#I need to buy more cards and then I’ll be able to send out the rest! hoping to find some cute ones at the craft fair next week

[parallelunivrses]

just dropped off my @dwfandomcardexchange international cards! hoping to get out the domestic ones next week :)

[screeching-bunny]

Need more of our yan slasher,he's so pookie,i wanna bite his cheeks (in a affectionate way) and cuddle with him until the end of times,he's such a cutie 😭💗

Yandere! Slasher Pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

After reading the message sent by Yandere! Slasher, everyone subconsciously looked at you. Never in your life did you want to go home more badly than you did right now. Why did you even decide to go to a party in the first place? You don’t even like people in general! You were definitely never going out to socialize with others after this. If only there were more booze around here you really didn’t want to handle this situation semi sober.

You: “... What are you all looking at me for, they gave out a very vague description of someone. This could literally be anyone in this room with similar features to me.”

The next minute the phone screen immediately lights up with a message.

Yandere! Slasher: “I’m talking about you.”

You: “...”

After a few more seconds of silence, you finally managed to suppress the fear and uneasiness in your heart. You took the phone from the person beside you and carefully looked back at the messages that were sent by Yandere! Slasher. Finally looking down at the text box you begin to slowly type a message.

You: “Sorry, I don’t like guys with dark hair.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I can always dye it.”

You: “I don’t like your face.”

Yandere! Slasher: “There’s always plastic surgery”

You: “How do I know that you're rich? What if you’re lying and actually not broke.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I’ll buy you whatever you want right now. I can even send you my credit card information if you decide to be with me.

Damn you were broke but not broke enough to allow yourself to be with some killer. If it weren’t for your morals you would have probably folded by now.

Yandere! Slasher: “Well it’s not like you have a choice anyways. I plan on making you my spouse either way. You can either come with me willingly or I could take you by force…. Well looks like you’re taking too long. I'll decide for you.”

With that text message sent, you immediately began to feel queasy. You were struggling to keep your eyes wide open and your body was beginning to become very sluggish. Slowly but surely your senses were starting to stop and the last thing that you were able to hear were the sound of your peers screaming for help. With one last attempt to get out of your situation, you try to slowly crawl away. Only for your attempts to be interrupted when someone gently picks you up. “You’re not going anywhere cutie.” and with that you were now fully unconscious.

—

The next morning you woke up with the world’s worst hangover in the world. Never in your life did you feel this fucked up and and groggy all at once. You begin to raise up your body but soon realize that your body was tightly restricted by some rope and you were wrapped in the arms of some guy. The immediate thought in your head was that this was, last night was either the kinkiest night of your life or some random weirdo had ended up kidnapping you. Due to your movements the man next to you begins to wake up and looks over to you with a smile on his face.

“Cutie! I’m so glad you’re awake. We have so many things that we need to discuss right now! I’ve been thinking about the names of our future kids. Do you have any preferences? I don’t really mind what we name them but I want a lot of kids! Wait! I’m being so inconsiderate right now. I never even asked you if you wanted kids. If you don’t like them we can adopt as many pets as we physically can and we–”

As he was rambling it finally hit you. He was the fucking weirdo from the night before. You wanted to fucking die. Never in a million years did you think that you’d have to deal with a serial killer and an extrovert at that. Maybe if you pretended to be deaf he would stop talking to you. You begin to look at him and begin to make gestures with your head and facial expressions to signify that you were deaf. Yandere! Slasher looks at you for a few minutes before laughing.

“Sweetie, that's not going to work. I’ve been stalking you for the last couple of years. I know that you’re not deaf. Besides I’ve looked at your medical, you're perfectly healthy right now. Which reminds me, my precious little darling must be starving right now. It’s my job as your future husband to take care of you. Now wait right here for me.”

With that he leaves you entrapped alone in the room. Although your eyes were still a little blurry you were still able to make out the contents of the room. Scanning the room, your eyes fell upon a glint of metal under a desk —a discarded tool left by neglect or chance. Adrenaline surged as you inched closer, your heart racing in synchrony with your movements. With trembling fingers, you grasped the tool, the cold touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of determination, you started sawing at the ropes, each movement a blend of agony and hope. The metallic smell of blood filled your nose as the sharp edges of the tool cut into your skin. With each passing second, the knots loosened, freedom within tantalizing reach. With one last rough movement you were able to be free of your binds. As you made your way towards the window. A creak soon shatters the silence and the door swings open. Revealing your kidnapper's looming silhouette.

“Look at you all covered in blood because I left the room. Did you really think I would leave the room without any monitors watching you? I was hoping that you wouldn't try to escape but I guess I’ll have to be training you from now on cutie. Guess I’ll have to punish you right now. Do me a favor and lay down won’t you?”

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 7

This story is just coming right along. I've decided that it is split into three acts. The Arrangement, The Turn, and The Embrace. The first is about Steve adjusting to his new life. The second is thinking he needs to get out of the situation. And lastly the third is about finding acceptance and love with Eddie.

Yesterday for WIP Wednesday, I finished act 1. I figure if I pace this right, each act will be roughly ten chapters. But we'll see.

In this Eddie is sweet as always, Steve goes clothes shopping, and Chrissy misunderstands what Steve is trying to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Steve woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand blearily. It was a little after nine am.

The knocking began again and he got unsteadily to his feet and wandered over to the door. He opened it.

Behind the door was a porter. “My apologies for the rude awakening, sir. But this came for you, marked ‘Urgent’.”

In the porter’s hands was a small box. Steve nodded and took the box. He set it on the side table and grabbed his wallet. He tipped the porter and grunted his thanks before slamming the door.

He trotted back over to the bed and flopped face first back into his pillows.

The next time he awoke it was more naturally, and closer to 10:30am than 9am. He rolled over on his back with a sigh. He’d missed breakfast, but he didn’t mind. He was tired. Just the feeling of nothingness clung to his chest like a heavy blanket.

He sat up and spotted the box. He picked it up and padded over to the desk. He looked around it for a moment and to his delight he found a letter opener.

“Thank god, for fussy hotels,” he murmured as he used the letter opener to open the box. He set the letter opener down and then took the box over to the sofa. He loved comfy it was despite it being black in color.

He pulled at the packaging to reveal a pair of designer sunglasses. Steve smiled as he pulled it out. Eddie must have thought of it when he heard Steve’s message about his day. All the driving around he did.

He picked up the phone and called Eddie.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “Did you sleep well?”

“Nearly,” Steve said with a hint of smile in his tone. “I got this urgent package from this hot rich guy that the front desk just had to wake me up for.”

“Whoops!” Eddie said, chagrin. “I didn’t think it would get there until this afternoon, sweetheart.”

Steve laughed. “It’s okay, I was able to go right back to sleep. Even remembered to tip the porter.”

“All’s well that end’s well,” Eddie said softly.

They talked for a bit before Steve said, “Oh, I was meaning to ask you. I have something I wanted to send to you. Is there an address or something I can send it to, to make sure you get it?”

“Aww...little Canary,” Eddie teased back, “you don’t have to send me anything. I like buying you things.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replied. “But I think you’ll really get a kick out this one, though.”

“Sure thing, baby,” Eddie said. “I’ll talk to Chrissy and she’ll give you a call with the information. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Eddie,” Steve murmured.

“What are your plans for today?”

Steve licked his lips as he thought about it. “Probably some clothes shopping now that I have this fancy black card to splash around.”

Eddie laughed. “You do that, baby. Just tell me which stores you’re going to so I can make sure they’re warned ahead of time about the card. Places like that are super weird about new people coming in with that kind of cash.”

“Ooh...” Steve said with a grimace. “Yeah, I saw that happen once. This woman had won the lottery or something and she came into the shop when I was there with my mom. The sales woman was absolute horrid to her and chased her out. My mom threw the newspaper on the counter and walked out. The front page had the picture of the woman and her three million dollar prize check. It was one of the few times I ever saw my mom do something remotely nice like that.”

After they hung up, Steve got up grabbed the box of truffles. He took a couple out to the box to eat while he gather up his things for a shower. He thought about hitting the gym again, but he wasn’t sure if the pink bitch was still here and he wanted to avoid her like the plague. And while he knew he could swim instead, he decided to take the day off.

Yesterday had been rough and he wanted to do a little bit of retail therapy.

Steve got dressed in his most high end clothing he had and made his way out to his car. Which he knew would be another indicator that he had come from money. His new wallet was designer, just like his new sunglasses.

He primped in the mirror a little to make sure every hair was in place and then he gathered all his stuff and made for his car.

He pulled up to the row of boutiques his mother used to frequent before she started getting her clothes from Paris and Milan. Steve personally thought these places had better quality stuff, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He walked into the first boutique and looked around. He kept his sunglasses on until one of the sales women came up to him. Then he lifted him and set them on top of his head. He smiled at her brightly.

“Welcome to Le Chique!” she said cheerily. “How can I help you today?” She was dressed smartly in a knee length pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. She wore high heeled pumps and had her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Hi,” Steve greeted back. “I’m just looking to update my wardrobe. Get a little more of an adult style.”

He could see the fucking dollar signs lit up behind her eyes. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them greedily.

“Right this way,” she said, waving her arm in front of her and Steve stepped forward, further into the store. “I’m Olivia and I’ll be happy to assist you today.”

Steve tried on so many clothes he thought his head was going to spin. But never once did Olivia falter. He finally got an updated look. It was similar to what he usually wore with the jeans and polos. But he also got button down shirts and tailored slacks and pants. Everything that fit went with him and everything else that needed to be tailored would be picked up by a PA of Eddie’s and brought to the hotel.

In fact when he got back to the hotel, the mysterious PA had struck again. On his bed was a large box. As he got closer he could see it was from the shop he was at earlier today.

He didn’t know what it could be. He had everything he wanted from the shop. He had even gotten help carrying all his bags up the hotel room by a couple of porters, both of whom Steve tipped well. He kept an eye on the package the whole time he took off the tags and put away his clothes in the dresser and closet.

Once Steve was done he walked over to the package a tad warily. He knew it had come from Eddie. There was no one else it could have come from. He undid the silk ribbon and pulled it off gently. He lifted the lid and set it to the side. He then moved the tissue paper out of the way.

Inside was the most beautiful cream colored suit he had ever seen. He opened the jacket touched the black silk lining. Sticking out of the pocket of the breast pocket was a note. He pulled it out. In the loopy handwriting of the sales woman were the words, “I wanted to get you something special. I hope you’ll wear this for me when I get back to Hawkins.”

Steve shook his head, smiling fondly. He walked over to the phone and called Eddie. He bounced on the bed as it rang through.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “How was your shopping trip?”

“It was marvelous,” Steve giggled. “Though if you want me calling you at times other then when you buy presents, you’re going to have slow up a bit. It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

Eddie laughed. “You got me there, hon. But I’m glad you like the suit. I wanted to surprise you with it. I when I called about the card earlier, I told them that once they got your measurements to set it aside.”

