhythmic thunder and a woman was pacing the front of the mirrors that aligned throughout the back of the room.

Johnny was in awe of her as he leaned against the door way and as he stared at her, he began to ponder if he had seen her somewhere before.  She looked very familiar but he couldn’t quite remember where he had seen her before.

“Alright that’s good. Very nice job today guys. Keep practicing what we worked on today and I’ll see you all for your last practice before your play rehearsal.” The people all clapped at the woman’s words before they all began to gather their bags and belongings and bidding her goodbye.

Johnny stepped aside and hid his face so that no one would recognize him.  Then once the last person had left, he swayed between going in and out of the studio room.

“You can come in you know. I’ve already been expecting you like your sister said.” Johnny came in anxiously playing with his fingers (a trait he hadn’t done since his early teen years).  “Well, well, well, the infamous Johnny Storm himself. Tell me what brings such a big time celebrity to my humble little studio?”

“Wait I thought you already knew why I was here?” he couldn’t help but be coy as he teased.

“Oh I know I just wanna hear you say it. The famous ladies’ man, bachelor and icon of the Johnny Storm flaming hearts fan club?”

“Okay, okay hahaha very funny.” She snickered before sipping her water.  “Look I didn’t even expect my sister to get me dance lessons so can we just get this over with so the Gala can come and I can no longer embarrass myself anymore?”

“Always straight to the point.” He heard her mutter.

“What was that?”

“Never mind. Now as for your dance lesson, you can’t just rush these things I’m afraid. However I got two weeks to teach you to waltz so time is limited. But lucky for you, my schedule is open especially since the group I’m teaching now is about to start their rehearsal for West Side Story.”

“So you’re gonna help me learn to waltz? Can I trust you to keep this quiet to the press? It’s not like I don’t mind a bad story but you know—public image. Word gets out I’m getting dance lessons and I could be labeled as a fairy for life.”

“Your sister was very convincing, plus she and Reed already paid up front for the 2 hours.”

“2 hours!?”

“Do you wanna learn to do it right or do it fast and embarrass yourself before the press?” Johnny groaned as he threw his head back.  “C’mon, show me what you got first of all so I can see what I’m working with.”

“What?”

“You heard me flameo, show me what you got. Unless you’re too scared.” She playfully mocked.

Johnny was taken back by this girl’s directness but it intrigued him too much for him to take offense to it.  Besides the way she spoke to him had no hint of derogatory or mocking.  He took a breath and awkwardly held his arms out and stepped side to side but was as stiff as a board.

“Okay, okay stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” She softly waved her arms out and came in front of him.  ��First of all you’re acting like you got a stick shoved so far up your butt, you’re letting the stick control you.”

“That was some metaphor.”

“Believe me I’ve seen worse dancers than you matchstick.”

“What is this give Johnny bad nicknames?”

“Sorry, you’re right I tend to make sarcastic comments and call people nicknames when I see they’re nervous. Find it helps to distract them in order to get in the mood.” Johnny went to open his mouth but she told him, “And if you make a sex joke right now, I will throw you out of my studio.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Alright well enough jokes, let’s get down to the real business. Come here to the center of the room.” She trotted over while Johnny slowly followed behind her.  She extended her right arm out and told him, “Take my hand, take a breath,” Johnny took a deep breath in before softly exhaling.  “Your other hand on my waist. No lower than that please, and pull me close.”

Johnny did just that and they stood practically chest to chest with each other.

“Okay maybe not that close.”

“Well you said pull you close, so technically it’s your fault for not specifying the proximity of the closeness you wanted.”

“Alright matchstick man I see you. How about your brother in law’s book on theories and multiversal dimensions length.”

“That’s a pretty thick book, you sure about that?”

“Or is the dictionary more compatible for you?”

This banter between the two of them.  Johnny couldn’t explain it but even though he should take offense to this, hell she should even be a bit mad at certain points of the conversation they’ve been having.  But for some reason, he wasn’t and neither was she.

It felt—natural. Like the two were meant to be.  But Johnny couldn’t piece it together quite yet.  Something inside of him as he got a better look at her felt familiar but it just wasn’t clicking.

“Now then, with the right distance between us. Move with your left foot forward first.” As they each took a step, Johnny kept his eyes down.  He felt her lift his chin and she told him, “Keep your eyes locked to mine. And let the music be your guide.”

“But there’s no music.”

“A true dancer can find the music within. And I know you’ve got it in you.” She placed her left hand on his shoulder and Johnny swore her touch made his heart skip a beat.

But not in a normal way of that first meeting of flirting with a pretty girl.  This felt—familiar.  Like this touch he had felt a thousand times and his heart was crying out for more.

“Now a basic waltz is a simple four count. Forward, right, back and left. So one, two, three, four. For now let me lead, with your left leg step back and I’ll come forward. Goof, now your right leg will step to the right. Remember eyes on me.”

“If I step on your foot and bruise your toes, I don’t want a lawsuit.”

“Trust me I’ve had worse. Try tearing your Achilles tendon. Now that’s true pain.” Johnny hissed.

Their lesson continued for the full two hours.  Playful bantering, helpful advice when he really needed it, but most of all progress.  Soon enough they got into moving into a more fluent waltz dancing outside of the box.

Of course Johnny kept stepping on her feet and would apologize for it but she told him not to worry.  At the end of their two hours, she told him that they’d practice dancing about the room tomorrow at 5pm and with that the two of them departed ways but before he left he asked her.

“What’s your name?”

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“So what I get to dance with you every day for the next two weeks two hours a day and I don’t get to know your name? That seems a bit unfair.”

“Tell you what flameo, dazzle me within a week of our lesson and I might just give you a hint at my name.”

“A challenge, I can accept that.”

“Oh I know you can.” She teased as she wrapped her dancing bag over her shoulder and left with a salute.  Johnny fell against the wall sighing in amazement.

“What a woman.” He said in awe as he shook his head.

Later that night as he returned back to the Baxter Building and grabbed a box of cereal.  He noticed Ben preparing dinner and he told him.

“You’re gonna ruin your appetite.”

“I’m hungry. I’ve been at practice for the past two hours and I feel like I hadn’t eaten all day.”

“Yeah Sue told me you were taking dance lessons. So what, you planning on wearing a leotard to the gala?” Ben teased.

“You wearing sediment or igneous?” Johnny retorted back.

“Hey ease up on the rock jokes there kid.”

“You’re right, I took it too far. So what time is it?”

“It’s time you were in your room wasting your appetite with Lucky Charms.” Johnny grinned as he trotted up the stairs, gave HERBIE a light scratch on the head as he passed by the robot, and headed straight to his room.

As he collapsed there on his chair, he thought back to his dance instructor.  This was going to kill Johnny but there was just something about the look in his instructor’s eyes that he had seen a hundred times before but he just could place where he had seen those eyes before.  But he was determined to impress her every lesson and hope that he’d be closer to finding out her name.

After all, Johnny Storm loves a challenge, especially when it involves a beautiful woman.

When day seven came around Johnny and his instructor were gracefully dancing together across the studio room with music playing in the background.  Johnny even gave his instructor a playful dip to really spice things up before resuming in guiding her across the room.

As the music came to an end, Johnny raised her arms up as they softly spun around each other before her arms wrapped around his neck and he held her waist gently rubbing it up and down.  The two of them softly panting and smiling at each other.

“Nicely done. Although I’d have to say the dip was too much.”

“I think it adds a bit more flair to the waltz. To fully trust your partner to not drop you, you said so yourself.”

“Yes but I was referring to the fact that the right partner can make you soar even when you’re on the ground. So there’s no need to flashy moves like a dip or spinning around so fast it’s like your partner’s a human tornado.”

“So what because of my improvised move, do I lose the bet?” she chuckled as he let go of her and pouted.  She came over and nudged him playfully.

“Ahh don’t get so worked up. I’m not saying it’s all that bad. Just means you’ve got your own style there tenderfoot.”

That was when it hit him.  Like I bolt of lightning that struck his brain.  That nickname, tenderfoot.  He turned and looked at her in shock.

“Well I hate to cut this particular lesson short but I gotta run. I promised my sister that I’d visit ma with her. See you on Monday flameo.” She raced out of the room leaving a dumbfounded Johnny in the studio.

“It—it couldn’t be……” he muttered.  “God she’s just as beautiful if not even more than back then.” He fawned.  His heart racing and that clammy feeling in his hands returning that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.

Only one girl ever made him feel so tongue-tied or twisted up but at the same time so comfortable of being in his own skin that he didn’t need to seek out approval from her.  And now she was—Johnny couldn’t believe it.

Time passed and it was a couple of days before the Gala ball and today was Johnny’s last dace of his dance practice with (Y/n).  He had improved so much that dancing a perfect waltz became second nature to him.  (Y/n) had even admitted that he was better than most of the Broadway dancers when it came to waltzing.

The two of them moved as one body with Johnny leading her, their eyes always looking at each other and never once breaking the connection.  They’d dance through the studio with grace and finesse that almost made them look like two snowflakes dancing on a winter’s wind.  When they stopped, they bowed to each other and (Y/n) said to him.

“Well done Storm, looks like you’re gonna be the Bard of the ball. I would say Bell but that’s more you know.”

“It’s all thanks to you. It’s a miracle that Sue found you.”

“Ahh just luck of the draw. There’s plenty of dance schools or people she could’ve called.”

“No. It wasn’t. She knew because it was time for us to have reunited with each other. Right, twinkle toes?” (Y/n) looked at him in shock.

No one had called her that since high school.  And there was only one boy who ever call her that and not make it sound condescending.  And he was standing right before her.

“When’d you finally remember?”

“It was nagging me in the back of my head since Day one. There was just something about the way your eyes shined whenever you danced, the way your body doesn’t just move across the room, it glides like a figure skater on ice. But it wasn’t until you referred to me as tender foot that it started to become clear.” (Y/n) smiled and softly laughed.

“About damn time you caught on tender foot. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me after making it big as an scientist/astronaut turned superhero.”

“Me, forget the girl whose been my best friend and who always stayed after school every year she got a part in a musical just to rehearse and practice the choreography? Never.”

“You literally asked me the first day if you knew me.”

“Well you could’ve come forward and told me you know. Why does it always have to be one-sided with you—”

“Johnny, I’m just pulling your leg.” She teased.

“Oh okay, and just for that.” He playfully growled as he grabbed hold of (Y/n) and tossed her over his shoulder making her shrieks echo through the studio as well as her laughter that followed right after.

“Put me down you big ape!”

“No I don’t think I will.” He playfully pondered as he walked around the studio.  He spun around which made her shriek again and slap his broad back.

“Johnny!” she

“Whaty?!” he mocked her as he adjusted her position to now be held over him.  Her legs wrapped around his ribs while she looked down at him with her arms wrapped around his neck.  Him looking up at her like she had hung all the stars and the moon in space.

Their laughter slowly died down before he finally set her back down onto the ground gently.  Their arms still wrapped around each other.

“I—”

“Come to the ball with me.” Johnny said urgently.

“What?”

“Come with me. As my date.”

“Johnny…..”

“Please say you will. I don’t think I can dance as well as I have been without you as my partner. You said the right partner can make you soar even when you’re on the ground. Well that partner for me is you. Plus I let life get in the way of us last time, I refuse to lose you again.”

(Y/n) pondered as she kept her eyes on Johnny.  The boy she was once great friends and had harbored a secret crush on had come back into her life. 

“Is black tie optional?” Johnny’s face beamed with excitement as he picked her up in a hug spinning her around making her laugh once more.

The night of the gala ball every guest was dressed to the nines in their best formal wear as a live orchestra was playing their selected pieces for the ball.  Johnny stood by the bar sipping on a glass of champagne when he felt a tap at his shoulder, he turned and was stunned to see (Y/n) in a beautiful white dress with black satin ribbons stitched along the hems of the dress.

“Wow. You look…..”

“If you make a fire pun I swear I’ll walk out of here right now.” She threatened but the look in her eyes were playful and cheeky.

“Why must you always do that?”

“Because it’s fun. How else did you stay friends with me?”

“That. Exactly that. Your sense of humor. A girl who actually knew how to take a joke as well as play a good prank when she wants to.”

“Hey Biff had it coming to him. I’m not some floozy who will just fawn over a big strong man whose goal is to make every other guy’s life miserable.”

“Shall we?” he held his hand out and (Y/n) placed her hand into his as the two of them headed towards the dance floor with the rest of the guests.

Johnny pulled her close with her right hand in his left, his other arm wrapped softly around her back resting between her shoulder blades and he took the lead.

“And don’t worry, every turn will be safe with me.” He whispered to her.

“You’ll be there to catch me through it all?”

“Always.” Together the two of them waltzed across the entire ballroom with grace and poise.  Some of the guests even stopped to admire the chemistry between these two young dancers and were just in awe at how beautiful these two danced together.  Like two swans in a courtship dance.

As Sue stood in the back, she couldn’t help but smile at her hard work finally coming back into play when Ben stepped up to her and said.

“How’d you manage to find her again?”

“She came back to New York little over a year ago to teach Broadway choreography. I remember Johnny being so crushed when she said she was moving to California just before their senior year of high school when her parents divorced. Mainly because I knew he had fallen for her but never got the chance to tell her.”

“You’re a pretty good sister to him you know that?”

“Johnny’s Johnny. He got her all on his own, I just helped intertwine their paths again.” Sue sipped her drink before she swayed to the beat of the music and watched with loving eyes as her little brother danced with the girl of his dreams.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

god this chap is soooo full of emotion and yeah right till the end Eddie was the MVP of bffs. Hope he makes it up to Steph cause at this point besides Will, hes the only one she’s got to really talk to at this point without anyone worrying about her. Well done darling cant wait for more :)

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter 10

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Chapter Summary: After Will sees something terrifying on Halloween night, it prompts Mike to wonder if Eleven is still alive, or if he's going crazy as well. Meanwhile, Steve’s love life starts to unravel, and the Hellfire Club crashes a party.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 19, 173 (It's a chunky one)

🎲Date: 8/9/25

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; Implied Bullying; Heavy Guilt; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implied Mental Health Issues; Smoking; Panic Attacks; Child Abuse; Child Neglect; Implied Verbal/Mental Abuse; Talks of Dying; Mention of a Sexual Favor; Lying; Heavy Alcohol Use; Minor Blood; Vomiting; Slight Stalking; Possible One-Sided Attraction (With a few Characters). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Hello, readers! I'm sorry for disappearing for a bit. I just started a new job and have been focusing on that for a while, but I'm back! Back with a really, really angsty chapter. The shit basically hits the fan for everyone in this. It's gonna be great 😭😂 . As usual, Enjoy!

|| November 6th - December 31st 1983 ||

When she awoke in a world not like hers, she knew that her life had officially changed. Eleven had woken up with a nasty cough, her eyes burning, and her skull pounding. The girl who was the same age as her name sake finds herself wandering the school, shouting all the names of the people she just met. Could they hear her? Could she use the lights like that boy Will and teenager Stephanie used to contact that nice older lady? What was her name again? …Joyce?

Yeah. She was nice.

Was she listening, too? Did she find her son after their communication was cut off from the bathtub? Did her, the Police Chief, and Steve make it back from the other world? Are they okay? Are their loved ones okay? 

She wanted to know. She needed to know. So she ran. Ran until she found her way out of the Upside Down.

Getting out of the streets wasn’t that hard, finding her way back to Mike’s place wasn’t either; However, I don’t know what she expected to find when she arrived at his place. She should have known people were still looking for her. Of course the bad men would take her “death” with a grain of salt. So, she stayed in the bushes, watching as they talked to Mike and his family one-by-one before moving onto the next house to see if she was stowed away. One by one she watches all her new friends get talked to, all of them lying and standing their ground that they didn’t know anything about a girl with a shaved head.

She felt truly loved that they were lying to keep her safe, but felt guilty when she realized that the bad men were persistent in their questioning. She notices Mike’s mother was very defensive, circling around her three children like she was a monster waiting for the kill. El notices Lucas’ mom was like this too, and even Dustin’s. But Dustin’s mom -- Claudia? Is that what she heard? -- went from all bark to straight up bite. She lashed out of the group to get out of her face so she could see her daughter in the hospital.

Hearing that relieved some tension off her shoulders. She was happy to hear that they managed to get their loved ones back after all, but it pains her to realize she can’t get near any of them. The heat was on her intensely. Even after the questioning, the bad men were on her tail. So, the poor girl hid the best she could, occasionally setting small fires to cook her small game, or to keep warm when the winter season really kicked in. She kept hiding and hiding, and moving and moving. But…

How long can she truly keep this up on her own? She’s cold. She’s tired. She’s starving. Truthfully, how long can she keep this up? She feels herself shiver, her tiny arms wrapping around herself as slows her pace. Eventually she fell to her knees with a loud thug. She felt like crying, or screaming, or maybe both all at once. She was sooooo tired. She needs sleep. A good night’s rest without having to worry.

Her vision begins to blur as she starts to recall distant memories again.

Her meeting Mike, Lucas and Dustin in the heavy rain.

The first time she made contact with Will using the Heathkit.

Steve coming over to help with the investigation. 

The five of them escaping Papa and the vans.

The homemade bath.

Her “Goodbye” to Mike.

Everything seemed so close, yet so far away. Should she… just lay here and let the cold take her? 

.

“Eleven!” 

.

She shutters. Another memory clawing at her brain.

She cranes her neck to a nearby log, one similar to where she was sleeping in after she accidentally flung Lucas across the junkyard, and knocked him out. She remembers she slept decently, remembering she was a great distance away from the junkyard, so she was surprised when she heard a familiar voice.

.

Eleven peeked over the log, slithering back down when she noticed he had a flashlight. He was wandering around with a baseball bat too, a backpack that looked overstuffed with supplies, and wearing different clothes than the black suit he had on for the wake. He kept shouting her name, looking tired and distraught, his perfect hair was a mess.

Eleven almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He was actually looking for her? After everything she did? Throwing Lucas and messing with the compasses? She kept a close eye on him, and remained hidden from Steve’s view.

“Look, kid, I… I don’t know if you can hear this, but if you can, I’m not mad about what happened. Frankly, I’m more worried about you. And that’s the god’s honest truth, I swear, I just…” He sighs. His breath could be seen in the cold air. “It’s cold, and I don’t want you freezing. I just… I-I just want you to be alright, kiddo. Okay?”

She’s surprised she didn’t gasp out loud from his reply. His words sounded so genuine… something that was very foreign to her. 

She sees him frown after a moment of silence. “Listen, if I don’t see you in the next few hours or you don’t want to approach me, just… please consider going back to Mike’s place, or… you can even come to mine.”

But he pauses again, realizing his mistake and clarifies. “Um, if– if you remember where Will’s house is, I’m not too far from there. The woods across the street just take that straight through. The walk’s about… forty minutes, and uh, my house has a big pool in the backyard and… I’ll be waiting for you. Um…”

He looked so hurt not getting an answer.

“I’ll probably have to repeat what I just said in a few hours but–” His face morphs into something warm and greeting. “I really hope you heard what I said. And please consider.”

And then he kept going, moving onto the next area where he’ll repeat his speech again.

.

She never did tell him that she did hear him that night. And she did hear him yet again on the very next day. Somewhere above the Quarry, he found her somehow, this time more desperate, this time more pleading than the last.

.

“I promise you, none of us are going to be angry. But you have to understand, time is of the essence right now, we have to find Stephanie, we have to find Will. So…” She hears his voice trembling towards the end. “Please. Will you come out? Come out and talk to me? Please, Eleven?”

.

And she almost didn’t until she heard the screams of Mike and Dustin, making Steve drop everything to take a look. Eventually she did come out to join him, and thank God she did. The older teenager nearly gave up his life for Mike, and if she was just even a second late he would’ve perished. Then even after she reveals the truth that she opened the gate, they all reassured her that she wasn’t the monster she pictured herself as. She almost cried as they gave her a hug.

She misses that. She wants to feel that love again. But who could she go to? Who could keep them both safe until the heat dies down?

Judging by the memories she’s being reminded of…

She knew exactly who to go to.

.

.

.

|| January 1st, 1984 ||

It was slowly turning pitch black when she arrived at her destination. She thought about it all day, slept on the very thought last night, and almost turned away.

Almost.

Besides Mike, he was the only other person that truly showed her any kindness -- He made sure she was okay, to gift her food and praises for when she did right instead of telling her to “do better”; He treated her like the eleven year old she was supposed to be, and not some experiment, not some “super weapon”, that’ll change the world.

.

“Eleven.” He begins. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”

“Are you…” She whispers, almost scared to say what she wanted. “Are you really not coming back?”

His heart clenches. “I promise I’ll try. But if I don’t, remember what I said to you, back at the Quarry, after you saved me?”

She nods slowly. “You said, ‘Whatever you did in the past, that’s all said and done. All that matters now is what you do in the future’.”

He chuckles. “Exactly. Remember that. Go out there and do something great for yourself. Don’t let anyone try to change your mind.”

.

Don’t let anyone try to change your mind.

He was right.

She was NOT going to change her mind about this decision.

Approaching the end of the woods is when she finally saw him for the first time in (and in her mind) a very long time. He was wearing an obnoxiously yellow sweater, a pair of worn down jeans, and shoes that haven’t been cleaned since he trekked through the woods to find her after the junkyard incident. His hair looked a bit longer, and very, very unkempt which she quickly noticed while hanging around him was very unusual. He looked like a mess in her eyes, his movements very sporadic as he looked for something inside his shed; His sighs could be seen as a cloud in the cold air.

She almost turned back around to leave, especially seeing how stressed he looked -- the nerves were eating at her because why should she want to add more stress to his life by just being here? She knew Steve was smart enough to know that people were still looking for her, so why should she risk her neediness for his freedom?

But when saw him pull out a suitcase, her nerves shot through her body, her heart sinking as her feet moved without her consent… 

Her feet crush a twig beneath her.

In the fading sunlight she saw him turn around, his face full of terror before it quickly faded into something else.

Shock.

“Holy shit…” He eventually muttered, still lost for words that she was even in front of him. 

Eleven felt nervous again, guilt crawling in the pit of her stomach when she realized that maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should take off. Maybe she should make a break for another state. Maybe she should just find a place to lie down and di–

She was cut off from her rambling mind when he halted her up into his arms. His coco orbs surveying one more time around the area before heading towards the house, his voice coming in a harsh whisper that wasn’t intended to be mean, “Don’t make a noise, and don’t say anything until we get to my room.”

El complies without a doubt as they make it inside, her body flinching when she feels how warm the house is. She hasn’t felt heat since they left Mike’s place on bikes. Not to mention that Steve was radiating heat and comfort. She’s been missing this feeling since he gave her that piggyback ride back from the Quarry. She buried her aching head into his neck as he raced up the stairs, trying to out run the vultures circling around the house.

Steve enters the room like his feet are running over hot coal, so frantic and paranoid that his parents might see her and that’ll be another big problem he’ll have to deal with. Maybe in a few minutes he will, but for now, his focus was back on Eleven. He set the empty suitcase and child on the bed before locking his room; He even decided to pull his desk chair around and prop it under the doorknob. 

He felt his heart in his throat as he turned around to take another good look at her. Somehow, she looked so much more tinier than the last time he saw her. Like she could pass off as being eight and not an almost twelve year old. A million thoughts raced through his head, like, ‘Where has she been?’, ‘How did she survive?’, ‘What brought her here?’. But those died off as soon as he touched her face to examine for injuries. 

“Jesus, you’re freezing.” He says, grabbing his winter coat he laid out for himself, and slings it around her. He zips it and rolls up the sleeves, the coat looking like a dress on her small frame, that even the fur line hoodie would go past her nose if she tried to put it on. But it was thick, and it was toasty, and it was just what she needed at this moment. He then slid a beanie on her head, before taking her icy hands into his warm ones.

He starts moving his giant palms around to create some circulation before asking, “Where have you been? They…” Steve swallows. “They told me you had sacrificed yourself for them. To take down the Demogorgon and that evil doctor.”

“I thought I would die…” She replies, quietly. “But I… ended up in the Upside Down.”

He pauses his movements. “You were there?” She nods, and strikes him hard. Had she given herself up at the same time as him, Joyce and Hopper were in the Upside Down too? If he had known she was there, he would have–

“Not your fault.” She says, like she could read his mind (I mean, could she?). “I was going to find you guys but I saw the bad men with you.”

“The bad men, huh?”

Yeah, now he knows why she didn’t make an appearance sooner. After that whole fiasco, people were looking for her, people like the feds or people that claimed to have worked with the lab but didn’t stand with Brenner (He never believed them. Hell, nobody did). But thanks to his involvement, of course someone had to come knocking on his door. That one knock, that one talk with him and his parents is what started the dominos falling. That one moment led him to where he is now -- Packing as much as he can until his parents change their minds about kicking their “beloved” son out.

Some parents, they are. He was so deep in thought he almost didn’t feel one of her hands slipping out of his and touching his cheek with concern.

“What happened to your eye?” She asks, the skin growing dark with each passing second.

“I’m okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He explains, trying to sound reassured. Steve locks eyes with her as she looks like she wants to ask something else, but that was short lived when they both heard his parents’ voices raising up another hundred notches. His heart sank even more.

“Listen–” He makes sure she’s really paying attention before continuing. “We can trade stories about what happened to each other later, but as of right now, we need to get out of here.” If he doesn’t leave now he’s not sure what’ll happen.

And that terrifies him.

He swallows the rising bile, and continues, “I’m gonna finish grabbing a couple of things, and I’m going to carry you to my car. But listen carefully to this, okay? ‘Cause I’m only going to say this once.” She nods subtly, a gesture to let him know he has her full attention. “If you hear yelling as we’re leaving, don’t look up and don’t answer. Stay as still as you possibly can. Can you do that?”

She gave another nod, and Steve wonders if she can hear his heart racing yet. “The next thing, my hands are going to be full, so I’m going to need your help, alright?” He pulls out his set of keys from his pocket, and specifically shows her off the fob. “This is key to my car. When I tell you to do so, press the button*, and it unlocks the car. Okay? You think you got it?”

Another nod, and Steve was ready to go. “Okay. Let me finish up.” He says, handing the keys over to her. 

It was one big haze the moment he stood back up and started going around the room like he was the Flash. He just needed to get a few more things that he deemed valuable inside his suitcase… or otherwise he’ll never see it again. He nearly jumped out of his shoes when someone started erratically messing with his doorknob.

“STEVEN! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR THIS INSTANT!!” His mother screams, her palm pounding the frame. “STEVEN!!”

At any other time Steve would have just stayed frozen just from her voice, or even cave in and complied… but not this time. Not when he locks eyes with Eleven who looks just as terrified as he does.

Now’s not the time, Harrington. Get your shit together! His orbs get around the room, looking for something he could use as a distraction as someone else comes to his door.

“STEVEN, LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE!” His dad yells, as his fists rams on the door. “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR US!”

Steve gathers his thoughts, bracing himself that these next few moments were going to have to be lightning fast if they’re going to get out of here in one piece. He opens the window up, the sound of it creaking was blocked out from his parents’ screaming, as he then scrambles to unplug his computer. He scoops it into his arms, slightly upset that he has to sacrifice this. He chucks it out the window, the sound of it shattering on the concrete was loud enough to get the adults attention.

“Was that outside?” His mother asks.

“STEVEN!” His dad shouts, as they move away from the door to go look.

Steve sucks it a breath as he kicks it into high gear. He rapidly shuts his suitcase close, removing the chair and unlocking his door before pulling El into his arms. He’s going have to fucking book it at this point. Using the quick steps of his feet like he was playing basketball, he flies down the stairs to the front door. His already full hands start fiddling with the knob, cursing at himself that he forgot about opening this part. 

Thank God the girl he was carrying had telekinesis, because she managed to unlock it for him. He mutters a small thank you (and slaps himself for being so forgetful about this part of the house and her powers), just as the sliding door in the back creaks. He heard someone scream his name. He picked up the pace, and raced down his driveway to his car on the curb; His parents were hot on his heels.

“Steven, get back here this instant!” She yells, her voice starting to go hoarse from all the yelling the last few hours. “Steven!”

“Don’t you dare get in that car, son!” His father snaps, as Eleven uses her abilities once again inside of using the key she was given (It seemed quicker this way). 

Steve threw himself inside the driver side, El sliding off his arms, his suitcase sitting in his lap as he took the keys from her. “Stay low.” He whispers, and shoves it into the ignition. He steps on the gas, just as his dad reaches the curb. But it wasn’t over just yet.

His car whips around their cul-de-sac, tires screeching as he now has a clear shot out of here. Now, why would his parents just admit defeat? They told him to get out, but once they realize that they might not be the picture perfect family anymore to the public, they suddenly want him back? Hell, no! But they got into their heads that they had already won.

Steve was just about to slam onto his brakes when his crazy father put himself in front of the car if it wasn’t for Eleven. Coming through for him once again by using her powers to flick the older man off to the side, and out of harm’s way. The teenager uses this to speed up again, not even looking at his rearview mirror for the damage. 

The sixteen year old sped until he was far, far away; Tucking the car into an area where no one would even look. When the engine started to become quiet is when he finally let go of the breath he was holding. It came out sounding more like a gasp of relief, and his adrenaline was dying down too. He just… could fathom that he just did that. He could comprehend that he just packed up his life and escaped like it was a jailbreak. 

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe–

“Crying.” 

He faces his passenger, who’s looking at him with concern. “W-What?”

“You’re crying.” She points out, and that’s when Steve realizes that there were in fact tears coming down his cheeks.

“Oh. Uh–” He starts wiping his face with his sleeve. “Y-Yeah, I guess I am. Uh… I’m f-fine. I’m just… relieved.”

“Who are those people?” 

“Oh, um… they’re… my parents. They…” He sniffles, and wipes his nose. “They threw me out. They didn’t want me anymore.”

“Oh.” She says, not sure what to say (and really, neither does he). Instead, she reaches and pats his hair; Like silently saying, ‘There, there. I’m here for you.’

He chuckles, genuinely happy at the gesture. Steve flashes a smile at her, and despite the circumstances, he’s glad she’s here. In a way, her arriving at the nick of time saved him from chickening out. But…

There was still a tiny bit of a problem.

“They’re still looking for you.” He states the obvious, referencing the lab and anyone else that wanted their hands on her.

“Yes.” She whispers, saddened at the reality. 

“Then we gotta go.” He frowns. “The thing is, I don’t know where. I didn’t even know where I was going to go after being kicked out.”

I mean, where do they go? A teenager that has only his wits and a baseball bat, and a young girl once compared to an X-Men going to survive? His fingers drummed against his steering wheel, his eyes trailing to the clock. They could stay in a motel somewhere, but then what? Can he really support himself and El by moving around like a circus group?

He scratches his chin, and soon an idea hits him hard.

.

.

.

|| January 2nd, 1984 ||

Hopper wasn’t sleeping. Well… he hasn’t been sleeping for a while now. It’s been kind of hard since the whole disappearance between two local kids. He’s been on edge ever since, and even though it’s over, and everyone’s safe, he still feels like he might get slapped in the face with something horrid again.

Kind of like right now.

His eyes flash to his alarm clock on his nightstand, the red numbers shining 2:03 in the morning. Those numbers were just as annoying as the sound of his phone ringing. Who in the world could be calling him at this time at night? And on his day off too.

I swear, if it’s Flo or Callahan, I’m going to lose my mind. He rolls to his side with a loud groan and swipes the phone off its receiver. “Hello?” He says, clearly annoyed.

[ ‘Heya, chief. It’s me. Uh, Steve.’ ]

Steve? His eyes widened. He hasn’t really spoken to him since his last hospital visit to see Will and Stephanie. Why was he calling him? “Harrington? What’s wrong?”

There’s no point in beating around the bush.

[ ‘I’m fine.’ ]

He doesn’t sound like it. Hopper thought as he sat up straighter. 

[ ‘Uh, I kinda need your help. I don’t know who else to call.’ ]

“Help?” His heart skips a beat. “What kind of help?”

[ ‘It’s my… little sister. She’s sick.’ ]

“Your sister?” Hopper repeats, confused. Since when did he have a sister?

Not that he was a stalker or anything, but this was a small town; And he’s been the Police Chief for an X-number of years now. He knows pretty much everyone by now… and he certainly doesn’t remember the Harringtons having another kid.

Something’s not right. And that’s when he really started paying attention to the way he talked. 

[ ‘Yeah. Um, Evelyn. I think she might have eaten some bad ice cream. You know… those sandwich ones?’ ]

Hopper froze. Ice cream sandwich? Evelyn? Wait… 

There’s no fucking way.

Is he seriously implying about…?

[ ‘It also could have been that bath bomb she was gifted. I think she swallowed some of the water in the bathtub.’ ]

Yep. He’s totally talking about her. No doubt about it.

Hopper has to give this kid props for speaking in code. “Where are you guys? At home?” He asks, as he starts searching for something to wear. 

[ ‘Uh, the Quarry Motel off Jackson and Monroe. Room 114.’ ]

Ah, the Quarry Motel. That place was just on the cusp of leaving Hawkins. Hopper was once again impressed by the kid’s skills of camouflage. 

[ ‘Should I be concerned?’ ]

“No. Don’t be. I’ll be right there.” He sets the phone back on the receiver. 

.

.

.

Hopper was extremely nervous as he pulled his truck into the motel parking lot. A million things were going through his mind. How’d she survive? Why did she stick around? Are the two of them okay? 

His hands grip the steering wheel. Don’t jump to any conclusions, Jim. Just hear them out.

He pulls into a spot right next to Steve’s car, where the teenager, who was wearing just a sweater out in the cold, was leaning against the hood of his car waiting. Hopper gets out quickly, surveying the teen for any clues to what happened. His gaze remained on his face. “What happened to your eye?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Steve adverts his gaze for a brief second. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know who else to call, or what to do.” He points to the motel door in front of them, getting straight to business. “Here.”

Hopper follows close as Steve opens the door just enough for the older man to see Eleven sitting crisscrossed on the bed, her eyes on the tv screen, and eating whatever Steve had gotten out of the vending machine. El, who sensed a new presence, cast a look to the door; Her eyes filled up with light again as she waves.

Meanwhile, Hopper was truly lost for words as he closed the door quickly. “Where’d you find her?” He asks, speechless. 

“She found me, actually. She was standing in my backyard when I went to grab something out of the shed.” Steve replies, honestly. “She’s apparently been surviving in the wilderness on her own. Poor girl.”

He started crossing his arms to keep warm, a subconscious movement to be honest since he was more focused on the little girl in the room. Hopper notices this and starts shrugging the coat he threw on without looking. 

“Hopper–” Steve begins the protest, but the adult shushes him.

“Stop. I don’t want a kid freezing to death on me.” He replies, and slings it around the teen’s shoulders. While doing so he was checking his surroundings out of caution, and it was kind of hard not to notice the back seat in Steve’s car being packed full with stuff. “You going on a trip?”

Steve’s face flashes with hurt. “No.” He chokes out in a whisper. “My parents kicked me out.” He felt the adult’s eyes on him intensely. “It’s a long story…”

“Long story, huh?” Hopper pushes, upset, but not at the teenager. “Is this part of the long story?” He tips his chin up and points to the black eye. 

Steve shakes his head out of the hold. “Kind of.”

“Uh, huh. And why did they feel like they needed to do that?”

He frowns. “It wouldn’t be the first time…”

“Steve–”

“Can we hold off on this?” Steve asks, sounding like a scared child. “I promise I’ll spare you the details, but we kind of need to deal with her first.”

Hopper couldn’t agree more on that. And without hesitation he replies, “We can’t stay here.”

“I know.” He locks eyes with the adult, the fear going away and getting replaced with his ‘all business’ personality. “So what do we do?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Present Day: October 31st, 1984 ||

In a shack in the middle of the woods, Hopper was up bright and early cooking breakfast, a nice plate of french toast and bacon, for his new miniature family when all of a sudden he was startled by a little girl covered in a white sheet. “Oh, Jesus!”

“Ghost.” El says, pointing out the obvious. 

“Yeah, I see that.”

“Halloween.”

“Sure is. But right now, it’s breakfast, okay?” He sets the three plates down at the table, beckoning her over. “Come on, let’s eat. Where’s Steve?”

“Bathroom.”

“Of course he is…” He mutters under his breath. “Steve! Breakfast!”

“Coming!” Steve yells muffled from the end of the hall.

“They wouldn’t see me.” El continues, trying to get him to understand what she wanted.

He gives her a look as he sits down. “Who wouldn’t see you?” 

“The bad men.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trick or treat.”

“You want to go trick-or-treating?” Hopper asks, in disbelief as she nods. “You know the rules.”

“Yes, but–”

“Yeah, so you know the answer.” He pushes, and steers her to the table for her to sit.

“No, but they wouldn’t see me.” She pleads.

“Hey– I don’t care.”

“But they wouldn’t see me!”

“I don’t care, alight?” He repeats with a stricter tone. “You go out there, ghost or not, it’s a risk. We don’t take risks. Alright? They’re stupid, and…”

“We’re not stupid!.” She replies, matching his tone out of irritation.

“Exactly.” Hopper lets that jab slide, and says, “Now, you take that off, sit down and eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

She listens, but is not happy about it as she takes her homemade costume off and sits down at the table. Her arms were crossed as Hopper tried his best to let her attitude not get to him, but he soon gave in (I mean, how can he stay mad at her?).

He sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, look… How about I get off early tonight, and I buy us a bunch of candy, and we can sit around and get fat, and we watch a scary movie together? How’s that for a compromise?”

She tilts her head in confusion. “C-Com-Compro-mise?” She asks, the word rather foreign.

He nods. “C-O-M-promise. Compromise. How about that’s your word for the day? Yeah? It’s something that’s kinda in-between. It’s like halfway happy.”

“By 5-1-5?” She asks, getting another nod.

“5:15. Yeah, sure.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” He says, without a beat. “I promise.”

El, who was now satisfied with that answer, picks up her fork to begin eating. “Halfway happy.” She says, as Hopper smiles and ruffles her hair. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks as he finally joins them, all ready for the day ahead. 

“We’re going to watch scary movies tonight, and eat junk.” Hopper replies.

“Halfway happy.” El adds.

“Halfway happy?” Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

“Compromise.” Hopper clarifies. 

“Ah.” Steve nods. “Got it. Makes sense when you put it that way.” He sits down and picks up a fork, while getting past the maple syrup. “Thanks.”

“So… you still going to that party tonight?”

“As far as I know it. As long as Nancy still wants to go.”

Hopper watches him for a second before asking, “How are things with Nancy?”

“They’re fine.” Steve says, after downing most of his food. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. I just know you said it was a bit weird between the two of you after the Hollands’ dinner.”

“Of course it was weird, I mean it was Barbra’s parents.”

“I know that. But you mention the last few times you’ve got really hung out, you said it was a little weird. So, I thought I’d ask. That’s all.”

“Well, it’s… it’s…” Steve pauses. Why can’t I come up with a reply? I mean everything between me and her is fine… right? 

Yet he can’t come up with anything. It was just like the last time Hopper asked something similar months ago, when he and Nancy kind of hit a roadblock in their relationship. But they got over the hump. They figured it out, so why can’t he say anything other than ‘fine’? 

He must have been quiet for too long, ‘cause Hopper called out his name.

“I gotta get to school.” Steve replies, and pushes his plate towards the center of the table, half-eaten and ready for anyone else to take. “I’ll see you later.”

He grabs his school bag and hustles out the door; Eleven’s awkward stare going back between the door and the empty seat. Meanwhile, Hopper sighs once again while rubbing his face.

“Is my goal to piss off all the kids today?” He whispers.

“What’s ‘piss off’?” El asks, now with a curious stare instead.

Hopper blinks, not realizing he said that out loud. “Uh… let’s save that word for another day, alright? Just finish eating.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What’s with all the cologne?” Stephanie asks, as she slows her pace to stand in her brother’s bedroom. He nearly dropped the expensive bottle (she’s not sure where he got that from) at the unexpected visit from his sister.

“N-Nothing!” Dustin slurs, face turning red, as he hides the bottle behind his back that could clearly be seen in his free standing mirror.

“Ooooh.” The older girl cooed as she grins. “Is there a girl you’ve taken a liking to?”

“What?!” He scoffs. “No! … maybe. I don’t know.” He adverts his eyes. “Kinda…”

“Kinda?”

“...Yes.”

She chuckles quietly, amused. “Well, who is it? Someone I know?”

“No.” He shakes his head with a smile creeping up on his face. “It’s this new kid. Her name’s Max, and she plays videogames, and she skateboards, and she’s totally the coolest girl I’ve ever met.”

“New kid, huh?” Steph ponders on that for a second. “Does she happen to be from California?”

“She is.” He tilts his head. “How’d you know?”

“I think her brother’s in my class. Is her last name Hargrove?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask.” 

“You want some advice?” Steph asks, after noticing he keeps fiddling with his hair and clothes, obviously trying to look his very best. He nods eagerly, and with pleading eyes. “Just be yourself. Girls will appreciate that more.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Dustin replies, not a hundred percent sold on the advice as she chuckles. He sends her a look. “What?”

“You’re just so cute, and growing up.” She says, with a small pout. “My little brother isn’t so little anymore. I’m not sure what to say.”

Dustin, being the sweetest kid, comes over to give her a hug. “Awe, Phanie, I’ll always be your little brother. Even when I finally grow taller than you.”

“Who says you’re going to grow taller than me?” Steph pokes.

“Uh, duh. I’m a guy, of course I’ll be taller than you.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to wear taller boots than you.” She pinches his cheek and makes his squeal, just as you could hear a car’s horn outside. “That’s my ride. Sure you and your buddies don’t want to tag along? I’m sure Eds won’t mind giving you a lift.”

“Pfft. No way. I don’t need to be around rowdy teenagers.” Dustin waves her off in a non-malice way, that made her shake her head. 

“Okay, now you sound too mature. Slow down.”

“See you later.”

“You, too. Go catch some ghosts, Dr. Stantz.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, down the infamous Mirkwood, Joyce was helping her youngest put on his costume for school, completely homemade and looking as authentic as she could get it. 

She smiles as she helps him with the straps on his proton blaster. “Oh! You need some tape.” She says, noticing a part had come loose. “Hold on.” She heads over to his desk, grabbing the tape as her eyes shift on something. “What’s this?”

She holds up a drawing of black and red -- The drawing contains telephone poles, trees, a spinning sign, and clouds. Nothing too out of the ordinary, right? Well… not when there’s some kind of strange and large figure in the middle of it; It’s arms taking up most of the page.

“Nothing.” Will says, as his heart sinks at her concern. “It’s just from, um... a sketch for a story I’m writing.”

For a story, huh? Well Joyce wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t want to ruin her son’s favorite day by prying. So she lets it go for now. “Alright.” She then finishes taping the last piece before bringing him into the living room, Jonathan all ready to take pictures with his camera.

“Three, two, one–” He snaps one, both him and his Mom watching Will in awe. “Great. Hold up the proton blaster–” Another snap. “Alright, now turn to the light–”

.

.

.

Claudia snaps another pic, and joyfully laughs at her son. “Oh! I want to see those pearls.” Dustin smiles and she takes another one “Yeah!”

Dustin holds up his ghost trap with pride. “How about this pose, mom?”

“Yes!” She takes one more. “Who you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters!!”

.

.

.

Sue Sinclair howls at how cute her son was being as she snaps away on her camera. “Oh! Adorable, baby. Just adorable!” She praises, as Lucas eats her compliments up.

“God. You are such a nerd.” His younger sister, Erica, says from the sideline. 

Lucas scowls. “Shut up.”

“No wonder you only hang out with boys.”

“Erica!” Her mother scolds.

“Just the facts.” She replies, as her mother shakes her head and continues to take pictures. 

“My God, I love this costume. Keep it up.” Sue starts the love bombing again, ignoring her youngest for a second.

But when Lucas’ gaze met his sister’s again, she mouthed the word. ‘Nerd’, which was enough to start another bickering session between the two as their mother played referee.

.

.

.

And for the last one in the group, Karen Wheeler was taking polaroid after polaroid in hopes to get the best shot, while her son was just over it (Frankly he was over it after she just took one).

“Alright, that’s the last one.” He said, not putting any effort to pose anymore.

“No, just one more. Come on, please?” She takes another one and gets all excited. 

“Can I go to school?”

“Wait, wait–” She stops him from moving. “Okay, say, ‘Who you gonna call?’”

“No!”

.

.

.

But despite not saying the famous line, Mike ended up singing it all the way to school with Lucas and Dustin. They all had bright smiles on their faces as they rode down the sidewalk and straight into the bike rack.

“♪ Who you gonna call? ♪” They shouted, as Will behind them yelled, 

“♪ Ghostbusters! ♪”

“Hey, Spengler!” They replied, pulling him into a hug.

“Hey, everyone.” He says, all smiles. They were all smiling too until Mike noticed something.

“Whoa! Whoa!” He begins, stopping in front of Lucas.

“What?” Lucas asked, confused.

“Why are you Venkman?” 

“Because I’m Venkman.”

“No, I’m Venkman.”

“Why can’t there be two Venkmans?” Will asks, not really seeing the point in arguing. 

“Because there’s only one Venkman in real life. We planned this months ago.” Mike points out, and gestures to all his friends. “I’m Venkman, Dustin’s Stantz, Will’s Egon, and you’re Winston.”

Lucas glares. “I specifically didn’t agree to Winston.” 

“Yes, you did!”

“I don’t think he did.” Will says, getting a surprised look by Mike.

“No one wants to be Winston, man.” Lucas states, with his arms crossed and Dustin even nodding along.

“What’s wrong with Winston?” Mike asks, getting another look

“‘What’s wrong with Winston?’ He joined the team super late, he’s not funny, and he’s not even a scientist!”

“Yeah, but he’s still cool!”

“If he’s cool, then you be Winston.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

Mike adverts his eyes. “Be-Because…”

Lucas makes a mocking sound before quipping with, “Because you’re not black?”

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You thought it.”

“I didn’t say that!” 

“Mike! Come on, man! You–”

“Guys!” Dustin cuts in a loud, shutting their bickering down for just a second. His friend caught him gazing at the school bus with kids getting out in swarms. His face held worriedness. “Why is no one else wearing costumes?”

“Crap….” Lucas winces, as the school bell rang. And that’s how the four of them found themselves wandering the hallways, looking all embarrassed as everyone stared at them and laughed. 

“When do people make these decisions?” Dustin whispers just for them to hear.

“Everyone dressed up last year.” Will adds, sadly.

“It’s a conspiracy, I’m telling you.” 

“Just be cool.” Mike advises, as they all head to their lockers. His and Will’s were a few ways away near each other, while Lucas and Dustin’s were side-by-side somewhere else. As they gathered their things for class, the sound of someone skateboarding broke their concentration. The duo watches as she rides all the way to her locker, opening it up to swap out her means of transport for her books.

“We gonna do this?” Dustin asks, after a few minutes.

“Not right now. We look like morons.” Lucas pointed out.

“Maybe she likes Ghostbusters?”

“Of course she likes Ghostbusters, but that’s not the point. The point is we’re dressed up and she isn’t.”

“I didn’t bring regular clothes.” Dustin admits, embarrassed again. “Did you?”

Lucas shakes his head. “No.”

“Then we have no choice. We gotta do this. It’s now or never.”

“Right.”

“Let’s engage.” They both take a step forward–

But then they see her wandering off… and they took that as their cue to chicken out. 

“We could ask her after class…?” Dustin asks, as Lucas nods eagerly. 

“Yup!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Can you help me re-sew this?” Eddie asks as he dramatically lays across the table to reach her. Their Chemistry teacher had called out, and couldn’t find a sub in time, so the students were free for a few hours. Steph spares him a glance as he bats his big doe eyes for more effect. “Please?”

“No.” She shakes her head as she continues to sew up a hole in her own costume. “I’m already fixing mine and Gareth’s.” He sighs loudly, his head resting on the table in defeat. Steph rolls her eyes at his antics. “Just ask Grant. I’m sure he’ll do it.”

He sends her a funny look. “Grant knows how to sew?”

“Yes.” She nods, and raises an eyebrow. “How long have you known him for?”