“How did it get here before I did?” Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.

“See, I knew you would have a lot of clothes and couldn’t carry it up yourself, so I just made sure to have my little elf slip in while you were dealing with the porters.”

“Sneaky!” he crowed. “I love it. I even bought the perfect shirt to go with it. It’s black and grey in kind of watercolor like stripes. Add a black pocket square and some nice shoes I bought and I’d be the talk of the town.”

“Well you’re already the talk of my world,” Eddie murmured, causing Steve to blush dark red. “Have you eaten yet, little Canary?”

Damn. Steve knew he had forgotten something.

“No...” he whined. “I just got so excited about shopping that it slipped my mind.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll have dinner sent up to you. I think you’ll really like their hamburgers.”

Steve smiled at that. He had gone out to Benny’s to get a good burger, and they had them here. “Sounds good.”

They talked for a little bit more before Eddie had to go so that he could order Steve dinner, so they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Steve decided to take a shower while he was waiting on his food. He gathered up his things including his new hair products he bought yesterday.

He got undressed and turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at every angle of his face and had to admit that he actually looked happy. And wasn’t that a fucking trip.

He had thought he was happy before all this. Yeah, sure his dad was a jerk and his mom was useless, but he had friends, money, a car. Hell, he even had a boyfriend in this backwater hick town.

And then it all fell apart.

He hated how all his friends scattered the second the chips were down. He hated how Tommy turned tail and didn’t even try to take Steve with him. He had no doubt that soon enough the town would be all a twitter about Tommy and Carol and how cute they were together.

It was all bullshit.

The only people that cared about him were the people that would get hurt the most by all this and Steve was determined to keep them out of it.

Just before he got into the shower, the phone rang.

He let out a sigh and went to go answer it. There were only three people who had his number, Eddie, Dustin, and Eddie’s manager, Chrissy. All people Steve didn’t want to leave hanging.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Steve?” a cool female voice asked. “This is Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. I understand you wanted to send Eddie something?”

“Oh!” Steve cried. “Yes, thank you for getting back to me so soon. Yeah, it’s not very big, say about the size of a 3x5 picture frame?” He hurried over to the desk, dragging the phone and stretching its cord to the limit to pull out a pen and some hotel stationary.

She hummed. “It’s not, risque is it?”

He laughed. “What? No! It’s nothing like that I promise.”

“Okay,” Chrissy said skeptically. “We have people opening packages before they get sent to the band so don’t send anything you don’t want a total stranger to see.”

“I promise it will mean absolutely nothing to the poor soul that opens their mail,” he informed her, “but he will absolutely get a kick out of it.”

Steve could tell she was still leery about it, but he wasn’t going to ruin the surprise.

She let out a sigh. “Fine. Here’s the address to send it to.” She rattled off an address and Steve dutifully wrote it down. “By the time it gets there, they should be back in LA, so it’ll go to their main mail box.”

He wrote band PO Box over the address and underlined it. “Great, thanks.”

“Now do you need anything else that isn’t their personal information?” she huffed.

Steve winced, he could tell she wasn’t happy being Eddie’s errand girl and by extension, his.

“No,” he said, “Just that. It’s just a small token that I think he’d like.”

“All right,” she said. “Good evening.”

“Good evening!” he chirped back.

Once she had hung up, Steve shook his head. He knew it was her job to to look out for the band. But it wasn’t that big of deal. What she think she was going to do send his dirty panties to the guy?

Not!

He looked down at himself and sighed. He had carried that whole conversation completely naked. He padded back to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

He stepped under the stream of water and let it soothe him. He was still smarting a little from Chrissy’s attitude. She seemed friendly enough at the bar and genuinely wanted to see Eddie and Steve hit it off.

But something between then and now she had completely soured on him. That was a problem for future Steve, though. Right now in this moment he was going to enjoy his shower, watch some TV and enjoy the burger Eddie was having sent up.

~

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[matsur1]

A Ran Haitani fanfiction penned by Matsur1

Warnings: Just a bit of swearing, mentions of blood, and violence

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: I HAVE BEEN ON A LONG LONG HIATUS AND I MISSED WRITING THESE SM!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THISSSS!! I enjoyed writing thisss so muchhh so I hope you enjoy this as much as I diddd. It's not proofread yettt btww hehe🫶 andd! Credits to 주호 on twitter for the pic I used on the title heading! xoxo

He was breathing, drunk and alive. Your husband, Ran Haitani, went missing the whole night, and although your marriage was an arranged one and you aren’t as close as married couples should be, you were really worried about what might’ve happened to him. Turns out he just went drinking the whole night with his friends and is now sprawled on the floor of your penthouse in broad daylight. 

“Alright, come on now buddy. We gotta move you to the bed,” you tell him as you pick up his arm and put it over your shoulder. He groans, “Buddy? Hate to break it to you honey but I’m your husband.” You scoffed, “Yeah, my arranged husband. You know we both never wanted this.” You lay him down on the bed and he opens his eyes to look at you, “You can’t be so sure,” he says. “What?” you ask in shock and confusion while he closes his eyes shut. “Are you that drunk to be saying crazy things?” you sigh, “I’ll get you water, sit down for a moment.” You walk towards the fridge to get a glass of water without knowing Ran has a sly smirk on his face. He wipes it off as soon as you come back with a glass of water though. “Here, drink up,” you spoke while you hold his chin, slowly tilting the glass so he could drink. 

Later that afternoon, when he finally woke up sober, his first thought was you. “Y/N?” he calls out as he walks around, looking for you. “Yeah?” you answer him, getting out of the closet, meeting him. He towers you by a lot, so you look up in order to look into his eyes. “There’s food in the kitchen, in case you’re hungry. Should be able to help with a hangover too.” He looks at you with a question mark written all over his face. “Yeah? Well, have you already eaten?” he questions you. Now, you weren’t as close as a married couple but you were somewhat close. You often had conversations when you’re both home, you ate meals together. I guess you could say you both were close strangers. Not friends, close strangers. Even friends would know more information about each other, but you two, you know absolutely nothing about each other. Perhaps about each other’s personality but never about your separate lives. “Yeah, yes I have. I’m actually heading out right now, we ran out of butter. Anything else you want me to buy?” you respond to him. He thought for a minute, “No, not really,” he reaches for his back pocket and grabs his wallet, “Here, use this,” he hands over his credit card. “No, it’s fine. I have some cash,” you insisted. “Well, I can’t be having my wife pay for the groceries now, can I?” he insisted better. You scoff and give him a little smile, “Alright then, husband.” Teasing as always, you thought as you take his offer and start to head out.

After you successfully bought butter and flavored sparkling drinks for you and Ran, you decided to finally head back home. Home to your penthouse, which you begged for from Ran. Well, to be fair he wanted to live in a whole mansion and you honestly didn’t want such a grand thing just for an arranged marriage. He kept insisting on the mansion thing but a penthouse sounded more comfortable for you. 

You ride the elevator up to your penthouse, meeting with a very big man full of tattoos. It really sends the chills up your spine but you weren’t fazed to be met with that kind of man in this area. There are a lot of gangs and such where you and Ran live, so seeing a gangster here and there doesn’t shock you at all. Especially since you are in one. But not a single soul knows about that, you rarely even go out, and people during the night can’t possibly recognize you. Not that anyone needs to know. But then he strangely smiles when he sees you ride the elevator with him. Lucky you, not only is he a gangster, but he’s a pervert too. How you wished this ride would only last a second.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the well-known Vixen.” Your train of thoughts stop at the sudden voice you hear behind you. Shit, you thought, tightening your grip on the grocery bag you’re holding. You could only hope he was talking about someone else, but there’s no one else except you and him. Him and you. “And Bonten Ran’s wife too?” he smugly asks. Bonten? As in the most famous wanted gang in all Tokyo? Pfft, and Ran? No, that’s impossible. I would’ve at least known or found out at some point. Right? You slowly turn around him, hoping to turn this situation around as well. “I’m sorry? Well, I sure am Ran’s wife, but I’m not so sure about the Vixen and Bonten thing you’re talking about,” you give him a forced smile. Why the hell is this elevator ride taking so long, you thought. He laughs, “Are you kidding me, girlie? Ain’t no way I would mistake the Vixen for someone else. I know it when I see it.” He lifts his hand, gripping your jaw, testing you, “Ain’t I lucky now? Boss would sure be happy if I brought the Vixen to him. The Vixen who killed his best friend.” You scoff, “You wish, now take your hands off of me,” you threaten him. “You know, now that I look at it, you’re just a weakling. What could that small body of yours do against mine?” he tightens the grip on your jaw. “But anyway, you don’t know ‘bout your husband?” He sure is talkative. You glare at him and start to hold his wrist, “About him and what?” you ask curiously. “Bonten.” He says confidently. “He isn’t in Bonten. Now let go before I do things that’d make you go home crying to your boss.” His eyes widen, he starts to laugh even more loudly, “So you really don’t know about him? When he knows about you? And here I thought you were rumored to be crazily smart.” He’s really getting on your nerves now. But knows about you? Ran knows everything about you and didn’t even bother saying a word? He knows everything about you when you don’t know everything about him? Talk about marriage. You slyly get the pocket knife you had in your pocket and quickly swung it on the pulse at his wrist. His eyes widen, his body slowly sliding down the elevator floor. You look down at his body, kicking it to make sure he’s unable. You motioned to put the knife back into your pocket when you noticed the blood on your blouse. Great, this day’s really been doing nothing but put you in a bad mood. You put the knife back anyway, turning around once again and realizing the elevator buttons were all pushed. No wonder the ride was never-ending. You let out a tsk and patiently wait until you reach your penthouse. Oh, you were so ready to confront your dear husband. 