Before Eddie could say anything, the rest of the Hellfire gang arrived at the theater room. “Grant!” He shouts, doing a poor roll over the surface towards his friends. “You know how to sew?”

“Yeah.” Grant replies.

“See?” Steph says, with a smug look.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to eye roll, but still kept his boisterous expression. “Well, can you help me fix my tail?” 

Grant laughs, and holds his hand out for the faux tail. “That is the weirdest sentence you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Hey, is Annie coming?” Stephanie asks, pausing her action to look at her friend.

Jeff blushes a bit at his girlfriend being mentioned, and replies, “If she can get off work early she’ll swing by.”

“I can’t believe we’re crashing this place. I mean, Tina Russo’s party? She lives in a nice neighbourhood.” Gareth said, as he leaned back in a chair and put his feet up.

“We’re technically not ‘crashing’ since one of us has an invitation.” Grant points out, his ring leader agreeing.

“Exactly.” Eddie points at him as he starts bouncing around the room. He makes his way around Jeff and replies, “I still don’t know how you got one and no one else did.”

Jeff becomes all smug and poses like there’s a camera in front of him. “Because, obviously I’m the best looking one out of all of us.”

“Fuckin’ nerd.” Gareth said between a fake cough that made everyone laugh.

“Truth be told is that Annie’s friends with Tina, so that’s why I got an invite.”

“I trust your girlfriend, Jeff, but are you sure this isn’t a party where all the nerds get tarred and feathered?” Steph asks, looking rather concerned. “Last year at Carver’s you guys got expired milk dumped on you.”

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine. I don’t think they expect us to be there anyway.” Eddie replies, casually.

She shrugs. “If you say so.”

“Awe, don’t you worry your little head, Red.” Gareth says, slipping to character as Jeff nods along. “The huntsmen will protect you!”

“Oh, forget them.” Grant cuts in, cuing up his ‘granny voice’ that was making her laugh as he hugs her from behind. “Grandma will keep you safe, dearie.”

“You know, Grandma, you’re supposed to get eaten by that big bad wolf over there.” Steph replies, and points to their DM.

“Oh, hell no.” Grant scoffs back to his normal voice. “I’ll beat him with my cane. He ain’t taking my cookies.”

“Oh, that’s all you care about?” Eddie begins, his face blooming with a devilish smile. “The cookies? And not your precious granddaughter?” He manages to nab Steph’s foot, making her shriek as Grant pulls her away to run. “You won’t beat me, old lady!”

Forgetting that they’re almost adults, they slipped back into their early childhoods, running around the theater room like it was their playground. 

“Oh, Red, this forest ain’t safe. Here.” Grant shoves a water gun into her arms. “Take this family heirloom, and use it well.”

“Guns are no match for me!” Eddie shouts as he hops onto the table in a heroic stance. “My protective armor from the wicked witch will protect me!”

Grant throws a styrofoam block at him. “That’s from Wizard of Oz, you jackass! Don’t mix fairytales up.”

“You’re the one encouraging her to go all Rambo on me.”

“Rambo Riding Hood actually sounds pretty good.” Steph teases, as the two boys continue to go at it. I swear, it’s like hanging out with Dustin and his buddies. 

The lights about her flickered on and off, catching her attention quickly. She felt an ache in her chest, and her body tense up. No. Don’t tell me–

.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Gears Turning…

.

The lights flickered again, just as she felt the blood drip onto her lip.

“Shit…” She says, loud enough to get their attention. “I’ll be right back.” And she leaves the room with her hand over her nose. They waited until they couldn’t hear her footsteps to say something.

“Do we need to kidnap her and take her to get looked at? I’m getting really worried.” Gareth admits from his spot in the room, everyone else silently agreeing. 

Yeah, you and me both, Brookes. Eddie tells himself as he keeps his eyes trained on the door. Meanwhile, Stephanie was hurrying down the halls, getting irritated with herself (even when this wasn’t exactly her fault).

I swear, every time I try having a good time, it has to be ruined by something. She sighs quietly. “I just want November 6 to get here already… hmm?” She slows around the corner, she shows up just in time to see a small group of jocks sticking something onto a locker. Ironically it was her locker. “Hey!!”

Her shouting got their attention; They both snickered and scurried away. She quickly snatches the flier off her locker, a year old news article about her “return from death” with red marker spelling: Trick or Treat, Freak, all over the page.

She groans. “Of fucking course…” I mean, why wouldn’t they do this? It was the perfect holiday for it. Great. Just great. Just when I agreed to crash a Halloween party.

Just because Eddie thinks nothing will happen, doesn’t mean she didn’t. Should she even bring this up? I mean, her friends seem so excited to do this. And Jeff was confident enough to say that his girlfriend convinced Tina to get a proper invite with no strings attached. But…

What if Annie is like Tina? What if Annie was like all the other high school bullies? What if dating Jeff was an initiation for something, and humiliating the nerds is the final task? Yet, Steph mentally slaps herself. Okay! That’s enough! I am reading way too much into this. 

Of course she was…

She was just being paranoid. She was petrified at what her mind was going to cause her to remember when the 6th came around. Could she really handle reliving the nightmares of last year again?

She starts moving without thinking, and her luck gets worse as she runs into someone. “Geez– I’m so sorry. I’m not paying attention.” She apologizes and takes a small step back. 

“It’s fine.” The man says, as he fixes his collar.

Steph stares for a sec, recognizing the man from the parking lot yesterday. What was his name again? William?

Billy looks at her like he’s waiting for her to say something. Instead, he replies with, “Your nose is bleeding.”

She felt her cheeks heat up from embarrassment. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been dealing with it all morning.” She says, covering the lower half of her face as she side steps around him. “Excuse me.” She starts speed walking away, only for an him to snort and say,

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” They lock eyes briefly. “I don’t mind a little blood.” And he winks.

She felt the heat turn up as she moved away, still embarrassed but also very, very confused. What was that all about?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce lays down a pile of drawings on the table for the Police Chief to see; The one directly on top was the one she wanted him to take more notice towards. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.” She says, settling down in a chair.

Hopper takes it in hands and studies it carefully. “What is this exactly?”

“A drawing Will made. He says it’s for a story he’s working on, but… I don’t buy it.”

He hums and looks at it again. “The sign kind of looks like the arcade’s.”

“Right? That’s what I thought, too.”

“Has he said anything strange to you?”

She shakes her head with a sigh. “He’s just mentioned that he’s been really tired lately. He told me that it’s probably because November 6th is around the corner. Said it’s called an–”

“Anniversary Effect?” 

“Yes. That’s it. He told me that’s what Stephanie found out it was called. Apparently she hasn’t been sleeping much either.”

“Do they talk a lot? Together?” He asks, eyebrow raised as he takes puff from his cigarette.

“As far as I know, yeah. They talk during recess a lot. See how each of them are.” Joyce explains, sadly. “I’m just worried. Not just for Will, but for her too. I can’t imagine what those seven days were like for them.” She sighs again. “Do you think maybe we should get them to talk to someone?”

“Maybe, but who? Therapist or not, if one of them explains where they’ve been, you know what they’re gonna say. ‘Your kid belongs in a nut house’. That or they’ll say they need to be on some unnecessary meds.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” She rubs her tired face, as Hopper tries to be somewhat reassuring in his next few words.

“Look–” He begins. “I think everybody’s on edge. Me, you... the kids most of all. I think we just gotta get through the next few weeks. We gotta help them get through the next few weeks. I know Stephanie’s not one of our kids, but we can still help in some way.”

“True…”

“The truth is, Joyce, nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. Not really. But it’ll get better. In time. I can assure you that.” She nods at his words with another heavy sigh, knowing he’s right but it is still a tough thing to accept. He holds out his cigarette for her to take. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She huffs, but quickly chokes and coughs at how packed full the cigarette really is. She chuckles immediately at his shenanigans. “Jesus! Hopper…”

Hopper smiles, memories from his younger days came flooding in that gave him a sense of euphoria. “Brings me back to old times.”

“What?”

“Sharing my cigarettes between–”

“Fifth and sixth period.”

“Yeah, under the steps. Mr. Cooper caught us that time, remember? He was like–” He clears his throat and does his best impression of their old teacher. “‘Hey, assholes’.”

She grins. “We ran. We just ran.” 

They both shared a laugh, locking eyes for a very long time. Something unspoken was there, something they both secretly long for -- Something that’s stayed untouched for many decades.

The guilt got to Joyce first, breaking eye contact with the very euphoric Hopper, who wanted nothing more for this to last, to live in the fantasy that they both couldn’t have (A lot of ‘What if’s’ ran through his head too).

“God, I want this to be over.” Joyce says, as she hands the cigarette back over.

“I know. I know.” He says, reassuringly again. 

“It’s just…” She trails off as she looks at her son’s drawings. “Hang on…” She shifts one over to pick another one up. Her worried gaze returns as she shows off the sketch. It was done in black and white too, only this time it was that of a person, one who was covered in blotches of red head-to-toe. “Does that look like…?”

“Like Stephanie.” Hopper says, staring with wide eyes.

“But is this supposed to be blood? I don’t remember her being like that when we found her.”

“I mean she had a couple injuries, but nothing too serious.”

“Then why would he draw her like that? Did we miss something?”

“I mean if she was like that, I would have found out through the hospital.” He pauses. “Unless…”

“Unless, what?”

“They haven’t told us everything. Besides him not sleeping, has he mentioned anything about his time there recently?”

Joyce purses her lip in concentration. “Only a little bit here and there. He’s told Jonathan stuff, and then he tells me. Like how they escape the beast, or how they beat it, or even when they had to go out looking for food. But it’s not a whole lot.”

“What about Claudia? Has she mentioned anything?”

“The last time we spoke she said she stopped trying after a while. Stephanie didn’t want to say anything, and doesn’t know what to say. So, she quit.” She frowns, sadly. “But also, you gotta remember, we kept Claudia in the dark about the real kidnapping. So, that could explain why the poor girl hasn’t said anything. And we both know she’s not going to talk to Dustin.”

“Oh, no. She won’t.” Of course she wouldn’t. That was her baby brother, for crying out loud! It’s her job not to permanently scar him. “Then who is she talking to? No one?”

“I think her and Will might talk to each other, but how is that for therapy? One traumatized kid to another. I mean, whatever else happened to them, they’re obviously too scared to talk.”

“Or… they want to forget. Maybe not talking about it would make it go away. That and…” He grabs both pictures, staring at those before looking at some other ominous looking ones down below. “Keeping it between just them shields the rest of us from the horrors they witnessed.”

“So…” Joyce couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Is that what her son was doing? Was he protecting her and Jonathan from what he saw in that place? “S-So what do we do?”

That was the million dollar question right now. What can they do for two kids who refused to relive what they went through?

“I don’t know.” He admits, sounding very small. He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth, but it was the truth. “I actually don’t know, Joyce.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“I can’t keep doing this.” Nancy admits to her boyfriend. They both were currently in a private room in the library, Steve having to pull her away from her homework after hours of her zoning out and brushing his concern off. It was pretty obvious something was bothering her, and Steve had a hunch at what it was about.

“Doing what?” He asks, waiting to see if he was right.

“Pretending like everything’s okay.”

“Barbara?”

She nods. “It’s like everyone forgot. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.” 

He frowns, knowing where her mind was spiraling to. “Nance–”

“And they’re going to spend the rest of their lives looking for her.”

“I know.”

“It’s destroying them.”

“I know. Okay? I get it.” Steve says, as she bites in her lip nervously. “I know it sucks, but listen, there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing.”

“We could tell them the truth.” Nancy says, quietly.

His eyes widened slightly. “Nance, you know that we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to tell them everything.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He pauses and quickly shuts the blinds to the small window. “They could put us in jail. Okay? Maybe even to Pennhurst if we mention anything about the Demogorgon. Or worse, they could destroy our families. They could do anything they want. Okay? Just think about what you’re saying.”

She adverts her eyes and crosses her arms. She understands, she really does, but she still can’t help but feel awful about keeping quiet as Barb’s family drives themselves into debt.

He sighs quietly. “Hey…” He grabs her biceps gently. “Hey, hey… Hey, it’s… It’s hard, but let’s…” Should he suggest it? I mean maybe getting her mind off things for a bit could really help her.

He continues, “Let’s just go to Tina’s outrageous fucking party… wear our silly ‘Risky Business’ costumes that we’ve been working on for a crazy amount of time, and just pretend like we’re stupid teenagers, okay? Can we just do that, just for tonight? It might do us some good to kind of loosen up a bit.”

Nancy eventually nods, caving in. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Steve repeats, and holds his arms out. “Come here.” He takes her in for a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she closes her eyes. “Everything’s going to be alright, Nance. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The two young boys have finally worked up the courage after class to speak with the ‘girl of their dreams’, and began approaching her locker where she was at. 

Dustin clears his throat when they get close, getting her attention. “Um… Hi, Max. I’m Dustin, and this is–”

“Lucas.” The other party member said, with a smile.

“Yeah, I know.” She states. “The stalkers.”

The boys shared a guilt-filled look, trying to brush it off. “Uh, no. Ac-Actually–” Lucas begins.

“We weren’t stalking you. No, w-we were just concerned because, y-you know, you’re new and all.” Dustin clarifies. 

“Y-Yeah! For your safety.”

“There are a lot of bullies here.”

“Sooooo many bullies, it’s crazy.

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re wearing proton packs?” Max pokes, with a cocky grin.

“Well, these don’t function. But–” Dustin shows off his makeshift ghost trap. “I do have this handy-dandy little trap here. And look, it even opens and closes. Look, look, look…” He presses a button and it pops open, both him and Lucas acting all joyful. “Voilà!”

“It’s cool, right?” Lucas tries to sell it, but she wasn’t buying -- she just looks rather unamused. 

“No? Okay.” Dustin puts the trap away. “But, um… So, we were talking last night, and you’re new here, so…” He looks at Lucas who silently tells him to keep going. “You probably don’t have any friends to take you trick-or-treating, and you’re scared of bullies, so we were thinking that it would be okay if you come with us.”

She raises an eyebrow. “‘It’d be okay’?”

“Yeah. Our party’s a democracy, the majority voted you could come.”

“Didn’t realize it was such an honor to go trick-or-treating with you.” Another poke that they didn’t seem to catch.

“We know where to get the full-sized candy bars. We figured you’d want in.”

She hums. “That’s presumptuous of you.” She replies, her “mature” vocabulary stunning them.

“Y-Yeah.” Dustin blinks. “Totally. Uh, so, um... you’ll come?” She shrugs and closes the locker before walking away. “We’re meeting at the Maple Street cul-de-sac at 7:00. That’s 7:00 on the dot!” They watch her round the corner and disappear. “‘Presumptuous’. That’s a good thing, right?”

But then his friend decides to leave too, and Dustin was left with a not-so-great feeling. “Is it bad? Lucas, is it bad? Lucas?” He keeps walking. “Son of a bitch– Lucas! Is it bad, or not?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper sped back to the station after getting an urgent call from Flo. Apparently the whole pumpkin field fiasco hasn’t stopped like he thought. Another farmer, Eugene, who was accused by the farmer yesterday of messing with his crops had come to the station to complain about the same thing. And he too was pointing fingers.

“So, you’re telling me that Merrill poisoned your farm, because he thinks you poisoned his, which, of course, you didn’t?” Hopper asks, trying to understand this from the comfort of one the desks.

“No, sir.” Eugene said, proudly. “And I got me an alibi the night he accuses me. My Jenny and her boys were in town. I was with them all night.”

“Did you actually see Merrill?”

“No need. That man done lost his mind. Went around slandering me, threatening all sorts of madness.”

Powell chuckled from the other desk. “A pumpkin conspiracy.”

“Hawkins’ very own Chinatown.” Callahan laughs.

Hopper ignores them and sits up straighter, making his words very clear for the civilian. “Merrill threatening to do something and him actually doing something are two very different things.”

“You got a better explanation?” Eugene asks, with a pushy tone.

The Police Chef shrugs like it was evident. “Cold weather.”

“It’s October.”

“Yeah, it’s a cold one.” 

Eugene scoffs and holds up his hands for them to see. “You see these hands?”

“Yeah…”

“You know why they look like that?”

“Because you’re old?”

“You’re damn straight.” The Farmer snaps back, making Powell chuckle again (He gets a tiny, tiny glare sent his way). “And I’ve been doing this a long time, Chief. A long time. And I ain’t never seen anything the likes of this. None of us have.”

Hopper raises a brow. “None of us?”

“Merrill didn’t just hit me last night. He hit damn near everyone.”

“What are you talking about?”

Eugene starts counting with his fingers. “Jack O’Dell, Pete Freeling, Rick Neary, the Christensens. All of their crops, dead.”

And just like that, Hopper felt a chill run through him. For some reason, his “theory” about it just being the weather didn’t make any sense. He immediately pulls out a notebook and pen. “Give me those names again.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You’re late again.” Billy snaps as he pushes himself to stand from leaning against his prized car. 

Max, who was trying not to sigh or shrug at his attitude, moved around him to the passenger side. “Yeah, I had to catch-up on homework.”

“Jesus. I don’t care. You’re late again, and you’re–” He trails off.

“I’m… what?” His step-sister asks as she opens the door. It takes her a second to realize he’s distracted. “Billy?”

She follows his gaze to the distance. And there she saw her two “stalkers”, along with another boy, all standing around with their bikes talking to some people next to a black and blue colored van. The youngsters were talking to an older boy who had crazier hair than Billy; While the other teenager present, a very pretty girl, was checking out the boys’ proton packs.

Their expressive conversation could be heard from here, all talking about their plans tonight before it turned into the van owner offering the kids a ride instead of biking the long way home. The three boys begin to debate amongst themselves about his offer (They obviously knew the teenagers well enough to not freak out about getting into a “stranger’s” van). 

Max this instant knows for a fact that her step-brother wasn’t looking at the kids, nor the teenage boy. “Billy?”

He finally breaks eye contact, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.” He mutters, and repeats it again when she didn’t comply fast enough.

“Alright! Jesus…” She whispers the last part, and gets in; She spares the group one last look, wondering how the girl knew her classmates.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper, along with Eugene, arrived at another farm -- the owner watching a few feet away with his heartbroken family. Just like yesterday, the smell was absolutely wretched. The pumpkins and the whole field just rotted like it’s been sitting under an imaginary heat lamp, ready to spoil from the blaze.

“Now, you tryin’ to tell me, with a straight face, cold did this?” Eugene finally asks, as Hopper takes it in.

“How far does it go?” He asks, soon being led a few ways away. He finds himself standing in front of a tree in the same condition as the pumpkins, only this time it was covered in something sticky. So sticky that when he touched it he almost couldn’t get his hand off. There was something… familiar about this slime…

[ ‘Hey, Chief, you copy?’ ]

Hopper uses his free hand to grab his walkie. “How’s it looking over there?” He asks Powell.

[ ‘Like a giant pissed all over Jack’s bean field. Smells, too. It smell over there?’ ]

“Uh, yeah, little bit.”

[ ‘Smells like a nursing home, man.’ ]

He heard Callahan complain. He mentally sighs, and follows up with, “Listen. I want you guys to track the rot, see how far it goes. Just, uh, mark anything that’s dead.”

[ ‘That’s gonna take some time.’ ]

He heard Powell chime back in, and Hopper gets stern. “So take it. And, look, we don’t know what caused this. Could be poison. So don’t touch anything without gloves.”

[ ‘Copy that, Chief.’ ]

Hopper slides his walkie away, and faces Eugene to ask, “You got any marking flags?”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Her mother gasps in surprise and joy as she steps into the living room. Stephanie’s costume consists of a very long, flowing red cloak, a black and white cottage dress, big black boots and gloves, and a little straw basket. She also had done her makeup which was with cat eye, a deep gray eyeshadow, and ruby lipstick. 

“You look great.” Claudia said, as her daughter gives her a twirl. She quickly snaps a few photos with her camera like she did with her son this early morning.

“Thank you, Mom.” She said, and started looking around. “Did Dustin already leave?”

“Yeah, he left for Mike’s a few minutes ago.”

“Of course he did. Little shit couldn’t wait for me…” But there was no hatred there. And he calls me impatient. 

She then hears the familiar van’s horn and a few howls from the boys that left her grinning. She was glad that they’re doing this together, but the concern she felt earlier at school came creeping in. The what ifs started, and the bad thoughts came in on how this night could be ruined. 

What if this goes south after all? What if something happens and I ruin it? What if this is all a prank– She felt her mother lift her chin, looking all worried.

“Are you okay? You haven’t been yourself today?” Claudia asks.

“I’m alright. I’m just… in my head I guess.”

“Well, don’t be too much. Just clear your mind and go have fun.” She smiles. “It’s Halloween. And you have a wonderful group of friends that want to spend time with you. Enjoy it.”

She’s right. I need to stop worrying and enjoy this. Steph returns the smile. “Thanks, mom.”

They hear the van honk again, and Claudia starts ushering her out the door. “I love you. Have fun. And be safe. All of you.”

“Love you, too.” She says, wandering down the driveway to the vehicle. The back door slides open, and she crawls in next to Jeff and Grant. “Sorry. My mom was taking a million photos.”

“It’s quite alright. I could barely get out the door myself.” Gareth said from the passenger seat, and looking all love struck. “Eden didn’t want to get off the phone.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Are we ever going to meet this ‘girlfriend’ of yours?” 

“Hey! I told you she lives in Utah. I’m trying to convince her that she and her family should come out this way for a visit.”

“I’ll see it to believe it, Gareth The Great.” Eddie says, and starts pulling away from the curb while his young friend pouts. His eyes glance in the rear view mirror. “You okay, Red?”

“Hmm?” Steph perks up. I guess her mom’s pep talk was already starting to falter. But she mentally shakes that off quickly, and responds, “Yeah. I’m good. My mom wants me to let you guys know that, ‘Let’s have fun’ and ‘Be safe’.”

“And I think we can manage that.” He smirks. “Right, gentlemen?”

“Right!” They shouted.

“Don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be great.” And his words convinced her enough to feel fine. Even though…

There was something nagging in the back of her head. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, across town, Jonathan was getting a video recorder tutorial by Bob, while Joyce double checked her youngest’s costume before sending him off.

“Listen. Stay close to your brother, okay? And listen, listen, listen…” She makes sure he’s really paying attention. “If you get a bad feeling or anything, you tell him to take you straight home. You promise?”

“Okay.” Will replies, and gives a thumbs up.

“Are you ready, bud?” Jonathan asks, and Will agrees quickly.

“Be safe!” Joyce ushers as they head out the door. Her boyfriend even chiming in with a very bad impression of Dracula:

“I hope it doesn’t suck!” He smiles with his horrible vampire teeth as she laughs at his antics. 

Jonathan eventually breaks the silence after they’re a few miles down the road. “I just don’t get what she sees in him.” 

Will, who was in his own head again, turns to look at him, confused. “What?”

“Bob.” The eldest Byers said, stating the obvious. It was just saying how he really felt about him. Although, he’s obviously way nicer and non-abusive to his mother, unlike his bio-father, he still doesn’t understand the appeal. 

“At least he doesn’t treat me different.” Will points out, sinking into the seat, sulking. “I mean, I can’t even go trick-or-treating by myself. It’s lame.”

“What?” Jonathan looks over for a second, all hurt. “You think I’m lame?”

“No–” Will says, honestly. “But it’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, or Stephanie with Dustin, you know?” His words hit hard, his brother suddenly having a thousand thoughts, and a thousand different scenarios running through his head. 

They finally got to the Wheeler house, honking the horn as the other young boys were coming out of the door just in time. They all smiled and waved for their last member.

Jonathan turns the engine off, making up his mind at the last second (and hoping it doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass). “Hey, listen.” He begins, stopping his brother from getting out.

“Yeah?” Will says, pausing his actions.

“If… I let you go on your own–” His brother’s eyes widened with hope. “You promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

“Yeah!” He shakes his head eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?” Will tries pushing.

“9:00.” Jonathan says, holding out his hand. “Deal?”

“Yeah, deal.” He shakes his hand, and starts getting out.  

“Alright.” The eldest said, as he passed the video recorder over. “Hey, Will. Don’t let any of your spazzy friends use this, alright?”

“Okay.” Will says, taking it carefully. 

“I hope it doesn’t suck.” Jonathan pokes fun, making his little brother laugh as he joins his friends at the end of the driveway. He watches them for a brief second before taking out the flyer Nancy handed him yesterday for Tina’s party. He could feel his heart racing as he started the engine back up.

Here goes nothing.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright! This is my kind of music.” Eddie says, as they exited the van. Mötley Crüe’s: ‘Shout at the Devil’ played loudly on the multiple stereos throughout the very lively house. The smell of alcohol was in the air, and everyone present was having the time of their lives. 

“I think the whole school might be here.” Gareth said, with widened eyes.

“Well, I hope there’s enough booze to go around, ‘cause it��s time for the Hellfire Club to get fucked up. Come on!”

The little group went inside, immediately blending into the crowd of teenagers. The party had everything, dancing like nobody was watching, a whole wad full of Mary-Jane getting passed around, sickening sweet food that makes your guts puke, a giant pool in the back to throw your oblivious buddies in. What more could you ask from a party meant for rowdy teenagers?

In the front part of the yard, a crowd of people counted to forty-two just as Hawkins’ newest member came falling back to his feet from slurping from the keg upside down. He pumped his fists into the air as they cheered and spat some of the amber liquid into the cool air.

“We got ourselves a new Keg King!” Tommy Hagen yells, while gesturing to the winner. They started chanting his name, which fuels his ego more.

“That’s how you fucking do it, Hawkins!” He shouts back, and lights up a cigarette as his celebration. Him and his new allies headed inside, as Tommy guided him to a person he no longer considered his own friend. 

“We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington.” Tommy pushes, interrupting Steve and Nancy’s somewhat nice conversation with another classmate. 

“Yeah, that’s right!” Another of Billy’s new right hand people said.

“Yeah. Eat it, Harrington.”

Billy chuckles. “Yeah, Harrington.” He tilts his head. “How does it feel to be number two?”

Steve, who senses his girlfriend and classmate shift uncomfortably, slips his shades off and stares into the ‘new king’s’ eyes. Those blue eyes were full of intenseness, and a look of ‘try me’. Now… how does one say ‘fuck off’ and ‘I don’t care’ polite enough not to get their jaw broken?

He takes a mental deep breath. “Listen–”

“Hey.”  

A familiar voice interrupts, as everyone turns to face Stephanie who was passing by with a few unopened beer bottles. Her face was stoic and not taking any BS from anyone tonight.

“Knock it off, Blondie. It’s rude to interrupt someone who doesn’t give a shit about your achievements. Besides–” She states, and gives a vague shrug. “Chugging a keg doesn’t make you the King of High School. Just keep being an a-hole and you’ll always be on top.”

She flashes a look to Steve and Nancy when she leaves that stuns the other party. The couple were silently grateful (and shocked, to be honest) for her stepping in, and took this opportunity to slip away from the hostile situation.

Tommy scoffs after a moment of silence. “The audacity of that bitch. I mean… how dare she disrespect you.”

“Who is she?” Billy asks, as his gaze stayed where she once stood. 

Tommy blinks in surprise at his question. “Her? That’s Stephanie Henderson.” He frowns knowing that look from experience. “Trust me, you don’t want to get your claws into that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s a fucking freak.” He starts counting on his fingers. “She dresses like an emo, loves the devil’s music, and plays fucking D&D, and hangs out with freak who also plays D&D. Plus… she’s kind of fucked in the head after last year.”

Billy looks at him, genuinely curious. “What happened last year?”

“Zombie girl here got kidnapped along with some other kid one night. The whole town thought they both drowned in the quarry after running from the kidnapper. We even had a funeral.” Tommy crosses his arms in disgust. “Turns out, the sicko who took them faked their bodies as a decoy to throw the cops off. And just a few days later they returned. They said she had the worst of the injuries, almost succumbing to them. Lucky bitch.”

“How’d she escape?”

“Rumor has it that she killed their kidnapper to escape. Others say she had sex with the dude in exchange for freedom.” He snorts. “I highly doubt about the last one. Who wants to have sex with that?”

“So, does that mean she’s a killer then?” Billy asks, while blowing smoke.

“You really think someone like her is capable of killing? I doubt she can even put her hands around someone’s neck. They’re rumors, man.”

“Rumors or not. I’m definitely intrigued.”

Tommy watches in disbelief as his new blond friend leaves him behind. “Seriously?”

Meanwhile, the couple had moved in the kitchen area; Steve being his usual, friendly self and chatting at someone else he knew, while Nancy starts migrating to where the drinks are, not really feeling the vibe tonight despite saying she’d make an effort. She noticed there was one drink that people were specifically going for seconds, even thirds, and became intrigued.

“What’s in this?” She asks, as a man dressed in a toga burps loudly after finishing his drink.

“Pure fuel! Pure fuel, baby! Whoo!!!!”

Nancy didn’t say anything as she decided to test the waters with it. Taking a plastic cup she tries just a sip, which is deathly sweet but you can feel the tingling of the alcohol. She dips her whole cup in and starts jugging, Steve suddenly appearing beside her with worriedness. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy. Take it easy.” He says, and tries to grab the cup from her since he knows what this actually is. “Nance, Nance, Nance–”

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night.” She snaps back. “Wasn’t that the deal?”

Her quip digs into his skin as he helplessly watches her take another drink and heads to the dance floor to let loose like she promised. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Bob hums to himself as he places a record on the stereo to play. The song: ‘Islands in the Stream’ , by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers starts off strong, and he begins to move with the beat; His feet swaying towards the woman he loves. 

“No. No, no.” Joyce chuckles from her comfy spot on the couch.

“Come on. Yes.” He encourages, and takes the wine glass from her hand and guides her to stand. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Come on.” He tries to help her sway gently in the rhythm. “You playing Frankenstein to my Dracula? Come on, you’re stiff as a board. Relax.”

Joyce places her head on his shoulder, apologetically. “I’m sorry. It’s…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence for him to understand.

“He’s fine. Okay? Jonathan’s with him.” He reassures her.

She sighs. “I know. It’s just every time he’s away from me, it’s like I-I can’t function. I know it sounds silly.”

“No, it’s not silly. It’s not silly.” Bob says, letting it go quiet for a moment before dropping the ball. “What if we were to move out of Hawkins... together?”

Joyce blinks and looks at him in shock. “What?” 

“I know. Whoa, Nellie, right? No, I just…” He pauses to make sure he phrases this right. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how we’ve got all these memories here, and you wish you had enough money to move. Well, my parents are selling their house in Maine. There’s a RadioShack nearby. I’m sure they’d take me on. We could just…” Now it was his turn to look surprised by his own actions. “My turn to be silly now.”

“Bob…” She says, softly.

“No, it’s fine. Wine makes me crazy.”

“Oh…” She looks at him with concern as she says, “It’s just so hard to explain. It’s just this... This is not a normal family.”

“It could be.” He gives her a warm smile. “It could be.”

Nothing more was said as she placed her head back down on his shoulder and they continued to dance as peacefully as they could. Maybe… tonight will be okay to let loose for the single mom. Just one night couldn’t hurt.

.

.

.

Right?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Trick or treat!” The boys shouted as the door opened to an elderly woman.

She chuckles at their little faces, and smiles at the camera Will was holding. “Oh! Well, aren’t you cute?” She cooed. “The little exterminators.”

And their smiles faded away fast. They took a handful of candy from her bowl and stormed off for the next house.

Lucas sighs. “If I get another 3 Musketeers, I’m gonna kill myself.” 

“What’s wrong with 3 Musketeers?” Dustin asks, genuinely offended. 

“‘What’s wrong with 3 Musketeers?’”

“No one likes 3 Musketeers.” Mike backs up.

“Yeah, it’s just nougat.” Will adds.

“Whoa!” Dustin shakes his head at their antics. “‘Just nougat’? Just nougat? It is top three for me.”

“Top three?” Mike asks, in disbelief.

“Top three!”

“Oh, God.” The Wheeler gags. “Give me a break.”

Despite the jab, Dustin continues his love letter to the candy bar. “Seriously, I can just eat a whole bowl of nougat. Straight up–”

They all became screaming machines when suddenly someone jumped out in front of them, waving around a knife while dawning a Michael Myers rubber mask. They bunched up together, ready to run away when the culprit slid the mask off while laughing up a storm.

“Holy shit! You should have seen the look on your faces.” Max grins like a maniac as the boys stare in shock. “And you?” She gestures to Lucas. “Who screams like that? You sound like a little girl.” She starts wandering off, only stopping when she notices they weren’t following. “Hey, you guys coming or not? I heard we should hit up Loch Nora. That’s where the rich people live, right?”

She slides the mask back on, both Lucas and Dustin sparing a look. They both cheered that their crush had actually joined them after all, and ran after her along with Will. Mike stayed behind a few seconds, irritation was clear enough to see from space as he joined them with a distasteful groan.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper continued to mark every contaminated area he could find for what felt like hours. Oh, yeah…

That’s right.

Because it had been hours. 

The sky was already pitched black as he finally made his way around the farm, nearly getting scared to death when the farmer’s kid, who was dressed like a cowboy, “shot” his toy gun at him. He even got the fancy one that made the noise too.

“You’re dead.” The kid laughs with a toothless smile.

Hopper, who was fed up with this whole day, irritatedly replied, “Yeah, you got me, kid.”

“Happy Halloween!” He yells, and laughs again. And that’s when it finally hit the older man like a freight train. 

His eyes widened as he checked his watch, noticing that he was extremely late for his movie watching with Eleven, he starts muttering a string of heavy cuss words that were not made for young children’s ears. He rushes to get into his truck and starts bolting off.

…But not before hitting the brakes when he remembered something else he promised her he would do. 

He slowly backs up, stopping and rolling down the window. “Hey, kid.” He says, getting his attention. “Give me some of that candy, would you?”

The little cowboy shakes his head. “No way.”

Hopper sighs, and starts digging into his pocket. “Alright.” He pulls out a five dollar bill. “How about now?”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Eddie and Steph’s game of stacking empty beer bottles with some other classmates ended when they heard a huge splash from the pool, followed by loud cheering. The wolf man howled when he saw who it was, while the girl in red shook her head.

“I knew Grandma would end up in the pool eventually.” She says, watching Grant float on his back, his wig slowly coming off along with his tiny glasses.

“Grandma for the win.” Eddie snorted, as a few more people either jumped or got pushed in. He watches the crowd roar some more, his gaze somehow finding a small part of Hawkins High cheer squad amongst them. His face softens, yet saddens a little.

Steph follows his gaze to the team captain: Chrissy Cunningham. Her beautiful red hair twisted into twin buns, and was wearing the same white dress Princess Leia wore during the movies. She nudges Eddie and says, “You should talk to her before… you know? Someone puts the moves on her.”

Eddie shakes his head. “She’s way out of my league.”

“You don’t know that. She could think otherwise.”

“I doubt that, Henderson.”

Stephanie sighs, and is planning to give up when she spots Jeff and Gareth. “Hey, huntsmen?” She says, getting their attention. “This wolf here wants something that Cunningham has and doesn’t know how to approach. Think you can help him not go all mangy?”

“Roger that!” Jeff salutes as him and Gareth wastes no time to do what she asks. Eddie didn’t even have time to react, or protest, before being manhandled away.

“Henderson, you asshole!” He shouts as she laughs. “I’m going to get you for this!”

“I’m sure you will, Eds!” She waits for them to blend in with the pool crowd before leaving. “Knock her dead, Munson.” She heads back towards the kitchen for another beer. As she was grabbing one out of the cooler, she nearly fainted when someone appeared right beside her. “Jesus…”

“I heard you killed someone.” Billy said, as he props his hand up against a nearby wall.

She blinks, heart racing a bit at the statement. “I’m sorry?”

“Rumor has it that you got out of a kidnapping by killing the dude.” He explains, making her blink again (but for a different reason this time). 

Seriously? That’s what they’re coming up with? What a joke. She almost rolls her eyes. “Is that what they’re saying now?”

“Is that true?”

“And if it is? Should you be around me then? I am a ‘freak’, you know.”

“So, I’ve heard.” He says, amused. “You seemed too nice to be nice to be a freak. And you don’t dress very ‘emo’ either.”

“I wouldn’t call myself ‘emo’.” She looks at him curiously. “Who told you that?”

“Hagen.” Billy replies, as she now rolls her eyes. “What? Not a fan?”

“He’s a lying prick.” Steph states, irritated. “So no, I’m not.” He hums at her response, like he’s really taking her words into consideration. …What’s his deal?

“So, did you kidnap after all? Do you like the ‘devil’s music’? And do you play that strange board game that nerds are obsessing over?”

“Uh–” She nods slowly. “Yes, yes, and yes. I also play in a club with the nerds who like it.”

“I’ve heard.” He tilts his head, cigarette being pulled out to blow the smoke in the opposite direction of her. “Is it weird hanging out with all dudes?”

Okay, now I see what he’s doing. (See how oblivious she was to this kind of thing?) “No.” She replies, truthfully. “Most of them have girlfriends. And I don’t see them like that. Nor do they.”

He quirks up an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” Now she raises an eyebrow. “Is this game of twenty questions over yet?”

“Nah, baby, it just got started.” Billy says, with a grin and a delightful look. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure you out. You see, no one’s ever called me out like that before. Especially not a girl. I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

“You’re impressed?” Steph asks, surprised as he hums again. ( Huh.) I guess this is what it felt like to be flirted with. “Well, if you want to keep asking me questions, you gotta promise me something.”

“And that is?”

“Don’t pick on my friends.”

Both his eyebrows shoot up. “What? You’re friends with Harrington?”

Her chest tightens . “Not really.” She says, ignoring the underlying hurt. “But go easy on him while you’re at it. I’m talking about the boys in my club.”

“Okay…” Billy pauses like he’s really thinking about it before asking, “And if I don’t?”

“Well, then…” She smirks as the butterflies start to flutter. “I guess you’ll be seeing if the rumor is true.”

“What rumor?”

“You pick on them then I’ll have to kill you, too.” She says, casually while plucking the cigarette from his mouth. “Simple as that. Blondie.” She gives him a wink and takes a huff while leaving the room. 

I can’t believe I just did that. She tells herself and wonders if her face is as red as her hood. She giggles as she steps back outside. Wait until the guys hear this–

Her breath immediately gets caught in her throat.

The outside had become deserted and darker; The pool drained of water, and the music blasting had disappeared from her ears. It didn’t take her long to start noticing the white substance falling down from the sky.

No… not again. Not now. Panic filled her features, and it got turned up even more when she started to hear noises. “H-Hello?” She asks, to the wind.

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She whips her head in the other direction. “Find who? Find who, damn it?!” Who the hell keeps telling her that? What does this voice want from her?

.

// FIND HIM //

.

// FOLLOW //

.

“Follow, what?” What is she supposed to do? And for once, the mysterious voice had given her an answer. A few steps away a small silhouette appeared, staring at her before it ran away. “W-Will? Will!”

She runs after the boy, running down the driveway and out into the road, passing a few houses. The silhouette of Will ran, and ran, eventually stopping only to fade away. 

She hits the breaks, confused. “What…?”

.

// FIND HIM //

.

// HE NEEDS HELP //

.

And that’s when the hairs on her neck stood up, and something rose into the sky above her. She stares up at it, the shadow reminding her of the one she and Will say at the arcade, only this time it was much bigger… and much more terrifying. It had stretched out its limbs, and began heading in a different direction from her, like it was trying to tell her to follow–

Stephanie starts screaming as someone grabs her by the shoulders. The person’s hands, despite scaring her, had brought her back to reality, everything that was the ‘Upside Down’ had disappeared instantly. 

“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?!” He asks, face full of a different panic than she had.

Her breathing came in harsh gasps, as she slowly focused on the person in front of her. “Ed-Eddie?” She whispers, in disbelief. 

“What’s wrong?” He said again, taking her whole appearance in. 

“W-What?”

“Y-You spaced out for a while.” He frowns. “God, I thought you were having a seizure or something. I-I didn’t know what to do.”

He came looking for me. He… saved me from another vision? Her eyes started to well up big time now. “E-Eddie…” She cries, and she goes in for a hug. She squeezed him tight, tighter than she anticipated, but she needed to feel like she was grounded.

Eddie wastes no time wrapping his arms around her, holding her close as she lets her have a moment to cry this out before saying, “Hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I…” He gives her a squeeze. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She sniffles into his chest. “Eddie, I…” She trails off as her stomach begins to turn. Steph then pulls away from him lightning fast, turning away to puke all over the road.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Down in the ‘Loch Nora’ area of the neighbourhood, the party, including their honorary member Max Mayfield, just hit another house that was yet another jackpot for their hunt for candy.

“Another full-size. Like, seriously, rich people are such suckers.” Dustin said, grinning. But it fades when he looks at Max. “Wait. You’re not rich, right?”

“No, I live up Old Cherry Road.” She explains

“Oh.” That wasn’t… the best of areas. 

She notices his pitiful expression, and reassures him by saying, “No, it’s fine. I mean, the street’s good for skating.”

“Yeah, totally tubular.” He gets a look from her and Lucas. “What? Did I say that right? Or is it, like, tub-U-larrrrr.”

Lucas snorts, and says, “It’s, like–” He starts imitating a surfer dude you would hear on tv. “Totally tubular.”

“Totally tubular!”

“What a gnarly wave, dude.”

“Totally brodacious, bro!”

Max laughs. “Stop. My ears are hurting.”

The three of them continued talking while Will filmed their interaction from a few steps behind. Eventually he pans to his other friend who still seemed to be in a sour mood since she “rudely” cut in on their adventure. 

“Did you agree to this?” He snaps.

“What?” Will asks, confused, and shuts the recorder off.

“To her joining our party.”

“It’s just for Halloween.”

“You should have checked with me.”

“Well, they were excited. I guess I thought you’d be okay with it.”

“She’s ruining the best night of the year.” Mike says, and storms ahead. 

Will, who felt like he was suddenly caught between two sides, made no effort to go after any of them. Instead, he takes his time, fixing his hold on the recorder and his pillowcase, and starts making his way up the cul-de-sac. Now… the next few moments he couldn’t figure out if it was reality, or the cruelty of nightmares were starting to seep in and mess with him, because people started to pop out from thin air in front, and shouted at him like he was at fault.

“ Watch it, Zombie Boy!”

“Trick or treat, freak!”

“Get lost, Little Nerd!”

“The boogeyman’s coming to get ya!”

“BOO!!!”

The last one frightened him so much, he ended up falling backwards in shock, falling straight on his back…

.

.

.

And into the Upside Down.

He stared up into the sky, the same one Stephanie and him stared at almost a year ago. The same dark sky with an ominous blue hue that sprinkles the faux snow around. 

He scrambles to his feet, his belongings falling to the ground. He frantically starts looking for his friends, for really anyone that was walking by, but they had all disappeared from his personal nightmare. 

“Mike?” He chokes, his heart racing. “MIKE!!!” He didn’t hear a response, but instead he heard a very strange sound that started surrounding him. “St-Stephanie…?”

Maybe she was dealing with this too. Maybe she was looking for him like she did the other night at the arcade. But, my God…

He wished that was true.

He really, really wished that had been true.

Instead something else had found him. 

A figure, one that was extremely large, had floated into the air in the distance; Its tentacles spewing out, its blank face looking straight at Will. Even without a mouth or eyes, the boy could tell it was looking at him. A little voice in the back of his head told him that this thing was looking for him. 

It made a noise, the strangest noise he’s ever heard as it started to move. That was enough for the boy to start running.

He ran, and ran, all the way down some stairs near a house, soon crawling into a corner that he hoped he remained untouched. He closes his eyes, bringing his knees to his chest for him to curl into, and singing something quietly, something that maybe if this beast heard it would leave him be. He hoped that maybe humming his favorite song would make it go away, just like it did the Demogorgon.

He sings, and sings, and sings, and sings, and sings, and sings, and sings, and sings, and sings–

He let out a scream when someone touched his shoulder, and was ready to go down fighting when he saw who it was. 

“Will, what’s wrong?” Mike asks, frantically as Will checks out his surroundings. “I couldn’t find you. Are you hurt?”

“Holy shit!” Dustin says, and the others join them.

“Is he okay?” Lucas asks, worriedly.

“I don’t know.” Mike admits. “I’m gonna get you home, okay? I’m gonna get you home. Hold on.” He slowly helps him up. “Alright, take it easy.” Mike then swats Dustin’s hand away, and sends him a glare. “I got him.”

“Mike?” Dustin says, quietly, and hurt by the action. 

“Keep trick-or-treating. I’m bored anyway.” He throws shade one last time, and starts leading Will away.

Max, who was genuinely concerned for Will’s being, asks, “What’s wrong with him?”

Lucas and Dustin exchange knowing glances. Not sure how to explain to her what just happened, and how she would even believe the crazy backstory behind it. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Eddie asks, worriedly as guided her through the crowd. 

“I’m fine. I just need the bathroom.” Steph says, trying to stay upright as her head begins to pound.

“Okay.” He stops a few steps before the door, letting her go on her own. “But if you’re not out in a few minutes I’m going to check on you. Alright?”

“‘Kay…”

Stephanie sways into the tiny bathroom, immediately falling to her knees to puke in the toilet bowl. She lets out a loud, and tired groan when she gets done, and finds herself resting her head on the corner of it. She felt she had been hit by a bus. She feels sick in a way she never experienced before, and she feels like she might get worse.

Fuuucccckkkk… She squeezes her eyes shut, preparing herself for round two that was creeping up. Why did this have to happen at the party? Why did I have to ruin the fun like always?

Her train of thought was interrupted when someone barged in (Cursing at herself for not locking the door). “Uh, occupied.” She slurs, and looks up. She felt all her bones in her body freeze up. “Oh… it’s you two…”

Her and Steve locked eyes in probably the first time since his last hospital stay which was almost a year ago. He looked just as surprised as she was, nervous too as he helped Nancy to the sink. A small apology passes his lips for intruding, making her look away. She wanted to get up and give them space, but she was afraid of getting up too fast and puking again. 

Maybe puking all over the floor would give them a hint. But those words were interrupted as well when the couple started a conversation that you can tell Steve was trying to cut short for his drunk girlfriend’s sake.

“Nance. Nance, I’m sorry.” He says, quietly. “That’s not coming off, Nance.”

She shakes her head as scrubs the already soaked towel on her stained shirt. “I-It’s c-coming.”

“Come on–” Steve tries taking the towel away. “Let me just take you home, okay? Come here.” She shakes him off. “Let me take you home. Come on–”

“Y-You wa-wanted thisss.”

“No, I didn’t want this. I told you to stop drinking.”

Stephanie winced at both their tones, and was silently praying that maybe Eddie would come for her already and stop this awkwardness. Drunk or not, this is still a private conversation she didn’t need to be eavesdropping. I gotta move. I need to move.

And so she tries, but at the slightest movement her nausea comes back, as she chokes out whatever’s left in her stomach into the toilet. Steve, hearing this, spares her a worried glance before he feels Nancy sway into him.

“It’s b-bullshit.” She jabs. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s not bullshit. Okay?” He tries deescalating as she shakes her head again. “No, it’s not bullshit, Nancy.”

“No, y-you. You’re bullshit. ”

That one sentence was enough to drive a knife into his heart. “W-What?”

Stephanie’s eyes widened, shocked by what she just heard. She’s not implying what I think she’s implying…?

And to clarify what she meant to both parties, Nancy continues with, “Y-You’re pretending l-like everything is okay. You know, like we d-didn’t... like w-we didn’t f-fucking kill Barb. Like, it’s gr-great. Like, w-we’re in love and we-re partying. Y-Yeah, let’s party, huh? Party. We’re partying. Th-This is fucking bullshit.”

“‘Like we’re in love’?” Steve repeats her words, his voice and whole mannerisms mimicking that of a very small child. There’s no way that she said that. She was just… confused. Right? She had to be. Because… because…

He finds himself not being able to come up with something as she stabs in the heart again.

“It’s bullshit.” She says, making it more loud and clear for him to hear.

The knife stabbed him again. “You don’t… you don’t love me?”

“I-It’s… bullshit.”

And that was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. The last two years of their relationship has crumbled to the floor, and burned to ash immediately. 

Steve stares at her with the most heartbroken expression, letting go of her arm as she leans over the sink in another attempt at cleaning her sweater. Whether she was drunk or not, she spoke the truth -- Funny, how just a small sip of alcohol can make anything come to light. He almost broke down there as he took a step back, feeling like a train had run through him as realized they weren’t alone. 

He takes a look behind, back to Stephanie who looked lost for words as well. But when his teary eyed browns meet her blues, he sees the shock, but also sees that she looks rather hurt by this conversation she accidentally witnessed. They shared the gaze for a few seconds too long, just as tears rolled down his cheek, and he excused himself from this mess. Steve nearly runs into Eddie who was about to open the door, barely muttering an apology as he continues his escape out of here. 

Eddie watches him for a moment before looking inside the bathroom, surprised to find Nancy in here as well. He didn’t know what he had just missed, but he can tell it wasn’t pretty. 

“Stephanie?” He begins, as her hurt starts shifting into something else.

“I just want to go home.” She replies, as starts pushing herself up to stand.

“Steph–”

“I just want to go home, Eddie.” She places her hand on the counter to stop herself from rocking. From there she saw how worried he was getting again. “...Please.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay. Let me just… let me just sober real quick. Uh, give me a few minutes.”

He leaves to find something other than alcohol to drink, leaving poor Stephanie behind who is trying not to get all dizzy again. She spares a look to the newly singled teen who was still oblivious to what she had done, and was still trying to get the stain out. Steph just wanted to leave, feeling really awkward about the whole thing; Yet… it didn’t feel right just leaving her be. Especially in her state.

Stephanie somehow manages to get herself out of the bathroom, down the hallway to search the crowded living room. She was hoping to find someone that cared for Nancy other than Steve to help her out. But who? Steph didn’t exactly have her list of friends on her.

And for the first time today she got lucky, and spotted someone making his way through everyone, clearly trying his best to step out of his comfort zone. She starts swaying towards him.

“Stephanie?” Jonathan starts moving her way. “I didn’t think you be here–”

“Can you help Nancy out?” Steph cuts to the chase, she’ll just apologize later to him for her rudeness.

He looks at her funny. “What’s wrong with Nancy?”

“Apparently she just drunkenly confessed to Steve that she didn’t love him.” She watches his eyes widened. “Yeah. I know. She’s in the bathroom. Just help her out if you can.” She then moves around him to go find Eddie, Jonathan calling back out to her,

“Hey, where’s Steve, then?”

She doesn’t reply. Why should she? She had done more than enough for the exes already.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•° 

“It’s like... like I’m stuck.” Will explains after he finally calmed down. He was sitting in the basement of Mike’s home, their candy scattered on the coffee table -- they were trading them until Will was ready to confess what really happened. 

“Like, like, stuck in the Upside Down?” Mike asks, curiously.

Will sighs. “No. It’s…” How does he explain it to someone who hasn’t experienced it? “You know on a View-Master, when it gets, like–”

“Caught between two slides?”

He nods. “Yeah. Like that. Like one side’s our world, and the other… The other slide is the Upside Down. And…” He swallows. “And there was this noise coming from everywhere. And then I saw something.”

“The Demogorgon?” Mike asks, worriedly.

“No.” Will shakes his head. “It was like this huge sh-shadow in the sky. Only, it w-was alive. And it was coming for me.”

Mike’s worriedness grows. Even after a whole year he still didn’t know what really happened to Will and Steph. He has no clue what else they saw other than the Demogorgon. “So…” He has to choose his words carefully. “Is this all real? Like is it actually here? Or is it all in your head?”

“I don’t know.” Will admits quietly. “Just… Just please don’t tell the others, okay? Unless it’s Stephanie.”

“Stephanie?” 

“Yeah. We’ve been talking a lot when this stuff happens.”

“She’s like that too?”

“Yeah. She’s the only one who gets it.” He hugs himself. “The others won’t understand.”

“Eleven would.” Mike says, sadly.

“She would?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “She always did.”

Will cracks a small smile. “I wish I could have met her.”

“Yeah, I wish you did, too.” Mike agrees, copying his expression. “Sometimes I feel like I still see her. Like she’s still around, but she never is. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“...Me, too.”

Mike nudges him lightly. “Hey, well, if we’re both going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together, right?”

Will nods. “Yeah. Crazy together.” He chuckles. “In the words of Stephanie, ‘Us freaks have to stick together’ .”

Mike laughs at that, also nodding. “Yeah. Freaks totally stick together. Forever and ever.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper races through the woods and up the stairs, immediately doing the secret knock on his cabin door. “Hey, kid. Open up, alright?” Nothing. But what did he expect? He screwed up. Big time. “Look, I know I’m late. I got candy here, alright? I got all the good stuff.”

He lays his tired head against the door, hearing nothing on the other side. He frowns. “Please , will you open the door? I’m gonna freeze to death out here.”

I guess she took pity on him for that, and opened it up, making him rush inside. He finds her not in the living room waiting, but instead she has locked herself in her bedroom, and even took the TV in with her (The only source of entertainment in this place). It dawned on him that she wasn’t just mad. Nah, she was pissed.

Guess she learned what ‘piss off’ means today after all.

“Hey, kid. Open up, would you?” Hopper says, his tone laced with regret. “I got, uh... stuck somewhere, and I lost track of time. And I’m sorry.” Silence. “El, would you please open the door?” She didn’t even sound like she was attempting to move. “El?”

He tries to see if he could break the silent treatment by guilting her a bit, as he plops down on the couch close to her room. “Alright. I’m just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy.” He announces and starts unwrapping a piece of chocolate. “I’m gonna get fat. It’s very unhealthy to leave me out here. Could have a heart attack or something. But, you know, you do what you want.”

Yeah… she was definitely pissed. And in a way, he was grateful, but a little jealous that she didn’t show the same treatment to Steve who was suddenly at the front door using their special knock -- He barely even did it as Eleven opens it up for him.

“Hey, do you want candy?” Hopper asks the teen. His already defeated look worsened when he saw Steve’s. “What’s wrong?”

Steve, who still looks like he’s been kicked repeatedly, sighs and says, “I think Nancy just broke up with me.”

“You think?”

“She said… s-she d-didn’t love me.”

Hopper almost winces at those words. Yeah, he remembers when an old girlfriend of his said that to him in the 10th grade. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Steve mumbles as he takes a seat, while rubbing his face. “Why do you look depressed?”

“I fucked up.” Hopper replies, looking at the bedroom door.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Steve nods and takes the pail of candy from his lap, and pulls out a tootsie roll. “Then let’s get fat.” He says, and he starts off into space like the adult was doing prior. 

Hopper doesn’t say anything anymore, both of them staying silent as they ate all the candy until they felt disgusted with themselves.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After dropping the rest of his friends off, the Henderson household was the last stop. Eddie hugs the curb with his van, coming to a complete stop and shutting the engine off. It had been pretty quiet for most of the ride, leaving him to wonder if there was more to Stephanie’s story. He casts his gaze to the passenger side, the girl leaning her head against the window, a hollow, but haunted, look on her face.

“Hey.” He begins, getting her attention. His voice was soft and kind. “How about you talk to me?”

Steph gives him a look of pity. “Eddie–”

“No, I’m serious. I can tell something’s been bothering you for a while, so why don’t you talk about it?” He just wants to know what happened at the party. He wants to know what triggered her panic attack. “Come on, Steph. I’m your friend. Just talk to me. You know I won’t judge.”

“I know you won’t, Eddie. It’s just…” She swallows. “You’re not going to believe me.”

“About…?”

“About when I got kidnapped.” Steph quickly clarifies with, “The anniversary’s around the corner, and I think it’s just caught up with me. That’s all.”

Ah, now that makes sense. Eddie thought, as he chose his word carefully again. “Well, then tell me about it. You don’t have to go about in crazy detail, but just tell me. I’ll believe you.”

“You’re going to believe me?” She asks, putting pressure on the first word which confuses him (and tries not to take offense to it).

“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “I don’t see why you think I wouldn’t.”

Uh, ‘cause you’ll think I’m bat shit crazy. She tells herself, and she almost, almost, gets out of the car to just leave him in the dark. Almost. But it suddenly came crashing through the dam before she could even catch herself. 

“So, if I told that me and Will were taken by an eight foot monster with no face, and it dragged us to a world like ours, but with no people; And that we had to fight off bats that also had no face, and had tentacles like an octopus; Or that I got stuck inside my own head and almost died because of a completely separate monster, you would believe me?” Steph spills rapidly and looks his way. “Like… if I just came up to you as a stranger, you would believe me?”

“Well, maybe not as a stranger.” He replies, still trying to follow. 

“Then what about as a friend?”

He nods. “Well, as your friend, of course I would.”

“Then do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Believe me? Do you believe me?”

Eddie snorts before it turns into laughter. But he soon finds himself cutting his reaction short when she notices she wasn’t reacting the same. His eyes widened. “W-What? You’re serious?”

Stephanie breaks eye contact as she feels like she’s about to cry again for the millionth time. “This is why I can’t talk to anyone.” She whispers, hurtfully. “You’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Stephanie–” He tries as she shakes her head, and opens the door.

“No. Just… leave me be.” She replies, and leaves. 

Eddie was left speechless, worried, and hurt. You can add guilt to the mix too. I mean… did that really happen to her? Or did she think that’s what happened while she and Will were kidnapped? But either way, his reaction was extremely poor.

He groans and rubs his face with his hands. I fucked up. I really fucked up.

Now he’s debating if he should march inside and attempt to start over. However she did sound dead serious about leaving her alone. But would that actually be okay? Is that what she really needed tonight? Before he could make a decision he spots someone coming up the driveway, dressed in the costume Stephanie told him about, was her younger brother, holding onto a pillowcase full of candy while muttering something to himself. Sensing his presence, Dustin turns around briefly, flashing a toothless smile and a wave. 

At least she’s not alone. Eddie returns the gesture, his mind made up now. I really need to respect her wishes. I’ll just try to talk to her tomorrow at school.

With that being said, Eddie turned his van back on and drove off -- Not realizing that by driving off so soon that two things were happening at the home behind him. 

One was that Stephanie had officially barricaded herself in her room, letting no one in, not even the cat, as she cried herself to sleep.

And two, was that Dustin wouldn’t be checking on his big sis tonight. Why, you may ask? Well… because he suddenly had made a discovery in his own yard. What has he discovered, you may ask? Well… he discovers a strange looking lizard living in his trash can. A lizard…

That may or may not cause problems in the near future.

(TBC)

A/N: I forgot how grouchy Mike was this whole season 😅 Especially when I rewatched this episode. I mean, I get it, he's a kid, but chill the F out, man. Lol. -- Eddie (until the last part) deserves MVP status for being a great friend. I'm glad I decided to add him early on. -- Love Nancy, but I'll admit, I never thought she was a good GF for Steve. And, no, I'm not saying that because of this story. I just never thought she was. I'm kind of hoping they don't end up back together in the last season. But that's just my opinion. -- Also, don't worry, The Hopper, Steve, & Eleven flashbacks aren't over yet. We got one last chapter with those, so hang tight.

Answer: *BMW's in the 80s did in fact come out with fobs that just unlocked/locked cars.

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl @olivewisp

@emsownuniverse @unspecifiedvisitor @smaryamsstuff @kitty49646 @jinxeee @bookkeeperlove @prozacgooble @goth-baby98 @aainr @luca-random-stuff @catradorapotter @bailees-post @dearabby1990 @savage-aespa @aainr @madaboutjoe @i4jeo

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Cold blooded fire; Johnny Storm x reader

*Author's note*

So like everyone else and all the Joseph Quinn fangirls out there, I saw FF4 opening weekend and I adored it. I really did like what the MCU brought to these characters. Now before anyone goes off I DID see the 2005's F4 first movie, not the Silver Surfer sequel but I was a kid when those films came out and didn't really have a much appreciation for them (unless it was Raimi's Spiderman films or the Dark knight trilogy). So I thought I'd jump on the Johnny storm band wagon and write a little fic about our beloved little firebug :)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR FF:FS (what I have happen in this story to the reader happens to a different character so if you still haven't seen the movie, DON'T READ THIS FIC!!!), character/reader death (but comes back), some angst, fluff.

Taglist:

@waddles03

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@plethora-of-things

@queen-paladin

@psychosupernatural

@austynparksandpizza

_________________________________________________________

For the record if we somehow managed to successfully banish this giant space god, I’m still gonna kill Reed and pump him with 10,000 volts of electricity right through his heart (or his brain or wherever I decided) for even coming up with this plan.

Using baby Franklin as bait to lure Galactus through Time Square is probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard from him.  His own son as bait, we could’ve done anything else literally anything else but nope he decided to use his own flesh and blood.  But again I’ll deal with that later once the planet-eating space prick is taken care of.

Now I knew that getting him to step into the parameters of the transport circle wouldn’t work but it did give both Johnny and I the advantage we needed to blind-side the bastard and temporarily blind him while we did the classic switcharoo.  While I kept at Galactus’ eyes, Johnny swooped down and took Franklin’s protective carrier and once I saw him take off for the Baxter Building, I followed right behind him with my own blue fire trailing behind me.

Once we landed in the living room, Johnny set Franklin’s carrier down as the poor thing cried fearfully.

“Hey, hey don’t cry now. Don’t cry.” Johnny assured his nephew as he crouched down in front of him.  I knelt down beside him placing my hand over Johnny’s that rested over Franklin’s stomach.  “Everything’s gonna be just fine, your auntie (Y/n) will take such good care of you and you know that.”

“For the record again, I hate this plan.”

“I know babe I know.”

“I should be out there fighting alongside you guys. Like I always have.”

“I know but Sue wouldn’t have trusted you to stay behind to look after Frankie if she didn’t think you were gonna be just as fiercely protective as she would’ve been.” I looked down at Franklin and slowly scooted my finger over to his hand so that he could take it.  “He needs you more than we do.”

“How dare you use this sweet baby boy against me.” I muttered.  I felt Johnny lift my chin up and he kissed me softly.  “Be safe, all of you.” He gave me a firm nod.

“Herbert, watch out for them.” Johnny said giving HERBIE a light scratch on top of his robotic head like he always did before racing back out to join the others in the fight.  As I watched Johnny fly off in a fiery blaze, I heard Franklin getting fussy again so I turned to look down at him and softly shushed him.

“Hey, hey now. I’m here Auntie (N/n) is here Frankie. I know, I know. Mama and Daddy and your uncles will be here soon too. Till then you got me and Herbie here, right Herb?” Herbie wheeled over to the other side of me beeping comfortingly at little Frankie.

While we kept Franklin distracted with songs and stories, I suddenly took notice how the room suddenly grew dark.  I growled as my hands ignited in blue flames and there I stared into the blazing eyes of Galactus.  Herbie rolled in front of both Franklin and I and I told him.

“Herbie get back.” He beeped at me.  “Don’t be stubborn now get behind me and protect Franklin!” Suddenly living room exploded as a giant hand encompassed, me, Herbie and Franklin.

I covered Franklin’s body with my own and as I heard the final beeps of Herbie.

“NOOO!” I exclaimed.  My rage fully took over as I allowed my entire body to go up in blue flames and I let out my dragon breath burning his fingers forcing him to open his hands.

I flew right in his face firing two powerful blue fire blasts at his face making him at least let out a hiss of pain.

“You shouldn’t have killed my best friend and threatened to take my nephew!” I growled.

“You are the most entertaining little bug.” He told me.

“Then you’re gonna love this big boy.” I charged up my hands and zapped him with lightning as I flew around him and struck him wherever I could just to get him distracted long enough for me to grab Franklin and get the hell out of dodge.  Once I got him right alongside the pockets of his armor that seemed to be his weak spot when we first lead him to the teleportation ring.

This guy was going to pay for what he did to Herbie.  The sound of his final robotic screams still echoed in my head, the sound of his body being crushed like he were a tin can.  I turned up the heat as I shot three powerful blue fire blasts at him.  But I was too enwrapped in my anger to realize the hand coming down to knock me towards the ground.

I grunted as I felt the force of a mountain on my back and the ground getting closer and closer faster than I could reignite my entire body to fly.  Then just before I could feel the impact, I felt a force keeping me steady.  I was soon gently settled down on the ground and Sue came up to me and I whimpered.

“I’m sorry. He—he killed HERBIE and I-I lost it. I failed you, Sue.”

“No, no you didn’t. You protected him like any mother would. But right now I need you to focus (Y/n), I need your help.” I took a few deep breaths to get out of my panicked failure before saying to her.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You and I are gonna combine our powers to push that bastard into the ring. There Johnny will activate the portal and Reed will get our son. Still think you got enough juice in you to light the bastard up?”

“For both our boys.” I sniffled but said in a firm tone.  She helped me up and I placed my hands together and took a couple of deep breaths to get myself charged up while Sue lead the first attack.

She used her powers to create a forcefield around Galactus’ entire body as she called out to him.

“Let go of my son!” Galactus spoke not a word but merely smirked at Sue’s weak threat.  But once she began to unleash that full Mama Bear wrath upon him and actually force him backward, Galactus then began to realize that Sue wasn’t playing around.

Opening my eyes back up I could feel the electricity within my own body charging up to the max.  I did a few slow hand dip motions to truly get my lightning strike started up before I did a strong front stance and fired the most powerful lightning bolt that I hadn’t produced since the incident four years ago.

A powerful and strong blue lightning bolt fired from just my index and tall finger alone and hit straight into Galactus’ heart.  If he was truly a man as he once claimed himself to be, he must still have a heart even if it’s not beating anymore.  So if I’m able to at least stop it, then Sue can take over and push him the rest of the way into the teleportation ring.

Galactus proved to be a challenge as it took both of our full strengths to even get him to budge.  And even still he kept hanging on to whatever his hands could grab hold of.  I saw how Sue’s strength was starting to weaken her.  She’s never had to use her powers to this full extend and if she pushed herself any harder, she could go braindead.

‘Sue baby you need to stop!’ Reed’s voice came through the coms.  ‘You’re using too much of your power you need to stop!’ But Sue wasn’t stopping.  Even as she was starting to fade, the sound of Franklin’s crying suddenly gave her the strength she needed to finish the job.

Sue let out a rageful, protective scream as she began to push Galactus with all her might.  Once he had taken three steps back, I took my shot to fire at Sue’s feet to get her to lose her focus.  She looked at me with betrayal but one look at me and I told her that I would finish this.  She had her son to get back to.

I then turned to Galactus and let out my own rageful, vengeful scream as my lightning increased tenfold and I even began to shoot lightning from my eyes (which had never happened before).  My legs shook violently as I tried to keep my stance, my arm started to burn as the lightning was starting to turn against me at this level of power that I had never been able to do.

“(Y/n) stop!” Sue’s voice was faint as it called out to me.  “(Y/N)!” I let out another scream as I used my other hand to summon out another bolt of lightning and the last thing I saw was a white flash and I collapsed.

*3rd Person POV*

For a brief moment it had worked.  (Y/n) ultimate lightning strike had sent Galactus into the portal after frying him up to kingdom come.  But the space god had managed to crawl back through the portal in his last ditch hope of getting Franklin from his father.

Just when Johnny had hoped to sacrifice himself to save his nephew and the woman he loves, he was pushed out of the way by Shalla-Bal and she sacrificed herself by sending both her and Galactus far away to the other side of the universe never to return.

When the portals closed and Reed held his son comfortingly, Sue’s voice came over the comms.

‘Guys get over here! It’s (Y/n). She’s unresponsive.’ immediately the team raced over towards the ladies of the Fantastic Five and they all saw (Y/n) lying on her back, her eyes closed and her body still.  Her entire right arm looked burned, her left hand had also been slightly burned and her chest wasn’t rising.  “Her fever’s too high, and I don’t got a pulse.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no (Y/n)! (Y/n) baby girl come on! Don’t you do this to me now!” Johnny raced over and pressed his fingers to her neck hoping that his sister was lying.  But when he didn’t feel her pulse, he began to immediately do chest compressions as well as give her mouth to mouth.  “Come on my fiery queen, open those eyes of yours. Come on! Come on wake up (Y/n)!”

Reed and Ben looked down solemnly knowing that just seeing her like this, she wasn’t alive.  She used her own power to its full extent that it ended up backfiring on her own body stopping her own heart in the process.

“Baby come on! Wake up sweetheart!” Johnny sobbed.

“Johnny….” Sue reached out for her little brother’s shoulder.

“No! No! No! NO SHE’S NOT DEAD!” he breathed in one large puff of air into her mouth but as his compressions slowly grew less aggressive, the sobs that came out of Johnny’s mouth were raw as he collapsed on top of her sobbing hysterically.

Sue touched Johnny’s shoulders but he roughly brushed her off.  Sue came back in again and held her little brother close to her chest as he wept like a child.  He didn’t want to say it, he couldn’t say it but slowly the truth became clear.

(Y/n) (l/n), Leading engineer and deemed Superheroine ‘Ms. Thunderbolt’ was dead.

Franklin’s cries were heard as he reached out towards his aunt.  Reed tried to hold his son back but the baby fussed as it pleaded with actions to be near his aunt.  Sue looked up to Reed and softly nodded telling him that he should do it.  Reed came up and placed their baby onto his aunt’s corpse and Franklin’s cries turned to soft whimpers.

His little tiny hands touched and lightly pounded on her chest before he went still and just lay there across his aunt’s chest.  Hardly anyone would’ve noticed but (Y/n)’s fingers lightly began to twitch and her burned arm was slowly being healed.  Suddenly (Y/n) let out a gasp of air, her eyes glowing with the cosmos as literal stars and galaxies filled her entire eyes before they quickly reverted back to her normal (e/c) ones.

*My POV*

A voice.  A tiny little voice had called out to me calling my name.  At first I was cold, cold for the first time before I had gotten my powers but then I was once again enveloped in warmth.  But not the overpowering warmth I get form my own powers as well as all the cuddle sessions with Johnny.

No this warmth was—soothing.  Like being outside on a nice spring day at Central Park.  Then I saw the galaxies zipping past me as stars weaved and flown pass me.  And then there was life in my chest again, the sound of my heart beat as I woke up and let out a desperate inhale of air.

My vision cleared and there I saw baby Frankie on my chest and the power fading from his hands.  I heard Sue and Reed laughing joyously and Ben softly chuckling as my family stood over me.  I looked over to Sue and Reed and told them.

“You both got one hell of a kid.” They both laughed as Reed took back his son and I was quickly tackled by Johnny as he wept into my shoulder.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again! I swear I will ban you from using lightning ever again!” I nuzzled my head into his neck as I embraced him just as tightly.

“Takes more than a little lightning to keep me down. Told you I had to prove myself to those men who thought a woman can’t handle a little electricity.” I then felt the rest of the family come around me and embrace me or rub my head.

We had done it, we won our biggest battle yet.

A few months later I brought out the plans I had made for HERBIE and prepared to rebuild him from scratch with some minor altercations to make his exterior a bit more stronger (thanks to some of Sue’s friends from Wakanda).  But I was really fortunate that even through the rubble, his memory chip had somehow survived so HERBIE would still be HERBIE once he was done.

I was getting the final modifications done on Herb’s face and arms making sure that everything was ready to go.

“How’s Herbert 2.0 coming along there babe?” Johnny asked.

“Just about done, can you hand me the—” I soon saw the ¾ screwdriver appear in my vision.  “You’re the best.”

“I do what I do.” I pecked his lips and tightened up some of the screws and bolts to keep his limps and records on his face from falling.  Once all that was done, all he needed was his memory chip to activate.  I looked at the newly modeled Herbie and let out a sigh.

“He looks better than ever. And I love the Vibranium upgrades.” Johnny praised as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I’ll have to write a thank you letter to King T’Chaka for allowing us a small bit of Vibranium to be used for Herbie’s new outer shell. It wasn’t easy but Sue really convinced him that we weren’t going to use it for misuse or war needs.”

“Yeah. Just for a stronger built helper robot. And he’s gonna need it especially with little Frankie being all super god baby.” I softly stroked the memory chip as I looked down at it solemnly.  “Baby?”

“HERBIE was the reason why I got this job in the first place. I wanted to build a helper robot who isn’t just a servant, but a life-long companion as well. And who would’ve thought that my own Herbie would actually get to apart of the Fantastic Five family.”

“I know. First time I met this little guy was the first time I met you. And that was the day that changed my life forever.” I felt him squeeze me a bit tighter as he nuzzled his nose against my cheek.  I smiled and pressed my forehead to his as I brushed my nose against his.

“Hearing his screams when that son of a bitch crushed him, I…..I lost it. It was like he had killed my own child. Blue fire is the hottest fire to ever be produced, some engineered and scientists have even called it ‘The Cold-blooded fire’. Untamable and unpredictable when given too much pressure. And I wanted him to feel every ounce of pain he had given me when he crushed him without a second thought.”

“I know, I know. But you shouldn’t have done it at the cost of your own life. You really had me scared, I thought I lost you forever.”

“Plenty of fish out there in the sea Johnny. So many girls have been wanting to throw themselves at you since day one.”

“But not a single one of them is you.” We looked into each other’s eyes before pressing our foreheads together.  “Only one girl can match my fiery temper, hell even surpass it at times. But I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“You’re such a smooth talker, but that’s one of the things I love about you. Shall we do this together?” I asked holding up Herbie’s memory chip.

“Together my blue flame.” He took the other corner of Herbie’s chip between his fingers and we slot it into Herbie’s chest.  We pushed the chip in together and soon his eyes began to slowly spin back and forth.  His head testing itself as it tilted back and forth before he hummed and beeped before he finally looked up at us.

He beeped out our names and I chuckled out sobs as I wiped my tears away.

“Hey there Herbert, welcome back buddy.” Johnny greeted as he scratched Herbie’s head.  That’s when Herbie went frantic asking about Franklin.

“Herbie, Herbie, Herbs it’s okay he’s okay. He’s taking his nap right now. A lot has happened since you—” I trailed off.  Johnny kissed my cheek.

“Galactus is gone. Far on the other side of the universe itself. We saved the city pal. And you helped protect our girl and little Frankie, thanks pal.” Herbie raised his hand into a fist and he and Johnny fist bumped each other.

“Oh Sue, Reed and Ben are gonna be so happy to see you again. Especially Ben, he’s missed his sous chef.” I said.  I pressed my two fingers to my lips kissing them before lightly tapping Herbie’s face.  “Welcome back buddy.” He beeped and chirped before wheeling out of the shop to see the family again.

“Now the family’s finally complete.” Johnny said.

“Yeah.” I sighed.  “C’mon, I wanna see everyone’s face once they see Herbie fully rebuilt.” Johnny grinned and took my hand and we proceeded toward the elevator to head up to the family room to see the family’s reaction on the returning member of our insane yet fantastic family.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

honestly THIS fic was the one I had been waiting for the most ever since you posted your WIP's list awhile ago. But this takes it FAR beyond what I'd normally expect to see a fanfic where one of the twins tries to convert the reader into liking something. You took the story much deeper into the reader's 'hate' for quidditch and made it soo heartbreaking but heartfelt at the same time. Yeah Fred was a bit of a dick for doing it but hey he IMMEDIATELY said 'fuck this I need to make this right. How idk but I'm gonna do whatever it takes even if I don't get a full forgiveness from her'. Bravo my dear!

The Girl Who Hates Quidditch

Fred Weasley x FemRavenclawReader

When Ginny introduced Fred to her friend who hates quidditch, none of them expected Fred would make it his personal mission to change her mind. He might not achieve his goal, but he might just fall for her in the process.

———————————————————————

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with post-dinner warmth. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the familiar scarlet banners and deep armchairs, while the sounds of Exploding Snap echoed from one corner. Somewhere near the portrait hole, a third year was being lectured about curfew by an older sibling. The unrestrained chaos might have been typical for the Gryffindor common room, but to y/n, it was amazing. A long way away from the far more quiet, orderly atmosphere of the Ravenclaw Tower. But she found she surprisingly enjoyed the lively nature of the space.

She sat curled up with her newest friend, Ginny Weasley, near one of the windows. The younger girl animatedly recounted a story about a spell they’d been practicing in their most recent DA meeting. The two had met when y/n joined the DA along with Cho Chang and some of the other Ravenclaw students. Y/n swiftly grew fond of the fiery redhead, and a close bond had formed as they partnered up to practice new spells together.

“And then it just absolutely incinerated it!” Ginny finished, her eyes wide.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty tricky spell to master, Gin. Well done.”

Ginny grinned. “You should’ve seen Fred’s face when it happened.”

“Speaking of—” came a voice from behind the armchair. Fred Weasley’s flaming hair popped into view, followed immediately by George’s.

“—Ginevra, what’s this?” George asked, looking the Ravenclaw girl up and down in mock confusion. “You brought a Ravenclaw into the lion’s den?”

“You’re in enemy territory,” Fred added, squinting dramatically.

She didn’t even flinch. “You do realize Ravenclaws have the highest percentage of inter-House friendships, right? Probably because we don’t judge people based on colour coordination.”

“Ooh,” George said, placing a hand to his heart. “She’s got a sharp tongue.”

“She’s got a name, too,” Ginny said dryly. “This is y/n.”

“I know, I’ve seen you at the DA meetings. You’ve got a wicked impedimentia jinx,” Fred extended a hand, ever the showman. “Fred Weasley. Professional mischief-maker, master beater, part-time heartbreaker.”

She took his hand warily. “Is there a support group for people who’ve had to hear that introduction more than once?”

“Only one member so far - me,” George muttered, earning a nudge from Fred.

“Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless,” Ginny said, stretching out her legs. “Where have you two been? You missed curfew.”

“We were giving Ronikins some pointers,” George answered, jumping over the couch to plonk himself down on a plush cushion. “After our loss to Slytherin last week, he sure needs it.”

“Ugh, can we not talk about that,” y/n wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ah, a woman of taste. So you’re supporting the red and gold this year too?” Fred winked at her, dropping down on the couch right next to his brother.

“No, she just hates quidditch.” Ginny grinned and Fred gasped like someone had cursed his broomstick.

“She what?” Fred looked personally offended. “You can’t just hate Quidditch. It’s like saying you hate flying. Or fun. Or sunshine!”

“I don’t hate sunshine,” she replied calmly. “Just aerial chaos involving flying weapons and ridiculous safety standards.”

“Flying weapons?” Fred sputtered. “It’s a game! A beautiful, noble game steeped in centuries of tradition!”

“And concussions,” she added, folding her arms. “Last year alone there were five broken collarbones, two arms snapped mid-air, and a dislocated jaw. You lot are just one Bludger away from a ward in St. Mungo’s.”

Fred turned to George. “She’s been reading Witch Weekly, hasn’t she?”

“Or she’s just clinically joyless,” George whispered back.

“I heard that,” she said.

“Merlin’s beard…” Ginny hid her face in her hands. “She does volunteer work in the hospital wing. Most of the time, it’s her patching up the players after a game.”

Fred leaned closer, hands moving animatedly to support his cause. “Alright, then. You hate Quidditch. I respect your right to be utterly, tragically wrong.”

“Chivalrous of you.” Y/n arched a brow, unimpressed by the Gryffindor beater.

“But,” he continued, voice rising with purpose, “I propose a challenge. A wager. A bet, if you will.”

She gave him a look that said she was already tired. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” George said helpfully. “But it’ll be entertaining, so go on, Fred.”

Fred pointed at her like a man announcing a duel. “By the end of this season, you will not only tolerate Quidditch, you will love it.”

She laughed. “Not happening.”

“If you do,” Fred said, ignoring her, “you’ll come to a Gryffindor match, wear our house colors, and admit - out loud - that you enjoy it.”

“And when I don’t?”

“I’ll…restock the hospital wing shelves for you. Manually. No magic. I’ll even wear one of those sad little volunteer aprons.”

The Ravenclaw girl leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, studying him. “Alright, Weasley. I’ll play along. But only because you’ll need a miracle to make me like quidditch.”

Fred grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that confident, careless way. “Oh no. All I’ll need is my roguishly good looks, natural endearing charm, and ‘til the end of the year.”

“I’m going to regret this,” she muttered.

“Oh, you will,” Fred said. “But not for the reason you think.”

And just like that, the bet was on.

———————————————————————

The library was quiet, at least by Hogwarts standards. A low murmur of whispering voices, the gentle scratch of quills on parchment, and the occasional thump of a book closing made up its usual background hum. In the far back corner, nestled between the Charms section and a draughty window, y/n was buried in a heavy tome on healing hexes, her parchment covered in neat, flowing handwriting.

She had just finished diagramming the wand movement for a particularly complex nerve regeneration spell when something thudded beside her elbow. Then another thud. And another.

She blinked, then looked up.

Fred Weasley stood in front of her, dropping a final book onto the growing stack with an air of triumph. He looked far too pleased with himself, arms crossed and eyebrows raised like he’d just solved some great mystery.

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“No what?” he asked, pulling out the chair across from her with a loud scrape.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, no, I don’t like it.”

He ignored her and sat down anyway, spreading a roll of parchment between them like a general laying out battle plans. “We’re studying.”

“I was studying,” she said pointedly. “You are…intruding.”

Fred leaned forward, tapping the parchment. “Correction: we are studying the majestic, thrilling, occasionally bruise-inducing art of Quidditch.”

She stared at him. “In the library?”

“Where else?” he said brightly. “You Ravenclaws worship at the altar of academic rigor. I figured if I wanted to convert you, I had to meet you on sacred ground.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but paused when he unrolled a crudely drawn diagram of a Quidditch pitch. The broomsticks were labeled. The hoops had sparkles. There was even a tiny stick figure with wild hair and an arrow that read ‘Me (legend)’.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious,” Fred said, flipping open a book titled Quidditch Through the Ages. “To love the game, you must understand the game. So. Crash course.”

She sighed, setting down her quill. “Fine. Amuse me.”

He beamed. “Right. So, seven players per team. Three Chasers, who handle the Quaffle - that’s the red ball, moves like a hot potato with an ego. Two Beaters, who smack Bludgers away from teammates using bats. That’s arguably the most important role, which is, of course, why I’m a beater. One Keeper, like a goalie, and one Seeker - you know, the lunatic who flies at the speed of sound to catch the Golden Snitch.” He jabbed the diagram for emphasis. “And the game ends when the Seeker catches the Snitch, which is worth-”

“One hundred and fifty points,” she said flatly, arms crossed. “Which often makes everything else in the game irrelevant.”

Fred looked simultaneously offended and surprised that she knew. “It adds drama.”

“It adds reckless, high-speed trauma.”

He grinned. “Speaking of, did you know the first recorded Quidditch match was played on a marsh in 1050, and ended with two players being swallowed by the pitch?”

“I did. And I also know that in 1675, a Keeper lost three fingers and a chunk of his ear in a match against the Heidelberg Harriers.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Oh? So you’ve read about it.”

“I read everything,” she said primly, picking up her quill again. “But understanding doesn’t equal liking. You don’t see me forcing you to read about the structure of blood-replenishing potions.”

Fred leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I don’t need to. You light up when you talk about it.”

Her quill paused in mid-air. She gave him a long look. “Is this your tactic, then? Flatter me into enjoying bodily harm disguised as sport?”

“I told you I’m serious about this bet.”

“And I told you you’d need a miracle.”

“Well,” he said, sliding the parchment toward her with his charming, maddening grin, “we’ve covered theory. Now comes the practical portion.”

She groaned. “Fred—”

“Come to practice,” he said. “Just to watch. An easy introduction. No stakes. No Bludgers. Just drills, formations, and most importantly, watching me look magnificent.”

She hesitated. The idea of watching a real practice did intrigue her, if only to point out its many flaws. And despite herself, she was a little curious to see Fred in his element. Not to mention, the longer he talked, the harder it was to tell if she wanted to hex him or grin at him.

She sighed. “Fine. But if anyone loses a limb, I’m leaving.”

He stood up with a victorious fist-pump. “Excellent. I’ll bring my very best form.”

As he turned to go, she called after him, “You do realize this is only going to prove my point, right?”

Fred looked over his shoulder, that same confident glint in his eye. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. You might surprise yourself.”

She shook her head as he disappeared behind the bookcases, leaving behind the smell of ink, parchment, and something far more dangerous: a small smile on her face.

———————————————————————

When she arrived at the pitch, the sun was just beginning its descent behind the Forbidden Forest, casting long, golden rays over the Hogwarts grounds and tinting the sky a soft lavender. Most students were trickling inside for dinner, but she stood at the top row of the stands, arms folded over her Ravenclaw jumper and expression set with careful neutrality.

She wasn’t here because she wanted to be. She was here because she had a point to prove.

That, and because Fred Weasley had somehow embedded himself into her brain like a persistent jinx. A loud, grinning, ginger-haired jinx.

It had been a lot easier to notice him now - making trouble in the halls, performing spells in DA meetings, working admittedly impressive mastery, and trading in a black market of spelled sweets. And it was a lot harder to ignore him too.

The locker room doors cracked open below, and the Gryffindor team began to spill onto the pitch in a flurry of broomsticks and warm-up chatter. She scanned the group quickly. There was Angelina Johnson at the front, her voice already raised, barking out instructions. Behind her, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell trotted along, swinging their brooms and laughing about something. Of course, there was Harry Potter himself.

And then came Fred and George.

Even at a distance, it was surprisingly easy to tell the twins apart. George’s gait was smoother, quieter, his smirk a little more reserved. Fred, on the other hand, had the swagger of someone who knew he was good. He bounced on the balls of his feet, already teasing one of his teammates, and then he saw her. Fred’s eyes found hers through the stands, and without missing a beat, he winked exaggeratedly.

She rolled her eyes immediately, but it didn’t stop the slight flutter in her stomach. Nor did it stop the chain reaction it caused: George nudged him, Angelina paused mid-sentence to glance toward the stands, and someone - one of the Chasers - leaned over and asked loudly, “Oi, who’s that?”

She couldn’t hear Fred’s reply, but whatever it was had George nearly choking on laughter. Still, she didn’t leave. She settled on the edge of the seat and pulled out a small notebook from her satchel. Not because she was trying to distract herself, of course. She just wanted something to do with her hands. Definitely not because Fred looked…well, admittedly very at home in midair when he kicked off moments later and soared upward in a fluid, effortless arc.

She half-watched them warm up, half-defending to be interested in her notebook. But the Gryffindor team was…coordinated. Tight-knit. Angelina Johnson ran the team like a drill sergeant with a broomstick, barking instructions and narrowing her eyes with terrifying precision. And yet, even within the structure, there was room for antics.

Especially from Fred. He weaved through the drills with practiced ease, shooting past George to steal a pass mid-air with a grin, then looping under Katie Bell to flick her broom tail with a cheeky tap of his wand. The team groaned in mock annoyance while Angelina shouted something about “less flirting, more flying!”

George gave Fred a flat look as they hovered near each other, and Fred grinned like he’d just earned a medal.

From the stands, she watched him - watched all of them - but her eyes kept drifting back to Fred. She noticed the way he adjusted his grip on his broom when he turned sharp corners, how his eyes flicked from player to player a second before each move. He had a loud mouth and a louder laugh, but his strategy was quick and sharp and smarter than she’d expected.

She also noticed how his shoulders flexed every time he threw the Quaffle, which was a completely unnecessary observation. Academically.

Still. The drills made sense. There were patterns, formations, real thought behind the flying chaos. She found herself frowning, leaning forward, following the Chasers’ diamond formation and Angelina’s signals.

When practice wrapped up, the team circled low over the pitch before landing in a casual tangle of brooms, gear, and triumphant chatter. Fred peeled away from the group and started toward the stands with an all-too-familiar smirk on his face.

“Don’t say it,” she said, descending the last few steps to meet him halfway.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said innocently, falling into step beside her as they started walking toward the castle. “But since you brought it up…”

“I didn’t.”

“…I’ll just ask how much fun you had watching me fly like a majestic ginger bird of prey.”

She snorted. “More like a hyperactive kestrel with a sugar problem.”

“Ouch,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Sharp words from someone who stayed the entire time.”

“I was waiting for it to get interesting.” She lied.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She didn’t answer right away. The grass squelched gently beneath their feet as they moved up the hill, the towers of Hogwarts silhouetted against the twilight.

“Maybe I didn’t absolutely hate it,” she said finally, too low for him to gloat.

But Fred caught it anyway. “You didn’t hate it,” he echoed with delight. “High praise from a known Quidditch cynic.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I didn’t say I liked it. Just that it didn’t make me want to rip my own eyeballs out of their sockets.”

He grinned and bumped her shoulder with his own. “What a shame that would be, love. I quite like those pretty eyes of yours.”

Her stomach flipped, but there was barely enough time for her to process her own reaction or respond to his jarring comment before George was joining them.

“So, what did you think?” The other Weasley twin question, hooking his arm around her shoulders.

“I think with the two of you, Angelina seems to have her hands full. Do you ever not make a joke out of everything?” She shot back.

“What’s life without a little laughter, love?” Fred shook his head, his arms coming around her as well. Now she was flanked by both the Weasley twins on their way up to the castle.

“You Ravenclaw are always far too sensible for your own good,” George added on in agreement.

“Do you even know any Ravenclaws well enough to back up that statement?” She challenged, knowing full well that neither of the Weasley twins had interacted much with anyone from her house.

“I’m hoping you might be the first to prove us wrong,” Fred winked at her again, and her brows drew together in a slight frown at the effect it had on her heartbeat.

As they approached the stone steps, Fred glanced sideways at her, something softer behind his grin now. “So,” he said casually, “Now that you’ve survived a practice, what about the real deal?”

“We’ll see.” She arched an eyebrow before walking off, leaving the Weasley boy staring after her with a grin platted on his face.

———————————————————————

The Room of Requirement had taken it’s usual shape of a practical dueling hall: soft mats padded the floors, torchlight flickered in sconces along the walls, and a long mirror ran the length of the far side, reflecting students practicing their spellwork with varying degrees of success.

“Alright,” Harry called out, voice clear and sure despite the noise. “Get into pairs. Let’s stay focused on our wand movement and intent. Remember, Expelliarmus isn’t just about brute force.”

The group shuffled into motion. Wands were drawn. Spells began to echo off the stone walls.

“Looks like we’re together,” Ginny said cheerfully, turning to y/n with a grin.

Before she could respond, a drawling voice from just to their right cut in. “Try not to let Ginny disarm you too quickly. She learned from the best, after all.” Fred Weasley twirled his wand lazily in his fingers, standing beside George, who gave them both an amused look.

“As if,” Ginny shot back. “You spent half of last practice flat on your back.”

“That was strategy,” Fred said confidently. “Lure the enemy into a false sense of superiority.”

“Of course,” Y/n replied dryly, stepping into position across from Ginny. “That’ll send the death eaters running.”

Fred turned to her then, eyes gleaming. “Care for a little duel?”

“I’d hate to embarrass you in front of your brother,” she said sweetly, raising her wand.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” George muttered with an amused smirk, his eyes flickering between the two with a knowing glint of mischief.

Fred grinned wider, moving to stand across from the Ravenclaw with his wand drawn. “What do I get when I win?”

Y/n barely let him get the question out before her own wand flew through the air. “Expelliarmus!” she snapped l.

Fred’s wand jerked sideways in his grip, but didn’t fly out.

“Oho! Cheeky. Playing dirty already, are we love?” he crowed, and her stomach fluttered at the nickname. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that, but not strong enough.”

“Wouldn’t get cocky if I were you, Weasley,” she said, squinting as she adjusted her footing. “A ravenclaw doesn’t make the same mistake twice.”

He gave a theatrical gasp. “Merlin, is that a threat? Expelliarmus!”

Their duel was fast-paced and full of mischief. She dodged a too-flashy flick of his wand that sent sparks flying, and countered with a clean disarm that nearly knocked him off balance, and laughed when Fred exaggerated the stumble with a dramatic groan.

“All right, all right,” Harry eventually called. “Let’s circle up for a moment.”

Wands lowered. Spells ceased. The crowd gathered in again, flushed and laughing and buzzing with the kind of energy that only came from learning magic they weren’t technically supposed to be learning.

“Nice one,” Ginny murmured to her, nudging her shoulder. “He’s impressed.”

She kept her face neutral. “He’s impossible.”

Ginny grinned like she knew better.

As the group began to disperse - students heading out in pairs, some lingering to thank Harry - Fred suddenly jogged up behind her.

“Oi! Don’t suppose you’re planning to vanish into the library again?”

She turned around slowly, eyeing him. “Why?”

He looked…oddly hopeful. “Thought you might come hang out in the common room with us for a bit.”

“You trying to convert me now, Weasley?” she asked, a little suspicious but also - if she was being honest with herself - a little pleased.

Fred just smirked and shrugged. “You’ll have to come and see.”

Ginny gave her an encouraging glance as she passed, but y/n still hesitated. Then nodded. “Fine. Just for a bit. Umbridge will have my head if she finds me breaking curfew.”

The Gryffindor common room was already bustling when they climbed through the portrait hole. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the scarlet armchairs. Someone was playing a game of wizard’s chess near the stairs, and the wireless in the corner was crackling faintly with the warble of Celestina Warbeck.

“C’mon,” Fred said, steering her toward the far side of the room. “We’ll grab a corner.”

He pulled over a low table near the fireplace, kicked aside a footstool, and rummaged through his bag. She sat down, eyeing the sudden flurry of parchment and books he began piling onto the tabletop.

“…What are you doing?”

Fred grinned, cheeks pink from the walk and ears just slightly red - either from excitement or firelight, she couldn’t tell. “Lesson number two,” he said proudly, opening a folder labeled Professional League Stats: 1994–1995 Season in bold, scribbled ink.

Her stomach dropped just a little. “Oh,” she said, trying to mask the disappointment in her voice. “This is…another Quidditch thing?”

Fred looked up, surprised. “Well, yeah. You’ve gotta understand the stakes before you really feel the games.”

“Right,” she stated dryly, watching as he unrolled a color-coded map of the teams and their home stadiums. “This wasn’t exactly the what came to mind when you said ‘hang out’.”

Fred paused. His smirk faltered for a moment. “I mean, we are hanging out,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Just…with spreadsheets.”

She blinked. “Did you make spreadsheets about Quidditch?”

He turned the parchment around proudly. “Fred’s Highly Scientific Player Performance Index. With doodles.”

She stared at it. There was a tiny cartoon of a Harpies Chaser kicking a Quaffle into a hoop with the caption Catriona McCornwell is a goddess among mortals. Fred had even attempted stick-figure broom velocity lines. It was ridiculous.

And endearing.

She sighed and tucked her legs beneath her. “Fine. Impress me.”

His grin returned full force. “Right, so. There are thirteen professional teams in the British and Irish League. You’ve got your legendary powerhouses - the Holyhead Harpies, Puddlemere United, the Chudley Cannons - though don’t let their current standing fool you, they were excellent in the 1890s.”

She held up a hand. “Fred. I thought we established that knowledge doesn’t equal fondness. In fact, I’d wager I know more about quidditch than you do.”

He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with challenge. “Try me.”

Her lips twitched. “Fine. Did you know the average life expectancy of a Beater in the Kenmare Kestrels is ten years shorter than other teams due to Bludger-based concussions?”

“Actually, I didn’t know that. But worth it,” he said smugly.

“Thirteen Harpies have broken their collarbones since 1991.”

“I call that character building.” He commented but that didn’t stop the impressed tone from creeping into his voice. And the hint of surprise.

She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

She didn’t answer that. Instead, she leaned over the map as Fred launched into a passionate explanation of why the Wimbourne Wasps were overrated and why Viktor Krum’s style of Seeker play was dramatic but ultimately impractical. To her own horror…she actually listened.

His hands moved when he talked - wide gestures and tapping fingers and the occasional quick doodle on the parchment. His enthusiasm was infectious, his jokes absurd, and even when he got overly dramatic (“And this is the legendary Cannons keeper who once caught a Quaffle in his teeth! Don’t fact-check that.”), she found herself smiling despite herself.

It wasn’t what she expected ‘hanging out’ with Fred Weasley would be like. And it was even…kind of fun?

———————————————————————

The air in Umbridge’s classroom was thick enough to choke on.