As soon as the elevator doors open to your penthouse, you leave the body in the elevator, leaving it up to whoever sees that. To be honest, you could care less about the world because right now all that’s in your mind right now is killing Ran. You drop the grocery bag at the entrance, angrily removing your shoes as Ran greets you in a cheerful tone. “Welcome back home, Darling.” He doesn’t even bother looking at you, he’s too busy watching TV. “You got something to tell me, honey?” you question him in an angry tone. He was now confused, again. So confused he finally decides to look at you. His eyes widen when he sees the blood on your blouse. “Oh my God, Y/N! Is that your blood?” he panics. The genuine worry in his eyes just wants to make you forget about everything and kiss him instead, but no, you and Ran have a lot to unfold. “Don’t worry, Love. It’s not mine.” You respond mockingly. “What-“ you cut him off, “You knew about me?? And Bonten???? What’s that about! You knew everything about me when I didn’t even know a single thing about you!!!” You shout at his face, the betrayal in your eyes visible. His eyes widen even more, “Woah, slow down. What? About you? What do you mean?” Oh now he’s trying to act innocent? “Me! The Vixen! Stop trying to act innocent!!” you remark. “The Vixen?” he slowly processed this information, then he started to laugh. Now it was your turn to be confused. What was he laughing about? “Oh my Darling!” he walks toward you and hugs you. “Stop this. It isn’t something to celebrate about. Do you have any idea how frustrated this makes me feel? For years! For years I held back from getting to know you because this- this whole thing between us is arranged! I wanted to know so much about my husband even though he was arranged for me but I didn’t bother knowing because I thought you didn’t want all this! And all of a sudden you know almost everything about me? Do you know how unfair that is to me?” you rant to him, almost running out of breath. He loosens the hug, looking at you genuinely. “What?? What’s happening now?” you ask, still mad about the things happening. “You wanted to know more about me?” His voice softens. “Of course I do! You’re my husband, arranged or not, you’re still my husband so of course I’d want to” you start to cry, covering your face. “Oh doll face, I’m sorry.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “But I didn’t know you were the Vixen, I never did. And yes, I am a part of Bonten. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. You know how I always put makeup on my tattoo just to hide it from you? I was terrified of the thought that you’d be scared of me,” he chuckles. Your tears suddenly stop, now you’re even more confused. “What? You didn’t know? But the- the man in the elevator told me you knew.” You explain to him, looking up at his eyes. His beautiful, genuine eyes. “Man in the elevator? Is he, you know, the one who owns that blood?” he points at your blouse. “Well yes, he got into my nerves and-“ He puts a finger on top of your lips, shushing you. “Well, at least now we know each other a bit better,” he places his forehead on top of yours. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know. You always went on about how we never wanted this so I figured you didn’t want to get too involved in this.” Oh. The silence went on for quite a few minutes. Finally, you found the courage to voice out, “It isn’t too late now, is it?” you asked, almost in a whisper. He softly chuckles at your question, “No. Of course not, my lovely wife.” 

© Matsuri

[k4shixe]

Prompt 4 with nanamiiiiiiii pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

BabySitter

CW; reader is 17, character is 28, age difference, strictly platonic, complements said to character, type of flirting (its teasing/joke tho), shouting at reader, kinda swearing

Pairings; rich!fem!reader x bodyguard!nanami (platonic)

Summary; After getting caught too many times, your father decided to get you a body guard. In an attempt to get rid of him, you go it the mall with your best friend.

Word count; 3k+

Prompt: “that’s enough.”

A/n; aaah here it is! Worked 2 days on this and ngl I never did watch the anime so he might be a little too formal. BUT I did enjoy writing this so please send any requests along! And I hope you enjoy! :)

12 minutes.It took them 12 minutes to find where you were. It’s worse that there are things that you shouldn’t be having at the party, especially at a party with teenagers. And you thought escaping to go to the party was easy. Oh how you knew you were going to get it. Your father stood in front of you with guards blocking the way out.

“Y/n I expected better. I told you that, you, explicitly, couldn’t go anywhere until we finish the meeting. You could’ve been kidnapped or worse”

“But dad I was bored! What was I meant to do wait?”

“That’s exactly what your meant to do! You leave me no choice but to take your credit card and get you a bodyguard”

“Okay fine my card is understandable but a bodyguard! That’s crazy! I don’t need to a baby sitter! I’m 17 for god sake!”

“It’s too late. My decision is final. Now go to your room, your grounded until you show me you can behave.”

You left for your room, sitting on your bed and sulking over the fact your going to have a babysitter. Or as your dad called it a “bodyguard”. You wished your mum was here, but tragically she died in a car accident when you were still a toddler so you knew how precious you were to your father. He loved you but you couldn’t blame him since you managed to get past everything he tried but that also didn’t change the predicament you got yourself into. You decided to texted your best friend telling her about what happened.

Bestie <33

I got caught ;(

Now my dad got me a babysitter

Oh cheer up,is it a guy or girl?

And are they hot?

Oh shut up.

And he didn’t even tell me so idk

Ok fine, how about

you just try getting rid of them?

Ooo, now your talking!

Just come to the mall tomorrow,

I need more outfits

Didn’t you buy some last week?

Yeah but I already wore those

Okay whatever you say

After chatting with your friend you started realising that you actually didn’t know who it was going to be. It could be some scary homeless dude your dad found on the street. You started praying it was atleast a girl, maybe you 2 could be friends. And with that you fell asleep.

“Honey wake up. Sweetie please get up” Your father shook you lightly.

“So early in the morning though” You slowly sat up on your bed,rubbing your eye to try get the tiredness out. You squinted your eyes seeing a tale, well-built man who was wearing a suit with blonde hair styled with a neat part next to your dad.

“Dad who’s this?“ you say visibly confused as you regained your eyesight.

“This is Mr Kento Nanami, he’s your new bodyguard.” Your dad sounded oddly proud for his accomplishment of finding such a well groomed bodyguard.

“But Dad he’s like 50! People are gonna think I’m dating this weirdo!”

“That’s no way to talk to your bodyguard y/n!”

“Im 17 I shouldn’t have some babysitter! I should be able to make my own decisions!”

“Sneaking out to go to a party at 3am shouldn’t be one of them!” He took a deep breath to calm himself down “Y/n, you are having him as a bodyguard and that’s final. Now if you need me I’ll be in my office” Your dad walks off leaving you and this “weirdo” in your room.

“So… your what now?”

“As your “dad” stated I’ll be your body guard. I’ll have to watch over you and make sure you don’t do anything reckless”

“Okay old man, I know my dad told you to do this but aren’t you annoyed you have to babysit me? You can just quit right now and blame it on me. I won’t mind.”

“Nice try but I already got paid so orders are orders until said otherwise. And I’m not your babysitter, I’m your bodyguard”

Man, this guy was going to be hard to convince. You thought as you looked at Nanami who was looking around the room, analysing it.

“Okay mr bento ninja could you leave my room?”

“It’s Mr Nanami to you, and I can’t just ‘leave’ I was ordered to stay”

“So what your going to watch me change then?” You say raising your eyebrows while starting at him awaiting his answer.

“Of course not, don’t be childish. I’ll leave if you had told me why.” He says as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

After getting changed into a sleek bodycon dress that really complemented your look, and with some makeup,heels plus a matching purse, you were all good to go. Now to only convince your dad. Shouldn’t be hard right? Walking down the staircase with Nananmi behind you (you couldn’t help be a little disgusted), you went to your fathers office and opening the door when hearing a “come in” by him.

“Dad could you please give me my credit card back? I promise I won’t spend much” you say with a pouting face and batting your eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no.

“Sorry sweetie but rules are rules. Until I can trust you again no credit card until then.” To say you were shocked was an understatement.

“But-“

“No buts,ifs or ands. Rules are rules.”

“Can I atleast go out with f/n?”

“You can but you must take Nanami with you. He must know anything and everything you are doing, and he can and will be able to check your phone if necessary. That’s the only other rule”

“Fine.” You groan and glare at Nanami who couldn’t care less and walked off, after he nodded to your dad he followed after you.

You pull out your phone, making a quick call to your driver when you heard Nanami clear his throat. “You do know your under my care, so I should be a able to do everything for you. Ms l/n.”

“Ugh don’t call me l/n, brings back memories. Just call me y/n. And I’m just calling my driver, I need a lift to the mall.” You have gotten your mother’s last name when you were born, since your parents felt like you’d like it more, especially when you’d become someone of more importance.

“If you insist Ms y/n, and you know I can drive.”

“Yeah…no thanks I’d rather take my own driver.”

“Very well. Whatever you want.”

The car ride to the mall was quiet. Too quiet. You wanted to listen to music but kind of over thinking that the music would be too loud and Nanami would judge you. He sat on the opposite side of the car, sitting still and quiet. Why are you overthinking something you would never think twice about? Is this bento dude that intimidating? I swear he’s staring at me from the side of his eye. Ugh snap out of it. You leaned your head back and let out a small groan. This was so nerve wracking. You pulled out your phone and just opened it to check the time. The lock screen showing a picture of your mother, father and you just a happy family. You stared at it with a small smile, the picture always made you calm and relaxed. Nanami noticed and decided some small talk would be better then silence.

“Is that your mother?”

You jumped a little at his words. First not expecting him to talk and second to ask that question. “Oh uh yeah…”

“Where is she? I never seen her around before”

The fact that sentence stung was a whole different type of pain. It felt like he was making fun of you just like the kids did to you when they found out in middle school. You tried putting a fake smile up but it hurt a little too much and an ich in your throat to cry came. You quickly tried wiping away the forming tears but just opted to looking the other direction when that wasn’t working.

“She uhh, died when I was younger”

And for the first time you got some emotion out of Nanami. Surprise and more of a regret for asking that question. “Oh, sorry I wasn’t aware.” He noticed the tear on the side of your face still visible to him and got a handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed to you.

For the rest of the car ride it was more awkward and silent then before. You managed to calm down but now you were thinking what Nanami thought of you. Some spoiled brat? Probably. I mean he isn’t wrong. You zoned out looking at him and didn’t even realised till he looked back at you. “Is everything alright”

“Oh sorry! I zoned out! I tend to do that a lot.” You looked back out the window blushing from embarrassment. He shook his head and went back to his seating position.

Finally you had made it to the mall and the drive opened the door for you with Nanami fixing his suit while walking up to you. You entered the mall looking for your friend and found her at the Gucci store shopping for some shoes.

“Hey! F/n!” You quickly walked over to her giving her a hug like always.

“Who’s the old guy?” She whispers to you looking behind you to exactly point him out.

“It’s the dumb babysitter my dad got me remember?”

“He is kinda hot though.” You hit her lightly.

“Shut up. Now let’s go to Sephora, I heard there selling a new makeup pallet!”

“Quickly then! We need to get it!” She grabbed your hand as you both rushed off with Nanami keeping an eye on you both, mainly and specifically just you. You reached the aisle with just a few pallets left when you realised.

“Crap, I wasn’t allowed to get my credit card. I can’t pay for it.” You say disappointedly.

“It’s fine just take my emergency one. It has a budget of like 50k though so just be a little mindful.”

“Omg did I ever tell you that your the best?”

“No but you should start” you and f/n laughed as you went to pay before

“Not so fast. Do you think your father would let you pay with your friends credit card? There is a reason he took yours away from you.”

“Yeah but this is different. So don’t try put your reason into this. Besides if he doesn’t know then who cares.” You say and your friend nodded her head in agreement.

“Fine. If you really don’t care, I’ll call him right now” He says getting his phone out his pocket.

“Hey! Wait! I won’t use her card” you mumble quietly as you put the make up pallet away upset about it.

“Let’s go to the restroom I got to tell you something.” F/n whispered and you nodded. You both began walking, Nanami close behind. When you reached the door you both quickly entered saying something to Nanami about fixing your make up and hurried in.