It always felt like this - cloying and false, as though the scent of her rose-scented perfume was meant to smother any thoughts of rebellion. The lace curtains, the doilies, the shrill, saccharine tone in which she addressed her students…all of it masked the fact that they were learning nothing useful. Just pages upon pages of theory. No wandwork. No defense. No real preparation.

It was a mockery. And it made her skin crawl.

Y/n sat stiff-backed in her chair, knuckles pale around her quill, jaw tight as Umbridge’s syrupy voice slithered across the classroom once more. Until she couldn’t handle it any longer and her hand shot straight into the air.

“Now, Miss Y/l/n,” Umbridge simpered, her teeth bared in a parody of a smile, “perhaps you’d like to share with the class exactly why you felt the need to interrupt?”

Her voice was pure sugar. Her eyes were arsenic.

“I didn’t interrupt,” the reader said evenly, forcing calm into her voice. “I wanted to ask a question.”

Murmurs rippled through the room. Fred, two rows back, sat straighter. He could see the way her shoulders were drawn tight, could practically feel the tension radiating from her spine.

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed, the bow of her lips twitching. “And what question, pray tell, was so important it warranted disrespecting the order of my lesson?”

Y/n didn’t blink. “You said we wouldn’t need to learn practical shielding spells. I wanted to know what we were meant to do in the event of an actual attack.”

Gasps. Sharp, involuntary. Someone sucked in a breath.

Fred leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the desk, and watched Umbridge closely. The woman’s smile never slipped. But something far crueler flickered in her gaze.

“Detention,” she said sweetly. “Monday night. Six O’clock with me in my office.”

A long pause. Her pen scratched the parchment. “…And perhaps,” she added, almost absently, “you might spend that time considering your place.”

Y/n didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. But her hand curled tighter around her quill. Her mouth pressed into a line.

Fred watched her, heat rising in his chest - not from the confrontation, but from the way she endured it. Silent. Strong. Refusing to give Umbridge the power of seeing her upset.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And by the time class was dismissed, Fred had already packed away his things and made a beeline for the Ravenclaw girl.

The corridor outside Defense Against the Dark Arts was a rush of footsteps and bitter muttering. Students poured out like floodwater escaping a dam, eager to breathe freely again.

Fred didn’t hesitate. He caught up with her in three strides. “Oi,” he said gently, reaching out and brushing his hand against her wrist to catch her attention.

She didn’t look at him at first. Not until he tilted his head, gaze warm with concern. Her eyes met his, fierce and unguarded, but tired.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, the words clipped and hollow.

“I know,” Fred replied, low and steady. “Doesn’t mean you need to be.”

She blinked at that, just a flutter of surprise. But she didn’t pull away. Fred’s brows furrowed. His fingers, still barely grazing her wrist, lingered only a moment longer before he withdrew.

“She’s a miserable cow,” he muttered. “A hypocritical, fluffy pink tyrant.”

That earned him the ghost of a smile, dry and thin. “Careful,” she said. “She’ll give you detention next.”

He leaned in, smirking. “Not the worst thing I can think of if it means more time with you.”

She exhaled, something close to a nervous laugh escaping her lips. Fred caught it. Memorized it. His shoulder found the wall beside hers, casual and close. Their bags hung side by side, inches apart.

“She’s never going to answer your question,” he said. “Because the only thing she’s more afraid of than rebellion is admitting she’s wrong.”

Her lips twitched. But her eyes flicked to the floor. Fred nudged her boot lightly with his. “So.” She looked back up. “There’s a match this weekend,” he said. “Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t go to matches.”

He nodded, unconcerned. “Right. I remember. You hate Quidditch with the passion of a thousand cursed bludgers.”

She folded her arms. “I do.”

“Well then.” He flashed a grin. “What better way to unwind from a soul-sucking lesson than to channel that rage into watching your house clobber a bunch of loyal badgers?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re just trying to win your bet.”

“Obviously,” he said, unfazed. “But also…maybe you could use a bit of fun. Just for an hour or two.”

She hesitated. The corridor buzzed around them - students passing, chattering, brushing by - but the air between them was still.

Soft.

Charged.

She didn’t answer.

Fred shifted his weight and tilted his head. “Look, meet me at the north exit before the game if you decide to come. I’ll be there waiting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged. “No. But I am that stubborn.”

She huffed, almost fond. “I didn’t say I’d come.”

He grinned. “I know. But you didn’t say you wouldn’t, and that’s good enough for me.”

And with that, he pushed off the wall and walked away, hands in his pockets, wild hair bouncing with each step, his back warm with the weight of her gaze as she considered his proposition. She supposed spending an evening with Fred Weasley wasn’t the worst way to spend her time.

———————————————————————

Fred stood just beyond the castle’s North exit, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the hem of his scarlet-and-gold scarf fluttering in the crisp afternoon breeze. His watch was flicked open in his hand, thumb running over the dial absently. The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game was due to start in fifteen minutes, and despite his usual laidback attitude, Fred was…fidgeting. He wouldn’t admit it aloud - especially not to George - but he’d been pacing the corridor for ten minutes already, fully convinced she wasn’t coming.

He sighed dramatically and started to close his watch when—

“There you are.”

His head snapped up. She was there. She stood with her arms folded and an amused arch to her brow, dressed in a Ravenclaw scarf that contrasted the slight flush on her cheeks from walking briskly across the castle. Her hair was a little windblown, eyes gleaming, and Merlin, Fred lit up like someone had set off a firework in his chest.

“You came!” he practically beamed, pushing off the wall like he hadn’t just been about to give up and sulk in the stands alone.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. I didn’t want you bragging for the next month about how I’d chickened out.”

He grinned, already walking beside her, just close enough that their shoulders occasionally bumped as they headed down the slope to the Quidditch pitch.

“Oh, you wound me,” Fred gasped, pressing a hand to his heart like she’d stabbed him right through the chest. “Here I was, pacing the floor, dramatically torn between hope and despair, and you think I’d brag?”

She snorted. “Fred, you literally bragged for two straight hours when you figured out how to levitate two dungbombs with one spell.”

“That was innovation, not bragging.”

Their banter fizzled into warm silence as they approached the stadium. The towering stands loomed ahead, and the golden sunlight filtered through the structure in slanted beams, casting Fred’s hair in a reddish blaze that somehow made her stomach flutter. She told herself it was the walk. Just the walk.

He led her up a spiral staircase, winding higher and higher into the Gryffindor section until they reached a spot that was, admittedly, brilliant: close enough to make out faces, high enough to see the whole field in motion. She was catching her breath when Fred pulled something out of his bag with a flourish.

“Well, madam, for your viewing pleasure,” he said dramatically, unveiling a carefully packed cloth satchel. “Snacks from Honeydukes, handpicked by yours truly.”

She blinked. “Is that…are those grape sugar quills?”

He smirked, cheeks a little flushed. “Course they are. Your favourites. I do pay attention.”

Her brows arched. “You pay attention?”

“Guilty.” He popped a chocolate frog into his mouth like it wasn’t a big deal, like he didn’t just casually admit he’d been noticing the tiniest things about her. “You always sneak them into study hall.”

She stared at him for a long beat. “That’s oddly specific.”

Fred gave her a cheeky smile, but there was something behind it that wasn’t all mischief. “I’m a very observant bloke. Especially when it comes to certain Ravenclaws who have a habit of invading Gryffindor airspace.”

Her cheeks warmed, but before she could conjure a clever response, the crowd began to stir. Players zoomed onto the pitch with cheers echoing through the stands. Blue and yellow banners flapped in the wind as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff took to the air.

Fred leaned toward her, close enough that she could feel the brush of his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, eyes crinkling in amusement. “This one’s gonna be friendly. Hufflepuff plays cleaner than a house-elf with OCD.”

She eyed the pitch warily. “I’ll believe that when I don’t see anyone falling off their broom.”

As the game kicked off, she found herself watching more closely than she’d anticipated. It wasn’t quite the chaos she expected. The movements were fluid, almost graceful. She began to recognize the formations, the deliberate placement of Chasers, the split-second strategy behind Beaters’ swings. She caught herself leaning forward at one point, eyes narrowing in concentration.

Fred nudged her softly with his elbow. “You’re getting into it.”

She huffed. “I’m observing. There’s a difference.”

“Right, right,” he said, grinning. “You observed your house score a beautiful goal and didn’t even grimace.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

He turned to her with exaggerated offense. “You wound me again. Do you enjoy stabbing me repeatedly, woman?”

“I’ll knit you a patch for your ego later.”

Fred chuckled, and in a moment that felt more intimate than expected, he brushed a stray hair away from her face, his fingers lingering near her cheek a second too long.

Her breath caught. And he knew it.

“You know,” he said lowly, “I’m starting to think there’s something you’re scared of even more than quidditch.”

She arched a brow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

He leaned in, grinning, voice a mischievous murmur against her ear. “I think you’re afraid of how much you enjoy my company.”

She turned to him slowly, eyes locking. “You’re absurd.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

She was. A little. Maybe. But before she could argue further, the final whistle blew. Ravenclaw had won. The game was over, and to her shock, no injuries. No concussions. Just a few windblown players and smiling teammates.

Fred stood and stretched, then held out a hand to help her up. She hesitated, then took it.

He didn’t let go right away.

“See?” he said as they descended the stairs. “No blood, no broken bones…and you had fun, right?”

“Maybe,” she admitted with a reserved tone.

“So you liked the game!” He grinned widely.

She looked up at him. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He smirked again, eyes full of mischief. “So you’re saying it wasn’t the Quidditch that was fun?”

“Exactly.”

“So then it was my company that you enjoyed so much?”

She didn’t answer right away. Then, with a tiny smirk playing at the corner of her lips, “You’re not entirely unbearable.”

Fred stopped walking, hand still in hers, and gave her the most infuriatingly smug smile she’d ever seen. “I’ll take it.”

———————————————————————

It started with one practice.

Then one game.

Then two.

By the end of the month, she’d somehow carved out a permanent spot on the edge of the Gryffindor section of the pitch. She claimed it was for ‘scientific observation’. A kind of long-form thesis on why wizards still subjected themselves to glorified aerial combat. But Fred saw right through her.

The practices became something of a rhythm. One she never officially committed to, but always showed up for. She’d drift into the stands just before drills began, a Ravenclaw scarf knotted loosely around her neck, hair tossed up in a casual bun, ink still smudged on her fingers from her last library visit.

Fred would spot her every time.

And every time, he lit up like Christmas at the Burrow.

Some days, she sat in her seat with a book open in her lap, pretending not to watch. But Fred would always catch her eyes flicking up from the page, usually right as he did some absurd stunt or shouted something deeply inappropriate mid-drill.

Other days, she’d sit beside Angelina Johnson during cooldowns, politely asking about rotations and chasing tactics. Angelina quickly clocked her growing interest. Not just in the game, but in the redhead who kept offering her cauldron cakes and the best seat on the bench.

“You’ve got a good eye,” Angelina told her one afternoon, sweat still beading on her brow. “You ever thought about playing?”

She scoffed, but didn’t deny it. Not really.

Because truthfully…once upon a time she had. It had been years since she’d even stepped foot on a pitch, but she could still see it all. The loops, the triangle formations, the subtle shift in a Keeper’s weight before a dive. She could anticipate the swing of a Beater’s bat a second before it happened. And when she shyly suggested Gryffindor stagger their Chasers instead of clustering near the hoops?

They scored four more goals than their previous season-record in the next match.

Games quickly became events in her calendar. When Gryffindor wasn’t playing, Fred always found her in the library with a half-smile and a hopeful question. “Game today. You coming?”

Sometimes she teased him. Sometimes she claimed she was too busy. But she always ended up by his side, somewhere in the stands, usually yelling at a bad referee call or muttering about someone’s lack of defense.

And she always wore her Ravenclaw scarf.

Always.

Fred, of course, made a scene every time.

“You’re a traitor,” he’d say with a grin when she clapped for a Ravenclaw goal.

“And you’re a hopeless show-off,” she’d shoot back when he cheered too loudly for the opposite team anyway.

But when her hands clutched the edge of her seat during close calls, or she shouted “bludger, left flank, LEFT FLANK” during practice like she was in the game, Fred would glance over and feel that strange, floaty thrill in his chest. Like flying. Like falling.

One night after practice, she and Fred walked back to the castle under a dusting of early snow. The kind that dusted his shoulders and curled at the ends of her hair.

She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re lucky I’m a Ravenclaw, you know.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “How’s that?”

“Because if I was in Gryffindor, Angelina would’ve recruited me, and you’d be benched.”

Fred gasped, hand to his heart. “You wound me, strategist.”

She smiled without looking at him. “And yet you keep coming back for more.”

“I’m nothing if not loyal.”

The snow crunched softly beneath their boots as they walked in silence for a few seconds. Then Fred gently reached out, brushing a speck of frost from the back of her scarf.

“You’re not so bad at this Quidditch thing,” he murmured.

“I still hate it.”

“Of course you do.”

And she smiled. Because somewhere along the way, the lines between friendly competition and flirtation had all blurred. And she had started to enjoy being part of this wild, high-speed, sky-chasing world. Not because of the brooms or the bludgers…but because of the way Fred looked at her when she understood something he hadn’t even said.

Or when he looked at her like she’d always belonged there. Like the pitch wasn’t quite right without her on the sidelines.

———————————————————————

The Gryffindor common room crackled with warmth and firelight. The low hum of conversation threading through the haze of late-night laziness. Fred had his legs draped across the rug like he owned it, sprawled in front of the hearth beside her with a sugar quill half hanging from his mouth. George lounged in one of the armchairs, feet propped on the table. Ginny sat cross-legged on the couch with a pillow hugged to her chest.

It had become routine, her being here. A Ravenclaw in enemy territory, as Fred had once called her, though there was nothing hostile about the way he leaned toward her when he laughed, or how he always saved her a spot by the fire. There was just…comfort.

Even when they were collectively complaining.

“Umbridge is getting too close,” Ginny muttered, eyes narrowed toward the dancing fire. “She’s sniffing around like a bloodhound. I swear, if she finds the Room of Requirement—”

“Harry’ll blow something up,” George finished, deadpan.

“Or Hermione will,” Fred added, smirking. “You’ve seen how serious she is about the DA.”

“That pink toad is handing out detentions like Honeydukes samples,” Ginny grumbled. “Colin Creevey got one just for asking if the rules on club meetings had changed.”

“Lee got one for breathing too loud,” George offered, shaking his head.

“Filch is practically salivating at the thought of catching people,” Fred muttered. “It’s disgusting.”

“Filch has always been like that. Umbridge just enables it,” y/n’s laugh came a second too late, too tight around the edges. She was staring at the fire, fingers drifting to the back of her left hand like a reflex. Slow, absent, like scratching at an itch that wouldn’t go away.

Fred glanced down at the movement and caught sight of her rubbing the spot just beneath her knuckles, like she didn’t realize she was doing it. His brow furrowed.

“What’s that?”

She blinked. “What’s what?”

“Your hand.” He sat up straighter, voice sharpening with sudden alertness. “What’re you—?”

She quickly tucked it beneath her thigh, but he was faster. Fred reached over, gentle but insistent, catching her wrist before she could hide it. He turned her palm over and his breath caught. There, faint but unmistakable even in the glow of the fire, were the angry red words etched into her skin: I must not question authority.

“You—” His voice came out hoarse. Then louder. “She didn’t.”

She tried to pull away. “Fred—”

“That hag did this to you?” he spat, his voice rising as he glared at the wound like he could burn it off with fury alone. “Are you…? What the hell! Why didn’t you tell me?”

George had risen out of his chair, his eyes narrowing. Ginny had gone still, her grip on the pillow tightening.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” she said softly.

Fred stared at her, incredulous. “A big deal? She carved you.”

“There’s nothing to do about it,” she said, curling her fingers over the scar again. “It’s done. It’s not permanent. Just, drop it. Please.”

“No, no, we should go to McGonagall,” Ginny cut in, voice cold with controlled rage. “She has to know.”

“McGonagall’s got enough going on with the staff performance reviews,” y/n said quietly. “Besides, she can’t do anything about it either. Not when Umbitch has Fudge’s support.”

Silence pulsed in the space between them. The fire crackled, throwing shadows over Fred’s clenched jaw.

She offered the smallest, tired smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

George exchanged a tense glance with Ginny, but it was Fred who finally sighed, low and reluctant, and leaned back again beside her. His hand hovered a little closer to hers now, resting against the rug.

“Fine,” he muttered. “New topic. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Saturday.”

George perked up. “You coming to see us win, or what?”

“She’s never been to a Gryffindor game,” Ginny said slyly, cutting her a look. “Strange, considering she goes to every practice these days…”

“I’m not missing study time for a game,” she said, a little too quickly.

“Game ends at noon,” Fred said with a tilt of his head. “Plenty of time to study after.”

She looked away, fiddling with the end of her sleeve. “It’s not about the game.”

George raised a brow. “Oh?”

She hesitated. “I just…don’t want to watch Hufflepuff win.”

Fred laughed. “Oh ye of little faith, you wound me.”

“You’re not worried about us losing,” George said with a grin. “You’re worried we’ll get flattened.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re worried we’ll get hurt,” Fred filled in, blunt and knowing.

She didn’t deny it. Her cheeks were dusted pink now, and her eyes stayed on the fire like it would save her from the teasing.

Fred’s smirk turned warm. “So what you’re saying - or rather, not saying - is…you care.”

She groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Too late.” George was grinning. “It’s out there now.”

Fred nudged her lightly with his knee. “Admit it, strategist. You like us.”

“You’re alright,” she muttered.

“Alright!” He echoed in mock offence, gripping his heart like she’d stabbed it.

Ginny snorted into her sleeve. Fred leaned closer, voice dropping into something that made her chest flutter. “You know, if you are coming to the match, I’ll reserve you the best seat in the stands.”

“You don’t get to reserve seats.”

“Don’t need to. I just threaten to hex anyone who tries to sit there.”

She rolled her eyes, rising before she could smile too much. “It’s nearly curfew. I should go.”

“Don’t make me walk you,” Fred said, already standing. “You know I will.”

“I can survive a walk to Ravenclaw tower, thank you.”

He smirked, but his gaze lingered just a second too long, like he wanted to say more. “See you Saturday?” he asked.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her books.

“…Maybe.”

———————————————————————

The afternoon sun was low over the Quidditch pitch, casting long gold shadows across the grass and staining the sky in hues of soft orange. The air still carried the buzz from Saturday’s Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match - a fair, but difficult affair that ended in narrow victory. Katie had taken two near-misses from a Bludger, George had a scuffed shoulder, and Angelina’s voice had gone hoarse from screaming.

Now it was Tuesday, and they were back on the pitch. A post-match practice to tighten up what had gone wrong and polish what had gone right.

Y/n hovered near the edge of the stands, arms folded across her chest and scarf wrapped around her Ravenclaw uniform like armor. It wasn’t where she usually stood. Normally she was on the field’s edge with a notebook or crossed arms, calling out ideas and running commentary, offering observations that always - somehow - helped.

But today, she was quieter. Kept a little distance. Fred noticed. So did the others.

“Oi,” Katie Bell shouted mid-pass, gliding toward the sidelines. “Where were you Saturday? You promised you’d come!”

“I didn’t promise,” she said, shading her eyes. “So Fred and George shouldn’t have said I did.”

“You basically did,” George called out from across the field, swinging his bat and sending a Bludger soaring. “You’ve been at every practice for weeks, talking tactics. We thought you were a convert.”

“She’s still scared Fred’s going to break every bone in his body,” Ginny teased from the stands behind her, wand in hand for mock-commentary.

Fred flew past above them, looping in the air with an exaggerated wobble. “It’s very likely,” he called. “I am tremendously reckless!”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the rush in her stomach. “You lot didn’t need me,” she called back. “You won.”

Fred angled into a sharp descent, landing near her with all the grace of someone born to broomsticks. He was flushed from flying, hair windswept and cheeks tinged pink. He grinned at her, broad and stupid.

“But it wasn’t the same without our favourite Ravenclaw strategist,” he said, brushing back imaginary tears. “We missed your constant sass and judgment.”

“Didn’t miss your dramatics.”

Fred’s eyes twinkled. “I think you did.”

She huffed. “As if I don’t get enough of that off the pitch.”

He beamed. “See? She likes me.”

“No, I—”

But then Angelina blew the whistle again, and Fred winked before kicking off and soaring back into the air with a wild flourish, looping through a passing drill like he hadn’t just spent half of it teasing her.

She shook her head, hiding a reluctant smile.

The next twenty minutes were routine: Chaser drills, Beater coordination, Keeper defence. Everyone was sharp and focused. Even Fred, despite the obvious effort he was putting into cracking jokes mid-pass. The ball zipped back and forth across the pitch, and she could see him keeping one eye on her even from a distance.

Fred launched forward to catch the Quaffle from Katie, but instead of taking the pass cleanly, he twisted midair, gave a loud grunt, and tumbled off his broom.

It happened so fast she barely registered the fall. One moment he was aloft, and the next, his body hit the grass with a thud, rolling with a convincing groan. He didn’t get up.

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh my God! Fred!” She sprinted across the pitch before she could think, feet flying over the grass, scarf billowing. Her heart thundered in her chest, panic pushing adrenaline into every step.

He was lying facedown, groaning softly, one hand twitching by his side.

She dropped to her knees beside him, breath catching. “Fred? Hey, hey, what hurts? Can you hear me? Can you turn over?”

He groaned again, face still pressed to the grass. By now Ginny was behind her and the rest of the team were touching down on the field.

“Oh my god! Don’t move. Merlin, did you land on your head? We need to get Madam Pomfrey!”

And then he turned his head. And grinned.“Gotcha.”

Dead silence met him. Dead, thick silence.

“You absolute git,” she breathed in a combination of relief and hurt as her horror passed by.

Fred blinked innocently up at her from the grass. “What? You were worried?”

“I was worried because I thought you’d shattered your bloody spine—!”

He pushed himself upright, still chuckling. “I just wanted to see if you’d run to my rescue.”

“You—” She shoved him. “You idiot! You utter arse—!”

“Hey, you were the one who denied caring about our wellbeing,” he said, laughing, brushing grass off his robes and leaning back on his hands. “I was just…confirming it.”

Her fists were clenched, cheeks flushed with rage and humiliation. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was?” she snapped. “I thought you cracked your skull open!”

“But now we know, if I ever do, you’ll be the first one on the scene.” His grin grew wicked. “To kiss it better. Maybe nurse me back to health.”

She stared at him. And then smacked him on the arm.

“OW—! Okay, maybe no kissing then—!”

“You’re unbelievable,” she snapped, standing up and brushing off her robes. “Completely unbelievable. You think this is funny? I was genuinely scared.”

Fred froze. The laughter died in his eyes. “Hey…I didn’t mean to…Look, I didn’t think it’d really scare you.”

She took a step back. “Well next time, don’t pull some ridiculous stunt just to make a point.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off the pitch, boots kicking up grass, hair flying behind her.

Fred watched her go. His mouth opened. Then closed. “Y/n, wait!” Ginny called out after the girl, hurrying to try catch up.

George landed beside him, blinking. “Well, you messed that one up.”

Fred ran a hand down his face. “…Yeah.”

———————————————————————

It started the morning after practice.

Fred waited for her outside the Great Hall, leaning against the stone wall with a casual smirk and a single Chocolate Frog in hand. A peace offering.

“Oi, Ravenclaw,” he said as she walked past with her books hugged to her chest. “I come bearing bribes.”

She didn’t stop walking. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t even blink.

Fred’s grin faltered. “Too soon?”

She turned a corner and was gone. He stood there, alone, Chocolate Frog melting slightly in his palm.

A few days later, he tried again. This time in the library.

He spotted her at a back table, parchment spread out, quill flicking in sharp, irritated strokes.

Fred walked in with a crooked smile and a folded up piece of parchment under his arm - a “Very Official Study Guide to Quidditch for Stubbornly Brilliant Ravenclaws,” complete with doodles of brooms, bludgers, and stick figures he would insist were very accurate drawings of her throwing things at him.

He dropped it on the table. She looked at it. Then at him.

And then very slowly, deliberately, slid the parchment back over to him without unfolding it, and returned to her notes.

His throat felt dry. “Right,” he muttered. “Cool. I’ll… just be over there. Not interrupting.”

At dinner in the Great Hall, he tried to catch her eye across the tables.

She laughed at something Luna Lovegood said. She looked even more beautiful when she laughed, Fred thought. He watched her as she shifted her weight. Brushed her hair behind her ear. Never once looked his way. Even when he dropped a levitating pumpkin pasty in front of her plate.

It hovered. She didn’t flinch. It floated back to him like a defeated puppy.

By the time the weekend rolled around, the rest of Gryffindor House had caught onto her mysterious and sudden absence.

“She hates you,” George said cheerfully, flopping onto the common room couch beside Fred. “It’s actually impressive.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, well, what did you expect after that stunt you pulled?” Ginny asked, biting into an apple as she joined them. “Mum always said you had the emotional intelligence of a troll with a head cold.”

“I didn’t think—” Fred started, running a hand through his hair. “It was a joke. A harmless joke.”

“Doesn’t seem so harmless now that she’s not talking to you, does it?” Ginny said bluntly.

Fred looked at her, jaw tight. He didn’t reply.

Ginny let out a long sigh, “You know what, let me help you out here. Only because you look so pathetic right now moping over her.”

“I’m not moping,” Fred scoffed.

“Admit it Freddie, you are moping,” George shook his head in disagreement. “You miss her. We can all see it. I think someone has a little crush.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” The older of the two twins protested, though the flush on his cheeks said quite the opposite.

“Come off it, Fred. Admit that you like her and I’ll tell you exactly where you went wrong,” Ginny bargained. “It’s really a wonder you haven’t figured it out for yourself.”

A muscle in Fred’s jaw feathered as he clenched it. He was tempted to tell Ginny where she could stick her wand but then he thought better of it. After all, he had missed y/n. He’d missed her smile and the sound of her laugh. He’d missed her quiet presence in the common room and the sparkle in her eyes when they met his. But what he missed most of all was the feeling that bloomed in his chest whenever she was around - warm and comforting and exhilarated all at once. The idea of never getting to experience that again left a hollow feeling in his stomach. So, swallowing his pride, he turned to his sister.

“So maybe I do like her,” he admitted. “So, spill. What is it?”

“Do you know why she hates Quidditch?”

Fred looked over, eyes shadowed in the candlelight. “Because she’s allergic to fun?”

Ginny didn’t smile. “No, Fred. Her dad? I’m guessing you’ve never connected the names?”

He frowned. “What? Y/l/n?”

Ginny nodded. “Her dad used to play professionally. For the Montrose Magpies. He was one of the best Chasers the league had. Fast. Sharp. People said he could outwit a bludger mid-match.”

Fred’s breath caught. He had heard the name. In old game tapes and collector’s cards. Y/l/n was a legend. He couldn’t quite remember what had happened to the guy, just that his name wasn’t around anymore.

“What happened?”

“Final game of the season,” Ginny said. “Against the Wimbourne Wasps. A Bludger hit him wrong - back of the head. Mid-air. He fell about thirty feet. Broke his back. Spine never healed right.”

Fred’s face paled.

“She was there,” Ginny added, voice low. “She was seven.” Silence fell between them like a dropped wand. “She watched the game from the stands. Watched him fall. Watched the medics run out, her mum scream. He was in St Mungo’s for months. He still can’t walk properly. Definitely can’t ride a broom.”

Fred stared at his hands, at the way they curled into helpless fists. “Merlin, I’m an asshole.” Fred’s chest ached.

All her sharp retorts, her anxiety in the stands, the way she chewed her lip watching drills…it all clicked. The reason she could see patterns in plays, why she knew every injury in league history, why she wouldn’t come to games. It wasn’t because she hated the sport. It was because she loved someone who lost everything to it.

And Fred had made a joke out of it. A joke that pulled that old, raw fear right back into her chest.

He stood up abruptly, blood rushing in his ears.

“Fred—” Ginny started.

“I have to fix it.”

Ginny sighed. “How’re you gonna do that?”

He didn’t reply. He just turned and walked out, the guilt coiled tight around his ribs like a bludger straight to the heart.

———————————————————————

The Owlery was nearly empty, save for the soft rustling of feathers and the scent of straw and parchment. Wind whistled gently through the open arches, tugging at the edge of her robes as she tied a letter to one of the school owls.

Behind her, boots scuffed against stone. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. She was familiar with with the sound of his steps, with the pattern of his gait, and the feeling of his presence.

Fred.

He cleared his throat, awkward and quiet - two words no one ever really used to describe him. Not until now.

“Hey,” he said gently.

She didn’t reply. Just stared ahead at the misty hills beyond the castle, where the sun was starting to dip toward the treeline, gilding the sky in gold.

Fred stepped closer, hands in his pockets, voice soft. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”

She still didn’t look at him, but she didn’t walk away either. He took that as a small mercy.

“About that stupid prank,” he said. “I didn’t understand. I just thought…I don’t know what I thought anymore. Maybe that it would be funny? A stupid joke? A chance to get you to pay attention to me?”

The silence stretched, brittle and heavy. Fred exhaled slowly. “I never meant to make you feel like that - to scare you like I did.”

She flinched at that. Not visibly, not much. But enough for him to notice.

“I didn’t think about what watching someone you care about get knocked out of the sky would feel like.”

Now she turned. Just a little. Enough to look at him from the corner of her eye, guarded.

Fred met her gaze, voice steadier now. “Ginny told me. About your dad. About what it did to your family.”

A beat passed.

“I’m not him,” he added, quieter. “And I’m not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen. I just…I just want you to know I’d never want to be the cause of that kind of hurt. Not to you.”

Her breath caught, barely audible, but she didn’t turn away from him. Her sharp eyes stayed trained on his, and that was enough to keep his heartbeat racing.

“I care about you,” he said. “More than I’ve let on. More than I probably should, considering I’ve spent the last week being hexed by your glares.”

That pulled a flicker at the corner of her mouth. Not a smile. But something close. He took a small step closer, tone gentler now.

“I miss you, alright? I miss our bickering and your eye-rolls and the way you always correct my Quidditch stats. I even miss you calling me out for being an idiot, which - let’s be honest - is pretty often.”

She looked away, heart thudding too loud in her chest.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Fred said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just needed to say it. All of it.”

Still, she did not speak. Couldn’t bring herself to.

“I’m sorry.” He lingered a moment longer, like he was hoping for something. A word. A glance. A sign. But she said nothing.

And after a beat, he turned and left her there, alone with the owls and her thundering heart.

———————————————————————

The next morning, y/n sat by the lake, bundled in her cloak as the wind rippled across the water. Her fingertips kept brushing over the scarred words on her hand.

She never expected to fall for someone like him. Someone loud and unpredictable and reckless. A Quidditch player, no less.

She’d promised herself - after seeing what it did to her mother, after watching her father disappear into a hospital bed and never really come back - that she’d never let herself get involved in anything so dangerous.

But Fred wasn’t just a Quidditch player. He was stupidly kind. And funny. And so painfully sincere when it mattered.

And the thought of him hurting because of her? That was a weight she hadn’t expected to feel.

“You’re brooding,” Ginny said, plopping beside her on the bank, tucking her knees to her chest.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s just silent brooding with a fancier name.”

She snorted despite herself.

Ginny nudged her shoulder. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“He’s miserable without you.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive.”

Ginny gave her a look.

“Fine,” she muttered. “He seemed sincere.”

“He is sincere. He hasn’t been this quiet since Mum threatened to move the family ghoul into his bedroom in second year.”

That made her laugh. Really laugh, the sound catching on the breeze like music.

Ginny smiled. “He likes you, you know. Really likes you.”

She looked down at her hands, fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know if I can do this, Ginny. I promised myself I’d never fall for a Quidditch player. Never let it…take up space in my life. Never let it cause that kind of grief again.”

“But you already have,” Ginny said gently. “You fell for him, didn’t you?”

“I think I have…” Y/n admitted in a small voice, as if afraid of the words themselves. “Is that weird to you? Me talking about your brother like that?”

Ginny gave a small shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. But I think…if there’s one thing Mum always says about Dad, it’s that she never regretted falling for him. Nothing else that they’ve gone through ever mattered more than getting to love him.”

Her eyes stung, just a little.

“And for what it’s worth,” Ginny added, bumping her shoulder, “he’s completely destroyed without you. Like, extreme levels of mopiness. He’s reached all new levels of melodramatic. It’s almost impressive.”

That pulled another soft laugh from her, and Ginny smiled, triumphant. But the laughter faded into something heavier. Because the truth was: she didn’t know if she could allow herself to open up to him. But she wanted to. And maybe that was the first step.

“Next game’s on Sunday. Gryffindor’s playing Slytherin,” Ginny reminded her before standing and dusting her hands off on her pants. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot to think about before then.”

———————————————————————

The late November air had a bitter edge to it, the kind that stung your nose and numbed your fingertips. A wind cut across the Quidditch pitch, tugging at scarves and cloaks as students filtered into the stands. Among them was a splash of unexpected colour - scarlet and gold - looped loosely around the neck of a Ravenclaw girl.

She didn’t wear it high and proud like the Gryffindors around her. It wasn’t wrapped tightly to ward off the cold. It hung loosely, uncertainly, like the decision she’d finally come to only hours before.

Ginny spotted her immediately. “You came,” she said with a hopeful grin, sliding onto the bench beside her. Luna was already there, humming to herself with her lion hat perched lopsided on her head.

Y/n nodded once, her eyes scanning the pitch nervously. “Don’t read into it.”

Ginny smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But Ginny’s gaze flicked to the Gryffindor locker room tunnel with unmistakable meaning. And sure enough, moments later, the red-robed team came bursting onto the pitch in a roar of noise and wind and energy. The crowd erupted, but the world stilled for her.

Fred was there. Helmet under one arm, broom in hand, grinning lazily as if none of this mattered. But she saw it. The way his eyes scanned the crowd, how his steps faltered for half a second when they landed on her. She barely had time to react before the whistle blew.

His gaze was still locked on her when the bludger nearly took his head off.

“Oi!” George barked, dragging Fred down by the sleeve just in time. “Focus!”

Fred blinked, as if waking from a dream, and then, grinned. That was when she knew.

The fear that twisted inside her was different than the one she remembered watching her father fall. This one was sharper, messier, tangled up in affection and anger and wanting to leap out of her skin. She gripped the rail in front of her as the game roared to life.

Slytherin was out for blood. It was instantly brutal. Bludgers aimed not at brooms but heads, shoulder checks that bordered on illegal, and jeering chants from the green-and-silver section. Y/n felt herself flinch every time Fred dipped or swerved too close to a hit.

He was reckless. Of course he was. She hated him for it, and loved him all the same.

“You alright?” Ginny asked, frowning as y/n went still after a particularly hard and fast bludger sent Fred spinning midair.

“I’m fine,” she lied. She felt her stomach lurching as though she were about to be sick.

But she wasn’t. Not when Fred pulled out of the dive gripping his side. Not when his broom sagged slightly, and he drifted off toward the sidelines.

“Madam Hooch’s calling a timeout,” Ginny muttered, already standing. “Something’s wrong.”

Y/n didn’t even think. She was halfway down the stands before anyone could stop her.

By the time she reached the edge of the pitch, Fred was sitting on the ground, one glove off, squinting at Madam Hooch as she shone the glowing tip of her wand over his left rib cage. The look on his face - sharp but edged in pain - scared her more than any curse could.

She shoved past the barricade of people. “Move! Fred!”

His eyes flicked toward her, confused. “You came.”

“Why are you smiling? Are you…? Don’t tell me you’re joking again—”

“I’m not,” he said softly, wincing. “I’m actually a bit knackered.”

She sank beside him, eyes scanning his face. His cheekbone was grazed from the scratch of a broom tail as he’d flown too close. And the way he sat clearly gave away an injury at his side where he’d been struck.

“You absolute idiot,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

Despite the worry, the fury, the ache she’d carried for weeks, her heart fluttered stupidly.

Madam Hooch stood and gave him a curt nod. “Nothing appears to be broken. You can finish the game.”

Fred made a move to stand but faltered, and she caught his arm instinctively. “I thought you didn’t like Quidditch,” he said as he leaned closer, eyes locked onto hers.

She hesitated for a beat, heart pounding, before a swell of confidence overcame her. The wind tugged at her hair, and the roar of the crowd faded beneath the rush in her ears.

“I don’t,” she said. “But I like you.”

Then she grabbed the collar of his flying robes and yanked him forward.

He didn’t need more than a second. His lips found hers like they were made for it. Burning and soft and clumsy all at once. She could feel the grin in his kiss, the way his fingers hovered at her waist like he couldn’t believe this was real.

Somewhere above them, Lee Jordan’s voice cracked over the magical megaphone. “AND IT SEEMS…YES, FOLKS, IT SEEMS FRED WEASLEY HAS JUST BEEN KISSED SENSLESS BY WHO MY SOURCES TELL ME IS A RAVENCLAW IN DISGUISE, IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE STADIUM! MERLIN, SOMEONE GET THAT BOY A TROPHY!”

Laughter erupted around them, but Fred only pulled away slightly, forehead resting against hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Her voice trembled. “You’re going to win, right?”

His grin stretched, cocky and wild. “For you? Always.”

And with that, he straddled his broom and shot back into the sky, chasing a Bludger and leaving her breathless on the ground. One hand still clutched her scarf, the taste of wind and honey lingering on her lips.

She turned and walked back to the stands, cheeks flaming, heart racing.

Ginny was already smirking when she sat back down. “I guess you weren’t lying. You’re not into Quidditch, huh? You’re just into my brother.”

“Shut it.” But she didn’t stop smiling. Not once, not even when Fred scored the winning goal and pointed straight at her from the air.

This time, she cheered the loudest.

———————————————————————

The Gryffindor common room was glowing. Literally. Lanterns had been charmed to flicker gold and crimson, casting the whole space in a warm, celebratory hue. Firewhisky (procured through highly suspicious means) sloshed in mugs, music played from a bewitched gramophone in the corner, and someone had strung Gryffindor banners between the beams of the ceiling.

Y/n pushed through the portrait hole, the same Gryffindor scarf she’d stolen from Ginny still knotted loosely around her neck and a nervous energy trailing behind her like steam. The room erupted into cheers the moment someone spotted her.

“There she is! The Ravenclaw with the kiss of the century!” bellowed Seamus, raising his drink in her direction.

“Did you see her grab him? Poor bloke didn’t even have time to prepare!” added Parvati, giggling from her perch on the arm of a squashy chair.

“Who cares about him! Did you see Umbridge’s face? She looked like she’d swallowed a blast-ended skrewt!” Padma exclaimed.

Y/n flushed, her expression flickering between embarrassment and amusement as she murmured greetings and edged through the crowd.

“Looking for someone?” Ginny asked, sidling up beside her with a smirk and an all-too-innocent tone.

“Maybe,” Y/n answered, trying not to smile. Her eyes scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of Fred. “Have you seen him?”

Ginny raised a brow. “I might have,” she said cryptically, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving y/n blinking.

She spotted Neville next, sipping a butterbeer and looking entirely overwhelmed by the crowd.

“Neville,” she said warmly, touching his elbow.

“Oh, hello! Merlin, you were brilliant!” he blurted, then went beet red. “I mean, not in the game, obviously, but with Fred, and the kiss, and all.”

Reader laughed, tension easing slightly. “Thanks, I think.”

She continued through the crowd, waving to Lavender and dodging a butterbeer spill, searching every corner. No Fred. It was only when she spotted George leaning against a wall near the hearth, chatting with Angelina, that she zeroed in. He saw her coming and grinned.

“Looking for a certain ginger?”

“If you’re referring to yourself, no,” she quipped.

George chuckled and casually slipped a folded piece of parchment into her hand, before turning back to Angelina without another word.

Curious, she stepped aside and unfolded the note.

If you’re reading this, you’re looking for me. Which is good, because I’ve been hoping you would. Come find me. Just follow the hall behind the tapestry of the drunk troll (you know the one). I promise it’s worth it.

– F

Intrigued, she tucked the note into her pocket and slipped out of the common room unnoticed, heart drumming faster than she liked to admit.

She ducked behind the tapestry Fred had referenced - one depicting a troll singing off-key with a mug in one hand and a lute in the other - and found the narrow corridor just as he’d promised.

It was like stepping into another world. Candles floated gently along the walls, their golden light flickering against stone. The floor was dusted with soft rose petals and the air smelled faintly of cinnamon. At the far end, standing sheepishly beneath a hovering bouquet of enchanted peonies and a few nervously blinking fairy lights, was Fred Weasley.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, lips parting in disbelief. “What is all this?”

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinged with red. “So…I might’ve gone slightly overboard. But in my defense, you did kiss me in front of the entire Quidditch stadium, and I figured I should try to live up to that.”

She folded her arms, the corners of her mouth twitching. “This isn’t exactly your usual style, Weasley.”

“Well,” he said, stepping forward, “neither is falling for a Ravenclaw who once told me Quidditch was the root of all evil and that I had the attention span of a flobberworm.”

She laughed. “I stand by both those statements.”

“Fair,” he grinned. “I guess you did win the bet. I couldn’t make you like quidditch. Merlin, you still flinch when someone so much as nudges a bludger.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.

“But you came to every practice. You brought ideas. You even wore that scarf.” He pointed to the Gryffindor colors still around her neck, the edge of it frayed from overuse. “So if you didn’t do it all for quidditch, then that means you did it all for me.”

“I…” she began, but he stepped closer.

“And I know what you’re going to say. That maybe I’m a bit too much like your dad. That Quidditch is dangerous and selfish and a bit idiotic, and honestly? You’re right again. But you also can’t live your life afraid of the what ifs.”

She went still.

He took a breath. “So if you’ll have me, I’ll promise to always be careful. I’ll promise to never pretend I’m injured again, because, bloody hell, I was a right idiot for that. And - this is the most important part - I’ll never ask you to love Quidditch. Not ever again.”

She smiled slowly, heart aching in that soft, terrifying way that meant it was real.

He hesitated. “So…what do you think? Are you willing to give us a shot?”

“I think,” she said, stepping into him until the flickering candlelight danced across both their faces, “that you talk far too much.”

Then she kissed him again, gently this time, like the first breath after a long dive underwater.

Fred made a soft sound of relief and kissed her back, one hand moving instinctively to her waist, the other brushing her cheek with surprising reverence.

When they pulled apart, his eyes were alight. “That means yes?”

“That means yes,” she confirmed. And nothing - not even quidditch - had ever made Fred Weasley’s smile shine brighter.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Furry problem 2.0; Weasley twins x reader

*Author's note*

This idea had been sizzling in my brain for a bit but I hadn't seen a lot of fanfics about it. So this takes place during POA and there is no romantic pairings, this is a PURE PLATONIC Weasley fic here so for anyone thinking this is a romantic Weasley twin x reader fanfic sorry to tell you, you won't find it here. But I still hope you all enjoy this little fic. Also as another platonic pairing there is Professor Lupin x reader but like I said this is a PURE PLATONIC fanfic, no romance b/t student and teacher GET OUT YOU PERVERTS! Enjoy my lovelies :)

Warnings: Weasley twin fluff, some angst, werewolf painful transformation description, hints of s*icide, but overall HURT AND COMFORT from our lovely boys and 'Papa wolf Moony'.

Taglist:

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@waddles03

@queen-paladin

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

_________________________________________________

“Alright I’d say that’s enough for today. Marvelous job everyone, now remember to do your parchment essay on Boggarts and have it ready for me by the end of the week. Class dismissed.” Professor Lupin said to all of us after locking the Boggart back into the wardrobe.

“Merlin’s beard never did I think I’d actually enjoy a class so much!” exclaimed Lee.

“Don’t go becoming a teacher’s pet there Lee, we’ll have to kick you out of the room if you become a wet blanket.” Warned Fred.

“We’re trouble makers first, able students second or third depending on our mood.” George stated after his twin.

“I’d never go that far and you know it. How else would I be so creative in my Quidditch commentary if I didn’t throw in some colorful language?”

“That is when Professor McGonagall isn’t snapping at you every three seconds due to your biased view of Slytherin.” I pointed out.

“You know the Slytherins are dirty, dirty cheats (n/n)!” exclaimed Lee.

“And I don’t doubt that.” I said gathering up my books.

“Excuse me (Y/n), would you mind staying behind for a bit? I’d like to discuss something with you.” Professor Lupin said.  I turned to the guys and gestured for them to go ahead and save me a spot for lunch.  As the class cleared off, Professor Lupin lead me up to his office and I asked him.

“Did I do something wrong today Professor?”

“No, no quite the contrary to be precise. I was impressed at your knowledge of the Boggarts but I did notice that even in the line, you were allowing students to go ahead of you. Is there any particular reason as to why that was?”

My heart stopped.  There actually was a reason.  Let’s just say I knew what those scars on Professor Lupin’s face really meant.

“I…….”

“If it’s too personal, I won’t pry any further. But it seemed to me you look like you wish to discuss it with someone, but haven’t found the right person to talk to.” My throat went dry as it clenched up but I felt this heavy weight that’s been hanging over my shoulders since the start of the summer finally lift.

“Do—do you promise not to tell the other Professors? Or Dumbledore?”

“Come, let’s sit down and have a nice cup of tea.” Pointing his wand out, his tea kettle began steaming a cup of tea and two cups levitated towards the desk.  He also had the door to his study shut and a silent charm was cast so that no one could hear what would be discussed in this room.

After all a student werewolf is one thing, but having two werewolves in the school, things would just go bonkers if anyone came in and overheard us.

Professor Lupin poured the tea into my cup first before pouring his.  He picked up his cup and took a small sip.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did it happen? When did it happen?”

“The start of the summer. Just a couple weeks after the last term ended. My parents and I went on a little vacation to visit some relatives in Dubai. They live out in the desert, own a huge farm and everything. I’ve always loved Astronomy and was just in awe of the moon and the stars. I had never really seen so many stars in the night sky at once before. I didn’t even think twice of any—but it came out of literally nowhere.” I gripped my teacup tighter as I felt my leg bounce anxiously, “I can still see the jaws snapping at my face every night when I go to sleep. The claws digging into my skin and then it all—”

I had accidentally gripped the tea cup so tight that I broke it and tea literally spilled all over my uniform as well as the floor.

“Oh Merlin’s beard I-I’m so sorry Professor I…..”

“It’s alright (Y/n). No big deal, remember.” He held his wand out and with a flick of it he had the tea cup repair itself as well as cleaned up the spilled tea on the ground.  He even casted a cleaning charm on my uniform so not a trace of tea could be found.

“I just…..I’ve been so alone ever since it happened. My own parents couldn’t even look at me once they knew what had attacked me. I’ve stayed at the Leaky Cauldron ever since. Chaining myself up and locking the doors with the most powerful spells I could research to ensure I couldn’t escape and hurt someone. But I’m tired Professor Lupin. I’m so tired.” I wept.

I cried into my hands until I felt a hand at my shoulder.  Professor Lupin looked down at me with assuring eyes, not out of pity or sympathy but understanding.

“I understand what you’re going through. However unlike you, when I first came to Hogwarts I was already cursed. I was five when I was turned by Fenrir Greyback. All because of my father’s words. He said that werewolves were ‘vile, soulless monsters who didn’t deserve nothing but death’. So while I lay sleeping, Greyback broke into our home and cursed me.” He said pointing to his scars.

“You were only five?” I gasped horrified.

“It was hard growing up. Constant visits to healers and various potion markers but as you know, Lycanthropy cannot be cured. So when Dumbledore came to me personally to ask if I’d be willing to go to Hogwarts, I was hesitant. Afraid that I would hurt someone or that others would find out and be afraid of me. But I was lucky to find a group of friends who not only stayed with me, but went beyond the call of duty and did something that I’ll never be able to repay them for.”

“But how can I know if I’ve got anyone like that on my side?”

“I know two certain redheads who’d fit the mark. For they remind me of my two old friends from back in the day.”

“I—I just don’t want to lose them, especially them. They helped make London a second home when my family first moved here nearly ten years ago.”

“The choice to tell your secret is up to you. But let me suggest that it would be much better if they heard it from you, as opposed to hearing it from someone else.” I looked down shamefully rubbing the arm that hid one of my scars.  “Here, I’d like you to take this.” He walked over to one of his suitcases and dug through it before pulling out a vile filled with some sort of potion.