“That was easier then I thought.”

“Yeah but what would he do? Enter the girls bathroom?”

You both burst of laughing, Nanami could definitely hear you both from how echoey the bathroom was but you didn’t care right now.

“We need to get rid of your babysitter. Even though he is kinda hot at all”

“Agreed, except for the last part. But atleast we know we won’t be fighting over the same guy in the future.” You say as you both laugh.

“Ok we could go clothes shopping next and since we’re basically the same size just look for everything you want and pretend it’s for me.”

“Got it, now let’s try the make up pallet you got”

“Yess!” Let’s just say you guys spend at least half an hour in there just gossiping and doing each others makeup. F/n was telling you the juiciest gossip ever when it was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who would be knocking to enter a public restroom?”

“Beats me” you shrug.

“Are you ladies done in there?” Of course it was Nanami who was standing the whole time just waiting for you to leave.

“Would’ve thought security took him away for being a perv”

“Same!” You both burst out laughing again before another knock stopped you. “Well let’s just go clothes shopping!” You both get up and leave the restroom after packing up. Entering the first clothing store and looking for clothes, you both went to the swim suit aisle and poor Nanami had to stand there looking at the ground while you both giggled and tried them on. You swear you could see a tint of pink on his cheeks from the embarrassment. You smirked, your plans working. Now just a matter of time. I mean what would people think of some grown man following two girls trying on bathing suits. After picking out a few you headed to the dresses and picked out a few to try. Finding one you particularly liked but didn’t know if you should get, you decided to play a little joke on Nanami, and your friend encouraging it just built up your confidence.

“Oh mr Nanami~”

“Yes Ms y/n. What is it?.”

“Do you think this dress looks nice on me?” Expecting some sort of reaction, you can certainly say you were disappointed when he just nodded and looked back to where he was looking. You frowned and rolled your eyes, “whatever”. Your friend and you finish shopping and managed to get Nanami off your back about you trying on the clothes even though your not supposed to buy anything. “It’s just for fun! It’s not like we’re hurting anyone. Besides shes going to buy them anyways” your friend agreed with you.

Of course you guys went a little overboard and bought way too many clothes to hold them all. After a good 4 hours you waved your friend goodbye and she gave you half her bags insisting you “hold them” for her and she’ll pick them up next time. Your friend secretly handing you a credit card, not having as much but enough to get you a few extra things. Nanami still swift and quick to catch up with you, you decided to try something on him. With a little bit of a dramatic effect (thank god you took acting classes).

“Oh Mr Nanami sir. Could you please hold my bags? My arms are sooo tried, I don’t think I can hold them anymore” you say looking up at him with ‘puppy dog’ eyes.

“No. I’m your body guard, not a mall porter”

“Oh Pretty please~”

“Fine.”

“Thank you!” You say delightedly as you hand him your bags and quickly rush off to another store. Using the card your friend gave you managed to buy at least 3 more bags worth of clothes, 3 with shoes, 2 with purses and accessories and that was just the starting. You kept handing Nanami bags, and he was just silently taking them and holding each one. You could tell he was getting tired and fed up with you though. Slowly and surely you noticed him getting slower from carrying all those bags and the anger was just building up. The last straw was when you showed up with another 2 bags just hanging them on his arm when suddenly

“that’s enough.”

To say that didn’t scare your soul out of you was an understatement. You were mortified.

“Enough?…”

“Enough. You are going home this instance and you will carry your bags on your own.” He was practically death staring you, leaving you speechless.

“Yeah okay…” yeah okay? Why did I say that? I should’ve told him to shut it and listen to me. What am I doing? A little too scared to say anything back, you picked up as much bags as you could, struggling to pick up some as the weight of them was way more heavier then expected. Nanami sighed and picked up the rest, escorting you out of the mall. After following you for around 6 hours and having to go through the most embarrassing things ever. He still took your bags and watched over you, maybe because it was his job, but maybe, just maybe, he actually did care.

Nevertheless, the car ride back was silent like before, even being able to hear a pin drop was possible. You got your phone out and opened a food delivery app, scrolling through the food options. Yes, you did have a personal chef at home but you wanted to eat out today. Especially being forced to eat a models diet was tiering. You felt a little bad for Nanami so you sucked up your pride and turned your head to him.

“Uh Mr Nanami, would you like to eat something?” He looked over at you before shaking his head.

“thank you Ms y/n but no.” And with that the car when quiet again.

Getting home with all those bags was a trouble waiting to happen. You should of thought of it, oh how your brain was mentally screaming at you. But thanks to mr snitch, he called your dad beforehand telling him about everything. Your were no longer allowed to hang out with your friends, they could come over but that was it. After a shouting match with your dad, you slammed the door to your room with tears in your eyes. Your almost an adult and no freedom. What was the point? Nanami on the other hand, probably doesn’t know what a slammed door means and knocked on the door before opening the door. You quickly composed yourself, opting to just wash your make up off instead of looking like a clown you and went off to your bedroom’s bathroom. You had to push Nanami out of your room to change as he wasn’t believing you, thinking you’d run off. You began doing some homework, being homeschool was easy but the homework you got was something else. Struggling on one question in particular, you didn’t notice Nanami leaning over your chair looking at the question.

“No, your doing it wrong. Here.” He scribbled a few things on the paper which somehow made perfect sense to you. You mumbled and quiet thanks “Thanks…” which he simply acknowledged with a nod.

“Mr Nanami could I tell you something?” Nanami nodded his head for you to go on.

“I’m sorry about today, and thank you for watching over me. Even though it’s your job and everything but uhh…” Here comes your dumb phase! You were sure he though you were as stupid as you sounded.

“What I’m trying to say is thank you.” You keep your eyes on your homework, scared he’d just look at you with disappointment. But you looked up and you swear you saw a teny tiny smile on his face. You smiled back as you noticed he wasn’t mad at all. Maybe things with a body guard wouldn’t be horrible after all.

Request here ;)

[chaoticgoodlawyerwrites]

Preview for HOMD Chapter 10

Hey folks! I am very tired and still pretty sick but! I know not how to rest if I am physically able to work soooo. Let's just blame my capricron sun. But now we present! HOMD chapter 10! This is, again, a joint effort with @mocheng-gusto!

---

Shen Yuan was reminded of this last unfortunate fact as he turned off his fifth alarm and read the notification to his most recent message.

✂️: Don’t forget to bring a certain special someone to our date today~ 

Fuck. Shen Yuan had completely forgotten about that part.

Not about the lunch of course. Yesterday he had been psyching himself up to “meet the family”. He was nervous but not anxious as he was putting together the outfit Mei Kexin had specifically made him buy for this occasion.

And just then was when his package arrived.

Alright yes, he had to admit that after that all other thoughts had exited his brain like an emergency evacuation. But by then he was too out of it thinking of silicone heavenly pillars to do anything but the most mundane tasks to keep himself busy!

Nothing to do about that. Fortunately at some point in the past when he’d been more mindful he’d put enough alarms to make sure he’d wake up with plenty of time to get ready, so he had time for a thorough shower and a quick breakfast, but not for anything more.

He would’ve liked to go on a jog to free himself of any restless energy but… thinking about it, he didn’t think his body would be able to take the impact. 

His musings were interrupted by his phone pinging with two new messages.

✂️: And don’t even think you can get out of bringing your man 

✂️: Remember how much blackmail material I have and won’t hesitate to use ❤️ 

Right.

That was the detail he hadn’t accounted for so far. Luo Binghe couldn’t come for quite obvious reasons, and it wasn’t like he had any desires to fess up that he was dating, married, to a mind construct, but he had other options. He’d disappoint his friend and her girlfriend no matter what, but Shen Yuan didn’t want to completely ruin their afternoon. 

Good thing he had a Plan B in mind. The problem was that he never informed his Plan B of his participation in this ruse.

No time like the present! Shen Yuan called Shang Qinghua as he was getting rid of all the gross beddings and towels.

The call was picked up on the third ring. “Bro?”

“Free food.” Best to start with his strongest cards. “I’m inviting you to lunch, with plenty of leftovers to bring home.”

Shang Qinghua was silent for a few seconds. “… Are you bribing me?”

Technically. “Are you coming or not?”

“Aww, no need to be so shy about it bro. If you were feeling lonely you could’ve just said so!” Sensing Shen Yuan’s silence as an impatient one, Shang Qinghua was quick to add. “But sure, why not.”

Shen Yuan discreetly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sending a Didi to your place. You have twenty minutes to get yourself decent and finish whatever you’re doing.”

Shang Qinghua mumbled. “Every day you’re becoming more like your brother.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing! Just send me the info and I’ll be down when it arrives.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Whe–” Shen Yuan hung up before he was able to get the full word out. He had a couple of cars to order and a cold shower waiting for him.

-----------

Shen Yuan, because the shopping center was actually closer to downtown due to the somewhat upscale nature of the place, got there first. Shang Qinghua wasn’t too far behind, climbing out of the didi with eyes and something like fear on his face. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“Wardrobe,” Shen Yuan said before grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him in, putting the little strength he had worked to build to use. “Don’t worry; I’m paying.”

“No shit you’re paying!” Shang Qinghua hissed. “I can’t afford to breathe in here. What the actual fuck is going on? Are you becoming my sugar daddy? Platonic, of course; love you but not like that, bro.”

“Tch, you wish. Besides, I’m straight. I’m just paying for stuff today so don’t question it.”

“What kind of lunch are we going to that apparently requires shopping?!” Shang Qinghua asked quietly, eyes darting from side to side as if a nervous herbivore. Shen Yuan locked eyes with a sales associate in the men’s section and, spotting a sale, the person discretely hurried towards them. “Oh, my God, are you taking me to lunch with your family!? Is Shen Jiu going to be there!?! Bro, I’m noping out of the free food offer if that’s the–”

“No, it’s not with my family, sheesh,” Shen Yuan said through clenched teeth before smiling at the sales associate. In a much more polite tone, he addressed them with, “Hi. My friend here needs appropriate semi-casual attire for brunch. We have a rather immediate deadline and would appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course, sir. If sir could please follow me…” Shang Qinghua was too polite to his fellow service worker to resist their urging, but he did throw Shen Yuan a dirty look as he left him alone. He watched from a distance to be sure that Shang Qinghua didn’t pick anything out that was ridiculous but otherwise left him to it, helpfully avoiding the questions his friend had about this ‘lunch’.

He would find out soon enough as it was.

[cheerscoops]

ship: Jonathan Byers/Eddie Munson wc: 1.8k A/N: This one was suggested by my favorite @sherifftillman <3 I take the two freak boys and I squish. Hopefully they (and the minor background ship) live up to everyone's expectations!

“Hey Byers! Wait up!”

Jonathan stopped walking to his next class and turned to find Eddie Munson of all people racing towards him.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said once he’d caught up to Jonathan. “A job opportunity really.”