“What is that?”

“There’s no cure for lycanthropy but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a way to make it easier. Take a dose of this every day a week before the the full moon, and this should help keep your human mind intact during your next transformation. Fair warning, it’s not the best tasting thing but skipping even one night will render this useless. That’s why I’d advice eating some chocolate after to help ease the taste of it.”

“Professor I—I don’t know how to thank you.”

“There’s no thanks needed. If you wish to keep this a secret, make sure you keep this somewhere where no one will find it. Never keep it on your person, I learned that the hard way. And it’s not the easiest potion to prepare.”

“But-but what about you? If this is all you have I couldn’t possibly take this.”

“I’m used to it, I’ve had years dealing with this. Besides I have a spare locked away. This one is just for good measure. Take it (Y/n).” I took the vial from him and confirmed.

“One dose a day a week prior to the full moon?”

“That is correct. Then I’d like for you to meet me at the Whomping Willow the night of the first full moon this month. I know a place where we can slip past and not be noticed by the school.”

“Thank you Professor. Truly.” I said gratefully.  He gave me a soft smile and a nod before allowing me to leave his office.

As I came down the hallway I was suddenly tackled by two redheads.  Sandwiched between two tall and broad bodies.

“George you’re squeezing me too tight. Ahh Fred don’t poke me there you know I’m ticklish!” I laughed.

“You were gone for hours!” Whined Fred.

“We thought you had ditched us for something better!” George exclaimed.

“So what’s the deal with you and Professor Lupin, you fancy him or something?”

“What!? Eww gross no way! He’s our Professor for Merlin’s sake!” I groaned as I wriggled my way out of their sandwiched embrace.  “He just asked me to help him out with a few things.”

“Like what?” they chorused as they crossed their arms over their chests together.

“A supply of Grindylows. For the third years. So what’s on the menu for today?”

“Well we snagged you some of your favorites.” From a sack Fred held I could smell some turkey, a bit of chicken and some pudding cups.

“You know it’s kinda weird seeing you on this weird meat craze now.” Spoke George.

“Yeah well can’t a girl expand her palate? And I swear George Weasley if you call me fat I will hex your bloody arse off. And I mean that literally.”

“Ease up there, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just—you always said your family didn’t eat meat cause of your muggle mother’s religion.” Oh yeah that is true.  But then again I’m not exactly under mother’s roof am I?

“Yeah well, like I said. Time to expand the palate. Mum doesn’t know what she’s missing.” I snatched the bag from Fred and I took off running back towards my dorm room.

Thankfully when I got there, none of the girls were there so as I took out the vial of Wolfsbane from Professor Lupin, I held it close to my chest and felt tears in my eyes.

“How am I ever gonna tell them? And even if I did, will they even want to stay my friends?”

Life at Hogwarts continued as normal as they could until the first full moon of the year was drawing near.  Like Professor Lupin had told me the month before, I took a dose of the Wolfsbane he had gave me every night at the exact same hour.

And he wasn’t exaggerating about the taste, thankfully I knew where Katie kept her ‘secret chocolate stash’ and she hasn’t noticed a thing (at least not yet).  When the full moon arrived, just like he instructed I used the Marauders map to sneak out of the castle and meet him by the Whomping Willow.

“Did you drink the potion?”

“All of it gone. Just like you told me to have by tonight.”

“Good. Now follow me.” He shot a spell at the Whomping willow to get it to stay still and he walked over to the root of its trunk and gestured for me to go down the large hole by it’s roots.  I slid down it and ended up in some sort of secret tunnel.  He came shortly behind me, his wand illuminating a light.  “This way.” He followed close behind him and eventually we came to a wooden staircase entrance.  “Do you know this building (Y/n)?”

“Not really no.”

“I would hope not from the inside but you might have heard of it. Said to be the most haunted house in all of Hogsmeade.”

“Wait, is this the Shrieking Shack?”

“That is correct. Although it was a happy rumor I was blessed to disguise my condition. I’d come here to turn whenever the full moon arrived. Eventually my friends would soon join me and together we’d stay here to ensure that I wouldn’t harm anyone.”

“And you’re sure that Wolfsbane actually works?”

“So long as you promise me you took it every night this past week, you’ll be fine my dear. Trust me, I wouldn’t have given you false hope having gone through this myself.”

“And—I won’t try to escape and hurt anyone?”

“I’ll keep you in here safe and away from others. Seems the ghosts of the Shrieking Shack are gonna be a little louder tonight.” I softly chuckled before the light of the full moon could shine through the cracks of the building.

Both Remus and I felt our hands trembling as our muscles went frigid and stiff.  Our hearts beated faster as both our breathings became labored.  I could see his once kind blue eyes turn the cold, wolf-like yellow and black as I knew mine had gone too.

I lurched downward as I felt my spine snap and adjust and saw my nails slowly become claws.  I growled and choked out my agony as every bone in my body shifted into the werewolf shape I had been forced to turn every month since the start of the summer.

My legs morphed into hind legs and I felt my nose and jaw elongate as my teeth grew into fangs.  Every organ was shutting down until nothing but animalistic growls came out of me and after what felt like hours of pure agony, my transformation was complete.

However unlike before where I would normally black out and the wolf would take over, I could still see everything in the Shrieking Shack, including Professor Lupin who had now completed his transformation.

He was taller than my werewolf was, more skinnier.  I lowered my body fearing that his werewolf instincts were going to attack me since I’ve read that werewolves tend to attack or try to dominate younger ones.  But as he came up to me, he gave me a sniff before nudging my head upward.

For the rest of the night Professor Lupin and I stayed in the Shrieking Shack and kept an eye on each other until the hours of the early dawn.

If there’s one thing about being a werewolf it isn’t really the turning into the werewolf part that’s the most agonizing.  For me personally, it would be when shifting back to my human form.  Once the body adjusts itself back to the small and frail human body, there is nothing but pure agony and tension in all your muscles that linger for hours on end.

At least this time, I didn’t go through my shift back alone.  Professor Lupin was there to hold my hand through the pain as I shifted back even when he was going through the same pain I was.  After changing back into some spare clothes, he guided me back to the castle and told me to get some rest and also to eat a bit of chocolate to help ease the pain a bit.

The next few days passed with the same routine.  I’d stay in my room and tell my friends that I had fallen ill and wasn’t up to going to class for the days the full moon was out.  Thankfully they didn’t ask too many questions but Angie did say that the twins were starting to get worried on why I wasn’t showing myself.

I just told her to tell them I wasn’t feeling good and it seemed to work.  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t immediately tackled by the ginger-headed twins and interrogated with questions on how I was feeling? What I had and why I didn’t go to Madam Pomfrey if I was out sick for that many days?

Thankfully when I sidetracked the twins into helping me steal some of Snape’s supplies for my own Wolfsbane potion, they didn’t ask any questions and were able to steal the ingredients I needed that way I would be ready for the next full moon.

I was currently out by the Black Lake doing some reading on how to properly make the Wolfsbane potion that Professor Lupin gave me when suddenly I found myself pinned to the ground.  I didn’t even need to look up to know just who it was that tackled me.

“I swear I’m going to regret ever reading to you guys my old Winnie the pooh books. You’re more pouncier than Tigger himself.”

“Call it a gift.” Said Fred.

“Besides it’s fun to get your reaction out of it.” George chuckled.

“And we came to collect you less you miss the carriages to Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah you know famous village we’ve been going to ever since our third year? Zonko’s has some new products and Fred and I need to compare notes on what we need to make in order to not get sued by our favorite joke shop for plagiarism.” George said as he and Fred got off of me.

“Not to mention Honeydukes has got the new Caldron cakes that now taste like the muggle cheesecakes. Plus my supply of Sugar quills is running low.” Fred said.

“Actually guys, I think I’m gonna skip out on this Hogsmeade trip.” I said getting off the ground and dusting myself off.

“What?!” they exclaimed together.

“You’ve ditched us a month ago for a full straight week, then you stop coming to see our Quidditch practices and now you’re not even coming to Hogsmeade with us? What gives (Y/n)? You avoiding us or something?” Fred said.

“No. I just didn’t tell you guys that Professor Lupin asked me to hang back and help him with something.”

“You seem to really be spending a lot of time with the new Professor. Even more than Harry has according to Ron. You sure you don’t fancy him or something?”

“It’s not like that George.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” Fred held the parchment that had my instructions of making the Wolfsbane potion.  Even though I had told them to help me snag the ingredients needed to make Wolfsbane, I never told the twins on what those ingredients were used for.

“Give me that back Fred!” I snapped.

“What is this like a love letter or something?” Fred asked holding it out to taunt me.

“No. I just don’t want you nosey sods reading my stuff.” I went to reach for it but he kept raising it over my head and out of reach. “Fred I’m serious give it back!”

“Alright fine, here take it.” He held it out to me.  I narrowed my eyes at him and he gestured down to the piece of parchment with his eyes.  I went to grab it but George’s hand shot out and took it before I could grab it.

“George!”

“It’s one thing for the Marauder’s map to be so important that you’d be this defensive about it but for a single bit of parchment such as this. Must be something really secretive to not tell us about it.” Something snapped inside me as I charged at him and physically tackled George.

And I don’t just mean playfully, I mean like I was a rouge bludger that just slammed right into his ribs knocking him hard off his broom.  He landed with a loud thud on his back as I pinned him down by his shoulders growling in his face.

“You even think about opening that and I’ll rip your throat out!” I snarled as I bared my teeth glaring down at George.

“(Y/n). Let my brother go!” I turned and saw Fred with his wand pointed at me and a shocked but hard look in his eyes.  My anger quickly subsided and I looked down at George who looked up at me horrified.  I jumped back mortified at what I was about to do.

It was rare that a werewolf could act animalistically when it wasn’t a full moon.  No I—I couldn’t be on that spectrum of that curse.

“I…..I’m sorry. I-I have to go.” I grabbed Wolfsbane list that had fallen away from George and quickly raced back to the castle.  I made it all the way back to my dorm room and locked the doors tightly even though I knew the girls were on their way to Hogsmeade.

I stood before my mirror and stripped out of my uniform top to reveal my werewolf scars.  I touched them with distain as I fell to my knees and wept.  I can’t believe I threatened George like that, and seeing Fred with his wand out to me like that—I…..this is exactly what I was afraid would happen if any of my friends find out about my ‘furry little secret’.

Why me? Why did it have to be me? I already lost my family, why am I starting to lose my friends.

I didn’t speak to Fred and George after that day.  In fact I took every chance I could to avoid them.  Even when we’d have classes together, I made sure to sit as far away from them as possible.  I was out walking along with Professor Lupin and I said to him.

“You were wrong before. About having friends that support me. I—I think I’ve officially lost them.”

“Did you tell them what happened?” he asked.

“No. But I did sorta wolf-out on them. I got so angry at their teasing when they wouldn’t give me the ingredient list of Wolfsbane you gave me that I physically assaulted George to the ground and threatened to rip his throat out. Professor—I saw the look in their eyes, Fred he—he even held his wand out to me ready to attack me. If-if I told them the truth I……” I fell to the floor picking at the grass.  “I’m too dangerous to be around. Maybe I should just be expelled from Hogwarts, maybe live in a forest somewhere where I won’t hurt anyone werewolf or not.”

“I understand you’re fear but—”

“OF COURSE I’M AFRAID! I threatened to kill my best friend! My own parents kicked me out because they were afraid of me, and I’ve had to live on my own at only 15 years old! I’m not even a legal adult and I live in a society where werewolves are feared and deserve nothing but death! Why don’t I just use the Killing curse on myself since NO ONE WANTS ME!!”

Professor Lupin stared at me mortified at my outburst then I turned away from him and just wept into my hands.

“Why couldn’t that werewolf have just killed me that night?”

“If it helps, I know of the incident already because that very day the Weasley boys came to see me in my office. They were rather adamant in wanting to know what was going on with you. Now I kept my word to you and didn’t tell them the real reason. Just that you were going through some serious personal struggles that can’t easily be solved with a prank or joke they could come up with. I told them they needed to be patient and when the time was right, you’d come to them.”

“They…..they weren’t upset?”

“Not in the manner you’re thinking. They really do care for you (Y/n).”

“I know they do. But that love can quickly turn to hate, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” I felt his hand comfortingly squeeze my shoulder.

“They’ll understand. I’ve got a feeling they will. But again, the choice to tell them still remains with you. Although I think it would ease the ache in your heart if you told them as soon as possible.” We remained in the Forbidden forest for the rest of the afternoon until it was dinner time.

Weeks passed and it was now the week of the full moon.  Like before, I drank a dose of Wolfsbane every night at the exact same hour until I was down to my last vial the night of the full moon.  However thanks to a certain Slytherin git of a teacher, I had to serve detention and it was nearing the hour of the full moon’s arrival cause he had somehow been told that I was stealing from his stores.

I raced back up towards the dorm when I was stopped by none other than Fred and George themselves.

“Guys what? Can this please wait some other time I’m in a bit of a hurry!” I hurried trying to get around them but they kept blocking my way.

“(Y/n), we need,” Fred started as George finished.

“To talk.”

“Right now.”

“Guys now’s really not the best time.”

“Then when will be the best time?” asked George crossing his arms over his chest.

“I…..After this week’s over, I promise but right now I need to get to my dorm!” they gripped me under my arms and proceeded to drag me away from the stairways leading to the Common room and towards one of our secret passages we’ve used since our first year with the Marauders Map.

“(Y/n), we’ve been thinking since that day at the lake,” Fred started.

“Since the start of the year to be honest. And we’re really worried about you.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to talk to us about? Like why you’re diet has changed?”

“Or why you’ve suddenly gotten so sick during the full moon?”

“Or why almost every little thing seems to make you snap like a rabid animal?”

“Guys please this isn’t how I wanted to talk to you two about this. Something did happen to me but I—GAHH!” I suddenly felt my bones snap as I lurched myself down to the ground.

“(Y/n)!” they both exclaimed as they knelt down beside me.  Oh Godric above not here, not in the school!

“Get me to the Forbidden forest.”

“But—”

“NOW AHHH!” they picked me up and raced me towards the Hall of Knights secret passage that lead straight to the bridge entrance of the castle.  I kept groaning in agony as I felt my body twist and turn and once I felt the cool night air I ordered them.  “Now get out of here. Get as far away from me as possible.”

“(Y/n) what is….”

“Freddie.” George spoke and soon my worst fear came to pass.

The autumn mist and fog pulled away from the sky to reveal the full moon fully risen and as it shined it’s light upon me, my eyes immediately shifted to the black and golden wolf color as my body went stiff.

My breathing turned to animalistic pants as my fangs immediately grew out and I lurched my body forward in agony.

“(Y/n), (Y/n) listen to us. You aren’t the Wolf, it doesn’t control you, you control it! Trust in your heart, right here this is who you are!” I could faintly hear the twins both telling me but my agony was too great as I let out a scream and felt my body soon morph into my full werewolf form.

I threw the two bodies holding me backward until my transformation was complete and I was left a whimpering mess.  Curling myself inward whimpering sadly as I turned and saw two faint shadows standing in front of me.

“(Y/n)?” one of the voices spoke to me.

“(Y/n)?” another of the voice said to me.  But it didn’t matter as I threw back my head and let out a howl and stalked towards the two shadowy figures that stood in my way.

All I could think was kill, kill, kill.  I raised my claw and swiped at them before snarling at them.  Just before I could land another blow to them, something bit my back leg and I saw a large black dog biting my leg before it let out a series of barks and ran across the bridge.  I chased after it snarling and barking trying to get it.

I swiped at it’s paws which caused it to lose balance and before it could get up, I had it pinned by the neck as I roared at it.  Then before I could take a bite out of it to end this dog’s life, another werewolf’s howl soon echoed through the skies.  I paused my attack as I perked my ears up, a brother-kin was calling to me.

It howled again and I softly growled at the dog before getting off of it and followed the sounds of the howls deeper and deeper into the forest.  I sniffed the air for the brother werewolf that called to me but I couldn’t pick up it’s scent anywhere. 

I ended up wondering the Forbidden forest all night until dawn hearing the sounds of the howls but never finding the werewolf who was calling to me.

That’s when I felt my body snap again.  I turned my attention to the sky and noticed the night sky was starting to brighten and the full moon had vanished.

Snorting and grunting in agony as I felt my body shift back into my human form.  My claws dug into the earth as my bones shrunk back and my wolf skin reverted back to my normal skin.

“She’s over here!” I faintly heard.  Oh Godric, I—I turned in front of them, now they knew.  Fred and George now knew the awful truth and now they……soon everyone in the school will know.

I smelled the familiar scent of Cinnamon and spice surround me as a robe was draped over my now naked body and as I was in the final stage of transforming back, a gentle hand held onto mine even through the transformation.

“We got you (n/n). We’re here.” I heard the twins say before I blacked out from exhaustion.

A cool, wet rag was softly dabbing over my clammy forehead as I slowly fluttered my eyes open groaning in discomfort.  I felt a squeeze at my hand and Fred’s soft voice said.

“Take it easy love, you had a bit of a rough night.” My vision was hazy but I soon saw the two red heads sitting beside me.

“Fred? G-George?”

“Yeah (N/n), it’s us.” George said with a soft smile.  When my vision finally became clear, I had seen that it was George who was dabbing my face with the wet cloth while Fred held my hand (which was on the arm that held my scar).

That’s when last night finally began to sink in.  They saw me transform.  They didn’t just know my furry little secret they saw it actually happen!

“Did…..” I choked out.  “Did I—”

“No. No you didn’t hurt us. You didn’t hurt anyone.” George assured me.

“Some black dog came up and stopped you from getting to us and got you to chase it into the Forbidden forest. Haven’t seen it since you left it when you heard a howl calling you.” Fred explained.  Tears welled up in my eyes as my lip quivered.

“Guys I’m so sorry!” I wept.  “I—I didn’t want you to find out this way! If you guys hate me or don’t want to be my friends anymore, I’ll understand. I’m a monster who doesn’t deserve friends.”

“Hey, hey now.” George shushed me as he set the cloth aside and cupped the side of my face while I felt Fred squeeze my hand between both his hands and kiss the back of my hand.  “If you think your ‘furry little problem’ is gonna drive us away, you clearly don’t know us very well.”

“Remember we’re the ones who during our first year, snuck into the Forbidden Forest and dared to prank the Centaurs until you knocked some sense into us. Literally. I still got the lump on my head from that night.” Fred pointed to the spot on his head where I gave him a clonk to the head with my potions book.

His comment got out of me for the first time a true, genuine laugh as George brushed aside some tears that slipped out.

“If you want to tell us how it happened, we’re more than willing to lend an open ear and an open mind.” George said while Fred finished after his twin.

“If not, we’ll continue to wait until you are ready. But you’re not getting rid of us that easily, especially after last night.” I looked to the both of them with such adoration and love.

“How am I so deserving to have you guys be my two best friends in the whole world?”

“When you switched out Fred’s Chocolate frogs and had it taste of Bertie Bott’s Freshly cut grass bean.” George snickered.

“I swear I thought George was pulling my leg for weeks until Lee told us you did it.” Fred booped my forehead teasingly.  “Our own personal Moony.”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” I whined as I brought my hands up to my face.

“Why not? I think it suits you, or would you prefer Wolfie?” George teased.

“Is it too late to take back my last comment on you guys being my best friends.”

“Yes. No exchanges,” Fred started as he playfully poked me.

“Refunds.” George said ruffling my already messy hair.

“Or take backs.” Fred booped my nose this time.

“What’s said, is said.” They both chorused together.  I playfully rolled my eyes and held my arms out to them.  Wordlessly they knew what I wanted.

They made themselves comfy on either side of me sandwiching me in a Weasley cuddle session we always liked to do whenever one of us had a bad day, or a day where we just needed some peace away from the chaos.  Away from the specters where the boys can show their rare calm selves that they’ve only shown around me.

I lay my head over George’s chest listening to his heartbeat while I felt Fred cuddle behind me, his arms wrapped around me from behind and I could feel him stroking my scarred arm, right over the scars.

“I love you guys.” I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm three times and a kiss to the crown of my head.

“We love you too (Y/n). You’re secret’s safe with us.” I shut my eyes and allowed a tear to fall down my face but a soft smile came across my face as I buried my face deeper into George’s chest.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

god damn THIS SCENE RIGHT. HERE!!! THIS. IS. ACTING. TRUE ACTING. Like my dad and I went not really expecting much out of this film (I mainly just wanted to see how much John Walker bashing I could see out of this film and see my some Yelena, Alexei and Bucky on the big screen after so long) then when Florence gave us THIS scene, I literally heard my dad choke up crying and my heart literally broke and tears immediately came to my eyes. Hollywood, don't hire your actors based on how many followers they've got on instagram or the tickety tock, get them if they can DELIVER SCENES LIKE THIS.

Thunderbolts* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Hiiii

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Tortured Past with George Weasley & Neville's older sister is sad but comforting. For George to be there as she breaks down and just holds her is absolutely adorable and shows his love for her. I enjoyed that very much good job! :)

so glad you enjoyed it. Yeah I was literally getting teary-eyed and fluttery as I wrote every single word of beloved Georgie’s actions. He’s such an empathic soul

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Tortured past; George Weasley x reader

*Author's note*

The Weasley twins are my COMFORT characters and have really been trying to get me out of any writing funk that I find myself in. And this little piece just proves that I need a real Weasley boy in my life rn. Now in this fic you are Neville's older sister and being a Longbottom means that there will be talk of what happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom (they deserved SO MUCH BETTER and we all wish they could've seen just how BRAVE their son became to be).

Warnings: Parent's tortured, some heavy angst, critical grandmothers, but overall FLUFF, SOFT GEORGIE BOI WE STAN OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT TWIN.

Taglist:

@waddles03

@plethora-of-things

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

_________________________________________________________

6th year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Only one more year and my dream of becoming a healer gets closer and closer.  But something this year was different compared to the previous years, for one the men of Durmstrang and the ladies of Beauxbatons are here to compete for the legendary TriWizard tournament.

“I’m guessing you already heard about what happened with Fred and George the other day, correct?” my best friend Angelina Johnson asked me as we walked to our next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Oh I didn’t need to hear of it, I saw it with my own eyes when I was assisting Madam Pomfrey. You best believe I gave that boy a lecture that his own mother would’ve given him feel like child’s play. I assume you also told Fred off as well?”

“He’s been avoiding me because he knows what I’m about to deliver to him.”

“Hey Oliver didn’t make you the new Captain of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team for nothing. You can be quite scary when you want to be Angie.”

“So, what do you feel about an ex-auror teaching our class? That display with the ceiling the start of the term was pretty intense.” She asked me.

“Well compared to Professor Lupin last year, he couldn’t be that bad. I mean he does know his stuff and what the Dark Arts is really like. At least he won’t just talk about himself and his fraudulent stories like Lockheart did.”

“Yeah well AHH HEY!!” a flash of orange snuck up behind her and literally swept her away before I was picked up and spun around.  I laughed as I was finally sat down and was looking up at my boyfriend of 3 years, George Weasley.

“I can assume you had something to do with this scheme?”

“Scheme? You wound me woman, can’t a bloke simply say hi to his girlfriend without it seeming like some diabolical plot?”

“When it comes to you and Freddie, not a chance in hell.” He grinned before leaning down and captured my lips with his.

He and his brother were definitely a force that came into my life that I didn’t know I needed.  Being the eldest child of Frank and Alice Longbottom and the older sister of Neville, my home life as you all know wasn’t exactly the happiest.  Having a mother and father who were once doting, loving parents be tortured to the point where they don’t even recognize you anymore and are forever mute it…..it breaks my heart just thinking about it.

It was after coming back to Hogwarts for the first time after the Christmas holiday that I found myself in an empty hallway and just wept to myself.  I tried to be strong for Neville when we went on our annual visit to mum and dad at St. Mungo’s with Gran but I could only hold it in for so long.

That’s when I had crossed paths with the twins Fred and George Weasley.  Already in the span of the short time, they had made a name for themselves as the official Pranksters and Kings of Chaos at Hogwarts, even though their older brothers were more academically intelligent and didn’t have time for pranks and nautical nonsense.

George had sat down beside me and asked why I was crying but I didn’t want to cry out my life’s story especially since it was too personal to me.  So I made up a lie and said that I was feeling homesick after being home and having to come back in such a short time.

They could’ve made fun of me saying that it shouldn’t have mattered or just walked away, but no.  George handed me a handkerchief and they sat beside me and kept my mind distracted by sharing with me their future pranks they had in mind, how they dreamed of trying out for the Quidditch team next year, and of course they tried to see if I could guess which twin was which.

They may look alike but there were keen differences I’ve noticed when they thought no one was looking and when I had been the first to successfully guess which twin was which, the rest was history as the Muggles say.

Fred became my best friend (next to Angelina).  He’s loud, boisterous but not in a cruel way.  Sure I’ve been on the end of a few of their pranks but nothing ever harmful or humiliating.  Just when I needed a laugh or focus on something other than my studies.  And George, well he’s the more reserved twin.  If Fred gets too overboard, Georgie is there to pull him back.  He’s also the more emotionally intelligent one, always there to lend an ear whenever someone has a bad day or just wants to get something off their chest.

And it was during our third year that I began to develop romantic feelings for George and apparently he for me.  So Fred (being the Mad Genius that he claims himself to be) thought it would be funny to lock us up in the Quidditch locker room and wouldn’t let us out until we confessed our feelings for one another.  Well joke ended up being on him cause he’d soon see us snogging each other and run out claiming his eyes had forever been tainted.

George separated from the kiss first but kept a hand cupping just underneath my jawline.

“I missed you.” He whispered.

“You saw me in the Healing wing yesterday after yours and Fred’s little stunt with the Goblet of Fire.”

“Still, you wouldn’t kiss me. How can you say you love me if you wouldn’t kiss me seeing what I would eventually look like when we grow old and grey together?” I shoved him as he chuckled and pulled me back into his arms.

“You are awful George Weasley.”

“Mmm but you love it.” He whispered lowly as he grazed his lips against mine.  His hot breath dancing across my face sending shivers down my spine.

“As much as I do, we best not be late to class.” He groaned but I took his hand and guided him towards the DADA classroom, “C’mon you. The sooner we get our day over with, the sooner we’ll get the Common room and have some alone time.”

“I like the sound of that.” We entered the classroom and I sat by Angelina while George took his seat by Fred as he usually did.  Lee Jordan took his seat behind the twins and next to Alicia Spinnet while Katie Bell took her seat behind us.

“Hey Ange, (N/n), did any of you complete that homework assignment for Snape’s class? I tried to get it done but I got stuck the last several questions.”

“Let me look at it after this class, I’ll see what you’re struggling with.” I told her.

“Longbottom I owe yah.” As we all continued to chat idly the doors soon slammed open and we all went quiet as stumbling in on his cane was the infamous former auror, Mad-eye Moody.  He trudged his way towards the desk where a whole bunch of bugs and other creepy-crawlies lay in large jars.

“Alastor Moody. Ex-auror, Ministry malcontent, and you’re new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. I’m here because Dumbledore asked me end of story goodbye. The end. Any questions?” we were all silent.

Well so far he is pretty intense. Definitely no playing around with this Professor.  We all remained silent while some even very lightly shook their heads no.

“When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach. But first, which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?” again everyone was quiet until Angelina spoke up.

“Three sir.”

“And they are so named?” Professor Moody began as he began to write aggressively on the chalkboard.

“Because they are unforgivable. And the use of any one of them—”

“Will earn you a one way ticket to Azkaban, correct!” he turned back towards us and continued, “Now the Ministry says you’re all young to see what these curses do, I say different! Being nearly of legal age you all need to know what you’re up against! You need to be prepared! So….which curse shall we see first? Weasley!”

“Yes?” both Fred and George chorused together slightly frightened as the former auror stood in front of their desks.

“You Weasley.” He said pointing at Fred.  “Stand!” Fred and George briefly looked at each other before Fred slowly got up.  “Now, give us a curse.”

“Well…..dad did tell us about one?”

“Uh-huh yeah.”

“The Imperius Curse.”

“Oh yeah, yeah your father would know all about that. Gave the Ministry a bit of grief a few years ago. Here’s why.” He went over towards his desk as Fred slowly sat down in his seat.  Professor Moody reached into a jar muttering down to one of the creatures as he took it out of the jar before using a spell to make it grow.  It was some kind of spider-like creature with pincer-like claws.  “Imperio!”

The spider then levitated off of the Professor’s hand before being flung straight towards mine and Angelina’s desk.  We both jumped back as the spider-like creature came towards me before being flung right over my shoulder and landed on Graham Montague’s head.  He froze as Professor Moody said.

“Don’t worry, she’s completely harmless. Unless she bites, she’s lethal.” He kept throwing the creature between each student as laughter began to rang out from the classroom (that was until you were chosen to have the spider-like creature either be on you or hover over you.)  Katie got the creature to crawl up her arm, Adrian Pucey got it flung straight to his face from across the room.  And poor Lee he too also got it flung after he had laughed harder than any of us after seeing Adrian freak out.

“Talented isn’t she? What shall I have her do next? Jump out the window?” the creature was flung from Lee’s face all the way to the window across the room.  “Drown herself?” the poor thing was barely hovering over a bucket filled with water and I could see it struggling trying to avoid taking a dive before it slowly came back towards the Professor’s hand.

The once joyous laughter that rang through the classroom became grim as we saw that this wasn’t just about having fun with creatures like that.  Imagine if this were a person, a child like one of us? Being forced to do things we didn’t want to do.

“Scores of witches and wizards have claimed that they did You-know-who’s bidding, under the influence of the Imperius curse. But here’s the rub, how do we sort out the liars? Another, another.” Some hands slowly began to raise while I slowly began to sink down in my chair hoping to not be picked on.  “Longbottom, is it?” Bollocks.  “Up, up.”

Slowly I stood up and he stood right in front of me.  “I’m told from Madam Pomfrey that you have a knack for the healing touch, right?”

“Y-yes sir.” I softly answered.  “The-there’s the uhh…..” I swallowed hard.  “The Cruciatus curse.” I muttered ever so softly that I couldn’t even hear myself say it.

“Speak up lass, I don’t think the people heard you from the back of the classroom.” The Professor growled at me.

“The Cruciatus Curse.”

“Yes, yes correct! Come, come, come, come. Take a look at this nasty.” He brought me over to his desk as he set the creature down on the jar lid it came out of.  “The torture curse. Curcio!” the Professor proclaimed as he pointed his wand at the creature which immediately began shrieking in agony.

It writhed in such agony that even though I didn’t know exactly what it was saying, I knew that it was probably pleading for it to stop.  Flashbacks of my mum and dad flashed through my mind.  Now seeing what this curse could do to a tiny little insect, I couldn’t imagine what mum and dad went through when Bellatrix Lestrange did this to them repetitively.

My heart raced as I couldn’t help but closed my eyes and covered my mouth trying to keep a sob in as my eyes burned with tears.

“STOP IT! CAN’T YOU SEE IT’S BOTHERING HER!?! STOP IT!!” George exclaimed angrily.  Finally the creature stopped it’s shrieking and rested as the Cruciatus curse stopped and it relaxed its body.  I felt sick to my stomach as a couple of tears slipped down past my face and Professor Moody took the creature back over to Fred and George’s table but this time set the creature down in front of George.

“Perhaps you’d like to give us the last Unforgivable curse Mr. Weasley.” I turned to George who looked straight at me with a heartbroken expression.  He swallowed harshly and shook his head.  The Professor nodded before aiming his wand at the creature and with a flash of green proclaimed.

“Avada Kedavra!” immediately the spider flipped onto it’s back dead right in front of George.  “The Killing Curse. Only one person is known to have survived it, and he walks these very halls. Now then, open your books to Chapter 24 and began your research on the Unforgivable Curses. I want 7 parchment papers handed into me by the end of the week all about the Unforgivable Curses you’ve just witnessed.”

I sat back down beside Angelina and tried to get my work done as fast as I could that way I could just forget about what had happened in class today.

Once class was dismissed, I was the first to leave and tried to avoid anyone from seeing me.  Tears continued to burn in the back of my eyes as I saw flashes of my mum and dad, envisioning what they went through, the screams of agony they must’ve cried out but even still refusing to submit nor spill any secrets they had.

I managed to find a spare empty room and I shut the door before sliding down to the ground, my back pinning against the door as I tried to calm my breathing but it kept coming out in sharp trembles and I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking.  I wrapped my arms over my chest and held them there as I choked out a couple of sobs when a soft knock was heard.

“(Y/n)? Love are you in there?” my heart sunk at the sound of George’s voice.

“Please go away.” I pleaded.

“You sure about that love?”

“Yes George please go. I—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’ve seen you at your worst and your best. It doesn’t matter—”

“George just leave me alone!” I snapped.

I didn’t want to snap at him like that but this—this was too personal for me. I—I didn’t want to share my reason for this breakdown, not yet.

“Okay. Okay I-I get it. But know this, I’ll be in my dorm room if you want to chat. Or to cuddle. I’ll leave you be love.” I heard him softly knock three times telling me that he loved me to which I silently broke down even more.  How did I deserve someone like George Weasley? Someone so kind and understanding.  Oh mum would’ve loved him and dad would’ve wanted to interrogate him even though he’s not so menacing looking.

After awhile my breakdown subsided and I looked at my watch to see that it was now mid-afternoon.  I had missed practically most of my lessons as well as lunch.  No point in going to my last two classes today since the day was almost over, I wonder if George kept his promise and went to his dorm room?

I wondered through the secret passage ways to avoid Filch or his nosey cat till I came to the staircase that lead to the Gryffindor common room.  I came up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and she said.

“Well, the second Gryffindor lover to skip classes.”

“Fortuna Major.” I spoke the password.

“Go in. but no funny business.” She told me as the portrait opened up and I came into the common room of my House.  I looked between the stairway of the boys and girls common room.

I guess it is time that someone knew the truth at least.  I hadn’t even told Angelina or the rest of the girls on the Quidditch team what happened to my parents, nor have I ever shown them what I now feel comfortable showing Georgie.  I first went down towards my dorm to grab my special book before coming back up and now going up the stairs toward the boys dormitory pathway.

I came up to the 6th year level and walked the familiar path that lead to the twins and Lee Jordan’s room.  I stood outside the door for a moment before knocking softly.  I waited a few seconds before the door opened revealing George.  His tie gone and a couple of his buttons undone and still wearing the cardigan.

“Hey.” He greeted me softly.

“Hi.” I greeted back softly.  “I’m—I’m sorry about….”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. That lesson was well—it wasn’t like anything we’ve had before.” I nodded before slamming myself into his chest and held onto him.

Immediately his arms wrapped around me as he held me protectively rocking me back and forth.  George kept an arm over my shoulders as he guided me into his dorm.  Already I was hit with the smell of strong cologne’s from each boy that lived in this dorm room but it was when we got to George’s bed that the smell of apple mint and musk overpowered the cinnamon and cedar smell from Fred and Lee respectively.

George set me down on his bed and knelt down in front of me and began to untie my shoes.  Carefully setting them to the side of his dresser by his bedside before I flopped sideways onto his bed once my last shoe had been taken off.  He sat down beside me and tucked the strands of hair behind my ear.

“Do you want to talk now or do you wanna cuddle?”

“Cuddle first, then I’ll talk.”

“I’m in no hurry babe.” I scooted over so that he could lay in front of me.  He matched my position of lying on his side, his forehead nearly pressing against mine as he reached up and stroked my cheek with his thumb before pressing a tiny kiss to my nose which got me to quirk up a smile for the first time since before DADA class.  George grinned softly leaning in closer so that our noses were touching and he’d playfully rub his nose against mine.

“You are such a sap.”

“Only for you. Now I did notice that you weren’t at lunch so,” he reached out and in one of the drawers he pulled out some sandwiches then took his wand and pointed it towards Fred’s desk and said, “Accio sweet’s bag.” Soon Fred’s secret stash of Honeydukes sweets came shooting out and he caught it in his hand.  “And some of Fred’s sweet treats from his secret stash. Though it’s not really a secret when you can see it from across the room.”

“You sure he won’t mind?” I asked hesitantly.

“Oh he won’t even know, and if he does I’ll take the blame.” He winked at me.  I shook my head as I took the bag of sugar quills and chocolate cauldron cakes.  “Ahh but first I want to see you eat a few bites of these sandwiches.”

“Yes sir.” I mocked saluted as I took the bag of sandwiches and ate those right up.  My starving stomach suddenly coming into play as it demanded more food and let out a deep and loud growl loud enough for even George to hear it.  “Shut up and don’t you say a word.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He laughed softly.  After eating the two sandwiches I then snacked on some of Fred’s sugar quills before deciding that I was finally full and we resumed our cuddling position, this time he lay flat on his back, his head resting against his headboard while my head rested just over his heart.  One arm hung over my waist while the other stroked through my black locks.  Occasionally I’d feel a kiss or two being pressed around my head or the crown of my head.

“It happened 14 years ago, Neville was just a few months old. Mum and dad left for a mission against You-know-who leaving us at our Gran’s house. The last thing I remember was hearing my mum’s voice telling me to be a good girl and watch over my brother till they came back. And she told me she and dad loved us both so much. But the mission went sideways, they were captured and tortured for information. A few Death eaters were greatly involved but one of them, Bellatrix Lestrange took pure enjoyment in torturing my parents with the Cruciatus curse. She—she tortured them so badly, that they no longer speak, nor can they function in society anymore. They now live at St. Mungo’s permanently at the Psyche ward section of the hospital. They……they don’t even recognize either me or Neville, my dad doesn’t even remember his own mother.”

“Bloody hell.” George whispered in shock.

“Every Christmas or any holiday we can, Gran takes us to go see them. Dad just sits there staring at the window never moving. And mum she—she paces but then she’ll turn to look at us. She doesn’t recognize our faces but she does make us some little trinkets. It’s—nothing special but they…..they mean a lot to me and Neville.” I then sat up and took out a journal from my robes.  George sat up and looked over my shoulder as I opened up my journal to reveal mum’s trinket journal.

Each page contained a flower petal from all the flowers I’d leave for her after the previous visit.  Each had a date when I was given one and I’d write which flower they belonged to.

“Neville has the same thing but they’re gum wrappers. Both of them don’t speak a word, just—a vacant shells of their former selves. But at least—at least mum still gives out gi-gifts like all mothers do for their kids.” An ugly sob spilled out of my throat as I covered my face with my hands.

George immediately wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head under his chin.  I held onto him as tightly as I could as I wept into his chest.

“Shhh, shhh. Let it out love, don’t hold back. Let yourself fall apart, I’m here to hold you together.” He whispered so loving and so softly.  He rocked me from side to side as he rubbed my back and stroked through my hair, kissing my forehead every so often I’d let out a choked sob, hoping that his kisses would help ease my frantic, heavy sobs.

I don’t know how long we held onto each other for but eventually my tears subsided and were finally spent.  I wiped the tearstains on my cheeks with my sleeve before a handkerchief appeared before my eyes with the W stitched to the side.  I smiled softly and took it and used it to dab my eyes.

“Merlin’s beard that was—gruesome.”

“Why?” he softly asked as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

“I—I’ve never cried like that in front of someone. Probably not the most attract—” he pressed his index finger to my lips silencing me.

“First of all, to say you’re not attractive is utter rubbish. So don’t you dare finish that statement.” I softly scoffed. “Second of all, it looked like you really needed it. It’s one thing to let it out all on your own, but to let it out with someone close to you…..doesn’t it feel just a bit better?”

“Yeah. It—it does. I always tried to be strong for Neville, he’s never even got to know mum and dad like I did. And Gran is always comparing him to dad, don’t get me wrong we love our Gran but sometimes she can be so critical. It’s like—at times she’s trying to mold us into dad in order to regain the son she lost.”

“Not to say you probably don’t get something from him, but I prefer you just being you. Your brilliant and golden-hearted self.” He pressed his head against mine as he wrapped an arm over my shoulder keeping me close to him.

“Thank you George.”

“No thanks needed love.” He gingerly brushed away the remaining tears hidden underneath my lashes and I softly smiled at him. “There she is, there’s my beautiful girl.”

“If you call beautiful being red-puffy eyed from crying, snot drooping down, and tearstains on her cheeks.”

“Still beautiful to me.” I rolled my eyes playfully.

“You are such a sap.”

“You made me a sap, but I don’t regret it. Especially when it annoys Fred.” I shoved my shoulder against his which made him chuckle.  “Here, drink this.” He handed me a small vial with crystal clear liquid.

“Is this another one of your test pranks?”

“You know I would never let you test something when you’re this vulnerable, honestly woman have you no faith in me?” I merely shrugged and he gawked at me, “For now I’m giving you a pass but expect to be punished later for doubting your loving and caring boyfriend. It’s just water, with a bit of healing herbs to ease the headaches I’m sure you’re feeling right now after all this crying.” I took the vial and uncapped it before taking the whole thing down like a shot of butterbeer.

Immediately I felt my headaches ease and my body slowly starting to succumb to slumber.  George adjusted us back onto our second cuddle position on the bed with my head over his heart and both his arms wrapped around me, our legs intertwined with each other.

“Just sleep now love. Anyone asks, I’ll hex them out allowing us some privacy.”

 “I love you George.” I whispered.

“I love you more (Y/n). And thank you for sharing something so personal with me. I promise Fred won’t know of this unless you want him to.” And I knew he’d keep that promise.  As much as I know Fred is probably worried for my well-being after that class, George won’t crack and tell him what he now knows even if he were put under the Cruciatus curse.

I felt him kiss my forehead before the spell of the water finally took it’s full effect and had me fall asleep safely in George’s arms where the last thing I heard was his strong heartbeat and the sound of his breathing.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

oh my GAWD THIS WAS SOOOOO CUTE!!!! A sweet ending to a beloved and romantic mini-series. Much like the plot of this story, i just came across this on a whim and just FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES much like Fred and reader fell in love. The way you wrote their letters was more romantic than anything Jane austin could write. I will continue to read this series whenever i want to feel lovey-dovey. Well done darling!!

Penpals - Part 6

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

It’s the morning of Fred and y/n’s wedding and they send one last letter to one another.

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My Freddie,

When I first received your letter by mistake, I nearly returned it unopened. Can you imagine that? The entire course of my life - our life - almost shifted because of one missed choice. But I’m grateful every day that I didn’t send it back. That I read it. That I found you in between the lines before I ever found you in person.

You once asked me what my legacy would be. I didn’t quite know how to answer back then. But now I do. You. This love. This life we’ve built. That will be the greatest thing I ever leave behind.

Do you remember the night at the Astronomy Tower? The way your fingers trembled at my cardigan? How I told you I didn’t want you to be careful? I’m so glad you listened to me. Not just that night but every night after. You never held back. Never shied away from what you wanted. You are realer than anything I’ve ever known, and raw in all the ways that mattered. The way you held me. The way you memorized me like a secret poem. The way you never rushed what we were growing into.

We’ve seen each other through so much since then. Making George my brother as much as he is yours, the three of us opening the shop together, your mother crying when she realized who I was, and Ron pretending not to approve even though he was clearly more peeved that you wouldn’t shut up about me.

And then there’s the cottage. Our cottage. With the overgrown garden and the stubborn rosemary bush you refused to pull out because “it has spirit.” You were right. It still grows wild, and it still smells like home.

But beyond the laughter, the adventures, the success…it’s the quiet moments I hold closest. Your hand brushing mine in the early morning light. The way you hum while you cook. The sound of your heart when I fall asleep on your chest. The way you still, after all this time, leave me little notes in Earl’s satchel (even when he pretends he’s retired from post).

You overfed him again, by the way. He waddled yesterday.

This morning, I woke with butterflies, and not because I’m nervous. Because I know I’m walking toward the person I’m meant for. You, Frederick Gideon Weasley. My man. My laugh. My magic.

You once said you’d love me like mischief and madness and moonlight. And you have. Every single day.

Today, I vow to do the same.

Yours, and only ever yours,

Your girl in green lace.

Your girl who chose you.

Your girl who now becomes your wife.

P.S. Yes, Earl is bringing this letter. No, you may not give him another treat.

———————————————————————

To my future wife (bloody hell, I’m actually marrying you!),

I told George not to wake me too early this morning. Said I needed my rest. Truth is, I needed a quiet moment with you, even before I see you.

I don’t even know where to start.

Maybe with that first letter? The one you weren’t supposed to open. The one I hadn’t meant for you. And yet you opened it - you opened me. And thank Merlin you did. You were sharp and mysterious and utterly brilliant. And funny. Funny enough to match me, which I didn’t think was humanly possible. You challenged me. Drove me mad. Made me feel like someone was finally listening to me, the real me, underneath the laughter and pranks.

You made me believe in fate. Not the kind that’s written in stars, but the kind we write ourselves - one word, one letter, one risk at a time.

I think of you every time I hear the wind over the lake. Every time I see moonlight catching on glass. Every time someone says my name and I wish it was you saying it instead.

I remember how your voice trembled the first time you said you were mine. How your hands pulled me close like I was already home. How even when you teased me, it was always laced with affection. I remember the green lace. (Merlin, do I remember the lace). But more than that, I remember the way you looked at me - like I was something to be believed in.

You’ve believed in every wild idea I’ve ever had. You stood by me when I thought our joke shop was just a dream and made it something real. You’ve taught me how to sit still, how to feel things all the way through, and how to hold on without fear.

Today I get to call you my wife. And it feels both surreal and completely right. Like I’ve been walking toward this moment since the day Earl first dropped off a letter that didn’t belong to you and yet somehow always did.

So here’s what I promise you, on this morning, before the chaos and the champagne and the cake I know I’ll accidentally drop.

I promise to make you laugh.

To bring you tea in bed when you’re too tired to get up.

To argue with you about garden gnomes and who last fed the owl.

To build a life with you that’s full of the same kind of mischief, magic, and madness we began with.

I promise that no matter what else changes, my love for you never will.

And if anyone tries to flirt with you - even now - I will hex their eyebrows off.

Forever your Freddie

(Proud future husband of the girl who taught me all about love)

P.S. If you’re nervous, just look at me. I’ll be the one crying before you even reach the altar. Don’t you dare make fun of me until after the ceremony.

P.P.S. Earl has already demanded cake. I’m afraid I’m too weak to his charms to not comply.

———————————————————————

Tags: @randomfan218-blog @ellouisa17 @votresoleil02 @solchienne @lou-diaries @pillowjj @starryeddie @mirkwoodshewolf @zannete @pinkcloudcat @loveenoughtofillmeup @babbling-creature @crashoutqueenie @eliengoddes @hagridshaircare

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Come here, no, no I'm-I'm not gonna hurt you I just wanna chat.....

HOW FUCKIN DARE YAH CUT IT OFF LIKE THAT AT THE END I OUTTA SLUG YAH!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THEM TO EVEN KISS AND YOU JUST LEAVE IT LIKE THAT!?!? I better see some serious smoochin at the start of the next chapter cause they've held PLENTY long now.

LUMINARIUM

Pairing - Vampire Henry (from the movie ‘Eat Locals’) and Fem!Reader.

Summary:

When your great aunt Ellie leaves you Luminarium in her will, you decide to escape London and start a new life in rural Norfolk. But the forest that borders the cottage is hiding secrets, and one of them is Henry, a lonely, centuries old vampire, who is not only mourning the loss of Ellie but hopes you might fill the void she left behind.

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Chapter 23 - An Irreversible Threshold

Author's Note - Chapter 22 ended with Reader being ill, curled up on the sofa, and Henry looking after her like the darling he is. He had just gone upstairs to get one of Ellie's diaries for Reader, before leaving for the night.

Those few of you still enduring this terribly slow burn, apologies for the long delay in posting this chapter. As I explained in a previous post, writing has been a struggle lately. I haven't had much time and when I have, I've been lacking inspiration. Daredevil: Born Again was also rather distracting. Matt kept trying to dominate my brain (not that I'm complaining!).

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Chapter 23 - An Irreversible Threshold

Henry faltered at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the handrail  tightly as he wrestled his emotions. He was under no delusions. He knew what he was. And it was certainly no angel. Choosing not to feed on humans meant nothing when he still had blood on his hands.