“What kind of job opportunity?” He was always looking to make a little more money around the holidays, and if the job wasn’t anything illegal, he’d seriously consider the extra work.

“So, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m the frontman for a pretty spectacular band known as Corroded Coffin, and me and the guys were hoping to do a little something special for our fans this year. Granted, there are maybe five of them total, but still. They deserve a little something special as a token of appreciation for supporting us. Anyway, we wanted to send out a special Christmas card to our friends this year. Maybe include a flier about some upcoming shows in it? It’s still very much in the planning stages. All we know is that we want a really great photo of the whole band to go on the front of the card. That’s where you come in.”

“You want me to shoot your Christmas card?”

“Well, yeah. We don’t want an amateur with a disposable camera doing this. We want it to look good, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the most talented photographer any of us knows. Maybe the most talented in all of Hawkins. I mean those photos you had in the school art show last year? Magazine worthy. Especially the one of that fort in the woods. It looked seriously haunted in the coolest way possible. Way better than anything anyone else submitted.”

Jonathan was touched. He knew most people only knew him as that freak with the camera, and he’d be lying if he hadn’t assumed that was why Eddie was asking when he first mentioned the card. But Eddie actually knew his work and appreciated it. He wasn’t asked just because he had a camera. He was asked because he had vision.

“How much does the job pay?” he asked.

“We’re not exactly rolling in it right now. Shocking, I know. But we talked about it and pulled our money. We can buy you a roll of film for the project so you don’t have to waste any of your own on us, and then we think we can reasonably afford to pay you for your time with twenty bucks and dinner at Benny’s afterwards. I know it’s not a lot, but it would mean a lot to us if you’d consider it. Plus, you can use the photos you take for any assignment or art show you might have coming up. And, come on.” Eddie gestured to himself. “If this handsome face is in your work, you’ll win all the top prizes for sure."

Eddie was right that it wasn’t a lot, but it was enough that it would make a difference in the quality of the gifts that Jonathan was able to get his mom and brother for Christmas. And if he didn’t have to use his own film, it was a net gain no matter what.

“So, say I agree to do this,” he started. “And I’m not agreeing just yet, but say that I do. What kinds of photos are you looking for?”

“Maybe something goofy and posed with all of us? Or artsy if you prefer. And then maybe a couple photos of us actually playing? We’ve got a Santa hat and some elf hats we were thinking of wearing since this is for a Christmas thing, but wearing them isn’t a deal breaker if you think the pictures would look better without them. Totally willing to defer to the real artistic genius here. I just want the pictures to look good, and you’re the only person I trust to make it happen.”

The idea of creative control was enticing enough to seal the deal for him.

“Alright. I’m in. When and where do you need me?”

“We haven’t settled on a specific day or time yet, but probably sometime this weekend. I’ll talk to the guys at lunch and let you know the plan before the end of the day though. I owe you my life for this. Seriously.”

With that, Eddie was racing off down the hall leaving Jonathan to try and come up with a way to make heavy metal Christmas cards into something appropriate for any of his photography class assignments.

That Saturday afternoon, Jonathan met up with the guys outside of the Hideout. The plan was to do posed photos outside and then go inside to take a few pictures of them playing. As long as they stayed focused on getting the shots they wanted, they'd be done in time for that promised dinner at Benny's.

He didn't think it would take too long, but then again, he didn't really know what working with Eddie would be like. The guy was all over him, and it was more than a little distraction. Eddie just had so many questions about his process, and he wanted to look through the camera and get an idea of what Jonathan was seeing. Or, if he wasn't asking questions, he was touching him. Adjusting a twisted camera strap, placing a hand on Jonathan's back as he leaned in the eye the proposed shot, poking at him to get his attention, grabbing at his arm to pull him over to any place he thought they could get a good photo. If Jonathan didn't know any better, he would've thought that Eddie was into him.

“Come on, Eddie,” he said as he tried to get him to pose properly for what he thought might be their last shot. “Quit it with whatever that brooding, tortured artist look is. You said you wanted something goofy, not sexy.”

“So you think I'm sexy?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Jonathan could feel his face burning.

“Just let me take the picture.”

He snapped a couple more photos in quick succession before putting the lens cap back on his camera.

“I think I got everything you guys wanted out here. Let's take a ten minute break, and then we can set up for the performance shots.”

Jonathan headed inside for a moment alone, but he'd barely sat down before Gareth was joining him at his table.

“You know we didn't need to hire you for this, right?” he started. “Jeff's parents own that hobby shop downtown, and his mom would have lent us a camera for free if we promised not to smash it. A fancy one with a timer so we wouldn't have even needed a photographer to get this done.”

“If that's the case, why am I here?”

“You haven't figured it out yet?”

“Figured out what?”

“You really have no idea. He's about as subtle as a heart attack, and you still don't know.”

“Can you please fill me in so I can make even a little bit of sense of what you're saying?”

“Eddie wanted you to do this so he'd have an excuse to spend time with you and get to know you a little better.”

“And he was willing to pay me twenty bucks for the opportunity?”

“Well, yeah. When he's that into someone, he loses all sense of logic and reason. Even more so than usual.”

Jonathan was stunned speechless. Eddie was into him? Suddenly all of his badgering made sense, and when he really stopped to think about it, the badgering wasn't unwelcome. If he wasn't in the middle of lining up a shot, he could see himself enjoying what was apparently Eddie's attempt at flirting.

“So, why doesn't he just ask me out? It would probably be cheaper than paying me to be your band's personal photographer.”

“He's afraid that you'd say no which I think is stupid because it's obvious how much he gets under your skin.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Dude. Your entire face looked like a tomato after you accidentally called him sexy. Pretty sure that was your subconscious telling you that you're into him, too.”

Jonathan didn't know what to say. Before he'd asked him to do this, he didn't realize Eddie even knew who he was, and now he was facing the very real possibility that he could maybe be into Eddie, too.

“Look," Gareth started. "You don't have to say anything to me or him or anybody. But, if you wanted, I could make something happen. All I ask is that you do a small favor for me.”

“Name it.”

“Put in a good word for me with Nancy?” he asked. “I find her beautiful and terrifying.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Gareth stood up from his seat and smiled at Jonathan.

“It's been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Their break ended shortly after that, and Jonatham took a series of photos of them playing through two different songs so he could get a variety of different angles for each member of the band. Once he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, he motioned for the band to stop.

“I'm pretty sure I just used up the last of the film you guys brought, so we can call it here. I'll develop everything when I have access to the photo lab on Monday and get the prints to you as soon as possible.”

“We're done?” Eddie sounded more than a little disappointed and he crossed over to where Jonathan was loading his camera back into his bag.

“I think so. But I remember being promised dinner at Benny's as part of my payment, so we could head there now if you want.”

“Definitely. We just need to load up our stuff, and then we can all head out.”

“Actually, the guys and I have a thing,” Gareth said. “And we can't get out of it, so you guys are gonna have to go by yourselves.”

“What thing?” Jeff asked. “We don't have a-”

He was cut off from finishing his sentence by Gareth smacking his arm and pointedly looking back and forth between him and where Eddie was standing with Jonathan.

“Oh! Right!” Jeff said after the realization hit. “That thing. So sad we can't make it.”

“You crazy kids have fun without us!” Gareth said as he ushered the other two bandmates out of the bar.

“I'm going to kill him,” Eddie muttered under his breath, making Jonathan huff out a laugh.

“No, you're not.”

“Oh, but I am. I'm already drafting up posters advertising our need for a new drummer.”

“Go easy on him. He just did you a massive favor.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest.

“How do you figure?”

“He just got you a date with the guy you've been shamelessly flirting with all day.”

Eddie's jaw dropped. He definitely wasn't expecting that response from him.

“I'm pretty sure the guys just left without loading their stuff into the van, so pick your jaw off the floor and let me help you get that taken care of. Then you can flirt with me some more.”

Eddie changed his mind. He wasn't killing Gareth. He was gonna owe him for the rest of his life for helping him earn a date with Jonathan Byers.

[openupforme]

Grace my ears, darling. I can't wait to learn some nerdy facts. Although it does sound tempting to shut you up with a kiss, I know I'd adore the sound of your voice too much for that.

Aw, you couldn't even lie for that long, how precious. I bet you're so cute when you blush, darling. You like being the one that makes me feel so good? How flattering. You said it! You said the thing! But I'd certainly like to see you try to pry me open.

Very charming. And perhaps it's fun to butter you up. You take my teases so well, after all. My every need? Careful, darling. I'm very high maintenance. You may be in over your head.

Oh, are you planning our date. How sweet of you, dear, I'd love that. My passions? Goodness, I could go on for hours. Plenty of time for you to tell some of your adorable jokes. And it's cute that you think you could make me shy. Though a kiss from you does sound wonderful.

What are the two ways, darling? I'd like to know what I'm getting into. I do happen to be a very good girl. And because of that, I will say it again. Please.

- 🐮

Hmmmm hi. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll tell you about how Nintendo started out as a Playing Card selling company, I’ll tell you about how Penguins offer rocks without a ridge to the Penguin they love because it must be perfect in order to present it, hell I’ll even tell you all about the process of how trees send vibrations to their roots when anything touches them (see? even went on a ramble there) 🦦. Yeah? I know you’d like the sound of my voice. Imagine my voice all deep and raspy voice telling you that female Penguins will attack or even kill the male if they feel disrespected by the quality of the rock. Who knows? Maybe the nerdy facts and my voice will make your pussy start to drip for me. Maybe then you truly won’t be able to resist kissing me. Maybe I won’t just kiss your lips but your clit too Hmmm can’t wait to see.

I am cute when I blush, does it make you feel proud that it’s for you? Bet it does. You’ve proven to me that you’re a good girl, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Hmmmm did I? I’m getting closer and closer. I CAN FEEL IT.

You like riling me up with your anon’s? I get excited in more ways than one It’s working and I love it. High maintenance or not I know I could handle it, I’m never in over my head. I bite off more than I can chew solely because I know I’ll be able to eat it all.

Go on for hours if you’d like, I want to hear it all. Might be hard to resist putting my head in my palms while I admire you though. Dom or not I want to take you all in, and appreciate what I see. I’m sure I would, and I’d like the fact that you get all red in the face even though you act so tough. Cute. Could make you crumble with just a few words if I wanted to.

Such a good girl for listening, fuck. We could either continue on to the second part of the date where I buy you desert and take you to observe a pretty view OR i could take you back to my place and claim your pussy. The choice is yours, whichever you chose I’ll prove I’m worthy of being the one to take care of you. Whether I have to fill your pussy with my cum to do it, or show you a pretty sight. Or we could do both. The choice is yours, although I have a feeling I know which you’d rather choose to do.

- 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐦 🦭

[starjxsung]

hi bestie <3 how are you?

i finally got home on thursday night. i feel the same was about chicago tho. it was so so so pretty but so tiring. but i kinda wanna move there now bc i enjoyed it and it’s so different to what im used to here. my two extra days were super stressful but the weather was so nice and windy.

i’m so sorry that your flight was scary! i hate flying sm, mine had a lot of turbulence but i drink some ✨anxiety meds✨ and sleep through it all <3

it sucks so much that we couldn’t meet but fr skz was total insanity and im just glad to have survived it </3 lolla skz will live in my head rent free forever. skz being real was not in 2k24 bingo card and i also need tickets for their tour or i’ll cry. but the chicago trip was sooooo expensive for me bc i have no control and went to a kpop store and target and to museums and the aquarium 🙃 and my support system is the worst bc i was only going to buy the ate version and my bf was like “get i.n and changbin” and that’s how i ended up with i.n, changbin, han and felix (i have lino on the way too) and a maxed out credit card (: money comes back ig. and the worst part was literally that ateez performed in chicago this weekend and i didn’t even know like </333 i could’ve met teo sang my beloved if i had stayed for a few more days (delulu bc with what money?). my bf is all for ateez @ lolla ‘25 so we’ll see 🤞🏻

and the chappell crowd was insanely full (literally the biggest one in lolla history wtf) but not as crazy as skz tbh. i love her sm tho, she’s such a superstar. i’m so glad to have been able to see her too <3

and alas, my semester starts tomorrow (not ready at all, screaming & crying) so real world awaits and im so bedrotting rn bc why can’t i be beautiful and do ska’s makeup or something for a living </3

anyways ily angel, i hope all is so well. take care of yourself always!!

-🐈‍⬛

MY LOOOOOVE oh my gosh it’s been a minute since I’ve been on here properly!!! How are you!! How’s practicum!!!!! I was just talking about you earlier today bc my sister was complaining about her practicum and I offhandedly mentioned I knew someone else who was doing one and it just got me thinking about you and hoping everything was going well 🥹💓

Ugh the more time that passes, the more I miss Lolla 💔 it truly just felt so relaxing to be able to put everything behind me for a week and just be at a music festival and not have a care in the world except for skz. I totally feel you on wanting to move there too! I felt the exact same way after going to New York for the first time to see 3racha. It was just this gut feeling that I’m supposed to be here all the time and it felt so magical 😭 I can’t believe in a few weeks it’ll be a year since I saw 3racha in NY. Time passes by so quickly I hate it

GIRLLLL THE MONEYYY oh my god I was literally scared of how much money I spent after skz at lolla, I was fr buying so much kpop stuff when I came back and I’ve been collecting so many of Jisung’s pcs this era so I have to physically pry myself away from scrolling on Mercari 😭 I can’t help it he is just TOOOOO FINE…. Also not you just missing Ateez nooooo 💔💔 but now that you mention ateez at Lolla I can SO see that happening??? If they do headline and you get tickets we HAVEEE TO MEET 🤞👼 MANIFESTINGGGGG

I hope the semester’s been going well!!! I hope you haven’t been too stressed (although it seems like we’re all just going THRUUU IT 😭) I love you so so much and I’m sending you all the good vibes to make it through another semester. (Also side note Taemin & Onew new albums WHEWEEEEWKEKDKDKKD MY SHAWOL HEART IS SOOOO HAPPY)

[casuallyyoa]

STEAM NEXT FEST JUNE 2023 ROGUE EDITION

It’s another edition of Steam Next Fest, with a whole deluge of demos for people to try on the platform. As a rogue-genre self-proclaimed connoisseur, this June 2023, I dive into the literal hundreds of Coming Soon titles to pick out at random something that vaguely interests me. As such, this selection is entirely subjective to my own taste and I’ll clarify what each vague category means. 

I tried to spend at least 30 minutes per title to see if their demo slice is able to ‘hook’ as it were.

Let’s go!

NEEDS MORE TO STAND OUT

While simple isn’t necessarily bad, I consider these games either being too derivative or not having some ‘spark’ to draw in people who may have already played similar games. 

Death Must Die

Imitation seems to be the sincerest form of flattery, considering the game’s basic mechanics being what Vampires Survivor popularized in recent memory, and a UI uncannily like Hades, down to its flourish, besides other things borrowed from the latter.

God of Weapons

Similarly to Death Must Die, this is also one being an auto-battler. It does have an interesting gimmick in that you need to sort your inventory to try activate synergies, but I’m not sure if that’s enough at this point.

Spellshot

Getting upgrades for your bullets for synergies, effects and firing them as you try to kite waves of enemies in a pretty cramped room is okay as an idea. I can see the potential, but it’s not for me.

INTERESTING CONCEPTUALLY

These are titles that have things that draw me or I can acknowledge seem quite fun, but it’s not quite for me.

Acolyte of the Altar

Take Hearthstone, or perhaps Legends of Runeterra, and give it some randomness to get this game. There’s some fun to be had to play around the Beasts’ Rage skills which activate as turns go on, or events that could see you picking up a not quite helpless dog which could potentially ruin your primary gameplan. Deckbuilder enthusiasts can definitely consider this one.

The Black Pepper Crew

With your eclectic crew of furries, pick up bounties and take your targets down. It’s a tactical RPG with random elements as you could pick up some amazing item, or find a godly crew member to add to your roster. I think it controls a little stiffly - which is probably odd to say about a TRPG - which can be worked out in time.

Cards Survivors

Protect the bottom of your screen with the draw of the deck, firing bullets to fend off the horde from the top. It’s got a bit more going for it as you try to wrangle the piercing shots and / or cry out in dismay as the rocket AOE doesn’t clear as much as you wanted it to.

Finely Diced

Imagine serving up dice to your customers. It’s deceptively challenging since you need to hope the dice are weighted in your favour and if they aren’t, you’re forced to send them off anyway and not get paid for your troubles. I blanked out and spent all my money on ingredients and really hecked up my dice faces so uh, give it your best shot.

Knights of the Cross

In order to not be shanked by the Polish, I will only refer to this game as Knights of the Cross. It felt to me like a more story-driven Slay the Spire, which is fine and all. The Live2D jiggling boob physics is definitely distracting, but can be a selling point if you’re into that. 

Lucky Island

A cute little spin on a typical sim city builder management game, where you play the slot machine to get resources for your residents. I’m not sure how to really work on the slot machine as I felt it rather clunky to actually utilize, and it’s basically the foundation of the game.

I’d like to take this mid-roll to shill a little.

If you find my subjective list interesting, consider tipping me on Ko-Fi so that I can buy these games for myself and support the devs. Link is in the description as well.

Now for the rest of the list.

TO LOOK OUT FOR

Titles I have more interest in than those in the previous category, basically.

Digs

Alongside another game in this category, you basically get to create your own tower defense map by chunking the path yourself and hoping you get the stuff you need from the rocks around you. You can’t just dig out with abandon, as you will be forced to stop when you hit too much ‘noise’, and enemy spawns can appear just about right beside your beloved treasure.

Let’s! Revolution!

Reminiscent of the classic Minesweeper, you need to flip over the tiles to chase down Lord not-Farquaad. Hope you have enough energy for the skills, or have the resources you need to get the upper hand on the enemies hiding face-down. For future builds, being able to use the WASD to move around the field might be nice, as otherwise, there’s a lot of clicking involved. At the very least, let the player just zoom across rows or columns they’ve already unveiled.

TileDeck TD

A different take on tower defense, you also build your own map based on the cards you draw. As nice as it is to just slap down single exit roads, you will need to branch them out to access the resources on the outer ring so that you can actually protect your castle from future waves.

Wizard with a Gun

If you liked Cult of the Lamb, I think this one should be a dead ringer for you. It’s got similar overworld exploration mechanics for materials to craft more bullets and to fix up the world one bit at a time with the power of extreme violence. Potentially. 

PERSONAL PICKS

The ones I’d prioritize to purchase.

Cuisineer

Did you want to be more hands-on violent in the Atelier series, or even Recettear? Pick up Cuisineer where you can whack the living lights out of everything in the world outside and bring them back home to serve up in delectable dishes in your restaurant, or simply to fulfill errands. The rogue-lite elements are, well, lighter here - to me anyway - so if you aren’t really a fan of the randomness, there’s still plenty of static elements of action combat and management for you to work on. The early game hell is certainly real here!

Dicefolk

Your team of three not-Pokemon accompany you to the greater outside to defeat other not-Pokemon! The battle system is simple but engaging, with three dice per side determining your actions. You must spend the enemy dice before you can end your turn, but you do get some control over the randomness. I really enjoyed the demo, doing Rotation Battles while picking up my mostly-snail homie for the team and bopping the creatures along the way.

Froggy’s Battle

Wow, who could have imagined a frog game would make its way here? Jokes aside, it’s another pretty mechanically simple game where you go round and round in your skate tube and pulling off sick moves to style on your quote unquote rizzless amphibian brethren. It’s also really cute to boot.

Heretic’s Fork

There’s something magical about being some unpaid intern working away at a gamified version of being purgatory’s jailor, accompanied by legally distinct Klippy. It’s got some bopping music to go with watching your big balls swinging back and forth to smite the sinners trying to escape hell.

Robobeat

With an opening more or less beat for beat taken straight from the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie, this wholly robotic Star Lord will be gunslinging to cassettes you can change on the fly to find a beat you can shoot to. Of course, you’re entirely free to do completely tone-deaf clears by not matching the rhythm, but where’s the style in that?

CONCLUSION

Steam Next Fest June 2023 will be on until 26 June Pacific Time. I am just one man trying out a mere handful out of one specific sub-genre’s available demos, so if you have the time, definitely do give the whole lot a shot! 

Until next time. Thanks for watching.