But to hear you say it…

He blinked the world back into focus. To hear you say it.  When he knew he was eternally damned…would never feel heaven’s light on his face…

He took a steeling breath and continued up the stairs. The same stairs he had carried a giggling Catherine up on their wedding night, when Luminarium was newly built and the smell of freshly felled oak was heady in the air. The same stairs he had rushed joyously up when she had given birth to each of their children. The same stairs he had crumpled upon, dying all over again, when one by one they had succumbed to the influenza that his curse had spared him from.

It was strange how some memories became so faint over time, while others remained as crystal clear as the day they happened. Why was it that the most torturous, the ones you would rather forget, were always the most vivid?

He hesitated on the landing, his gaze sweeping its four doors, before settling on Ellie’s bedroom.

That had once been his and Catherines.

And would very soon become yours…

Past and present swept around him again, such a bittersweet cocktail.

But what of the future?

Ellie seemed so certain that the two of you would share it. 

Although you couldn’t keep her room a shrine forever, it pleased him that you had granted her that temporary respect. More than you would ever know. His eyes glinted with dry amusement. His mounting affections for you were rising towards the heavens at least. 

It would also give him one final goodbye. To the woman who had been so many different things to him.  Like a daughter at first, reminding him so much of his darling Molly; and then a dear friend, a kindred spirit, who mirrored his reclusive nature, his love of nature and peace. Then, as she had grown older, she had become a mother figure, warm, reassuring…comforting. And yet, there had been times, even after so long, when they would be sitting by the fire and he would see glimmers of all three sparkling through the evening. It had been a strange but extraordinary friendship. One he would never forget. 

Shoulders heaving, he slowly opened her bedroom door, but immediately stopped in his tracks, hanging his head. 

He should have expected it. It had been eight months since he had lost her. Yet he had naively believed that his heightened senses would still be able to pick up a tiny trace of her. That her familiar scent might still linger.

But no. She was gone. 

Finding it too difficult to go inside, his eyes poignancy roamed the room instead. The dormer window seat where she had loved to curl up and read; the pretty Victorian Rose wallpaper filled with paintings of her beloved animals and birds; the dressing table with the triptych of oval mirrors, garlanded with the dried flowers that she loved to make. All framed by the exposed wooden beams that he had carved and fitted with his own bare hands centuries before.

Shaking his head, he turned.  Enough. 

He clenched a despairing fist.

Enough!

Slowly closing the door, he reverently brushed the timeworn wood with his fingertips before taking a sobering breath and stepping away.  

In startling contrast, your own scent overwhelmed him as he stepped into your bedroom. Already so familiar. So soothing upon his weary soul. And yet so tantalising. So intoxicating.

He inhaled desperately, his body shuddering, needing so much to bury himself in your warmth, to hold you, feel you close.  He had long resigned himself to losing mortal friends, but he hadn’t felt grief like this in a very long time. Ellie’s passing seemed to amplify all those who had gone before her and the weight had never felt heavier.

Struggling to regain his composure he headed for your bedside table. As tempting as it was, he was determined to keep his visit brief, though he did hesitate, smiling gently, when he saw the rose he had given you under the porch. 

The sight of it lifted his spirits, tempering his grief, and a smile shivered across his lips.

You had kept it by your bedside.

Sadly, there wasn’t much life left in it now. It stooped mournfully, no longer able to remain upright in the glass of water. Most of the petals had fallen, surrounding the glass, epitomising the bittersweet end of the season. 

Summer's lease hath all too short a date, he lamented, but his eyes suddenly softened as the smile pricked back. 

He knew exactly what he would be carving tonight.

His gaze remained tender as he lifted Ellie’s diary, telling himself that he would read them all himself one day. Reunite with her again through the words she had left behind. Her precious legacy.

But he frowned slightly. While your similarities to Ellie were heartwarming, he was becoming increasingly concerned about your talk of dreams. Ellie had often mentioned having vivid dreams, even the occasional vision.  He had never taken them too seriously, but your insistence that your dreams had been much more intense since moving here was beginning to unsettle him. Was there a connection? And if so, was it simply a personality trait passed down through the generations, or did it have something to do with Luminarium itself?

You had also been lying about searching for Scorch the night you had been caught in the rain.  He knew you had been specifically looking for him.  It hadn’t only been your heartbeat that had given you away. There had been a subtle change in your responses to him when he had stepped onto the bridleway.  A sudden hesitance. Even a wariness. The alcohol in your system hadn’t been able to hide it from him completely. 

And it continued to simmer behind your eyes, beneath your smiles.

His frown deepened. But why? Had something happened at the pub to bring about this change?  Because it certainly hadn’t been present before.

When he returned to the living room you were almost asleep again so he quietly placed Ellie’s diary on the coffee table, gave you a final lingering glance, and turned to go.

“You can’t see rainbows…” 

He let out an amused exhalation as he peered back at you, your words so unexpected, so random. 

And yet so endearing. 

But he could see that your fever was making you slightly delirious now, irrational tears pricking at your eyes as you balanced on the precipice of dreams, struggling to make sense of the moment. The fact that he couldn’t see rainbows was plainly distressing you. 

He returned to your side and crouched down again. “While that is very true, pet, I can’t say I’ve thought much about it.” He ran a sympathetic gaze over your flushed face, intent on reassuring you.

“I can see moonbows though,’ he quickly put in with a small smile. 

You blinked up at him restlessly. “What’s a moonbow?”

He leaned in a little closer.  “A lunar rainbow,” he started in a low, mysterious tone as he reached across to tentatively drag a stray hair from your perspiring forehead.  “Rare as gold dust, they are. Don’t see ‘em often. Need all the right conditions - full moon preferably, and a clear night.”

To his relief his words seemed to be calming you, though you continued to watch him with a sense of urgency. “Describe one to me…?”

“It’s when…” He faltered, swallowing thickly. By god, he wanted to reach across. Feel the softness of your lips beneath his fingertips.  Just a fleeting touch… 

But if he did, there would be no turning back. He wouldn’t be able to stop touching you.  And however much you might want that, he still feared the implications. You had no idea of his continuing struggle with the darkness inside.  The constant battle to keep it suppressed. It didn’t matter that he chose only to feed from animals, it never diminished, the bloodlust. He would never harm a single hair on your head but the potential to wreak death and destruction would always be there.

He took a breath. “…It’s when moonlight passes through the rain. Same as rainbows but with moonlight instead of sunlight. Can’t see much in the way of colour, mind. Mostly white.”

Your features began to relax further and you managed a faint smile.  “I hope I get to see one…” you murmured, your eyes already glazing back into sleep. “Like the badgers…”

Your tone was so wistful. So full of anticipation. He loved that innocence about you. It made the rather impetuous desire to dazzle you even stronger. He wanted to show you everything. All the mystery of the nocturnal countryside that so few people ever witnessed. While the chances of seeing a moonbow were pretty slim - he and Ellie had only shared the experience once - he had no intension of bursting your bubble.

He slowly stood up again.

“You will, pet. I’m sure you will.”

But as he continued to watch you, finding it difficult to tear himself away, he was gripped by a wave of bewildering emotions. He had always sought out solitude, thrived on it, for hundreds of years. He spent time with humans like Ellie, of course, but they were like-minded people, who embraced their own peaceful isolation. You could sit with Ellie for hours, not exchange a single word, and it would not feel uncomfortable at all.  

And yet…it was only since meeting you that he felt…alone, truly alone, for the first time in his long life.

****************

You slept fitfully, tossing and turning throughout the night, one moment burning up and throwing aside the blankets, the next freezing and pulling them tightly around you again. Poor Scorch eventually fled to Ellie’s chair, where he monitored your agitation with such large piercing eyes that you were convinced he morphed into an owl at one point.  But while your dreams were still rather unsettled, none were Luminarium related this time. In fact, you seemed desperately intent on finding a rainbow. Although for some bizarre reason, it had to be white.

In the early hours of the morning, you stirred awake to the creak of a floorboard. 

Your immediate instinct was to murmur Henry’s name.

“Aye,” he replied softly, his voice already comfortingly familiar. “Just checkin’ in again.  Revivin’ the fire a bit.”  

As you heard the metallic scrape of the poker, and the sudden hiss of flames, you tried to open your eyes but they smarted and felt as hot and feverish as the rest of your body.

“What time is it?”

“Only a little after four. Go back to sleep, pet.” Henry’s voice suddenly sounded clearer, as if he had turned to look back at you. “There’s a good lass.”

His tone was so wonderfully lulling you were happy to comply.

You smiled to yourself under the soft blankets. “Never been called lass before.”

“Like it, d’ya?”  To your pleasant surprise, there was heat smouldering beneath his teasing, the huskiness of his tone making you wish you had the energy to fling off the blankets, rush across to him, and simply demand he kiss you. You knew he wanted to. 

Your felt a rush of desire.

Yes…he wanted to…

“I like everything you call me…” you whispered as you drifted back into dream.

You didn’t wake again until half past seven. There was no sign of Henry now, but the sun was beginning to rise. 

You sighed your disappointment. You had really hoped to see him again before he returned to the cellar. But as you started to sit up you gasped, the biggest smile breaking across your face.

Beside you on the sofa he had left you the most beautiful carving.  A tiny rose.  Only about the size of a golf ball but incredibly detailed, like the rest of his exquisite work. 

You felt a flutter in your chest as you stared down at it, hoping this wasn’t another dream. That it wouldn’t pop out of existence like a bubble the moment you touched it. 

Reaching for it with trembling fingers, you placed it in the palm of your hand. While you still felt achy and delicate, warmth flooded through you, instantly reviving. 

What else could this be, but confirmation of Henry’s ownaffections?

When you finally snapped out of your love-sick daze, you carefully placed the rose on the coffee table, gave it one last giddy look, and shuffled into the kitchen, still wrapped in one of the blankets.  

To your further joy, Henry had also left you a note on the dining table, beside the bag of keys he had sorted for you last night. 

You were still sleeping at sunrise. Didn’t want to wake you again. There’s extra soup in the fridge. Hope you feel better today. Henry. X

Another megawatt smile broke across your face.  He had added a kiss beside his name!  A kiss!  Sucking in a deep happy breath you suddenly felt far too excited to stomach any breakfast, and instead of returning to the living room you hurried through the other doorway, that led out into the hall…and to the cellar.

The thick red curtain that usually kept the door hidden was permanently swept to one side now.  But lingering outside it, like a besotted schoolgirl, was becoming an embarrassing habit. Standing huddled in a blanket only made it all the more cringeworthy.

Rolling your eyes you draped it over the bannister at the bottom of the stairs and headed up to the bathroom. After sweating buckets most of the night, you desperately needed a shower.

You undressed clumsily, still feeling rather weak, but when you finally stepped beneath the water it felt glorious. The hardest part was trying not to think about Henry.

Failing miserably, you took a longing breath as you turned your back on the cubical door and imagined him slipping into the shower behind you…

*********

Henry was still awake when he heard the hiss of the shower.  He had too much on his mind to sleep.  You, mostly.

His eyes flicked up towards the ceiling as he laid in bed.

Don’t…he warned himself. Don’t you dare…

But he failed miserably, closing his eyes as he stepped into the shower behind you…

***********

After drying your hair, you felt well enough to get dressed, though you kept to comfy lounge pants and an oversized sweater. Back in the kitchen you managed a slice of toast and jam this time, though you decided to take your cup of tea through into the sunroom. It was the first time you had actually sat in it. You had given it a fleeting glance a few days ago, but had been far too busy with the rest of the cottage to do anything else.

Despite its small size, it was an enchanting room. Not quite a conservatory, but much brighter than the rest of the house due to the French doors and generously sized windows either side. All were panelled to match the rest of the cottage and dotted with the same stained glass.

Nearly all of Luminarium’s windows had at least one stained glass panel.  It was its little quirk, the idiosyncrasy behind its unusual name. But the sunroom boasted the most and on a sunny day, at just the right time, it was magical. You could vividly remember as a child, stretching out your arms, fascinated by the kaleidoscope of colours splashing your skin, and dancing through them like one might dust motes. 

While the room was beamed like the rest of the cottage, on this occasion they had been painted white to further brighten it, and to compliment the cream walls and shabby-chic decor.  It also brought out the stained glass reflections even more strikingly.

There was a plush, pastel green sofa with a small coffee table in front of it, varying sized rugs scattered beneath, and one of Ellie’s beautiful landscape paintings on the wall behind.  The golden field, edged with poppies and trees, was certain to be local.

It didn’t have the same characterful inglenook fireplace of the living room, but the more contemporary gas fire opposite the seating had a charm of its own, its gentle hiss just as relaxing as the crackling of wood and flames.  On its right, next to the window, was a small writing desk, on its wider left, a rather archaic looking television set and DVD player.  There was a tall narrow bookshelf beside them filled with DVD’s.  You smiled.  You could just imagine Henry and Ellie sitting here of an evening, watching those black and white movies he said she liked. 

Curling up against the chunky sofa arm, you spent the morning  alternating between staring dreamily out across the small patio into the garden, idly flicking through the wildlife magazines you had brought down from the attic, and browsing the internet for Halloween costumes. You still had no idea what you were going to wear for Marion’s party, you just knew that you wanted to keep it simple.  Nothing too extreme, or uncomfortable. This was going to be your first introduction to a lot of Whittlehurst’s residents and you didn’t want to do it dressed up as a pumpkin!

You heated up the rest of Henry’s broth for lunch but still didn’t have much of an appetite for anything else. After you pushed aside your bowl, you spent far too long staring down at his note, admiring his elegant hand, and smiling dreamily at his kiss. What you really wanted to do was bring the paper to your lips and kiss him back.  Resisting the juvenile impulse you returned to the sunroom and delved back into Ellie’s diary again. 

Amongst the inspiring recipes and delightful accounts, you found a gem of a fact about Henry.  The date of his birthday!  It turned out it was only in two weeks time!  Ellie had joked in her entry that he hated celebrating his birthday, yet never failed to turn up to mark the occasion with her.  You were determined to celebrate it with him now, and while you never wanted to compete with dear Ellie, you were going to make it a birthday he would never forget! 

***********

Henry was woken by a vehicle pulling up outside Luminarium.  Large. Cumbersome. Familiar low hum of the exhaust as it came to a halt. 

He immediately recognised Jared’s van.

A couple of minutes later the man knocked at the cottage door. 

“Jared!  Hi!”

It was obvious from your surprised tone that this was an impromptu visit.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you -”

“Of course not!”

Already feeling guilty about invading your shower earlier, even when your own desire for him had been so palpable, he turned on his side, reining in his heightened senses. But it was difficult to blot out your voices completely, and as your conversation trickled tormentingly through his barriers, it triggered that frustrating spark of jealousy again. 

“ - I’d just finished for the day when I found this in the footwell of the van. I didn’t want you to spend your next walk with one cold hand.”

“Oh!  I didn’t even realise it was missing! Thanks! ” 

A glove, Henry deduced, as his brow furrowed.  He was still curious to know where the two of you went.  What you did.  Talked about.  

The plaguing thoughts shattered his good intentions and he quickly reached out for your heartbeat.

Relieved to find it reassuringly steady, he moved on to Jared’s. While it wasn’t racing it was fast enough to betray a lingering hope.  He wasn’t happy about the fact, but he could hardly blame the man.  

“How have you been? You weren’t feeling too good when I dropped you off the other day.  I was going to call but didn’t want to seem overly intrusive.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think that!  But no…not great.  I think I might have caught something at the pub. I wouldn’t get too close if I were you, in case it’s covid!” 

When you laughed, Henry guessed Jared had done something amusing. A subtle step back, perhaps?

“Strange. No one else is ill as far as I know.”

“I did get caught in the rain that same night…looking for Scorch…so it might be that.”

Your heart did react this time, just a fleeting elevation that exposed your lie again. You hadn’t been looking for Scorch, you had been looking for him.  And he was determined to eventually find out why. 

“I hope you’re feeling better now.”

“Better than I was, thanks.”

“And that you found Scorch.”

“Oh yes.  He was fine.”

The conversation stalled and you both fell silent, but Henry detected no awkwardness between you.  Once Jared accepted that his attraction towards you was futile, he knew you would become good friends.  Jared’s horticultural knowledge would be extremely useful.  

“Well I won’t keep you,” Jared finally said.  “This was just a quick stop on my way to mums. I’m still clipping the topiary at Audlen Manor, so if you wanted to come along again, take a look at the gardens next time, just give me a call.”

Henry’s whole body tensed at the mention of Audlen.

“Thanks!  I will!”

He barely acknowledged your goodbyes as he scrambled out of bed and stood in the middle of the cellar, bare chest heaving.

You had been to Audlen? 

As Jared’s van spluttered into life again, Henry’s head snapped up towards it.

What had you discovered there? Had you learned about the fire? 

Agitated, he started to fidget and pace.

No.  He was overreacting.  There was no reason to believe your visit had been anything but innocent.  Why should a long forgotten event be brought up in conversation in the first place?  Or for Jared to even be privy to it? 

He raked his hand across his face uneasily.  And yet…it seemed too convenient…too much of a coincidence…

Jared had said next time.  Take a look at the gardens next time.  Which meant you had looked at something else while you had been there.  If not the gardens, it only left the manor.  

And that begged the question…which one?  Past or present?

As Jared drove away, Henry envied the man’s freedom, suddenly feeling stifled again, trapped, caged in by his curse.

Hurrying into his clothes, he wrenchedopen the secret door and tore down the smuggler’s tunnel, desperate to escape, to distance himself from Luminarium, and from you. 

At the tunnel’s end, he resumed his restless pacing, impatiently awaiting sunset. 

**************

You were in the kitchen, about to rustle up a quick omelette, when you finally heard the cellar door open.  You had been waiting for a knock at the front door but this was better.  This was progress. 

Though you felt a flutter of excitement, you couldn’t help glance up at the wall clock. While you never expected Henry at any set time, the later hour seemed…unusual.  It was almost nine. You had become used to him making an appearance not long after sunset.

It was particularly frustrating when you were so eager to see him again, not only to thank him for the beautiful rose but to tease out the intensions behind it.  You were no longer feverish, significantly less tired, and while you still didn’t feel one hundred percent, you felt a hell of a lot better than you did last night. You even had your appetite back.  

But most importantly, you decided wickedly, you were certainly up for some serious flirting again. 

“OK to come in, pet?” You heard Henry gently call out and you bit back a giddy smile.  

“Of course!  I’m in the kitchen!” 

While you appreciated his continued respect, you quickly added: “you can come straight in, you know. You don’t have to ask my permission anymore.” 

You turned from the worktop, drinking him in like a fine wine as he hesitated in the doorway. Damn, he looked more handsome each time you saw him.

“Only right,” he insisted, rather soberly you noticed. “Never like to just barge in.”

Your brow twitched. You didn’t know why but something seemed slightly off about him. 

He fleetingly lowered his gaze, as if he had sensed your confusion, and when Scorch rushed into the kitchen, drawn by the sound of his voice, he squatted down to greet him. 

“So, how are ya farin’ today?” 

“Are you asking me or the cat?”

If he was amused, he didn’t show it as he glanced back up at you.  “Feelin' better for a good rest?”

“Much, thanks. Though when I spoke to Jared he said none of the pub crowd are ill.”  You shrugged. “Maybe I did catch a chill from being out in the rain.”

“While that certainly wouldn’t have helped, maybe gettin’ poorly was a sign, pet.”

You blinked down at him in surprise. “A sign of what?” 

“That ya’ve been overdoin’ things.”  He frowned as he stood up again. “That ya need to slow down a bit.  Give all this…” he gestured to the kitchen but just as quickly redirected his hands inward towards himself,  “an’ me…some time to sink in.” 

His concern was rather overwhelming, but in a good way, filling you with the same sense of warmth and comfort that his presence had last night.

You acknowledged the situation with a shake of your head.  “It’s bizarre really.  I keep forgetting…you know…what you are.  To me, you’re…”  

You were reminded of his words again.

I was Henry first…

And how much that meant to him.   

“…You’re…just Henry.” 

A silent gratitude flickered behind his eyes.  “That works for me, pet.”

You gave him a demure smile but his gaze was already drifting across the kitchen worktops.  

“Managed to eat anythin’?”  

He was looking for evidence, you realised, although his attentiveness continued to delight you.  After so many years of unrequited love, you relished every word, every sweet gesture.  

“Um…some toast and jam for breakfast. The rest of your broth for lunch…”  You glanced towards the fridge.  “And I was just thinking about making an omelette.”

His attention darted back to you. “I’ll make ya one if ya like.”

“I think I can summon the energy to make an omelette,” you returned playfully, though you were secretly relieved he had perked up again.  “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Told ya.  I like cookin’.”  He strode across to the kitchen table and pulled out one of the chairs.  “Now sit.”

As much as you loved Mr Bossy Boots you tried not to make it too obvious. 

“Even a boring old omelette?” 

“Ah, but this would be the Henry Special!” 

“The Henry Special?  Oooooh!  Sounds intriguing.”  You didn’t need any more persuading, quickly taking a seat.  “Go on then. Impress me.”

He rubbed his hands together.  “Prepare to be ruined for all other omelettes.”

Eyes widening, you laughed.  “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“I can’t either…” he cringed, looking adorably sheepish as he turned on his heels.  “Swiftly movin’ on…”

“So what’s so special about a Henry Special?” 

“That would be tellin’.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

When he reached up for the frying pan that hung on a hook beside the Aga, his jacket lifted slightly so you could better admire his thick thighs and perfect behind in those snug black jeans.  You felt a little tingle as you wondered what a Henry Special would be like in the bedroom.

“I…er…appreciated last night,” you stumbled awkwardly, reluctantly averting your eyes as he collected butter and a carton of eggs from the fridge. “That you hung around when I wasn’t much company.”

“No hardship, pet.”  

He reached for wooden salt and pepper shakers on one of the low shelves. 

“But I will start taking things slower.  I promise.” 

“Good.” 

You drew a breath, taking a moment.  “The rose was beautiful.  A lovely surprise to wake up to. Thank you.”

“It was nothin’. Easy enough to whip up.” He peered back at you with a flicker of a smile. “Much like omelettes.”  

His gaze softened. “But I thought it might cheer ya up a bit. Couldn’t help seeing the rose on ya bedside table when I collected Ellie’s diary.  Looked so sorry for itself that I thought I’d make ya somethin’ more permanent.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” you insisted, wishing he wasn’t so self-deprecating.  “Your sculptures are stunning and I’m thrilled to have one of my own now.  It really did cheer me up.”  You faltered, watching him steadily.  “Made up for the disappointment of missing you this morning.”

“Well, I’m ‘ere now.”

“Yes. You are.” 

His eyes lingered on your face.  “Two eggs, or three?”

The look that passed between you had nothing to do with eggs. 

“…Two, please.”

Longing twisted inside you.

If he didn’t kiss you soon you would go crazy!

When he turned back to the worktop, you quietly sighed your frustration and rested your chin on your hand, following his swift and efficient bustling around the kitchen.  Rather than find it intrusive, you loved how familiar he was with the cottage, how much a part of Luminarium he was.

“You’re a bit later this evening,” you said at length, trying to sound casual, not too presumptuous.  But his hesitation had an unsettling weight to it. 

“…Just walkin’.” 

“In the forest?”

“Nah, down by the coast.”

Your earlier feeling of unease stirred again as he started rummaging around in the cutlery drawer. You tried to ignore it, telling yourself that he was simply preoccupied with what he was doing, but he was giving off that strange vibe again.  You couldn’t quite pin down the emotion.  A little distant, maybe?  He just didn’t seem…himself. 

“Were we talking about rainbows last night?” You steered a little desperately.  

He turned with a smile that helped chase some of your misgivings away.  “Aye.  Can’t ya remember?”

“It all started to feel a little fuzzy later in the evening,” you admitted,  and you suddenly hoped his subdued mood wasn’t down to anything you had said or done while you were burning up with a high temperature.

“Ya got really upset that I couldn’t see rainbows, so I told ya about -”

“Moonbows!” You chimed in brightly, as it came rushing back to you.  

“That’s right.”

The memory of his low soothing voice tingled through your mind. “…Lunar rainbows?  Was that what you called them.”

“I did,” he nodded.

“So that’s why I was so desperate to find a white rainbow in my dream last night!”  You eyed him a touch skeptically.  “And they’re really real?”

“Google ‘em an’ see.”

“I will.  I’m curious to see one now.  But I think I’ll have my…Henry Special…first.”

Your words ended up sounding rather more suggestive than you intended, but you didn’t regret it. 

Amused, Henry started breaking the eggs into a mixing bowl.  “Comin’ right up.”

As he leaned across to discard the shells in the composting bin, you smiled knowingly.  “I discovered something about you today.”

You noticed him immediately falter in his movements as he returned to the eggs. 

“Ya did?”  There was a guardedness to his tone as he snatched up a hand whisk from a utensil holder and started beating the eggs vigorously.

“From one of Ellie’s diaries.”

Again, a slight tenseness hung in the air before he finally answered.  “An’ what might that be?”

“Your birthday! In only two weeks time!  I bet you wouldn’t have told me!”

“Probably not,” he countered light-heartedly. 

“Then I think that’s another thing I’ll add to my landlady contract,” you teased back.  “Dates of birthdays must be disclosed, and in due course, celebrated however the landlady sees fit.”  

He stopped whisking and turned with a raised eyebrow. 

“That so?”

“Yep.” You nodded firmly.  “Though I’m puzzled.  If you hate celebrating birthdays so much, why all the cards?”

He sighed his exasperation.  “I don’t hate celebratin’ ‘em.”  His brow furrowed. “Is that what Ellie wrote?” 

“It was jokingly meant!” You reassured him when he looked a little hurt.  

“When ya’ve lived as long as I ‘ave, it’s difficult to muster any enthusiasm for another year.  Cards are easier, an’ worked well, ‘cause Ellie liked her card givin’.”

Your heart started racing, pre-empting your words.  “I can be…inventive.”

Suppressing a grin, you loved how taken aback he looked, but he quickly recovered.  “Oh aye?”  

There was a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“I promise you, you’ll celebrate in a way you’ve never celebrated before.”

He returned to his whisking with a smirk.  “Someone’s definitely on the mend!”

While that was true, your flaming cheeks felt just as feverish, so you decided to put the flirting on hold for the time being and stop distracting him.  However hungry you were for Henry, the smell of food was temporarily more attractive.

A few minutes later he lowered the very pale, almond shaped omelette in front of you. 

“One Henry Special…” he delivered with adorable flourish.

Much to your embarrassment, your stomach rumbled its thanks before you had the chance to do so verbally.

“Ya welcome,” Henry chuckled as he slipped into the seat opposite you. 

Conscious of his gaze, your knife and fork hovered hesitantly over your plate. It had been different with the soup last night because Henry had retreated beside the fire, but it seemed strange being the only one eating at the table. 

Thankfully, he picked up on the fact and tactfully looked away towards Scorch, who was grooming himself in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

Relaxing, you tucked in, not realising just how hungry you were until you took the first bite.

“Oh my god…this is so good!”  You sighed between mouthfuls.It didn’t taste quite the same as omelettes you’d had before.  While they were firmer and drier, this was richer, creamier.  Almost…custardy? 

“It’s like…” You paused thoughtfully.  “Like an omelette…but with a lovely scrambled eggs softness on the inside.”

“Aye.  French omelette.  Ellie liked ‘em.  Particularly with herbs.  But I thought I’d keep it simple while ya under the weather.”

“I plan on growing loads next year,” you put in as you continued eating.  “Keep up Ellie’s herb garden.”

“Hoped ya might.”

When you had finished, you laid down your knife and fork with a happily sated smile.  “Simple but delicious.  I’ve never had an omelette quite like that before.  I’m guessing they’re cooked a little differently to British omelettes.”

“There’s a technique,” he agreed.  “But it’s easy enough to learn.”   

“You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

You caught each other’s eyes across the table.  

“If ya like.”

A pleasant tremor ran though you.  God, you loved it when he said that.  With that deep sexy tone of his.  It was like a rougher version of Wesley, from The Princess Bride, saying as you wish.

But you were no longer thinking about omelettes…

Kiss me, Henry…

If ya like…

Oh yes…I’d like.  Very much…

Flustered, you promptly stood up and took your empty plate over to the countertop.  After setting it next to the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes, you glanced back at him hopefully.  “How about a game of chess?”

His chair scraped the flagstone floor as he rose to his feet. “Sure ya up to it?”

“Definitely!  I’ve missed our games.  You can teach me more about those knife moves you were talking about.”

“They’re forks,” he snorted, eyes flashing with amusement.  “As ya well know.” 

You grinned.  “Why don’t you set up the board while I do the washing up?” 

“Want any help?”

“You cooked.”

“Which took all of five minutes.”

“No, I don’t mind doing it.  But you always could stoke up the fire.”  Your smile twitched back encouragingly.  “Add another log if it needs it.” 

He gave you a nod.  “On m’way.”

Gnawing at your lip, you followed his movements with a troubled gaze, still unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.  His cheerfulness seemed strained at times, his humour almost forced. 

If it wasn’t down to anything that had happened last night, another niggling worry was that Henry had somehow discovered you had been to Audlen manor.

The thought ignited a fire at the back of your throat, a fear that through doing so, you might have jeopardised your future together. What if he thought you had betrayed him by going there, behind his back, invading his painful past?  Especially when he had promised to share it all with you in time.  But you weren’t afraid of his anger, even knowing what he was and capable of, only the possibility of losing him.

You felt on tenterhooks as you washed up, rushes of adrenaline demanding you stop what you were doing and go confront him, ask what was wrong.  But each time, you suppressed your emotions, took a deep calming breath and continued scrubbing.  

When you eventually returned to the living room, Henry was sitting in his chair, the chess board set up and waiting.  A cheerful fire was already blazing, Scorch stretched out in front of it, but Henry stared into the flames broodingly.

You lingered beside the sofa watching him, struggling to decide what to do.  Maybe you were overreacting, making mountains out of molehills yet again.  Henry was going to have low days like anyone.  More so, given the cruel hand he had been dealt; all that he had lost over the centuries. 

However, the sobering thought only served to made you feel even more guilty about going to Audlen Manor in the first place.

“Henry?”

Snapping out of his reverie, he turned his head.

“Is everything ok?”  You searched his face anxiously.  “You seem…a little distracted.”

“Pay me no mind, pet,” he waved away, gesturing instead to the chess board.  “Come an’ sit.  An’ I’ll teach ya all about knives.”

You smiled thinly when he winked, too wound up to enjoy the joke.

Remaining by the sofa, you fidgeted restlessly with the patchwork throw draped over the back. “I know I wasn’t quite myself last night,” you persisted, trying to keep your tone light to downplay your worries.  “But if I owe you an apology for anything I might have -”

“An apology?”  His confusion answered for you.  “No, love, of course not!”  He gave you a stern, though slightly perplexed look.  “Don’t talk daft.”

But instead of feeling relieved, a knot tightened in your stomach.  Could it be Audlen then? 

“Ya seem a little distracted ya’self, pet.”

Your heart beat faster as Henry drew himself slowly up from his chair, but at the same time the adrenalin surged back through you. Whether it was the reason behind his low spirits or not, you wanted your visit to Audlen to be out in the open.  It just didn’t feel right to keep the truth hidden from him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” you began hesitantly.  “But I want you to know that I discovered it by accident…I never sought it out…honestly…”

His expression remained impassive, giving nothing away, as he started walking towards you.

“Although I…” you faltered, the guilt rising again.  “…I did go there…to…to Audlen Manor…”

A shadow flitted across his face at the name.  “I know.”

You took a step back at the confirmation.  You didn’t know why.  It was simply a reflex. 

“No…”  The steely edge in his eyes clouded with concern as he reached out.  “No pet…not that…please not that…”

A veteran of time he might have been, but his own knee-jerk reaction was to totally misread yours.

Closing the space between you, he quickly reached for your hands, startling you when he clasped them urgently.  “Don’t ya ever be afraid of me, d’ya hear?  Told ya before.  I would never hurt ya, pet.”  

Sucking in your breath, your heart leapt as his fingers traced a soothing path upwards, to lightly stroke your lower arms. “Ya’ll always be safe with me. Ya know that, don’t ya?  Always.” 

You gaped at him, finding it difficult to focus on anything but his touch; the blissful sensation of his skin against yours.  Warmer than you expected; he must have fed recently.  Not quite human, but close enough.  It made no difference to you.  Ice cold or on fire, you wanted him more than you had wanted any man before. 

You expected him to pull away, make a hasty retreat, like the other times he had shied away from anything too intimate, but his caresses continued, tantalisingly slow; deliberate and unwavering.

His gaze fleetingly dropped, as if he were acknowledging it for the first time too, and when his eyes lifted to yours again, they burned with conflict. 

“Tell me…”  he asked, jaw tightening.  “How did ya find out?” 

Despite his grim expression, the gentle motion of his fingertips were as encouraging as they were titillating. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile.  “We were joking around in the pub.  Sharing spooky stories, because of Halloween.”  You took a breath.  “Jared’s working at Audlen so he mentioned the story behind the old house.  And then Gerald chipped in.”

“Butler Books?”  

“Yes. You know Gerald?”

“I know of him.  Ellie loved her books. An’ Gerald loves his history.”  He sighed his resignation.   “An’ evidently, some things I assumed had been forgotten, were not.”

“I knew straight away that the gypsy had to be you.  And Lord Walpole’s ancestor, Clara.  But the rest…”

You stalled and the room fell silent. Until you finally summoned the courage to ask. 

“The fire…did you really -”

“Start it?”

When his hands stilled against your arms, you felt a sharp pang of regret.  Giving him a tense nod, the silence stretched again.

“Wasn’t deliberate.  I swear to ya.”  His eyes glittered with his inner demons as he battled to keep his composure.  “A tussle…a toppled candle…spread so bloody fast…”

“An accident,” you stated softly. 

You knew there would be much more to the sad story, and in time he would tell it, but for now you were just relieved.  An accidental fire you could bare. 

“Makes no difference,” he choked.  “I’m still to blame.  Still ‘ave blood on m’ hands.”

Heart aching for him, you reached for those hands.  Squeezed them tight. 

“I’m not saying you should forget the past, but maybe it’s time to stop tormenting yourself.”

“Easier said than done, pet.”  He gave you a strained smile.  “Though I know ya mean well.”

“I’m sorry.  I should never have gone to Audlen.  It was wrong of me.”

Angry with yourself, your eyes blurred.  “You said you would never hurt me, but here I am, hurting you by dredging up more of your painful past.”

He watched you in bewilderment.  “Hey…none of that…what did I just say about talkin’ daft…”  Resuming his own caresses, his fingers entwined with yours.  “An’ certainly no tears.  ‘specially for me.  Fault was mine.  Shoulda told ya sooner.  It was somethin’ that needed to be brought to light.”

“But only when you were ready.  Not forced like this.”  Your hand moved against his, gently back and forth, a silent apology.  For a long moment you both seemed entranced by its rhythm.

“Love…” he started to protest, but he looked so weary now, so haunted, his handsome features weighted by the ghosts of the past.  “Ya know what I am.  What I’m -”

“You’re Henry, remember.  You’ve always been Henry.”  A tentative smile fought through your own frustrations. “You’re my Henry…whether we just remain friends or…”  

A rush of self-consciousness froze your words but he was evidently roused by the notion, a smile curling his own lips as he brought his hand up to gently brush your cheek.

“Your Henry, eh?”  he teased playfully, the shadows lifting from his face for the time being.  “Possessive, are ya?”

Your breath snagged in your throat as his knuckles skimmed your jawline.

“I think I can cope with that,” he murmured huskily.  “Be nothin’ compared to me, mind.”  His eyes smouldered dangerously as they roamed your face.  “I’m warnin’ ya right now…”

“If you’re trying to scare me off you need to do better than that…”  you tried to tease back, but the words tumbled shakily from your throat, the very thought of his possessive side making you light-headed.

When his thumb flicked up to graze your bottom lip, your whimper triggered his own low moan.

“Henry, please…”

The world seemed to shift, turn on its axis, and you felt you had both suddenly crossed an irreversible threshold.  The air felt dizzyingly tangible, crackling with anticipation, charged with the crazy truth that Ellie had foreseen years before.  That this was meant to happen. That she had gifted you Luminarium for the sole purpose of setting it in motion.

“Please don’t stop…”

Henry groaned as his hands swept up to cradle your face; a low guttural submission that shot straight to your core.

“Bloody miracle I held out this long…”

**********

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments and reblogs are always much appreciated. xxx

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[mirkwoodshewolf]

A well start for s.2 poor Will he so badly wants to be there for Steph god I just wanna hug this little boi and protect him from all that do him harm. And I do love the twist from the last chap and a bit here on Steve being involved in being the big brother to Eleven and Hop being the dad figure (now she's got a whole family hehe). Well done and I'm loving the sweet friendship that Eddie and Steph have :) it'll really come into play once s.4 comes around (but that's for another time) well done dearie keep up the good work

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter 9

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Season 2 Summary: One Year after the strange disappearance of Will & Stephanie, all their hard work to contain their sanity starts to unravel when something from the Upside Down comes looking for them. Not sure what to do, they turn to their loved ones, hoping that they can put a stop to the evil that's spreading and destroying their town once again. Because in the Fall of 1984... everything changes once again.

🎲Chapter Summary: As the town preps for Halloween, a high-scoring rival shakes things up in the arcade. Meanwhile, Will starts seeing things that aren’t there, Steph starts going downhill when she finally starts to feel better, and a skeptical Hopper inspects a field of rotting pumpkins.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 10,074

🎲Date: 6/5/25

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; Implied Bullying; Heavy Guilt; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implied Mental Health Issues; Mentioning of Dying/Being Killed; Smoking; Mention of Life Threatening Injuries; Scars; Blood; Nightmares; Implied Child Abuse; Slight Stalking. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome to Season 2! I'm so excited to be back and ready to give you guys more. This chapter, I'll admit, is a little all over the place since it's introducing a lot of storylines right off the bat. But I promise you that the next chapter won't be as messy. There's also a few things I'm going to point out for S2.

1) Dr. Owens isn't showing up just yet. Because Will & Steph were taken to a regular hospital last chapter rather than the Lab's one, he won't be in this for a while.

2) The "Lost Sister" episode is going to be MIA. Since that's an El-Centric episode, it won't matter to this plot. Instead, and with good news, that episode will reveal Steve & Steph's pasts (Yay!). I'm super excited to write that one.

And finally, 3) This whole season will be dealing with some heavy topics with certain characters. Obviously I'll warn you beforehand, but just be prepared when reading forward. Alrighty! Enough of my rambling. Enjoy the chapter!

On a cool Autumn night, Dustin Henderson nearly collided with his older sister in the hallway. The youngster hit the brakes, mere inches away from slamming into her shoulder as she rushed out her bedroom with a hand over her mouth. 

“‘Scuse me–” She mutters, as she slips past him for another room.

“Sorry!” He replies, heading into the living room and overturning every couch cushion for some quarters. “Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!” He takes the coin into his hands and throws it harshly. “Another stupid penny!”

His mother flinches as the coin nearly hits her and her companion. “Dusty, watch it! You almost hit Mews.”

Dustin sighs, before bringing out the pleading eyes. “Can I please check under your cushions?” He asks, which sounded like a whine.

“Dusty…”

“Mom, please? It’s an emergency!” And who couldn’t say no to that face? He wastes no time to flip over the cushions, soon finding a few quarters that put a smile on his face. “Love you, Mom.” He says, and rushes towards the bathroom. “Phanie! You ready?” His face falls slightly as he sees his sister sitting on the floor near the toilet. “Whoa, you okay?”

Steph nods her head. “Y-Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.” She says, forcing herself to look hopeful. “I think dinner didn’t sit well with me.”

“You okay to drive still?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Go call your friends to see if they’re ready.”

“Okay.” He says, and starts to leave, but notices something.

She sends him a look. “What?”

“You’re still wearing that t-shirt?” Dustin asks, slight annoyance, as he points to the article of clothing. Ever since she made a friend at the beginning of the year, she’s been constantly wearing his custom made shirt for their club. He’s starting to wonder if she’s prioritizing that over her band tees (And those were the pride and joy of her existence).

“Yeah.” She sits up straighter with a smirk. “I am.” 

“For someone who wasn’t that into D&D, you sure love wearing that.”

Steph scoffs playfully. “You’re just jealous because my high school has a D&D club… and you’re not invited.” Her and Dustin stick their tongues out at each other, before he departs. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll give you some of my quarters!”

“I’ll be nice!” He shouts back, and runs into his room, hands already reaching for his walkie. “Lucas, you copy? I’ve got four quarters. What’s your haul?”

[ ‘Take your puny haul and multiply it by five.’ ]

Dustin’s eyes widened in shock. “How?”

[ ‘While you were scrounging around like a homeless bum, I mowed Old Man Humphrey’s lawn.’ ]

“Old Man Humphrey’s got that kinda cash?” Shit, maybe he needs to start mowing people’s lawns. “Just call Mike already.”

[ ‘You call Mike. I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out.’ ]

He groans as their connection disconnects. Why do I always have to do all the work?

He changes the station a few times until he gets a signal. “Mike, do you copy? ---- Mike, do you copy?”

[ ‘Yeah– Yeah, I copy.’ ]

“What are you doing on this channel?” Dustin asks, curiously. 

[ ‘N-Nothing.’ ]

Nothing, he says? He wants to pry, but they have bigger things to worry about right now. “Lucas and I have six bucks total. What’s your haul?”

There was a long pause, until…

[ ‘Shit!!! I don’t know yet.’ ]

“What do you mean you don’t know yet?”

[ ‘Hold on. Call Will.’ ]

Now, I gotta call Will now, too? Come on, guys! He inhales in frustration, changing the channel again just as his sister comes into his room.

“Did you call them?” She asks, sitting on his bed beside him.

“I got one more call.” He tells her, turning the dial until it chirps. “Got it. Will, do you copy? ---- Will–”

[ ‘I’m here! I copy.’ ]

“Mike’s still counting his cash, but between me and Lucas, we have six bucks.”

[ ‘Six?! How?’ ]

“Lucas has apparently been mowing Old Man Humphrey’s lawns.”

[ ‘That’s awesome.’ ]

“Yeah. It is.” He smiles. “So, like I said, we got six.”

“Eleven.” Steph butts in, getting another look.

“What?”

“I got five bucks. So you have eleven dollars in total.”

His expression grows as he replies to his friend with, “Phanie said she has five, so we have eleven dollars total now.” 

[ ‘Well, I got about three dollars. So that’s… fourteen now.’ ]

“That’s perfect!” Dustin pumps his fist. “Tonight's going to be sick.”

Stephanie taps his shoulder. “Hey, ask him if he needs a ride.”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, Phanie’s asking if you need a ride?”

[ ‘Oh, I’m good. My mom’s taking me already.’ ]

“Okay. See you soon. Over and out.” 

“So?”

“He says he’s good. His mom’s taking him.” 

“Alrighty, then.” Steph says, sliding off the bed. “Let’s get going.” She follows her boisterous brother practically skip the whole way to the front door with his haul, and hers, inside a little baggie. 

“Bye, Mom!” Dustin yells, as he slips on his coat while he is already one step out the door.

“Dusty, slow down.” She warns, grabbing her purse -- but her action must have been too slow because her little brother grabbed a hold of her arm and tugs her down the path. “Hey!”

“Oh, you kids be careful, okay? Call me if something happens.” Claudia urges from the doorway. 

“We will.” 

“So what are you going to do while we’re there?” Dustin asks, as he slips inside her car.

“Hmm, I might play some games myself. I want to see if anyone’s beaten my Centipede record yet.” She replies, looking over her shoulder as she slowly backs out. “Or, I might try to read the last few chapters of the Hobbit. I haven’t decided yet.”

“I can’t believe all it took was your friend Eddie to convince you to start reading that. I’ve been trying to get you to read that for years.”

“People change, you know?”

“That’s bullshit.” He says, shifting in his seat to look at her better. “Are you sure he’s not trying to get into your pants?”

“Ew. No.” Steph says, nose scrunching up in disgust. “He doesn’t see me that way, and I don’t see him that way. We both established that early on.”

“What about the others?” He asks, his tone fully dousing in overprotectiveness. 

“Two of them have girlfriends. Or at least Gareth claims he has a girlfriend. None of us have actually seen her…” She whispers that last part like it was a joke he was supposed to understand, but it went way over her brother’s head (For obvious reasons of course).

“And the other one?”

“Grant doesn’t lean that way.”

He blinks. “What does that mean?”

“It’s…” She shakes her head, deciding against it. “Never mind. You’ll understand eventually.”

He let his confused gaze linger on her for a hot moment to see if she’ll slip up about what that meant, but he was met with her long, hardcore silence. He soon shrugs, and decides to move the conversation forward. “But what about the one that gave you that hunting knife? Jeff?”

“Jeff’s father owns the general store in town, and gets free shit all the time. He gave it to me out of the goodness of his heart, and a reassurance that his female friend is protected.” Steph explains with a smile on her face, as she pulls the car in front of Lucas’ house. 

“That’s too much information.”

“Well, you ask too many questions, Dusty. Besides…” She pauses briefly to honk the horn a few times, before smirking at her brother. “You have to admit, it’s a pretty badass knife.”

Dustin chuckles. “It is.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce pulled the car right at the front of the entrance, her son was anxiously waiting to get out. “Okay, so, I’ll pick you up in two hours. That’s nine o’clock on the dot, okay?”

“Okay.” Will replies, nodding along and opening the door.

“If anything happens, if you need to come home, just ask them to use their phone and call home. Okay? Don’t... Don’t walk home.”

“I know.” 

“Okay. But, sweetie–”

“Mom, I have to go.” He whines, and twitches in the seat like it’s made of lava. 

“Okay, okay.” She waves for him to go. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” He says, getting out. His happiness spikes up when he’s met with his group of friends. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Will.” Steph says, ruffling his hair as she passes him for his car door. She peeks inside. “Hi, Ms. Byers. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Thank you.” Joyce says, respectfully. “Take care.”

“You, too.” She closes the car door, ushering the group of boys inside. “So, Byers, what are you playing first?”

“Hmm… I think…” He grins. “I think I’ll try to beat your Centipede record.”

She gasps. “Oh, no you’re not! The student will not become the master in this situation!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“No. No. No! No! No! No!” Dustin smacks the side of the machine as the game flashes that he failed the quest. “I hate this overpriced bullshit!” He groans. “Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!”

Lucas touches his shoulder, and smirks. “You’re not nimble enough. But you’ll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine.”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m still top place on Dig Dug.”

“You sure about that?” One of the coworkers, named Keith, says as he comes to stand next them. He watches the kids become confused while he gnaws on some Cheetos. 

“Sure about what?” It wasn’t a second later until he realized what he was implying. “You’re kidding me.” His face drops as he takes off for the Dig Dug machine. “No, no, no. Move! Move! No, no, no, no, no.” He pushes past the last kid, hands tapping the button to bring up the high score that no longer was his. “No! NO!!!”

“751,300 points!” Will said, in shock. 

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“Who is ‘Mad Max’?” Dustin asks, in a demanding tone.

Keith snickers as he shoves more cheese puffs into his mouth. “Better than you.” He bites back, earning the middle finger.

“Is it you?” Will asks, as the older teenager shakes his head.

“You know I despise Dig Dug.”

“Then who is it?” Lucas asks, also demanding.

“Yeah, spill it, Keith.” Dustin pushes, as a mischievous grin blossoms on Keith’s face.

“You want information, then I need something in return.” His reply made everyone’s attention turn towards Mike who immediately picks up what’s happening.

“No, no, no.” Mike said, waving them off. “No way. You’re not getting a date with her.”

“Mike, come on. Just get him the date.” Lucas pleads, with the other party members agreeing.

“I’m not prostituting my sister!”

“But it’s for a good cause.”

“No way!”

“Fine!” Lucas dramatically says, and shifts his attention to someone else. “What about Dustin’s sister?”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Hey!”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Keith says, making a face. “She looked pretty sick when I saw her come in.”

The Henderson gasps, and gets defensive. “Hey, just because my sister’s sick doesn’t mean she’s not pretty, Dickhead!”