[nyupuun]

Ok, I’m glad! I am unsure how well versed you are in the TCG/OCG, so I’ll give some basic explanation as to why to run certain cards so you can understand the deck a bit easier. (Also sorry, this is a long post)

Anywho, you’re able to buy Structures 3 times, which is very good, since a lot of the cards you need will be UR and SRs from it, which makes it a little less expensive. Out of the UR/SRs you wanna run 3 times are:

x3 Blackwing - Simoon the Poison Wind + Black Whirlwind 

Since Black Whirlwind will be your main searcher in the deck. If I open Simoon, usually I add “Auster the South Wind“ to bring back the banished Blackwing Monster, and then also add Vata, but it really depends on your opening hand.

x3 Blackwing - Sudri the Phantom Glimmer

Sudri is useful because it searches any card that mentions “Black-Winged Dragon”, including “Black Feather Whirlwind”, “Vata the Emblem of Wandering” and “Shamal the Sandstorm”

x3 Blackwing - Vata the Emblem of Wandering

This card is essentially a free “Summon Black-Winged Dragon” which in of itself is already good, but thanks to its ability to send Zephyros to the Graveyard, which you can then bring out on the field by returning “Black Whirlwind”, or more ideally, “Black Feather Whirlwind” (Which is a “Soft Once Per Turn”, therefore, if you reactivate it from the hand you can use its effect again), makes it one of the most important cards in the deck

x2 - 3 Shamal the Sandstorm + Black Feather Whirlwind

Some run these at 2, although personally I run “Black Feather Whirlwind” at 3. Once you have all materials set up, “Black Feather Whirlwind” allows you to recylce them, allowing for more plays. Also, while “Black-Winged Dragon” or “Black-Winged Assault Dragon“ are on the field with Black Feather Counters, you can prevent destruction of them with this card.

x2 Blackwing - Chinook the Snow Blast 

Chinook is good in the hand, because it can negate the effect of your opponent Monster, and also either send “Black-Winged Dragon”, or a “Blackwing” Synchro Monster to the Graveyard (ideally, Boreastorm). It’s also a Quick Effect when you control a Synchro Monster (which will ideally always be the case)

Outside of the Main Deck, the only cards in the Extra Deck you wanna run at x3 is Black-Winged Assault Dragon. This will be your main “Floodgate”, dealing damage when your opponent activates Monster Effects, and can also blow up your field when you have 4 Counters on it. It’s fairly easy to summon.

Speaking of Summoning it, Running them at x2, you want to use Black-Winged Dragon and Blackwing - Boreastorm the Wicked Wind as the materials. You either banish them, or use Boreastorm as a Tuner with a non-Tuner Monster. Ideally, when both are on the field, you reduce “Boreastorms“ Level to 2 and then Synchro into “Black-Winged Assault Dragon”, and THEN banish “Black-Winged Dragon“ and "Boreastorm” from the GY for a second “Black-Winged Assault Dragon“.

Other cards from the structure that work at 1 (or 2) are;

Blackwing - Zephyros the Elite, Blackwing -  Sharnga the Waning Moon (but I personally run it at 2) and Blackwing - Twin Shadow and Blackbird Close.

Anyways... uhm, yeah! these are the cards I would run from the Structure. And I know this doesn’t quite make a whole deck, but the joys of deckbuilding really is doing your own spin on things. For reference, this is my deck. Some cards are a bit odd, (like the “Ally of Justice Light Gazer” in my Extra Deck), because I don’t have materials to craft the deck I want to (as I don’t play on MD as often as I’d like to)

Sorry, it really ended up being really long... ah... I hope it was helpful.

To make a Blackwing deck or to not make a Blackwing deck

That is the Question

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬

remus lupin x animagus!reader

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢, 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

summary: snape makes an unwise decision that places all six of you in danger. confronted with your mortality, remus makes a risky decision of his own.

notes: i’m back bitches and babes. sry it's been like 3 weeks and now i have covid so chapter quality is looking questionable but atp i really wanna finish this series and im so done w sad remus

w/c: 8.0k

･ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

wait for the signal and i’ll meet you after dark show me the places where the others gave you scars

“thumper!” sirius lept to his feat, waving you and remus over with enthusiasm. “and hey moony, i guess.”

you laughed. “padfoot. it’s horrible to see you, as usual.”

“likewise, m’lady,” sirius grinned, tipping an invisible hat to you. “and i hope you’ve been having the worst day, my good sir.”

remus rolled his eyes, pursing his lips to hide his amusement. his hand, the one on the arm he’d draped over your shoulder, squeezed your bicep. he glanced down, admiring the hypnotic movement of your lips as  you bantered lightly with sirius.

“moony?” peter taunted, drawing out the vowels.

“hm?” remus startled, forcing his face into something resembling nonchalance. 

peter looked at sirius knowingly. sirius sucked his teeth. “nothing. c’mon, trelawney says we’re reading tea leaves today and i want to sit next to the cabinet so we get first pick.”

you and remus settled into adjacent cushions. he smiled at you, tired but just as adoring as always. if there was anything positive that had come from the horrendous past series of events, it was the new freeness remus granted himself around you. he stopped restraining his affection and withdrawing his touches; the fear of blood supremacist attacks had made everyone aware of how uncertain their time was, and remus refused to leave this earth without having been able to love you.

“ready to see the future?” you whispered to remus, fiddling with his thick, calloused fingers as trelawney meandered around the room passing out teacups.

“what do you think you’ll see?” remus hummed contentedly. his eyelids fluttered closed as you ran your fingertips over his rough knuckles. he would never get used to the feeling of touching you. if he were smarter, less selfish, he never would’ve let himself know what it was like in the first place.

“i think i’ll see us at hogsmeade next weekend, buying out the entire chocolate frog restock,” you decided, finally closing remus’ hands into fists and holding onto him without fiddling. “and then i think i’ll see us on your bed surrounded by empty boxes and making fun of peter’s lousy card collection.”

remus shivered. us. ‘us’ as in us, the marauders, or ‘us’ as in you and me?

“you and me, of course!” you swatted his knee. “please, do you really think i’d spend a fortune on chocolate with james? no, it’s you. only you, rem.”

it was unfair, remus thought, the effect you had on him without even knowing it. it was unfair how easily you could catch him off guard and how he didn’t even care.

james gagged. “you’re revolting, mate,” james kneed remus’ leg with enough force to leave a bruise.

“i didn’t even say anything!” remus protested. you, sirius, and peter laughed at him as james stared him down smugly.

“you don’t need to say anything to embarrass yourself, moony. you’ve gone soft these days,” peter snickered.

you smirked, sending remus into another spiral. “i think it’s a cute look on you, though.”

remus was met with more laughter as the heat hit his cheeks; he imagined his face was bright red at this point.

“i suppose you five have already finished your readings?” trelawney scowled, distributing your teacups (which were visibly lower quality than the rest) with disapproval.

“no, sorry professor,” you bowed your head, flipping your textbook open. trelawney sniffed, brushing past you. when she passed, you looked up at remus through your eyelashes and bit your lip mischievously. he felt his stomach tug.

it was moments like these—where he could sit in a classroom and pretend like his bones weren’t going to break and reform into a monstrous form tonight, peacefully observing the sunlight cast over your eyelashes or the flutter of your shirt collar from the mysterious, sourceless breeze—that remus was most afraid of. these moments scared him because each time he’d let himself fall into the delusion that maybe he could be normal enough, good enough, safe enough to be with you, and remus knew that entertaining these sorts of thoughts could be dangerous. they were dangerous and had already proven themself so.

“-chamomile, your favorite!” remus was shaken from his conscious at the feeling of your hand tapping against his thigh. you held out a cup of tea to remus’ chest. with a flourish of your wand over the rim of remus’ teacup and your own, the curling steam settled into the air and the beverage cooled into a drinkable temperature.

“are y’ready?” you murmured between sips. “for tonight, i mean.”

remus shrugged. “i kinda have to be, don’t i?” he tried not to let his gaze linger on your lips pressed against the porcelain. “but yeah, i’m ready. i just want you to know that you don’t have to-”

you scoffed. “oh, don’t pull this again. we go through the same routine every time and you know i’ll always win, rem. i love you. i’m coming.”

remus was once again forced to believe in the unfairness of it all—how could you so easily, so plainly, so naturally say those words? how could you feel that way and how could you say it out loud, when remus, well, remus wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to label how he felt towards you.

this was the pattern. remus would tell you how you didn’t have to, but you’d tell him you loved him and that you wanted to, and remus would be unable to tell you the same, and you’d treat him with such kindness and patience that all remus wanted to do was smother you in his adoration but why couldn’t he?

“is that a foot?” peter grimaced, holding his teacup closer to his eye. “godric, i think it is.”

“a foot? wormtail, don’t tell me you’re into that kind of-”

“no!” peter blushed, waving off james, who was his partner. “just- what does it mean?”

you and remus’ conversation halted as you looked over at your friends’ table with intruige. james flipped through his textbook until landing on something that satisfied him. “aha! it says ‘the foot’ represents… powerful sexual desire and strength in passion? gross, wormy!”

peter recoiled. “what? no way, then it must not be a foot. maybe it’s a hand?”

you began searching through your own textbook. “i found it! ‘the hand’ means fertility and youthfulness… children may be in your future? wormtail, is there something you need to tell us?”

“n-no! merlin, i don’t know what’s happening, i swear-”

sirius snatched the teacup from peter’s nervous grasp. “well, i think it’s a jellyfish.” sirius cleared his throat, reading from his book. “exciting developments in the near future,” sirius read. “that sounds better.”

“that’s boring,” you frowned. “c’mon, lets read ours.” you downed the last of your tea and handed your cup to remus in exchange for his own.

remus swirled the dregs of your leaves, watching as they settled into a star- no, an ‘x.’

“it’s a stop sign,” remus said, looking up from his book in confusion. “a metaphorical one. you’re supposed to pause on your ‘life journey,’ or something.”

you paused, considering the reading’s possible significance. “huh. let me see?” you turned the cup around and furrowed your brow. “i dunno, rem. it looks kind of like ‘the anchor’ to me. see, it curves over here.”

“what does it mean, then?”

you flipped through your book. “stability. despite the state of your environment, there will come stability.” you looked at remus questioningly. “do you believe it?”

he shook his head, amused.

“anyway, yours is a moon—shocker—and it means that, uh,” you coughed, double-taking the page, “there will be developments in your love life.”

remus laughed awkwardly, taking his cup back from you. he purposely let his fingers brush over yours and linger, childish of a flirting tactic as it may be. “that’s good to know,” he smiled shyly. “i’ve been trying to get better at the whole love thing, anyway.”

“yeah. yeah, good to know,” you ran your tongue over your bottom lip absentmindedly; your voice trailed off and you pouted at the ground. remus wanted to take your face in his hand and kiss you breathless, but he couldn’t because that would be admitting to himself that he was madly in love with you and had been for the past year and if he let you in he would be putting you in danger and he’d rather die before watching you suffer so much as a papercut you were in class.

--

madam pomfrey rubbed remus’ shoulders, pushing her thumbs into the knots of his muscles with the precision of a mother who knew her son’s body. remus let himself exhale audibly, letting his guard down for the brief seconds he could spare. he’d been trying hard not to let snape’s side eyes and the slytherins’ jeering comments get under his skin, but he was only human, after all.

“how are you feeling, remus?” the kind woman brushed a few strands of remus’ soft hair from his forehead. in the months prior, remus had noticed a shift in their relationship; madam pomfrey seemed to hace developed a parental sort of pride over the boy who seemed happier and happier after each transformation. 

“i’m okay,” remus nodded, clearing his throat. “i’ve been tried of late, but i think it’s just the full moon, yeah.”

madam pomfrey tutted. “my poor boy; you’re always overworking yourself. those friends of yours—they’re always here after your transformations. they’re not wearing you thin, are they?”

“no, if anything, they’re like four more mothers.”