“Hey–”

“And, no, you don’t get the date with Nancy. Know why? ‘Cause he’s gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to your whole family.”

Keith’s jaw tightens. “Acne isn’t a rash and it isn’t contagious, you prepubescent wastoid.”

“Oh, I’m a wastoid? She wouldn’t go on a date with you. You make, like, what? Two-fifty an hour?”

“Nice perm.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna make fun of my hair?”

“You insult me, I’ll insult you.”

“Keith, I swear, I’m gonna–”

.

Then the lights went out.

Will suddenly looks around in uncertainty, just as everything slowly powers back on… in a completely different way.

Will soon found himself some place he didn’t want to be back, a place where all his friends were gone, and everything looked horrifying….

He found himself back in the Upside Down.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Steph comes out of the bathroom stall, reliving what just happened back at home.

I am never eating Enzo’s again. She tells herself as uses the open sink to wash her hands. But it’s strange though, I don’t feel bad.

So what could her problem be?

She cups her hands under the water, bringing it to her lips to swirl around to get the bad taste out. She nearly choked on the liquid when someone spoke to her unexpectedly.

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She jerks her head next to her, noticing that the other occupant inside the bathroom had already left. She spits the water out, looking around fully. “Hello? … Anyone?”

Who the heck is talking to–

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She whips around again. “Find who? Who is this?”

And that’s when the lights went out, and she found herself alone in the other world.

Her blue eyes widened with fear. “Will…”

She takes off in a sprint, the video game machines flickered on and off as she rushes by, thunder roaring around the building, as a strong gust of wind hits her in the face. She calls out his name as she fights against the wind to get outside, shutter in the freezing temperatures as she makes her way to the park lot. She quickly finds Will staring off at something in the distance, a dark cloud that flashed colors of fire, with something ominous swirling inside.

It sends chills down her spine, and memories of last year hitting her like a truck. But there was no point in freezing up when they’re in this together.

“Will!” She shouts, running over and engulfing him in an embrace. She feels him shake in her hold as she closes her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t look. It’s not real. We’re not there anymore. We’re okay. We’re okay. Shhhh…”

The thunder roared again, the storm coming closer and closer, aching to take a hold of them and…

.

.

.

“Will! Steph!”

The two of them jolted, eyes snapping open to find everything had returned normal and Mike coming over to check on them.

 “Are you guys okay?” He asks, worriedly. 

“Um…” Steph looks at Will who came to the same conclusion. “Y-yeah. We’re okay.”

“We just... needed some air.” Will adds, and she nods.

“Right.”

“Well, okay, then.” Mike waves them inside. “Come back in. You’re up on Dig Dug, Will. Let’s take that top score back.”

Will looks at her one last time as she gestures for him to go before her. He does, and she hopes that this was the only ‘episode’ they have tonight.

Weird. I wonder what triggered this. She thought, just as her nose began to bleed. She wipes it quickly with her hand, looking at the ooze before staring at where the storm cloud was. She frowns. Oh, not this again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On the morning of October 30th, Chief Jim Hopper was met with an unpleasant surprise. He wasn’t even out of his police truck yet when someone came rushing towards him. He pretends to not even notice as he tries to get inside, but the very persistent Private Investigator Murray Bauman stays right on his tail.

“Good morning, Jim.” He attempts once he manages to get neck and neck with him; But the police chief was quicker. “Jim. Hold on a second. We need to talk.”

“Get away from me.” Hopper says, with just the right amount of bite as they enter the station.

“Okay, no... I think you really wanna hear this.”

“Get away from me.”

“Trust me. I only want five minutes!”

“Yeah, I want a date with Bo Derek.” Hopper says, smirking as Flo comes over and takes the cigarette out of his mouth. “We all want things.”

Murray frowns. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Jim. This is serious, okay? I really got something here. I’m telling you!”

Hopper hides his eye roll as he shifts around him for the coffee station. “Hey, everyone.”

“Mornin’, Chief. Mornin’, Murray.” Powell said, from his spot at his desk.

“Got any proof on your butt-probin’ aliens yet, Murray?” Callahan teases, making his partner laugh. Hopper laughs too while grabbing a donut that was quickly taken away by Flo again and replaced with a granny smith apple (He sends her a small look of betrayal).

“I believe there was, and may still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins.” Murray fights back, earning another laugh.

“Russian spies!” Hopper chuckles.

“Are the spies in cahoots with the aliens? Or how do they fit in here? I’m confused.” Callahan asks, getting a glare from the PI.

“I’m talking multiple reports now. Multiple reports, okay? Of a Russian child in Hawkins.” Murray stated.

“A child?” Hopper’s heart sank for a sec, and tries to hide his worries. “What are you talking about?”

“A girl who may have psionic abilities.”

“‘Psionic’?”

“Psychic.”

“What about that girl that made that kid pee himself last year?” Powell points out. 

“A prank.” Hopper clarifies forcibly, but Murray was already latching onto this tiny piece of info.

“What girl?” He asks, as the other officers start to tell the story but their boss cuts in before they unravel everything he’s tried to keep buried.

“Nah, nah, nah.” Hopper guides Murray to his office. “You got five minutes. Not a second more.”

Once they both sat down, Murray started his claim. “I talked to a Big Buy ex-employee who said some little girl shattered the door with her mind.”

“I heard that story.” Hopper replies, taking a bite of the apple, which he soon tossed away because of the bitterness. “Did you hear the one about the fat man with the beard who climbs down chimneys?”

Murray ignores him, and continues, “Then last month, a co-worker of Ted Wheeler’s claims some Russian girl with a shaved head was hiding in his basement. Ted now denies this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a surprise.” 

“But it connects.”

“Enlighten me.”

“This girl, she’s some kind of a Russian weapon, right? Barbara sees this girl, tries to help her, perhaps. But before she can, the Russians find them, take them–”

“Wait.” Hopper sits up straighter to light another cigarette. “You’re telling me Barbara Holland was kidnapped by Russian spies?”

Murray shrugs. “Kidnapped. Killed.”

“Killed?” Hopper says, blowing smoke and then proceeds to drum his fingers on his desk -- the more he can annoy this guy, the better. 

“Don’t you get it, Jim?” Murray snaps, his tone becoming frustrating (His plan was working).

“No.”

“This has potentially international implications. I’m talking a full-on Russian invasion right here in Hawkins.”

Hopper drums his fingers louder. “Do you have any proof of this girl? I mean, has anybody seen her recently?”

“No! Because these are separate–” He was cut off by the phone ringing, a wave of relief crashed over Hopper (Thank god for Flo helping him out!)

“Excuse me. Sorry.” He takes the phone off the receiver before Murray could protest before Murray could protest. “Hello?”

[ ‘Merrill called, wants you to check out his pumpkins. Says they’ve been contaminated by his vengeful neighbor, Eugene. You’re welcome.’ ]

He hangs up the phone, and puts on his most apologetic looking face he could muster. “I’m really sorry. I really hate to do this, but I gotta run. It’s an emergency.”

“You gave me five minutes.” Murray replies, irritated. 

“Yeah, listen, you know what? I liked your alien theory a lot better.” Hopper says, sliding his coat and hat back on. “And you want my advice? Why don’t you stop bleeding those people dry and go home? Alright?”

“I am not bleeding anyone…” His face falls. “Dry.”

Well that’s bullshit. Hopper shakes his head. “Listen to me. Go home, and stop pestering me.” And he takes his leave.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“It’s crap, I know.” Steve says to his girlfriend, whom both are sitting in his car in the school’s parking lot. They both had some time to kill before class began, and Steve desperately needed some help with his homework.

Nancy shakes her head, as she carefully reads it over. “No, it’s not crap.” She reassures him, but he wasn’t buying it.

“It’s not good.”

“It’s going to be. Just... It needs some reorganizing. Can I mark on it?”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, in the first paragraph, you used the basketball game versus Northern as a metaphor for your life, which is great. But then, around here–” She circles a part on his paper. “You start talking about your Granddad’s experiences in the war. And I... I don’t see how they’re connected.”

“It connects because... because, you know, we both won.” He replies, and her face once again tells him everything. “Do you think I should start from scratch?”

“No. I mean... When’s the deadline?”

“It’s tomorrow for early application.” Steve sighs, and rubs his eyes. “I know it doesn’t look good. I’ve just been so tired lately–”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately. I’d say off and on these last few months.” Nancy points out, concern flooding in. “What’s going on?”

The subtle shift in his emotion didn’t go unnoticed as he says, “It’s… nothing.”

“You keep saying that, Steve.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He waves his hand like he’s sending that part of the conversation away, and steers it back to, “Can we meet up so you can help me tonight?”

“We have our dinner tonight, remember?”

“Oh, shit!”

“We already canceled last week.” She says, frowning. “You don’t have to go. Just work on this. 

“No, no, no. What’s the point?” He says, taking his papers back and tossing it behind him in frustration. 

“Hey–” She touches his shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm. I am calm. I’m just being honest.” He replies, running a hand through his hair like a nervous tick. “You know, I mean... I don’t know what I’m going to do after I graduate. I literally have no freaking goals when it comes to the job field.”

“You haven’t been thinking about it lately?”

“Nah. Not really my priority nowadays.”

She bites her lip a thought, and starts shredding the metaphorical waters carefully. “Is it… is it your parents? Are they putting pressure on you for something?”

“No, it’s just I–” He holds his tongue as soon as something almost slips out, and quickly diverts the conversation once again. “Maybe I can just get an internship somewhere in town. You know, so I could be around for your senior year. Maybe we can think of something together.”

“Steve…” 

“Just to look after you a little bit. Make sure you don’t forget about this pretty face.” He says, making her laugh. “Nance, I’m serious.” And he leans in for a quick kiss, and words that didn’t feel completely whole just yet. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She says, without missing a beat. And speaking of not missing, no one on campus was safe from the sound of a Camaro’s revving engine that shook the whole place. “What the heck was that?!”

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Stephanie had slipped out of Eddie’s van and joined him on the sidewalk, as she tried not to laugh at how depressed he was looking. -- Of course it was just him being overly dramatic. She’s not that much of a monster.

“Quit your whining. You’ll be fine.” She says, trying to get his hopes up that had been quickly shot this morning. “This is your chance to graduate with this extra credit. ‘84, baby. You got this.”

He groans, trying to keep his head up in a metaphorical sense and a literal sense. “I’m glad you can stay so positive.”

She chuckles. “Someone has to.”

“Yeah.” Eddie mumbles, flashing a smile that quickly fades. “Hang on.”

“What?” She said, as he pulled her to a stop. 

“You’re bleeding again.” He replies, as starts digging around his pockets.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” He eventually hangs her a clean cloth, and thanks him. He waits a couple seconds to ask, “Are you sure you’re not anemic?”

She shakes her head. “The doctor already checked me for that, and I was in the clear.”

“Any other reason why?”

“Not sure.” Steph says, half-truthfully. After last night it seems her episodes might be connected to her nose bleeds. Or it could just be a coincidence. She’s not a hundred percent sure yet. “You don’t have to keep looking at me like that, Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie adverts his distressful eyes. “You say that, and I believe you, but… you know, my mom said that a lot, and she, uh… yeah.” He says, kicking a small rock away. “So, I’m sorry for worrying. You know?”

“Eddie.” She begins, softly. “Thanks for worrying, but I’m fine. Really. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I promise. Besides–” She smiles and nudges him. “My gut’s telling me this is going to be over soon.”

“If you say so. ‘Cause if not…” He shows off his signature goofy grin. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’m sure you will, Eds– AH!!”

The two of them nearly jumped out of their shoes when a muffler backfires, followed by a loud engine purring as it bolts into the school’s parking lot. The duo watches as a ‘79 deep blue Camaro whips around and into a parking space. A little red headed girl gets out with her skateboard, wasting no time to use it to get to her middle school on the other side of the lot. Soon afterwards a tall, Caucasian, blond and blue eyed teenager gets out, sliding off his shades with a cigarette between his teeth. He surveyed the area for a few minutes, before heading down the pathway for the high school.

“Who’s the bad boy?” Eddie says, breaking the ice first.

“I don’t know. But he’s kind of cute.” Steph replies, getting a look. “Oh, come on. I can say that. Besides, I saw you checking out one of the cheerleader’s asses yesterday.”

He gasps dramatically. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe buy the girl dinner first, Munson.” Steph says, as she starts walking away.

Eddie shakes his head with a scoff. “I could say the same thing about you to Mr. Mullet over there.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Will was not having a good start to school today. He could hardly listen to Mr. Clarke speaking about all the wonders of the human brain without thinking about what happened earlier (And Mr. Clarke’s classes were his favorite!). As soon as he opened his locker this morning he found yet another article of him with his eyes scratched and words painted on to spell out ‘Zombie Boy’. He’s lost count how many newspaper clippings he’s thrown away this school semester alone that repeated those two-words. And each time they cut a little bit deeper into his skin. 

When will this ever stop? He wonders, almost completely zoning out if it wasn’t for the door opening aggressively. 

Mr. Clarke’s face lights up. “Ah, this must be our new student.”

“Indeed.” The principal says, with a smile. “All yours.”

“Alright.” Mr. Clarke stops the student from slipping by. “Hold up. You don’t get away that easy. Come on up. Don’t be shy. Dustin, drum roll.” His student complies, and he begins, “Class, please welcome, all the way from sunny California, the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage, Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” The girl clarifies immediately. 

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Nobody calls me Maxine.” She says, honestly. “It’s Max.”

The boys’ eyes widened in shock, as Lucas whispered, “Mad Max.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper finds himself standing in a field filled with rotten pumpkins that stretched over miles long. He’s happy for once in his life that it isn’t Summertime. He can only imagine how bad the smell truly is if it was hotter. “You’re saying this was fine yesterday?”

Farmer Merrill scoffs. “Fine? These were prize winners, Chief. You should’ve seen ‘em. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what happened. And then I remembered... Eugene.”

“What about him?”

“He’s been complaining about me to just about anyone who’ll listen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he started this ‘Pick Your Pumpkin’ thing. Acted like it was trademarked. I said, ‘Hire yourself a damn lawyer. See how far that gets you’.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow over his shades. “You’re telling me that nice old Eugene came out here after dark and doused your field with poison?”

Merrill shakes his head. “Not Eugene himself. I’m thinkin’ one of his field hands.”

“Uh-huh.” Hopper crouches down and pokes the fly infested pumpkin with his pencil. 

“Listen, Chief, I don’t go throwing around accusations lightly. You know me. But this happening the day before Halloween, when sales are peaking? That’s a hell of a coincidence. Hell of a coincidence!”

He’s not wrong about that. However, even if it was true, he couldn’t imagine a sweet elderly neighbour like Eugene actually doing this. But if it wasn’t him…

.

.

.

Then who or what was causing all this?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You’re coming to this.” Nancy says, once her and Jonathan got out of their classroom.

The oldest Byers grabs the orange flier, reading it over and laughing. “‘Come and get sheet faced’. No, I’m not.” He replies, trying to hand it back to her but she refuses to take it.

“I can’t let you sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Well, you can relax. I’m not gonna be alone. I’m going trick-or-treating with Will and his friends.” 

“All night?” She asks, skeptically. 

“Yeah.” He says, but he knows by now that Nancy can read him like a book.

“No, no way.” She waves him off. “You’re gonna be home by 8:00, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something.”

He ponders on that for a moment before nodding. “Sounds like a nice night.” 

“Jonathan, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone–” Her words were cut off when Steve came up from behind and picked her up, causing her to shriek. “Oh, my God!”

“Sorry, Nance.” Steve laughs, and sets her down. 

“Take those stupid things off.” She says, pulling off his sunglasses.

“Okay, okay.” He happily smiles. “I missed you.”

“It’s been like an hour.”

“Tell me about it.” His gaze shifts to the other party member. “Hey, Jonathan. You going to come to Tina’s party?”

“I’m actually trying to convince him right now.” Nancy says, shifting around to face him.

But Jonathan’s expressions were becoming unreadable as he bows his head, and says, “I’ll think about it.”, then disappears down the hallway.

“What’s his deal?” Steve asks, as his girl watches him worriedly.

“I…” What was that reaction just now? “I’m not really sure.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“There’s no way that’s Mad Max.” Mike says, as he and his friends stare at the girl riding around on the playground with her skateboard, occasionally doing a few neat tricks she’s fully mastered. “And even if she is, you can’t get 750,000 points on Dig Dug. It’s impossible.”

“She had to find some kind of cheat code, right?” Will suggests. In his eyes, that could be the only way. Right?

“Totally.”

“But her name is Max.” Lucas points out.

“So what?” Mike asks, as Lucas looks at him like he’s crazy.

“So, how many Maxes do you know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Zero. That’s how many.”

“She shows up at school the day after someone with her same name breaks our top score. I mean, you kidding me?” Dustin says, stating the obvious as well.

“Exactly!” Lucas says, ecstatically. “So she’s gotta be Mad Max. She’s gotta be.”

“And plus she skateboards, so she’s pretty awesome.”

“Awesome?” Mike says, in disbelief. “You haven’t even spoken a word to her.”

Dustin shrugs. “I don’t have to. I mean, look at her–” His face falls when he notices she’s gone. “Shit. I’ve lost the target.”

“No, no, no! Look!” Will shouts and points to Max throwing something in a trash bin before heading inside. The boys of course wasted no time rushing over and retrieving what she tossed, in hopes that it’ll give them some other clue.

Dustin unfolds the crumpled piece of paper, showing it off as they all read a loud: “‘Stop spying on me, creeps’.”

The Henderson exhales in defeat. “Well, shit.”

“We’re officially the worst spies ever.” Lucas says, grabbing the paper and tossing it away.

“Agreed. So, what’s next?”

“Well, we could try–”

“Hey.” Will butts in, his attention elsewhere. “You guys keep talking. I gotta do something real quick.” And he leaves before anyone could question or object.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What’s his name again?” Gareth asks, as he and the others sit around the picnic table. It was recess (or PE in their case) for them as well, and they spent it by going for a nice “jog”. But since the coaches were hardly ever outside, it was easy for students to just hang out in the grass and gossip. 

And that’s exactly what they were doing. 

“William Hargrove. He goes by Billy, though.” Jeff says, as everyone takes this information in.

“What’s he like?” Grant asks, which was the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“He’s from Cali and had just moved here. He’s really charming with the ladies, but the other hand, with the guys, he’s a little… testy.”

“Testy, huh?”

“Awe, don’t tell Stephanie that now.” Eddie teases, and nudges her.

“Hey, I said he was ‘cute’, doesn’t mean I was going to date him.” Steph defends, with her hands up. “And Jeff, how long did you talk to this guy?”

“None. I’ve just observed.” He replies.

“Well, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover. We can’t just assume.” 

“True.”

“But–” She emphasizes hard. “If he is a douche, we just stay away from him with a ten-foot pole. Capish?”

They all nodded in agreement, Grant even chuckling and saying, “I’m starting to think she’s a better leader than you, Eddie.”

Eddie immediately clenches his chest with his hand, his body slacking his seat like he’s been struck. “Grant, the light of my life, you wound me.”

Stephanie snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop with the theatrics. Nobody can ever replace Munson, or he might die of heartbreak before he’s twenty.” That earns a few more laughs, Eddie even pinching her side that makes her squeal.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as them, Henderson.”

“Shut up, Eds.” She laughs, eye soon catching familiar movement in the distance. “Uh, I’ll be right back, boys.” She excuses herself before beelining towards the chain link fence that divides the two schools. She watches the boy with worry as he starts climbing over. “Please, be careful.”

“You know I’ve been through worse.” Will states, all tongue-and-cheek.

“That is true. But still. I can worry.”

“I know you will. Wait…” He pauses at the top of the fence. “You’re free to talk, right?”

She smiles. “For you, any time.” He returns the expression and hops to the ground to begin their walk together. “How you feeling?”

“Alright.” He sighs. “Kids are mean.”

Her eyes flashed with anger for a split second, but it was not towards him. “Another note?”

“Yeah.”

“I got one of those last week. Stuck it right on my windshield.”

“Assholes…”

She snickers at his language (He’s the one that rarely cusses in the group). “Careful with that word, Byers, or you’re going to turn into your friends. Or worst… you’re going to be Dustin 2.0.”

That got him to go back to smiling. “Yeah. I probably will. Have you written anything else down in your journal lately?”

“Eh, there’s really nothing for me to write. My mind’s been pretty quiet for the last few months now.”

“Except yesterday?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I had one the other day, but it barely lasted a minute.”

He tilts his head curiously at her, as they start slowly down. “When was that?”

“Hmm… I think it was Wednesday.”

“That’s when I had mine.”

“Interesting.” She scratches her head at that statement. “I’ve been having nose bleeds off and on all week. I can’t figure out if it’s connected to my episodes, or if it’s something else. Have you had any?”

Will shakes his head. “No. I’ve just been extra tired lately.”

“Have you heard any voices?”

“Hmm, not really. I’ve just been getting these… feelings, I guess you would call it? But I can’t really figure out what it’s telling me. It’s… annoying me.”

“That’s strange. And new.” She shifts her weight around as they come to a stop. “I thought I heard a voice yesterday before the Upside Down appeared, but I couldn’t pinpoint if it was something my conscience was making up, or I was remembering something.”

He looks at her worriedly. “Do you think you’re remembering something from after you died?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.” And she really wishes she had more of an answer. It’s been almost a full year now since the incident and she still hasn’t put the whole puzzle pieces together. It’s been very frustrating. “Well, besides all that, I did read this thing called: ‘The Anniversary Effect’. It’s basically the anniversary of a tragic event that brings back traumatic memories. Sort of opens up the neurological floodgates, so to speak. I know soldiers tend to have this.”

“Well that would make sense. I mean, November 6th is right around the corner.”

“Yeah.” It was just a few days away and it was already making them both feel uncomfortable. “Have you mentioned your episodes to anyone?”

“Um, I kind of told my mom. But nothing in detail. I’ll have to mention that ‘Anniversary Effect’ to her. Give her some peace of mind.” Will answers truthfully. “You?”

“Same. My mom suspected I wasn’t sleeping again, so I told her about what I found. Not a lot of details just because she doesn’t know the whole truth. And I’m also sure that Dustin is catching on, too. I know he’s going to hound me for answers when it’s just the two of us.”

“So, what do we do? Ride it out?”

“I… guess so.” Steph frowns. “To be honest, I don’t really know. I mean, we can come clean and talk about it with everybody, but I doubt it’s going to stop what’s going on with us. I think we just need to remind everyone to be patient until the 6th passes. Then, I think we’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” He says, hugging himself. “I hate feeling like this.”

“Me too, kid.” She says, ruffling his hair. “But you gotta understand, we went through a lot a shit in seven days.” 

“Yeah…” He looks at his feet with glassy eyes. “But you had it worse.”

His little voice tugged on her heart strings as she got down on his level. “Yeah, but you saw all those things happen to me. No kid your age should have seen those things. Do you understand?” 

He nods slowly, and whispers, “...Yeah.”

“Okay. Look at me.” She takes his face into her hands. “If you ever want to talk to me, just pick up the phone and I’ll be right over, or you can come over to my place. And if you don’t want to talk to me, then talk to your mom. Your mom will understand. Okay?” He nods again. “Okay. Do not let your bottle of emotions explode. Take that from someone who has experience. Got it?”

“Will…” He sniffles. “Will s-she… understand?”

Her face softens. “Of course she will. She’s your mom. And may I remind you that your mom was one of the people that got us out of that place. I guarantee she’ll understand. Talk to me, or talk to her. Alright?”

“Alright. But who are you going to talk to? I know you’re not going to talk to Dustin.”

“I don’t know yet, buddy. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She replies, and he throws his arms around her for a hug. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hours later after school, Lucas and Dustin were standing in the parking lot where the Arcade was, snooping around to see if Mad Max would make their appearance (And they hoped Mad Max was indeed the person they think they are). -- Mike went home a while ago claiming there was “No point in waiting this long”, which sucks for him though. In Dustin and Lucas’ minds, with Mike out of their way they have a better shot at making their move on her.

“Still no sign?” Dustin asked after a while.

“Jack shit.” Lucas replies, still holding onto the binoculars.

Dustin sighs and checks his watch for the millionth time in the last hour. “Damn it. My mom’s gonna murder me if I don’t leave soon.”

“So go home.” Lucas says, trying to be all slick. “I’ll radio if she comes.”

“Oh, yeah, nice try. You just want me out of here so you can make your move.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a threat.”

“That’s right. She will not be able to resist these pearls.” Dustin says, and purrs, making his friend roll his eyes. And Dustin was about to take offense to that when he spotted the pot of gold. “Ten o’clock. Ten o’clock!”

The two of them watch as a car comes speeding into the parking lot, abruptly stopping as Max gets out in a huff. She and the person driving started exchanging some heated words that they couldn’t quite hear.

“Whoa! They’re arguing. They’re arguing!” Lucas says, pointing out the obvious.

Dustin groans. “Oh, my God. I see that. I don’t even know why you need those. God, you’re so stupid.”

Eventually, the car speeds off with the door still half open, and Max flips it off immediately. So that’s when the duo took it as a sign and decided to move in. They don’t know how long they were watching her play Dig Dug, but it was enough for them to be completely smitten by her. They both slid to the floor against the wall, giant grins on their faces that’ll never come off. 

“She’s incredible.” Lucas says, bubbly. 

“She’s…” Dustin begins, locking eyes with him.

“Mad Max.” They said, happily.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy and Steve arrive at the Holland’s residence late at night, all nicely dressed and plastered with fake smiles. For the sake of Barbara’s parents, they must keep up the act. I mean, who’s going to believe that an interdimensional creature kidnapped and killed their daughter over a year ago?

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to cook.” Marsha said, as she placed the silverware and plates down. “I was gonna make that baked ziti you guys like so much, but I just forgot about the time, and before you know it, ‘Oh, my God, it’s five o’clock’.” 

“It’s fine. It’s great.” Nancy says, (overly) boisterously. 

“Yeah. I love KFC.” Steve replies, as they start helping themselves. They let the silence fill the air for a few minutes, before asking, “So, I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign out in your yard. Is that the neighbors’, or…”

“You wanna tell them, George?” Marsha asks her husband.

“Go ahead.”

“We hired a man named Murray Bauman. Have either of you heard of him?”

“No.” Nancy says, looking at her boyfriend who shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times.”

“He’s pretty well known.” George states, as his wife agrees. 

“Anyway, he’s freelance now, and he agreed to take the case.” Marsha adds, making the teenagers’ stomachs turn horribly. 

“That’s... That’s great.” Steve forces out, trying to hide the guilt on his face. He can still see his classmate’s decomposing body sometimes in his nightmares dreams. “That’s really... great. Right, Nancy?”

“Uh, y-yeah. It is. Um, what exactly does that mean?” Nancy asks, worriedly. 

George grips his silverware tighter, his face full of bitterness as he spats, “Means he’s gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hopper–” His wife touches his arm, cooling him off immediately. “Sorry.” He sighs. “What the Hawkins police haven’t been capable of doing.” His words made the teenagers look at their plates, slowly starting to lose their appetites. “Means we have a real detective on the case.”

“It means…” Marsha begins, getting choked up. “We’re going to find our Barb.”

“If anyone can find her, it’s this man. He already has leads. By God, he’s worth every last penny.”

“I-Is that why you’re selling the house?” Nancy asks, her trembling hands falling in her lap and out of eyesight.

“Don’t worry about us, sweetie.” The woman reassures. “We’re fine. More than fine. For the first time in a long time, we’re hopeful.”

And that was the last straw for Nancy. “Excuse me.” She chokes out, and gets up from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Martha watches her disappear for the bathroom, both her and her husband oblivious about what their words were doing to the teenagers. Her gentle face falls slightly though as she notices Steve had stopped eating. “Are you okay, honey? Is it not good?”

Steve nearly flinches when he realizes he slipped up. He quickly forces another smile, and replies, “No, no, it’s great. I just, uh… I have a lot on my mind today. Sorry.” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I get it.” Her happy expression comes back at full speed. “When Barb returns, we have to all celebrate together. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah. It will be.” His chest tightens at the lie. He has to be the strong one here. It’ll be too suspicious if he decides to step out of the room to take a breather like his girlfriend. He picks up his fork again and forces himself to eat. “I can’t wait for you guys to find her.”

He was left to keep the hopeful conversation up while Nancy stayed in the bathroom for a while to silently cry.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in another neighbourhood, just like Clockwork, Mike Wheeler sat under the makeshift fort he put up last year, changing to a certain station on his walkie to begin his conversation for this night.

“El, are you there? El?” He called out, but as usual he was greeted by static. “It’s me. It’s Mike. It’s day 352, 7:40 p.m. I’m still here. If you’re out there, say something. Or give me a sign. I won’t even say anything to anyone if you’re worried about that. Just…” He pauses as he starts to get teary eyed. “I wanna know if you’re okay.”

He hated how broken up he sounded, and he wonders what the others would think if they would see him like this?

He waited a full minute before tossing the walkie to the side. 

“I’m so stupid.”

I mean all he’s doing is giving himself this false hope. He knows that there’s a very high probability that she is really gone after all. I mean, he and all his friends, his sister and Jonathan included, saw her turn to ash along with that miniature Demogorgon and that deranged doctor. She may be a psychic, but there’s no way she’s immortal or has a crazy healing factor like an X-Men.

His hands grip his pant legs, trying not to cry for real. “...I am really stupid.”

He was about to call it quits for tonight when a signal started to come in. 

[ ‘Mike? ---- Mike? ]

Mike snags it back up as fast as he could. “Hello, is that you?” He asks, a hundred percent expecting Eleven, and total not expecting–

[ ‘Yeah, it’s me, Dustin. What’re you doing on this channel again? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. We were right. Max is Mad Max.’ ]

Mike scoffs in annoyance. “Yeah, I’m busy.”

[ ‘But–’ ] 

He pushes the antenna down, ultimately cutting himself off from his friends. He throws it off to the side again, a little harsher this time as he starts stomping up the stairs. “This is all so fucking stupid.”

.

.

.

Lucas looks over at his friend as they continue to ride their bikes back to their place. They were actually not completely surprised by their friend’s snappy attitude (He’s been like this since school ended). “What do we do now?”

“We stick to the plan.” Dustin says, getting a wary look.

“Mike’s not gonna like it.”

“Last time I checked, our party is not a dictatorship. It’s a democracy.”

“What if Max says no?”

“How can Max say no to these?” He purrs again which causes Lucas to cringe.

“I told you to stop that.” Lucas says, just before he pulls into his driveway. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later.” 

They were going to get Max into their group whether Mike likes it or not! The only thing that was going to be tricky for them was convincing the girl to give them the time of day. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And down the street from the two of them, right off the road of Mirkwood, a family was prepping for movie night. Joyce was in the kitchen making stovetop popcorn when she had to do a double take. But she couldn’t help but smile at her Boyfriend’s shenanigans. 

“Stop.” She says, playfully as he circles around her with his camera. “Stop!”

“What?” Bob said, teasing back. “Come on, you gotta get used to it. This is the future.”

“Well, put the future down and get me a clean bowl. And, Jonathan?” She calls out to her eldest in the living room. “Can you go get your brother?”

“Okay.” Jonathan heads for his brother’s room with a stack full of VHS tapes, knocking a few times before entering. “Hey, bud. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a variety. Take your pick.”

“Whatever you want.” Will replies, harshly (Which actually stuns Jonathan for a few seconds).

“Alright…” Jonathan takes a seat at the end of the bed. He then decides to be nosy and look at what Will was drawing. “What are you working on? Zombie Boy? Who’s Zombie Boy?”

Will looks at him for a second before quietly muttering, “Me.”

“Did someone call you that?” Jonathan asks, going in defensive mode. But his brother said nothing in return, so he softened his approach. “Hey. You can talk to me. You know that, right? Whatever happened.” He touches his arm. “Will, come on, talk to me.”

He jerks his hand away. “Stop treating me like that.”

“What? Like what?”

“Like everyone else does. Like there’s something wrong with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan pushes.

Will uses his fingers to count. “Mom, Dustin, Lucas– Everyone! They all treat me like I’m gonna break. Like I’m a baby. Like I can’t handle things on my own. It doesn’t help.” His voice starts to tremble, which punches Jonathan in the gut as he helplessly listens to every word. “It just makes me feel like more of a freak. The only person who isn’t treating me like that is Stephanie, and it’s probably because she’s going through what I’m going through.”

Jonathan’s heart breaks a little bit more. “Will–”

“And she’s…” Will starts to teary eyed. “She’s so strong. At least she tries to be for me. And it… it sucks because she’s always there for me, and I-I don’t know how to be there for her.” He sniffles. “Her friends tell her that… that ‘Freaks stick together’, but it doesn’t help when we’re constantly being reminded of it everyday for something that we didn’t have control over.”

He breaks eye contact again, and continues to draw, hoping his brother would just go away and leave him be. But Jonathan wasn’t. He wasn’t going to let his baby brother wallow over something like this when he’s clearly calling out for help.

“You know what?” Jonathan begins, moving to sit crisscrossed and give his full attention. “You’re right. You are a freak.”

Will snaps his gaze back at him, both confused and angry. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. You’re a freak. But what?” Jonathan shrugs. “Do you wanna be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else? Being a freak is the best. I’m a freak. You’re a freak. Stephanie’s a freak. And guess what? She’s right. We freaks have to stick together.”

“Is that why you’re always hanging out with me?” Will asks, still staring with a puzzled look.

Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, of course, bud. You’re my best friend, alright? And I would rather be best friends with Zombie Boy than with a boring nobody. You know what I mean?” But his brother still didn’t seem to grasp what he was saying yet. So Jonathan tries something else. “Okay, look... Who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers?”

Will scrunches up his nose. “Ugh.”

“Exactly. It’s no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?”

“Well... some people like Kenny Rogers.”

“Kenny Rogers.” Bob says while popping through the doorway. “I love Kenny Rogers.” And his response got the two brothers to laugh, which stirred confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Will replies, grinning.

Bob was about to comment until he saw the stack of VHS tapes. “Oooh, ‘Mr. Mom’.” He grins like a kid in a candy store. “Perfect!”

And he grabs them and leaves the room, humming something that makes them belly laugh again. It was a much needed belly laugh for the both of them.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Stephanie stepped out of the steaming shower, quickly grabbing her towel to fight off the cool air. She dries her body off first before working on her dark locks; They had grown quite a bit this year, and she wonders if being friends with the ‘Hellfire Club’ has something to do with it. Everyone, except for Jeff, had their hair long in some kind of way. Between Grant’s mullet, Gareth’s baby version of that, and Eddie’s copying Van Halen, she’s somewhere in that mix. 

I’m starting to think our goal is to braid each other’s hair. She chuckles, staring at herself in the mirror as the steam starts to disappear. Even in her house’s crappy lighting, even after all the special cream and a whole year passing, all her scars were still so noticeable.

Her expression fades into pain as she brushes the delicate skin on her neck. Sometimes she could still feel that bats teeth sinking in… and that wasn’t the only spot. They had gotten her pretty good everywhere. There were a few spots on her thighs and calves, a few on her stomach, and arms. But those didn’t bother her as much as the one on her neck.

Luckily for her she’s always been big on wearing baggy clothes, but this time her ensemble included more turtlenecks and scarves off all sorts. Both her mother and brother stopped asking her about them after three months, and Eddie and the other haven’t even got the chance to see any of them, and she liked to keep it that way (Unless they were the tiny marks on her hands, but those were barely there anymore).

She inhales sharply, trying to guide herself away from all the negatives and get dressed. But her attempts weren’t that great because she didn’t notice the lights dimming and the room growing colder and darker. It wasn’t until her chest felt tight and a shiver ran down her spine she finally took note.

She felt a presence behind her, one that she couldn’t dare make herself look at, as she remained frozen to the tiled floor. She felt a pressure in her head, and something slithering around her wrists.

She forces herself to look down, a weird set of red strings twisting around her wrists and hands like we were some sort of puppet. Scaredly she whispers, “What the…?” as someone whispers back,

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She flinches and screams. Her eyes shooting wide open to find herself back in the shower with the hot water still pooling off her body. She gasps like she’s out of breath, frantically looking around that made her come to the conclusion that she never actually got out in the first place.

“W-What the fuck…” She mutters, heart racing in her ears. It then sky rocketed again when someone came pounding on the door. 

“Hey, Phanie, you done yet?” Dustin’s voice called out. And in a strange way it grounded her back to reality more.

“Y-Yeah.” She calls out, loudly. “I’m almost done. Give me five minutes.”

“Okay. Just don’t waste all the hot water, please.”

“I won’t…” She listens to him disappear back down the hallway, almost wishing he’d stayed there until she was done. Her baby brother she’ll admit was everything to her, and as much as it’s easy to talk to him about anything, as much as she wants to talk about what happened in the Upside Down with him, she doesn’t want him to be plagued with this nightmare she’s living every day.

Stephanie sobbed quietly, leaning her head against the wall, and used the last five minutes she had to cry a rainfall.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a long, long day of work, Hopper had finally arrived at his hiding spot in the woods just as someone else pulled up beside him. He gets out with his big flashlight, not turning it on just yet since he already knows who it is.

“How was work?” Steve asks, getting out himself with something in his arms. 

“Oh, you know. Same shit, different day.” Hopper replies, annoyance in his words. “How about you? How was the dinner?”

“It was… interesting. I’ll have to fill you in.” Steve frowns. “Mr. Holland called you a SOB a lot tonight.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” And he probably deserves it since he’s “blowing off” the case in the Hollands’ eyes (But Hopper stopped feeling guilty a while ago since he has bigger things to take care of). He was about to start walking when he finally noticed what the teenager was carrying. “Did you bring KFC home?”

“What? I didn’t really eat much to begin with. And besides, she hasn’t tried it yet. Who doesn’t like fried chicken?”

Hopper says nothing else, used to the teen’s roguishness, and begins his trek further into the woods with Steve in tow. They stayed silent the whole way, being mindful of the traps they laid around the place, including a tripwire they both inspected and carefully walked over. Hopper then knocks the secret code, the door soon opening and letting them inside the poorly lit cabin.

“Hey, kiddo, I got us dinner.” Steve announces, placing it on the table.

Hopper sets his hat and coat aside, along with his belt as he notices something on the kitchen counter: A plate full of Eggos and a mound full of syrup. “Hey, what’d we talk about?” He semi-scolds, as a voice comes from one of the back rooms.

“No signal.”

“What?”

“No signal. It’s 8-1-5. You’re late.”

Hopper frowns apologetically. “Yeah, I lost track of time.”

“We both did. Sorry.” Steve says, just as she entered the room. Her curly hair had grown in a pixie, and she was dressed in clothes he had found in a thrift store (She may have had a tiny growth spurt between New Years and this Halloween).

“I’ll signal next time, alright?” Hopper says, as they all sit down at the table. “Uh, and it’s 8:15. It’s not 8-1-5. Eight-fifteen.”

“Eight-fifteen.” El repeats.

“Good.” He says, proudly before pointing to the waffles on the counter. “Now, what did we talk about?”

“Dinner first, then dessert.”

“Always. That’s a rule. Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Dig in.”

“What is this?”

“It’s fried chicken. Then this is mashed potatoes with gravy, and these are biscuits.” Steve explains, with a smile. “The biscuits are the best part.”

“I think I’d have to agree on that.” Hopper replies.

“But the chicken here has bones, so all you have to do is bite into the meat, and pull it off. Try it.” Steve watches her pick up the drumstick and follow his instructions. Her face lights up after a couple of bites. “Good?”

She nods eagerly. “Really good.”

“Good. Glad to hear. Did you study today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you study today?”

So she tells him and Hopper everything she has done since this morning, not sparing any details, or questions she may have, as they happily listened to every word.

Oh, and you’re probably wondering… ‘What an interesting group of people’, or, ‘How’d they all end up together?’. And I’ll tell you why…

Although, that’s a story for next time.

(TBC)

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl @olivewisp

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[mirkwoodshewolf]

this.......RESONANCE with me. My family ALWAYS made fun of me for being a picky eater but this.....this explains it COMPLETELY. Certain textures of food do after awhile for me start to taste bad or just don't sit right in my mouth or stomach (Like I can only deal with fried chicken but NOT grilled). God I'm already getting teary-eyed just writing this comment. Thank you for writing this piece and letting me know that I'm not alone when it comes to something like this.

Joseph Quinn says he has a problem to stand a fussy eaters. They simply irritate him.

Can I ask for Joseph Quinn x reader where they're in relationship and she knows he doesn't like picky eaters but she, due to health concerns, is picky and she's worried he'll leave her if he'd ever find out so she always find excuse to not go to restaurant with him. Until one day that is his birthday and she simply can't decline an invitation. She's very anxious about it. As first course comes it's one of the foods she can't eat. Night only goes worse and worse as she refuse to eat anything else but bread pudding. He's annoyed as they ride home. She tells him about her eating problems and that she's in food texture aversion therapy. He angrily tells her she's just childish. Days pass. He is sorry for his reaction and invites her to go with him somewhere. As they're in his other flat he uses for role preparation she sees he prepared dinner, so she tries to find an excuse to leave but he won't let her and make her join him with eating. She's very anxious but agreed. Again it's food she doesn't like, and she starts to cry as she thinks it's cruel joke. Joseph tries to calm her down and he tells her he contacted her therapist and asked how to help. He encourages her to eat. At first she's hesitant because that food makes her gag but she sees Joseph is smiling, encouraging her quietly. Y/n eats few, but texture's too much and she can't finish her food. Joseph says it will take time but progress already is made. But y/n isn't smiling, she cries and begs Joseph not to leave her and swear she'll grow up and won't be fussy anymore. He smiles warmly and simply asks how she likes her food so he can do it better next time and says he won't leave her over something so simple as food, and reminds her how she didn't even bat an eye and didn't leave when he told her about his insecurities.

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

If there was one thing I knew about Joseph Quinn it was that he hated picky eaters.

Not in a loud, obnoxious way. He never shamed anyone. But I’d seen it in the way he spoke about dates gone wrong, dinners that ended with half-touched plates, and one ex who refused to try anything new. “Why go to a restaurant,” he’d said once with a half-smile, “if you’re going to eat plain chips and breadsticks?”

I remember nodding along, laughing, pretending I agreed.

But I’d felt my stomach twist.

Because I was a picky eater.

Not the dramatic, bratty kind. Not by choice. My diet was narrow because of a genuine struggle certain textures sent my body into panic. Mushy, slimy, spongy… the wrong texture could make me gag or throw up. It was a problem I’d been working on in therapy for a while food texture aversion, they called it. A sensory issue.

But I never told Joe.

I couldn’t.

He was effortlessly adventurous, someone who tried oysters in New Orleans and sea urchin in Japan and loved that experience of tasting the world. I was the kind of person who barely touched her plate unless it was safe, familiar, unthreatening.

So I dodged dinner invites, always had a reason work running late, upset stomach, “oh, let’s just stay in.” He never questioned it. We always ended up watching films on his sofa with takeaway I secretly ordered plain. And things were fine.

Until his birthday.

“You have to come,” he’d said, grinning as he adjusted the sleeves of his blazer in the mirror. “Whole cast will be there. It’s at that new place Ciel Bleu, the one I kept on about?”

I nodded, a pit growing in my stomach. There was no way out of this. No last-minute excuse. He looked so excited, so happy I’d agreed.

So I went.

And that was the beginning of a night I would never forget.

The first course was something posh and unpronounceable foie gras on a beetroot compote with foam and micro herbs. I stared at it, bile rising in my throat.

Joe raised his glass across the table, smiling. “To the woman who made this birthday perfect just by being here.”

I clinked my glass with his, smiled back.

And didn’t take a single bite.

It only got worse. Every dish that followed had something on it I couldn’t eat. By the time dessert rolled around, I quietly asked the waiter if I could just have some bread pudding. Plain. Warm. Familiar.

Joe's brow furrowed. He didn’t say anything then, but I could feel the tension buzzing in the air like static.

The car ride home was silent. He drove with one hand on the wheel, his jaw tight.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You didn’t eat anything. Not one course.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I lied.

“You were fine until the starter arrived.”

I swallowed hard, staring out the window. “Joe, please. Can we not?”

He pulled over suddenly, turning to face me fully. “Why won’t you ever eat out with me, Y/N? Do you not trust me? Do you not like what I like? Is it something I’ve done?”

His voice wasn’t raised, but it was sharp. Hurt. Confused.

I felt the tears before they hit my cheeks.

“I have… I have food issues,” I whispered. “I’ve never told you because I know how you feel about picky eaters. But it’s not about being fussy. It’s a sensory thing. I’m in therapy for it. Food texture aversion. Some things make me gag. Others make me panic. I’m not trying to embarrass you, Joe. I just… I was terrified you’d think I’m childish.”

He looked at me like I’d slapped him.

And then, softly but firmly, he said, “It is childish.”

Silence.

The drive back was suffocating. When I got home, I went straight to bed. He didn’t follow.

Three days passed. He barely texted. I didn’t blame him. I was ashamed. Mortified. I’d confirmed his worst thoughts I was the kind of person who ordered bread pudding at a five-star restaurant.

On the fourth day, he called.

“Come over,” he said.

I hesitated. “I don’t know”

“Please.”

So I went.

It was quiet when I walked in. The flat was cosy, a bit messier than usual books stacked on tables, papers scattered.

“Sit,” he said gently, pulling out a chair at the tiny dining table.

There were two plates.

Pasta. Simple, creamy. Nothing overly complex. But still scary. I could feel my stomach tighten, fear flooding my chest.

“I can’t,” I whispered, backing away.

He caught my hand. “Wait. Please. just let me say something first.”

I froze.

“I spoke to your therapist.”

I blinked at him. “You what?”

“I wanted to understand,” he said. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me. But she told me about your therapy, about the steps you’re taking. About how bloody hard it is just to sit at a table with new textures. And I felt like a dick.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “You were angry. You had every right...”

“No,” he interrupted. “I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue. I let my own baggage get in the way. I thought it was about me, and it never was. So I asked her how can I help? What can I do?”

I looked down at the food again.

“You cooked this?”

“Yeah. It’s not perfect. But I asked her what textures might be safest, and she gave me ideas. I just wanted to try. With you.”

My heart cracked open. My chest ached.

“Joseph…” I whispered. “What if I can’t do it? What if I gag? What if I ruin this, again?”

He knelt beside me, holding my hand. “Then we try again. And again. Until we find the ones you can eat. This isn’t about you ‘growing up’. You’re not fussy, Y/N. You’re brave. And I love you. Even if you only ever eat bread pudding.”

I laughed through tears.

“I’ll try,” I said, voice shaking. “But no promises.”

“That’s all I need.”

I took a bite.

Small. Hesitant. The first few chews were manageable. But the third too creamy, too much. My throat closed up, and I put my fork down, breath catching.

He reached out immediately, rubbing my back gently. “It’s okay. That was amazing, what you just did.”

“But I didn’t finish it,” I sniffed.

“So?” he smiled. “Progress is progress.”

I buried my face in my hands. “You won’t leave me? Not for this?”

He lifted my chin, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Y/N, when I told you I had panic attacks before auditions, when I cried in the middle of the night after a role because I thought I’d messed it up you held me. You never flinched.”

“I love you,” I said, voice cracking.

“And I love you,” he replied. “Now tell me how to make that food better next time. Less sauce? Different pasta?”

I laughed, wiping my face. “Maybe less creamy. And maybe… smaller bites?”

“Noted.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll make a menu together. A whole damn cookbook if we have to.”

In that small flat, with one plate barely touched and hearts completely wide open, I realised something simple and true:

Love isn’t about shared meals or identical tastes.

It’s about showing up, again and again.

Even when the food is cold.

Even when the fear is loud.

Even when bread pudding is the only thing on the menu.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

this is basically me throughout this entire part. FINALLY THE FACE REVEAL MEETUP!! God I just LOVE a good love-making. This was passionate, loving, sweet, enduring, and GOD I WANT MORE (but if this is the end, what a way to go). Brava darling! This is the BEST romantic series I've ever read and I'll keep reading it over and over again whenever I feel down or depressed - From a lonely single girl wanting romantic love so she reads fanfics of her fav. comfort characters to fill the void

Penpals - Part 5

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

The Triwizard tournament has come to an end, and as the rest of Hogwarts celebrates in their common rooms for the joint win of Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley has different victory on his mind.

Warnings: explicit content, smut, set in a world where Voldemort didn’t return, and Cedric Diggory didn’t die.

———————————————————————

Each of the Hogwarts house common rooms were bustling with music and merriment in celebration of the Hogwarts Champions’ victory. It left the rest of the castle quieter than it had been in weeks. But up above it all, where the spires met the clouds, where the stars stretched overhead like scattered promises, a different challenge was being tackled by one Frederick Weasley.

The Astronomy Tower waited in silence, touched by the gentle brush of moonlight. Twilight curled around the stone like a silken shawl, blue and purple hues weaving themselves into the crumbling edges. A breeze swept through the open archway, warm despite the hour, as though summer had decided to make one final appearance before night fully took hold.

Y/n was waiting for him. She stood with her back to the staircase, looking out over the Forbidden Forest. Her hands rested on the cold ledge, fingers tapping nervously. The green dress from the Yule Ball had been replaced with something simpler - a soft green cardigan, her school skirt, and button-up shirt tucked slightly into it. She’d come early, unable to stay away. Each letter, each stolen glance, had led her here, and now she stood on the precipice of something both exhilarating and terrifying. It was the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

Footsteps echoed on the winding staircase behind her. She didn’t turn immediately. She knew. She felt it in her chest - the shift in the air. Like gravity itself was leaning toward him. She was scared to turn around, as though finally meeting him in person might ruin everything they’d built throughout the year.

“Finally, it’s about time I find you up here,” Fred Weasley’s voice rang out, softer than she’d ever heard it, threaded with awe and something reverent.

She turned.

There he was.

The boy who had haunted her sleep. The boy whose words she’d read until her vision blurred. His hair was a mess, as always, but tonight it looked more deliberate, windswept by the rush to meet her. His dress robes were half-buttoned, abandoned for a casual jumper rolled at the sleeves and trousers dusted faintly with dirt from earlier in the day. He had ink smudged on his hand. His tie hung loosely from his pocket, forgotten. But it was the expression on his face that stopped her breath.

Fred looked like he had been searching for her across lifetimes. His eyes - those warm, burning embers - locked onto hers and didn’t move. For a long moment, they just looked. After all the prose, the confessions, the teasing and aching and longing, the silence said more than any letter could.

“You’re…” he began, then stopped, smiling like it hurt. “You’re actually here.”

She swallowed, heart hammering. “I hope I live up to what you imagined.”

He stepped closer, slow. Measured. “You’re so much more than what I imagined.”

They met in the center of the tower, where moonlight caught in her hair and turned it to silver. Fred’s hand hovered at her cheek, unsure, waiting.

She leaned into it. The touch was feather-light. A graze. Like he couldn’t believe she was solid. He cupped her jaw fully then, his thumb brushing just below her eye as though memorizing every line of her face.

“I’ve thought about this moment every night for the past month,” she whispered.

He laughed, low and warm, his forehead falling to hers. “So did I. And now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say that can do this justice.”

“Strange, isn’t it? How it’s so easy to talk on a paper, but in person it’s much more difficult.” She mused with a hum, cheeks flushing crimson.

“I wouldn’t say it’s difficult, just…new,” Fred corrected. “Your voice is better than I could have imagined it. And it was you. The girl that I saw at the first task. I hoped it would be. You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re even more handsome up close,” She giggled, the sound melodious and light with joy.

“You should have come up to take a closer look a long time ago,” he challenged with a mischievous spark behind his eyes.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Weasley,” she said.

And he did.

Softly at first, hesitant, like a question he’d waited too long to ask. His lips were warm, tender, brushing hers in a way that made her knees nearly give out. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt to stay grounded, to feel the beat of his heart under her fingertips.

When the kiss deepened, it was slow and exploratory, a dance of restraint and reverence. Fred pulled her closer, hands splaying over her back, anchoring her to him. His mouth moved against hers with aching care, like he was drinking her in sip by sip, not wanting to rush the taste he’d waited so long to revel in.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, her forehead stayed against his, their noses brushing.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“You said that already,” she teased, her voice shaking with a laugh.

“Well, I can’t believe it more now.” His smile turned roguish. “And I should warn you, if you keep looking at me like that, I might forget how to speak entirely.”

She tilted her head, brows lifting playfully. “I wouldn’t mind that. I’ve heard you’re a bit mouthy.”

Fred chuckled, his laughter vibrating between them. “Only when I’ve got something to say. Which is always.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, then one to her cheek, and another just below her jaw. Each one was careful. Deliberate. A trail of devotion. Walking her backwards slowly, they broke apart when her legs hit stone.

They perched in the window’s arch together, his arm around her shoulders as she curled into his side. Below, the lake glimmered, reflecting the ink of the night’s sky. A few stars had emerged, brave enough to shine through the spattering of clouds.

“So,” she said after a while, her voice quieter now. “What now?”

Fred looked down at her, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. “Now we start the rest of whatever this is.”

She smiled, her fingers threading with his. “And what is it?”

He tilted his head, grinning. “It’s the story I’ll tell our kids one day. About how I fell for a girl in ink and parchment, who haunted my every thought until I found her at the top of the world.”

Her heart thundered in her chest, a maze of butterflies coming alive in her stomach.

“And then?” she whispered.

“And then I never let her go.” Fred’s words hung between them like a vow, low and reverent, and she couldn’t speak for a long moment. Her throat had gone tight, not with nerves but with emotion - a fullness that no amount of breath could satisfy.

She shifted closer, pressing her forehead to his collarbone, breathing in the scent of him - parchment ink, earth from Herbology, a faint trace of gunpowder and something uniquely Fred—mischief, warmth, and comfort. He held her tighter in response, and his hand moved slowly, almost absentmindedly, up and down her arm. The kind of touch that says, ‘You’re safe here. I’ve got you.’

“I was scared this would feel different in person,” she admitted softly. “That maybe the magic was only in the words. In the not-knowing.”

“And now?” he asked, voice husky, as if scared of her answer.

“Now I know it was always just you.”

Fred drew back just enough to see her face, his thumb brushing her jaw. “Say it again.”

“It was always you.”

He kissed her like a thank-you. Like a benediction.

The air had changed now - less tentative, more alive with heat. His kisses lost their hesitation, deepening with each pass. Her fingers found their way into his red locks, tugging gently, and she felt the low sound he made in the back of his throat vibrate against her chest.

He laid her back slowly, carefully, on the cool stone of the bench carved into the archway, never breaking the kiss. His body hovered over hers but never pressed, he wasn’t in a hurry. Fred Weasley, king of chaos and speed, was taking his time. Letting each heartbeat stretch into a moment, each breath become a wordless poem.

Her hands explored his shoulders beneath the loose shirt, memorizing the shape of him, the strength, the quiet steadiness in his muscles. Quidditch had certainly served him well all these years. He gasped softly when her palm slid to his ribs, and the sound was like fuel, sending a tremble through her.

When his mouth trailed down her throat, her head fell back. She didn’t stop the sigh that escaped, nor the soft, shuddering whisper of his name. “Freddie…”

His lips paused just above her collarbone. “Say it again.”

“Freddie,” she breathed, and this time, her hands guided him lower.

She felt his fingers tremble at the hem of her cardigan, and she nodded before he could ask. There was a whisper as the fabric hit the floor. His deft hands found the buttons of her shirt next, slowly slipping each one from its binding until the think white cotton top was falling from her body. He pushed it off her shoulders, gently, reverently, revealing the lace beneath - the green she’d hinted at, finally shown. His breath hitched audibly.

“You wore it,” he said, dazed. “Merlin, you actually wore it.”

“I told you I would,” she teased, but her voice was a whisper now, breathless and wanting.

He ran the backs of his fingers along the curve of the lace, over her shoulder, down her arm, reverent. “I don’t know how to be careful with how I feel about you.”

“Then don’t be careful,” she said, arching into his touch.

Fred leaned in again, kissing her deeply, and she felt it - the full weight of everything they had and hadn’t said. His longing. His tenderness. His restraint fraying slowly at the edges as her fingers traced patterns on his lower back, as her hips shifted instinctively beneath him.

His hand settled over hers, where it rested above his heart. “This,” he said hoarsely. “Has only ever beat for you. I just didn’t know it yet.”

Her throat tightened with emotion. She guided his hand down from her heart to the edge of her skirt, her eyes meeting his, full of intent.

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered. “If you want to.”

Fred’s breath left him in one long exhale. “I want to. But only if we take our time. I want to learn every part of you like a language. No rushing.”

She smiled. “I’ve got all night.”

What followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t reckless or frantic. It was soft, slow, and saturated in wonder.

They didn’t undress each other all at once. His robes loosened under her careful hands, the lace adorning her body never fully removed, only shifted enough to give access to skin he worshipped with mouth and palm alike. She unbuttoned his jumper in return, one at a time, pressing kisses to each new patch of freckled skin. His body responded to her touch like flame to oxygen - coiling, igniting, but never burning too hot or to hold.

Fred kissed her like she was both a mystery and an answer. Like every letter she’d written had settled into his bones and taken root. His hands mapped her gently, reverently, learning the curve of her waist, the softness of her thighs, the arch of her spine beneath his palm. He whispered her name between kisses, reverent and aching.

And when her body moved with his, breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat, she felt something open inside her - a door that only he had the key to. A sense of belonging so fierce it nearly broke her.

Their bodies moved in sync, slow and deep and full of meaning, and when she moaned into his mouth, Fred groaned against her neck, clinging to the sound like salvation.

After, they lay tangled together, skin against skin, wrapped in robes and warmth and moonlight.

Fred stroked her hair as she curled against his chest, and he murmured, “Was this real? Or ami dreaming of you again?”

She laughed softly, fingers tracing idle circles on his chest. “It was real. More real than anything.”

He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I think I’ve loved you since the third letter.”

“You’re just saying that because I stole Earl.”

“Merlin, you’re right. It was the owl theft that sealed the deal.”

She giggled, and he kissed her nose, then her cheek, then finally her lips again - slow and lingering.

“I want this,” he whispered. “Not just tonight. I want mornings with you. I want to annoy you in class. I want to hex anyone who tries to flirt with you. I want to build that little cottage we talked about. I want to take you to (your home country) and hear you tell stories about your family while I burn in the sun like a tragic ginger.”

She smiled against his mouth. “Then you’ll have all of it. All of me.”

The moon hung full above them now, silver and watchful. Stars blinked into being like an audience, like witnesses.

———————————————————————

Tags: @randomfan218-blog @ellouisa17 @votresoleil02 @solchienne @lou-diaries @pillowjj @starryeddie @mirkwoodshewolf @zannete @pinkcloudcat @loveenoughtofillmeup @babbling-creature @crashoutqueenie @eliengoddes

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Penpals - Part 3

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Fred has fallen for the girl behind the letters. But how far will this go before he can finally out a name and face to the handwriting?

Part 3

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To the girl who makes every word feel like a heartbeat,

I’m reading your letter again. I should be working on a charm that reverses the effect of my Exploding Ink v.3 (George’s eyebrows are still missing, which he insists gives him a “mysterious, brooding” look), but I’ve chosen to lose myself in your words instead. I hope you’re proud of yourself. You’ve become the most distracting thought I’ve ever had - and I grew up with a twin who once bewitched my socks to insult me every time I walked.

My Freddie.

You can absolutely call me that. I read that line and had to sit very still for a few minutes so George wouldn’t see the ridiculous grin trying to take over my entire face. I may have muttered “She called me Freddie” to the wall. Once. Or twice. Possibly three times.

And now I find myself wondering what it would be like to hear you say it out loud.

You’re keeping me to yourself? Good. I’m not ready to share you either. Our secret world is too perfect, too intimate, too ours. Let them guess. Let them assume. None of them would imagine that the letters causing me to stare wistfully out the dorm window like some lovesick fool are coming from the sharpest, kindest, most infuriatingly mysterious girl to ever steal my breath away.

The second task.

Yes, I’ll be there - probably loudly and dramatically betting against logic again (someone has to), and yes, I’ll be looking for you. Watching the crowd more than the lake, hoping for that impossible flash of certainty that says “There you are.”

And your definition of love?

I read it once and felt a spark in my chest. I read it again and it settled into something much heavier, something real. It’s beautiful. Not because it’s poetic (though it is), but because I think you might be right. I’ve never had anyone put it into words like that, and I can’t help but think that if I were to fall, truly fall, it would have to be just like that.

So here’s my answer:

Love, to me, is knowing you’ve found someone who feels like gravity - effortless, constant, and impossible to ignore. It’s trust, built from late-night conversations and sideways glances. It’s laughter echoing in places that used to be silent. It’s wanting to protect their light at all costs, even if you never hold it in your hands.

And sometimes…

It’s writing letters to a girl you’ve never met face-to-face and thinking - knowing - you’d cross the castle barefoot at midnight in a snowstorm just to see her smile.

We could go to (your home country) first. Somewhere by the water. I’ll charm our bags to float, you can charm the locals with your wit, and we’ll eat far too much food under the stars. After that? Anywhere. Everywhere.

I have a feeling the world would feel bigger beside you.

Now, since you’ve stolen Earl (traitor) and my heart (not fair), I deserve a small win. So here’s my next question:

What do you most want to be remembered for - when Hogwarts is behind you, when the books are closed, and the ink has dried - what’s the legacy you’d want to leave?

Yours completely,

Freddie

P.S. You’d be dangerously adorable saying my name aloud. I just know it.

P.P.S. Earl is now sending me dirty looks across the common room. It’s fine. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

———————————————————————

To my dearest Freddie,

I caught a glimpse of George without his eyebrows yesterday and wondered if it was your doing. I’m glad to learn I was correct. I know you well.

I in fact am proud of myself for the way I’ve been able to render the irresistible yet unobtainable Frederick Weasley a lovesick fool. I think writing to you is starting to imbue me with your ego.

I can imagine you reading my letter, that handsome lopsided smile on your face. It’s making me blush at the thought.

I can already envision the ludicrous comments you’ll be making tomorrow and I must say I’m excited to hear your voice. It will be easier to imagine you speaking these words you write to me.

You are quite the poet yourself with your definition. It has been added to my own. The one you love should be able to make you laugh, even in the darkest of times. For laughter is medicine to the soul. And you, my dear Freddie, certainly make me laugh. Even with just your ink on a page.

(your home country) sounds perfect. It’s funny that you should have chosen it given my family originated there. I’d love to see the places my ancestors walked and learn the history of my culture. I’d love even more to do so with you.

What legacy would I want to leave? I’d like the teachers, students, and halls themselves to remember me not just for my academic achievements but I’d like them to know who I was. As a person. What I believed, what I fought for. If I’m going to be remembered, I want it to be accurate and authentic to me.

Yours - the girl who has indeed fallen for you.

P.S. I think you’ve earned another hint. If you listen carefully in Herbology or Charms, you might hear my voice.

P.P.S. For the record, I have not stolen Earl. He relocated to my room willingly.

———————————————————————

To my girl with the voice I now listen for in every lesson,

Was it you who gave me that amused little glance when George walked into breakfast looking like a confused, red-haired moon. That look said “I know exactly what you’ve done, and I’m choosing to let you live.” Very gracious of you, if it was you. I’ll try to keep my mischief aimed at those who deserve it (Snape and Malfoy are currently tied).

I’ve read your letter at least three times already. George says I’ve been smiling like someone hexed my face that way, but he doesn’t know it’s because you called me “your Freddie” again. You can’t possibly imagine how easily that turns my whole day to sunlight.

You’ll be at the second task. I’ll be there too, looking absurdly dramatic and pretending to care more about the champions than I do, while actually just scanning the crowd for you. I don’t know how I’ll find you, but I’ll feel it, I think. Maybe not with my eyes. Maybe with my chest. You’ve already taken root in there anyway.

You speak of legacy like someone who already knows herself deeply, and isn’t afraid of what she finds. That might be what I admire most about you: your fire. It’s not the kind that burns things down. It’s the kind that keeps people warm. That protects. That refuses to dim, even when the world tries to smother it.

You will be remembered. You already are.

By someone who’s never even seen your face, but feels like he knows your soul.

As for (your home country)…I think knowing it’s part of your history means we have to go there! There’s something poetic in the idea of taking you not just to see the sights, but to belong somewhere new with you. Maybe we’ll find a little waterside café with dessert that’s too sweet and coffee that’s too strong, and we’ll spend all afternoon pretending to be locals. I’ll try to learn the language and probably butcher every word. But you’ll laugh and correct me and I’ll fall for you again every single time.

Now, your hint. You’ve no idea how much I’ve been waiting for one.

Herbology or Charms, you say? I’ll listen out for you in the hopes that when I hear your voice a part of me might know.

You want another question? Here it is:

Tell me something no one else knows. A secret. Not a scandalous one (though I wouldn’t object), but one that means something. Something you’ve never said out loud. I’ll keep it safe. Always.

Yours - undeniably, irrevocably,

Freddie

P.S. If I do hear your voice…and if I know it’s you…would you want me to say something? Or shall we keep pretending, just a little longer?

———————————————————————

My Freddie,

I will call you that a hundred times over if it keeps that smile on your face. Let George think you’ve been hexed. If I see you in the halls I’ll know it’s because of me.

Cedric and Luna have noticed my wandering eyes. I don’t think I’m hiding it very well. I might have to confess that a certain Gryffindor Beater has caught my attention (and my heart).

As for your guess, it may or may not have been me that smiled at you in the great hall. But it’s nice to know you’re keeping a look out for me.

I saw you at the second task yesterday. I can’t believe they took Ron to the bottom of the lake. You must have been worried when he and Harry were late, though you hid it well. I hid well too, up in the stands where I was sure you wouldn’t see me. It was easier to watch you there. To watch you look for me. I can assure you, you didn’t find me. I would have noticed if we’d locked eyes.

I do have a lot of self-surety. I know who I am and what I want and what I don’t. I can tell you that you currently fall in the second category.

You might have heard me in charms on Friday. I answered a question (though there were many of us Hufflepuffs that did, so it doesn’t narrow down your search by much).

Something scandalous no one else knows…that’s a difficult one. I suppose I could confess that I’ve had my eyes on you for a lot longer than we’ve been sending these letters.

Yours - completely and utterly - the girl who is now always watching and looking for your smile to light up my day.

P.S. Earl and I had some quality time yesterday. Look out for his painted nails. He looks dashing in crimson (it might match mine).

P.P.S. Let’s set a date. After the triwizard tournament is over, we’ll meet at the astronomy tower.

———————————————————————

Tags: @randomfan218-blog @ellouisa17 @votresoleil02 @solchienne @lou-diaries @pillowjj

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Penpals - Part 2

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Fred has grown to enjoy the letters from his secret Hufflepuff penpal. Perhaps a little more than he should.

Part 2

———————————————————————

To: The boy cheering for the dragon

Sent via Earl the great

How insane was that trial on Sunday! I think my heart nearly leapt right out of my chest when the dragon broke free and almost bowled over all the teachers! I can’t believe you were cheering it on! Though I must admit I secretly was hoping it might take out Snape for a few weeks.

I did see you. Perhaps I more than saw you. Maybe my eyes kept finding themselves drawn to you in the crowds. Though who’s to say? You certainly won’t find me admitting it.

I wonder if you saw me? I didn’t come up and say hi. I thought it might be too obvious and you might catch me out too soon. You were correct when you said I enjoy the chase - though in this case I might enjoy the prize more, depending on what that is?

This little game of ours has been more fun than I care to admit. A welcome distraction from the stress of school and the excitement of the tournament. I hope you found the little draught of peace potion I left for you at the astronomy tower (if you did end up going). I thought it might help you on those quiet nights when you want to feel a little more creative.

I do pride myself on being an excellent judge of character, and I think in your case the more you write to me the more I beleive I’m correct.

I’m glad to hear that you value the traits I hold dear the most. It makes me believe maybe we would get along outside of these letters.

If I could ask you anything? Face to face? If I’m feeling bold, I might ask you what you see in those lucky girls you let have a taste of your world. I hear you are quite the ladies man, though never one for too long and never the same girl. Why is that?

Yours, until you decide to stop writing me

———————————————————————

To the girl who didn’t say hi but definitely watched me

Delivered by Earl, who now only answers to “His Royal Highness” and demands orange slices before liftoff

Ah, the dragon. Majestic. Terrifying. Slightly overdramatic, if you ask me, but I suppose it was trying to make an impression. Honestly, I’m just glad no one got roasted, though I’m with you on the Snape bit. Imagine a week without him breathing down our necks and deducting points for “existing with an insolent expression.” Bliss.

I did go to the astronomy tower.

And I did find the draught.

You left it tucked behind one of the stone balusters, didn’t you? Clever. Thoughtful. A little mysterious. Just like you. I haven’t used it yet, it’s sitting on my windowsill right now, catching the moonlight. But I will. On a night when the castle feels a bit too loud or not loud enough.

Now. Back to Sunday.

You say you didn’t come say hi, but I’m certain I saw you. There was a girl standing a little apart from her friends, Hufflepuff scarf tucked just so, watching with this calm intensity that didn’t quite match the panic around her. My eyes found you more than once, and I remember wondering if it was you watching me.

(If you weren’t…please pretend you were. It’s doing good things for my ego.)

And since you asked something so bold, I suppose I owe you an honest answer.

Why don’t I stick around? Why not one girl, just one, for more than a few dances and letters and secret kisses behind statues?

I think part of me always thought no one really saw me. Not the version behind the smirk. They liked the show. The fun. The chaos. And that’s fine, I am all of those things. But I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be with someone who saw the quiet parts too. Who didn’t just want the firework, but the quiet spark beneath it.

I think maybe that’s why I keep writing you.

You see me. And not in the way others do.

So here’s my turn, if you don’t mind me being bold right back:

If I came to the astronomy tower next weekend - not to find a potion, not to guess a clue, but to meet you- would you be there?

And if you were…would you let me finally see the girl who’s been lighting up my nights with parchment and ink?

Yours (still hoping, still curious),

Fred

———————————————————————

To: The boy who might have actually caught a glimpse of me

Sent via His Feathery Royal Highness, Earl

Snape’s classes do bring an extra flavour of torture to the day. Potions would be a much better subject without him, but I need the subject too much to be able to drop it. Perhaps he’ll be fired one day for cruel emotional abuse towards children (I know it’s not likely but a girl can dream).

I’m glad you found the potion and I hope you enjoy using it. How did you enjoy the view? Did you get to catch the sun setting or rising? Was it as magical as I think it is?

How would you describe this girl? What did she look like? Just so I might know if it was indeed me you saw or if another one of my classmates caught your eye. You do have plenty of admirers. (I will not admit I’ve been watching you lately, I don’t think your ego needs much more inflation)

Now that you’ve explained yourself I understand far more than you’d think. I’ve never been in a relationship before, but it’s not to say no one’s been interested. It’s that people expect me to be this perfect, dutiful, sweet, doting girlfriend. I’m afraid I can’t live up to that. I’m rather rough around the edges, I know I can be a bit difficult to handle. I have high standards and no one’s been able to live up to them, but I don’t want to settle just for the sake of being in a relationship. And I don’t want to sacrifice my truth of self for it either. You seem to see that rougher side of me and perhaps even like it? Maybe that’s why I keep writing to you as well.

I’m not certain about us meeting up so soon. I’m afraid without the mystery you might no longer be interested, and I cherish our letters more than I want to. Or perhaps, if you meet me, you might be disappointed by what you find.

Yours, more than I’d care to admit

———————————————————————

To the girl who thinks her edges might be too rough (but doesn’t know how much I like it)

Delivered by Earl, who now wears a tiny gold ribbon around his leg and glared at me for five full minutes when I tied it. I’m starting to think he serves you now.

I know I joke a lot, but I mean this sincerely: I would pay good Galleons to see Snape in a career review with McGonagall. “Severus, how would you describe your leadership style?” “Soul-crushing sarcasm with a splash of thinly veiled trauma.” “Ten points to Slytherin for honesty.”

As for the astronomy tower…

I did catch the sunset. I went just after dinner, when the light was slipping low and gold, and everything looked like it had been lit from within. It was quiet up there. Still. Like the rest of the castle was holding its breath. I sat on the ledge with your potion in my pocket and for once didn’t try to make a single thing explode.

It was the most peace I’ve had in weeks. So…thank you.

(And yes, Earl was fed. Twice. He told me to tell you that your apple slices are “superior.”)

You asked what the girl I saw looked like.

She had a kind of quiet confidence to her, like she didn’t need to talk to be heard. Hufflepuff scarf, hair pulled back in a way that said “I don’t need to try hard to look good.” She watched the world like she was taking notes.

Was it you?

I don’t know. But I hope it was.

And now I need you to hear me clearly, because what you said, about being afraid to show yourself, hit me harder than you think.

If you’re worried I won’t like who you are outside of these letters…I get it. But I already like who you are inside of them. Fierce, clever, stubborn as anything, honest, funny, passionate - and not afraid to call me out when my head’s gotten too big (which, admittedly, happens often). I’m not writing you just for the mystery.

I’m writing because I feel like I’ve found something rare in you.

Someone who speaks the same strange language as me.

Someone who doesn’t just flirt with the surface but dives deeper.

So no pressure. Truly. If you need more time, I’ll wait. I’d rather keep these letters than lose the girl behind them because I rushed it.

But I do hope that someday, whether it’s next week or next month or next term, I get to see the girl who writes the kind of letters that make my world feel less like a joke and more like a story worth reading.

And when you’re ready, maybe you’ll let me write a few pages with you.

Now, my question (and I’ll be good - no pressure-heavy ones this time):

What is something you’ve always wanted to do, but haven’t yet?

Yours, still,

Fred

———————————————————————

To the boy who makes my heart race (just a little bit faster, not exponentially, so don’t get a big head about it),

Sent via my sweet baby Earl.

I’d pay more than a few galleons to watch McGonagall take Snape down a few pegs. I can just imagine her snippy barbs.

I’m happy you got to see the sunset and that you enjoyed it every bit as much as I do. I was up there the other night and the whole time I thought of you. Perhaps it’s become ‘our’ place instead of just mine now.

Cedric has been asking me about this mystery person I’ve been writing to. He’s convinced I have a secret boyfriend from Slytherin that I’m hiding from everyone in embarrassment. He couldn’t be further from the truth and that makes me laugh. He’s shown me the clue for the next task, though my ears do hate me for it. I heard Harry opened the egg at the Gryffindor party last week and you all got to hear the screeching. How are your ear drums holding up?

I won’t confirm or deny if the girl you saw was me as I’m not one hundred percent sure myself. Though the way you describe her, she sounds enthralling. I hope it was me too.

Your words of reassurance have struck a chord in me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate them. I like the way you describe me.

While my worries have been alleviated somewhat, I’d like to wait before revealing myself. It is easier to talk freely behind anonymity, and I enjoy getting to do so. Though I promise that one day I’ll put a name and face to my writing.

Something I’ve always wanted to do? That would have to be travelling the world. I’d love to see places I’ve only read about. I love becoming engrossed in nature and I want to see everything the world has to offer.

And for you, tell me about the most important people in your life and why? I think getting to know one’s closest loved ones is a great way to get to know someone better.

Yours - a girl who might be falling for you, just a little bit.

P.S Earl would like me to tell you that berries are actually his favourite.

———————————————————————

To the girl who might be falling for me (just a little bit - though that is enough to make me smile like an idiot in Charms),

Delivered by His Royal Majesty Earl, now wearing a cape fashioned from an old bit of House Elf tea towel. I’ve lost control of him entirely.

You do realise you can’t just say things like “a girl who might be falling for you” and then carry on as if you haven’t just turned my whole afternoon inside out, right? I had to read that line three times to be sure I hadn’t hallucinated it. My brain: “Charms homework.” My heart: “Read it again. Read it until the parchment starts to wear thin.”

Our astronomy tower. I like the sound of that. I’ll meet you there one day.

Cedric thinks you have a Slytherin boyfriend? That’s rich. The idea of you sneaking around with some moody, brooding bloke who talks about ambition as foreplay is too good. Tell him your mystery penpal is a redhead with a god complex, an allergy to authority, and exceptional taste in bad ideas.

And yes, the egg.

My ears are still recovering. I borrowed it from Harry and tried opening it once while George was asleep. His scream woke the entire dorm. We haven’t spoken about it since. I think he’s plotting revenge. (You’d like him, by the way. He’s the better half of our brain. And the heart, too. He’s steadier. A bit more patient. He always knew how to keep me grounded when I flew too close to the fireworks.)

You asked about the important people in my life. Here goes.

George, of course. He’s not just my twin, he’s the mirror I hold up to the world. Every idea I’ve ever had that worked, he’s made better. Every time I’ve failed, he’s stood beside me and found something to laugh about. I don’t know who I’d be without him. Maybe I don’t want to know.

Ginny. My little sister. Fierce and funny and terrifyingly brilliant. I used to joke she was like a mini-Mum, but honestly? She’s braver. She says what she means and doesn’t flinch, even when the world does. I admire her more than I think she knows.

Mum and Dad. My parents are everything that’s good about magic. Not the spells, but the heart of it. They make our home feel full, even when the pantry isn’t. Mum can be overwhelming, but she loves hard. And Dad? He makes curiosity feel like a superpower.

And, though it might sound odd, lately…You.

I don’t know what name to write beside you yet, but you’ve become a fixture in my mind. A comforting presence. A spark. A voice that makes me pause and think. You ask the kind of questions that burrow beneath the skin. You’re becoming someone important to me. Maybe not “in my life” just yet, but certainly in my days. That counts for something, doesn’t it?

You want to travel the world?

Take me with you. I’ll carry the bags. I’ll try every weird street snack and probably get cursed at least once in a strange temple. Deal?

Now, a question for you, one I’ve been holding off on but feel brave enough to ask now:

When you think about love…what do you hope it feels like?

Yours (and falling, more than just a little),

Fred

P.S. Berries? Earl has abandoned me for berries? Traitor.

P.P.S. I’m still going to win this guessing game. One day. Just you wait.

———————————————————————

To the boy who has fallen more than just a little,

Sent via Owl with a far nicer cape than the one you gave him.

I think your last letter has almost disintegrated at the edges from the amount of times I have read it. You had the gall to chastise me for my sign off when you left one that was even more jaw dropping. The Fred Weasley - no, not ‘the’ Fred Weasley, just Freddie, my Freddie (can I call you Freddie?) - is falling for me (more than just a little, no less).

It’s safe to say my transfiguration homework was less than satisfactory this week due to the amount of space you are now taking up in my brain. I may have to start charging you rent!

Cedric clearly doesn’t know what he’s on about, but he’s dropped the Slytherin guesses. He’s moved on to Ravenclaw now. I haven’t told him about you just yet. I like keeping you all to myself.

The second task is this weekend and I am planning on attending. I assume you’ll be taking bets again? I wonder if you’ll see me in the crowd? I’ll be looking for you.

I think I would get along with George just fine but I don’t believe that he is the heart (the brain perhaps) for yours is too passionate to beat.

I admire the way you love your family so fiercely. It’s clear they mean everything to you. And I have indeed met Ginny through Luna. You should be a very proud brother. She is fantastic and bold and every bit as brave as the best of them. I’m honoured that I have a place on your list. I hope to stay there.

I feel as though you would make an amazing travel partner. You have this energy about you that could make anything fun. I’ll happily take your deal. Where should we go to first?

I’ve never been in love before, but I expect it will be different to loving friends and family. I think it would be more than just knowing someone, but when you want to keep learning everything there is to know about them, and when you want to share everything with them. Not only acknowledging their flaws and quirks, but appreciating them. It shouldn’t be forced or difficult, it should be easy and effortless - natural. It’s wanting to always be around them and be there for them. It’s not being able to get them out of your mind, not being able to see yourself without them, and always putting them before yourself. They should make you a better version of yourself, and you should bring out the best in them. It should feel like safety, and comfort, and home. Everyone else should fall away in comparison. That’s what I think love is. Not all fireworks and butterflies (that too, but not exclusively) but consistency and perseverance. What do you think?

Yours - the girl who might be underplaying how much you truly mean to her.

P.S Earl is mine now, deal with it.

Tags: @randomfan218-blog

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Penpals - Part 1

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Part 2 out now.

———————————————————————

To: George (Or so he thought…)

Sent via Owl Post

Oi, George—

I’ve just had a brilliant idea for a new product and couldn’t wait until Madam Pomfrey decides I’m okay to tell you. Picture this: a quill that looks completely ordinary… until someone starts using it, and then - BAM! - it starts dramatically narrating everything they’re doing like an overly enthusiastic announcer at a Quidditch match.

Imagine McGonagall trying to give a lecture with her quill going, “Professor McGonagall is now frowning disapprovingly at a third year who clearly has no idea what she’s doing…oh, and there goes the eyebrow twitch!”

Anyway, we’ll call it Quill of Commentary. Think about it. We can tweak it to be snarky, romantic, heroic - the whole range. I’ll start prototyping this week. You handle the charmwork, I’ll wrangle the packaging.

Also, I may or may not have replaced Ron’s well with disappearing ink again. His reaction was magnificent. You’d think he’d check by now. Honestly, it’s too easy.

Write back when you can - though if you’ve already started testing that Puking Pastille variant again, do us all a favour and test it on yourself first.

Your better half (obviously),

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred Weasley.

Sent via Owl Post

Good evening Fred,

I’m assuming the intended recipient of this letter was your (admittedly far more endearing) other half, George.

Unfortunately for both of us, your letter has been sent to the wrong dormitory by your rather confused owl. Though I must say, your Quill of Commentary sounds like an intriguing invention. I must order one (once they’ve been thoroughly tested, of course).

As for poor Ronald, do take some pity on him. After all, I’ve heard he struggles to complete his work without the ink disappearing.

Kind regards,

Your anonymous letter recipient.

———————————————————————

To: The Mystery Mischief-Magnet Who Is Not George

Sent via Very Confused Owl

Well, now this is unexpected.

I must admit, I didn’t anticipate a response from someone with clearly impeccable taste in joke products. And yet, here you are, anonymous and delightfully cheeky. You’ve got me curious now. Not just because you called George the “far more endearing” twin (he’ll be insufferable if he hears that), but because you clearly have a sense of humour…and, dare I say, excellent timing. It does get rather boring being cooped up in the hospital wing.

You read the whole letter, didn’t you? Even the bit about Ron. That’s how I know you’re not a prefect - unless you’re the kind who enjoys a little chaos on the side. In which case, I’m intrigued.

Now, the question is: who are you?

Clearly a student. Intelligent, perhaps? Observant, certainly. Ravenclaw or the better half of Slytherin? Possibly Hufflepuff with a secret streak of mischief. And brave enough to write me back instead of chucking the letter in the bin. Could you be from my own house?

How about a trade? You give me a clue about yourself, and I’ll give you one in return.

Here’s mine: when I was five, I tried to charm Mum’s cooking pots into forming a marching band. It ended in singed eyebrows and a very cross chicken, but I regret nothing.

Your move, Mystery Girl.

Awaiting your next owl with great anticipation,

Fred (the clearly superior twin)

———————————————————————

To: The person who thinks he is the superior twin

Sent via slowly learning owl

‘Unexpected’ is the perfect word for the situation, for I also was not expecting a letter back.

I did indeed read your entire letter, and while I do not participate in (or wholeheartedly agree with) the rule breaking chaos you and your brother often partake in, I must admit it is entertaining for the rest of the student body.

As for your numerous questions - and assumptions - about me…

Well I’m not so keen to give myself up too easily. But I’ll play your little game as I am intrigued to hear more.

A cooking pot marching band sounds dreadful to the ears yet delightful to the soul.

I’m not going to make this easy for you, so you’ll have to pay close attention, but I’ve left a hint pertaining to my house somewhere in this letter. I wonder if you can find it? I await your response with eagerness.

From, your mysterious penpal.

———————————————————————

To: My Mysterious Penpal (who is either very clever, very bold, or both)

Delivered via Owl with a tendency to nip if ignored

I must say, you’ve got a flair for suspense. Subtle clues, a riddle in your words, and now. hidden symbols in the wax seal? You certainly don’t make it easy, but I suppose that’s part of the fun. Most people wouldn’t notice a badger tucked away like that…but most people aren’t me.

So. Hufflepuff, are you?

That narrows it down to roughly…a few dozen people. Brilliant.

You don’t strike me as the type who trips over their shoelaces in Herbology or forgets their wand in the loo. No, you’re one of the sharper ones, the type who sits quietly in the background but has already figured out exactly how many steps it’ll take to sneak out of the castle undetected. I like that. Calculated chaos. My favourite kind.

I’ll take your challenge and raise you: tell me the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done at Hogwarts. No need to incriminate yourself. Just a taste. I’ll even offer one in return:

Once, George and I bewitched every single toilet in the prefect’s bathroom to sing Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits anytime someone sat down. McGonagall gave us detention for a month, but we got a standing ovation from the Gryffindor common room.

Your turn. And do feel free to make it as vague and infuriatingly cryptic as you like - I’m starting to enjoy the puzzle.

Yours in mischief and mystery,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: A not-so-mysterious man

Sent via Owl who is very polite thank you very much

I’m glad you were perceptive enough to pick up on my hint - Hufflepuff indeed. I fear your expectations of my house mates delve into stereotype. I promise we are not all blundering and forgetful. We are actually splendid at finding things.

Though your assessment about calculated chaos is correct. I, like most people, do enjoy a tad bit of mischief every now and then. Although more often than not I enjoy observing rather than partaking.

The most rebellious act I’ve committed at Hogwarts pales in comparison to your various achievements (which are heard about even deep down in the hufflepuff common room).

I’m afraid the story is not that exciting, but I did once hex that Slytherin git Draco Malfoy for running his mouth about what muggleborns he wanted to be attacked next. Not so brave of me to attack a second year who was two years my junior, but he did deserve it.

Perhaps you could convince me to be a bit more daring?

I believe you’ve asked two questions in a row, making my turn overdue. It’s all well and good to tell me of your various pranking feats, for which you are known for throughout the Hogwarts student body. But the real truth of who you are lies beneath all that. I’d like to dig deeper. Who is Fred Weasley, really? The boy behind the prank master. Tell me, what is something the rest of us don’t know about you?

Sincerely, your mystery hufflepuff.

———————————————————————

To: The Surprisingly Fiery Badger in Disguise

Delivered via owl who seems to like you more than me now (traitor)

Well, well, hexing Draco Malfoy, were you?

I take back what I said about you being the quiet type. That’s the kind of rebellion that earns you a secret round of applause in the corridors, even if the professors pretend not to notice. Trust me, I know the sound of a muffled cheer when I hear one. For the record, I’d call that brave, not cruel. Sometimes people need a reminder they’re not as untouchable as they think.

Now, as for convincing you to be more daring…challenge accepted. I’d wager there’s a whole world of untapped chaos lurking in you, waiting to be unleashed. And when it is, I’d like to be there to see it. Or possibly help. Definitely help.

You’ve turned the tables on me though, and fair’s fair.

Who am I behind the gags and firecrackers?

Well. Most people see the jokes and assume that’s all there is. Loud, laughing, a bit reckless. But the truth is: pranks are just another kind of magic. They’re distractions. Shields. Ways to twist something heavy into something light. And when things get too dark - too real - I’d rather make someone laugh than let them feel the weight of it all.

There’s something else not many people know: I actually like working late at night, when the castle’s asleep. That quiet, that calm, it’s when ideas come alive. The fireworks, the products, the laughter…they’re all born in the silence.

So there you have it. A little honesty from the Weasley with the wildest hair and the biggest plans.

Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.

Now, I’ll trade you for another clue. You’ve got sharp wit and a hidden temper, but tell me: if you weren’t at Hogwarts, what would you be doing? No magic, no wands. Just you, out in the world.

Curious as ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: The boy behind the wild hair and nature

Sent via my new best friend

As far as vulnerability goes you certainly exceeded my expectations. Perhaps you aren’t as difficult of a book to read as I originally thought.

I’d always imagined your love and flair for the dramatic and fantastical was a way to seek attention and stand out among a family where I assume it would be easy to disappear, given there are so many of you. But your real reason is rather…endearing. In truth I find it quite admirable. We all need a little bit of light in the darkness, now more than ever with the recent attacks at the Quidditch World Cup. I’m happy that you are there to bring that light back into everyone’s lives at Hogwarts.

I enjoy working late at night in the dark and quiet as well. It is easier to think when the world is asleep. It brings a certain kind of peace that is hard to find at Hogwarts among the hustle and bustle. And do not worry, your secrets are safe with me. We Hufflepuffs are an honest and loyal bunch.

If I were to be out in the muggle world I imagine I’d like to go into healthcare. Learn how to help people, heal them. Though I suppose that’s not too different from what I want to do in the wizarding world.

What would you want to be if magic did not exist?

Equally as intrigued,

Mystery Badger

———————————————————————

To: The Healer in Hufflepuff’s Den

Delivered by an owl now carrying your letters with far too much pride (I think it’s showing off)

Well, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all term.

And yes, you’re not wrong about the whole “Weasley chaos” theory. It’s rather easy to become another blur of red hair and hand-me-down jumpers in a family like mine. So I suppose I turned up the volume a bit. Not to be seen, exactly, but to make something mine. George and I…we found our way by making people laugh. But you’re the first to look underneath all that and say it out loud.

That’s rather bold of you, Mystery Girl.

I like it.

And I especially like the sound of you being a healer. You’ve got the soul for it, I can tell from the way you speak. Thoughtful. Grounded. The kind of person who’d stay up through the night to make sure someone felt just a bit less alone. Magic or not, the world could use more of that. More of you.

As for me…no magic, huh?

That’s tough. I think I’d still want to create. Something loud and ridiculous and a little brilliant. I’d probably try to make jokes for a living. Maybe sketch things, invent weird little gadgets that no one needs but everyone wants the moment they see it. Something to remind people that life doesn’t always have to be so serious. That it can still be fun.

And if I’m being really honest…I’d want to make something that makes people remember me. Not for fame. Just so they smile, even for a second. Like, “That bloke Fred? Yeah…he was daft, but he made the world a bit brighter.”

So.

Another layer peeled back. Your move.

Next question, for you: If you could take me anywhere at Hogwarts - your favourite spot, your best-kept secret place - where would we go?

(And before you say the kitchens, I’m already quite familiar, thank you very much. The house-elves adore me.)

Yours, more intrigued than ever,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: Fred, the boy who made me smile today.

Sent via Owl that deserves to be proud

Your words were unexpectedly sweet for someone with such a roguish reputation. Perhaps your charm is why the ladies at Hogwarts love you.

Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be in need of my healing services, with all of your dangerous experimentations.

I could certainly see you as any and all of those things you described. It’s exceedingly honourable to simply want to make the world a better place with laughter - something so simple but something so often overlooked. I can tell you that your mission has succeeded today. I witnessed your little stunt in Herbology and while Professor Sprout may not have been impressed, I certainly was.

As for my favourite secret spot at Hogwarts…your guess was close. The kitchens are a close second, and the house elves have indeed told me about your midnight escapades. Though they may not have used the word ‘adore’ when describing you. Again, another secret of yours that I hold close to my chest. My favourite spot has to be the astronomy tower at dusk or sunrise. I love watching the colours that bleed across the sky. You’ll have to try it sometime.

And for my question, I heard you tried to enter your name into the Goblet of Fire this week and it ended in an unfortunate prunage of the skin and greying of the hair. Tell me, are you a handsome old man Weasley? But in all seriousness, why did you want to enter?

Looking forward to your response,

A smiling Hufflepuff

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who’s Made This Whole Mad Castle Feel a Little Less Mad

Delivered by one very smug owl who now refuses to carry anything but your letters. I’m considering a name for him. Something noble. Like Earl.

You saw that, did you? The Herbology stunt?

In my defense, the Venomous Tentacula did not need to be that dramatic. I gave it a party hat, not a reason to attack. Though I suppose, in its own way, it was participating in the celebration. Of what, I haven’t decided. Tuesday, maybe. Or life. Plants are unpredictable like that.

And you, my mysterious healer, have a dangerous gift for making me grin like an idiot when no one’s watching. I’ve read your letter three times now, and I’ve got half a mind to find that astronomy tower this weekend just to see if the sky looks as lovely as you describe - or if it only gets that way when you’re up there.

Now, to your question.

Yes. George and I may have tried to skirt the age line around the Goblet of Fire. I’m not entirely fond of what happened. Mostly because I now know exactly what I’ll look like in seventy years, and frankly, I was hoping for a little less nose hair. But you asked why we tried, not how miserably it failed.

Truth is…it wasn’t about glory. Not entirely.

I mean, sure, part of it was the thrill of it - the chance to prove we’re not just class clowns. That we could do something bold and win. But also…I think I just wanted to shake things up. Show people we’re more than the punchlines they expect. That we can fight for something. That we will. The gold prize would have been nice too.

But maybe that’s a silly answer. Or maybe it isn’t. I suppose you’ll be the judge.

Now it’s my turn again, isn’t it?

Tell me this: what’s the one thing you wish people noticed about you, but never seem to?

No rush.

The sky will still be there when you’re ready.

Yours - still slightly grey, still quite proud,

Fred

———————————————————————

To: My still-grey Griffindor

Via Earl

I’ve grown rather fond of Earl, though I think he likes me even more. But that may have something to do with the extra fruit snacks I feed him.

I’m glad I’m not the only one reading our little secret letters with a smile on my face. My friends are starting to get nosy and ask questions. Don’t worry, I keep my lips shut tight about our secret conversations.

You should make a visit to the astronomy tower this weekend. I can’t promise I will be there but I may leave something for you to find. If you can, that is.

As for your reasons to enter the tournament, you needn’t concern yourself with what others think. It may not mean much coming from someone you don’t even know, but if you want my opinion, I think you and George are both extremely gifted academically. The spells and skills that are required for the level of magic used to execute your pranks and make your products is extraordinary. You are far more than class clowns.

Not many people do notice me to be fair, and the people who do don’t seem to like me very much. Of course I have my close circle of friends - Luna, Cedric, and now perhaps you?

Something I wish people did notice was that I may seem like a bitch, but I am seldom cruel for the fun of it. I simply have very strong personal morals that I hate to see broken. If there is an injustice I will do my best to right it.

As for this week’s question, Fred, will you be at the first task on Sunday? I want to know if I should keep an eye out for you in the crowd. Perhaps I’ll come say hi, though I imagine I’d be quite hard to point out in the crowd of girls who do so.

Well wishes from the hufflepuff who notices you.

———————————————————————

To: The Hufflepuff Who Notices More Than Most

Delivered by Earl, who now refuses to leave without a snack and a scratch behind the wing (I’ve created a monster)

You have no idea how tempting that astronomy tower invitation is.

I’d say you’re cruel for teasing it, but something tells me you’re the type who prefers the thrill of the chase to the prize itself. Which is very unfair of you, considering how terribly impatient I am. But all right, Mystery Girl. I’ll play your game. If I do find something up there, I’ll consider it a sign that I’ve earned a little more of your truth.

And thank you, for what you said about me and George. Most people laugh and dismiss what we do as silly, but you saw the work in it. The craft. That means more to me than I can properly write in a letter. I think you’ve got a habit of seeing through the noise, don’t you?

Now then.

You may not be the easiest person to spot in a crowd, but something tells me I’d know you if I saw you. You’ve got a presence, even in ink. I’ll be at the first task, yes. Somewhere near the front. Probably shouting something highly inappropriate and getting side-eyed by McGonagall. If you’re there, look for the bloke who’s too loud, wearing Gryffindor colours, and scanning the crowd like he’s trying to find something he’s not supposed to see.

Because I will be looking for you. And if you come say hi…I’ll know.

Not because of your house colours but because I think I’ll feel it. The way I feel it now, when your words show up in my hand and suddenly the world feels a bit warmer.

As for what you said, you’re not cruel. You’re fierce. Loyal. And maybe a little sharp around the edges. But only because you care more than most. People like that? They’re the ones worth holding on to.

Now, for your next question:

If you could ask me anything face to face, no matter how bold or personal - what would it be?

Yours until Sunday (and hopefully after),

Fred