“good.” madam pomfrey swatted remus’ arm affectionately. “godric knows you need to take care of yourself more. i’ll never understand why dumbledore thinks it’s okay for you to return to classes the day after…” madam promfrey rubbed her hands together, checking the pockets of her medical robes for everything she might need. “and that lady friend of yours… miss y/l/n? she’s got quite the healer’s hand,” pomfrey casually dropped, pretending to busy herself with meaningless handiwork. 

“i s’ppose,” remus muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. madam pomfrey was one of the delights in remus’ life—he’d never really had a mother figure before and even these brief chats with the school nurse before each full moon were enough to satisfy that desire—but he found himself slowly hating this turn of conversation.

“she’ll be around tomorrow morning, i presume?”

“i mean, maybe.”

madam pomfrey made a choking sound that was obviously a failed attempt to hide a laugh. “we’ll see about that, dear. now, can i get you-”

“-remus!” your lovely voice bounced through the otherwise quiet hospital wing as you pushed through the large doors, which slammed behind you dramatically. you paid them no mind. “hi!” you were breathless; hair slightly out of place.

“bun?” remus smiled, surprised but pleased. “what’re you doing here? aren’t you s’pposed to be getting ready to- getting ready for that test?”

“oh, well yeah,” you waved off, “but i wanted to bring you something first. um, i know everything’s really… shit right now, and i’ve been reading this book and i wanted to leave it here for you for tomorrow morning so that you wouldn’t be lonely. ‘jus thought you deserved something nice.”

you weren’t bashful, not in the slightest, and remus was once more stunned by the ease in which you let your feelings show. he remembered nights with you from months before, when he’d fall asleep with his eyebrows furrowed wondering if he’d done something wrong because you’d pull away and refuse to tell him what was on your mind. he wondered how it was possible that you could still find it in yourself to feel even at a time when your emotions were being scrutinized and shamed by bellatrix and snape and the likes of the slytherin house. he wondered if it was because you were extraordinary or if it was just because he was a coward.

“the shining?” remus huffed, running his fingers over the slightly bent but well-cared-for spine. you nodded.

“yeah, you got something against horror?”

“no, i just didn’t peg you for a horror buff.” remus tilted his head, the ghost of a smile adorning his face as he let his gaze linger on all the planes of your face.

“what can i say? i’m full of surprises.” you clicked your tongue. “remember that night we were doing potions? and i got all snappy with you?”

“how could i forget? you’re cute when you’re angry.”

you didn’t acknowledge his statement and began to pace in front of him. “well, i- you make me feel things—i feel a lot of things when i’m around you, remus—and i just want you to know that i’ve decided to stop… to stop not letting myself feel them. if you couldn’t already tell.” you cracked your knuckles nervously. “i just wanted to tell you ‘cause, well i dunno, with everything that’s going on and what people are saying… i didn’t want you to hear about my feeling from anybody but me.”

remus swallowed thickly, placing one hand on your forearms to stop your pacing. he slid his hand down until it covered yours; his fingers were cautious as they wrapped around your wrist. “are they giving you trouble? the slytherins?” his voice was hoarse with worry.

“nah, i can stand up for myself,” you teased lightheartedly. “but seriously, i need you to know that whatever people are saying about me? it’s probably- it’s not true, okay?”

remus eyed you, squinting ever so slightly. he’d been caught up in his own worries about snape and schoolwork that he’d hardly heard anything about you floating around the hallways. “okay, i’ll keep that in mind,” he reassured you. “i do have to, uh, go now.”

your eyes widened. “you’re right! sorry, i’ll get going too. see you… later.”

remus watched as you scampered out the hospital wing and his grip tightened around the book you’d given him. madam pomfrey coughed from somewhere behind him and remus turned, pursing his lips at the woman’s raised eyebrow. 

madam pomfrey didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. “ready to go?” 

“sure,” remus said. he didn’t have a choice.

the trek down to the willow was peaceful; well, it would’ve been if it weren’t for its implications. the breeze raised goosebumps on remus’ arms and he almost wanted to run back and warn the four of you to bring coats before realizing that this was no normal outdoor escapade. the five of you would be in illegal animal forms for the night and second layers would not be necessary.

madam pomfrey wished remus good luck like she did each month, and remus lips tightened into a forced, bitter smile. usually he found the statement ironic because of how meaningless it was—there wasn’t anything he or anyone could do to ensure a good transformation—but today he found it ironic because for the first time, he found himself accepting it. he could do with a stroke of good luck, as unrealistic as it may be.

--

you, sirius, james, and peter had become much better at sneaking out since your first night. your front paws were placed on the top of padfoot’s head as you stood on your hind legs at the junction of his neck and torso; it was the most stable position you’d found. james had found a spell to silence the clicking of prongs’ hooves through the corridor, and padfoot knew how to control the wagging of his tail which used to disturb the invisibility cloak.

maybe it was your experience that would lead you to your downfall.

“can i copy someone’s potions homework?” prongs swung his head to peek around a corner and the cloak shifted over all four of you. “and by that, i mean thumper. but i feel like it’s justified this time around! i’m busy committing very dangerous and illegal acts!”

you clicked your rabbit teeth. “if i can do my homework and make it in time to transform, you can too.”

“go easy on prongs now, we all know he’s a bit slower than the rest,” wormtail chattered. “but if you do end up sharing your homework, i think it’s only fair that i get a look too. just saying.”

you would never not be grateful for your friends’ ability to loosen up a situation that would otherwise be dark and heavy. there were nights where you’d come back from a transformation battered and worn, but the four of you knew to put on a brave face for remus. it was your moony, after all. it was no chore to look after him—it would never be, not when it was remus.

“hurry up, would’ya? i’m itchy and i can’t do anything about it when thumper’s on my back,” padfoot whined. you could feel his muscles clench and unclench under you.

the night was cool and windier than usual. you ditched the cloak as soon as you were outside, and padfoot shook himself out and rolled on the ground as soon as you hopped off his back. there were blades of dewy grass stuck to his black fur when he was finished stretching, and he made a big show of rubbing them off on prongs, who nickered in displeasure.

or maybe it was your confidence that would lead you to your downfall.

wormtail scampered through the damp vegetation at the base of the whomping willow, following well-practiced choreography. when the willow’s branches began to slow, going from wild whipping to threatening turns to apprehensive waves, the four of you pushed forward in a familiar routine. it was almost peaceful at this point. the wind whistled and sent leaves twirling through the air and you could make out the rustling of other out-of-sight forest creatures. it looked like you’d be having company tonight.

“moony?” prongs was the first to proceed. his size made him the slowest, and after he almost got caught in one of the willow’s feisty branches closer to its trunk as it began to wake. you realized it was best to have the largest of you go first.

“could you be any slower?” padfoot whined, pawing the dirt impatiently. “i swear, it’s been months and you still can’t figure out the damn skewers on your fat head.”

“oi!” prongs complained. “watch yourself! who almost made us late ‘cos he was too busy oiling his roots?” 

padfoot barked in dissent as you and wormtail silently basked in the cheerful atmosphere. finally, prongs was through the entrance and padfoot began his turn slinking through, hunching his back and ducking his head. you and wormtail slipped through with ease, completely unbothered.

all the silencing enchantments you’d cast had long worn off and you knew remus would be able to hear your approach even without enhanced hearing. the volume of your steps, which were already loud and firm, was enhanced by the emptiness of the dim concrete path leading to the shrieking shack. each one of your steps was lost amidst the storming of the others as you rushed to greet remus.

maybe it was your carelessness—or a combination of all the follies of the marauders—that was your downfall. none of you noticed snape creeping ten steps behind, wand gripped tightly in his hand and jaw clenched.

the four of you de-transformed once you reached the shack and you rushed to remus’ side as soon as you laid eyes on him.

“rem!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck as if you hadn’t seen him in weeks. remus took a few stumbling steps backward in surprise before wrapping his arms under yours and pulling you closer. your heels lifted from the ground until remus was fully suspending you in the air, only allowing your toes to brush the ground.

“woah, where’s my love?” sirius flung his hands in the air with exasperation. “i swear, you’re not even trying to hide the favoritism these days.”

peter pretended to frown. “what happened to best mates? are the three of us no longer your best mates, or did thumper just get a promotion?”

you wriggled out of remus’ embrace and steadied yourself on your feet. “you’ve got to apply for a promotion, wormtail. and won’t you look at that, you’ve got to submit a resume too! that means you have to do work.”

james mimicked your voice in an octave higher. “blah blah blah, i’m thumper and i’m a complete suck up-”

“aw, leave her alone,” chuckled, curling an arm around your back and resting his hand on the indent of your waist. “look at that face. how can you find it in yourself to tease her?” remus pinched your cheek, tugging at the skin patronizingly.

you scoffed, slapping his hand. “excuse me? this face didn’t get out of bed to keep you company for nothing, y’know?”

remus softened, releasing the flesh of your cheek and rubbing soothing circles into the skin he’d just pinched. “i know. i know, and i’m so thankful.”

peter pretended to vomit. “anyway, if we’re done with the lovefest, can-”

there was a sudden crash from further down the tunnel. five heads whipped toward the sound, though nothing came forth. james’ eyes darted from remus’ to the closed door and he began to creep closer apprehensively.

“what’s going on?” sirius whispered nervously.

“i’d tell you if i knew, but i don’t think any of us bloody know, padfoot,” peter hissed.

you fumbled for your wand but came up empty, and you cursed your past self for becoming too comfortable. “does anyone have their wand on them?” you were met with negatives. james was the only one to procure a wand. he did so with shaky hands; he pointed his wand toward the door and you could see his shoulders tense.

“oh fuck it,” remus cursed under his breath. “who’s there?” he shouted. james shot him a dirty glare.

there was no response.

“if there was someone there, do you really think they’d respond?” peter rolled his eyes.

“so what do we do? lock the door? open it? transform?” james looked frantically between each of his frazzled friends. “how much time do we have before the full moon?”

“not enough,” you grumbled, peering out the window at a tauntingly bright sky. “it doesn’t matter. there’s nothing we can do about it now. just transfor; we’ll figure it out after.”

sirius looked at you warily but followed your lead. four animagi stood in front of remus who stared into the air in front of him, disossiated.

you rubbed your forehead against remus’ shoe. your ears pushed flat against the top of your head, and remus looked down at you fondly. prongs, even as an animagi, stood closest to the door protectively, never taking his eyes off the unsteady plank of wood.

there was a horrible cracking accompanied by remus’ howl of pain and you knew the transformation had begun. hopping back, you watched sadly as remus writhed on the ground, eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving. you could lessen the pain of his time as a werewolf, but there was nothing you could do to ease the transformation.

you tore your eyes from the awful sight in time to watch wormtail scurry past james and wriggle under the door with determined curiosity and your heart lept, freezing midair and lodging itself in your throat.

“wormtail!” you found yourself thumping your feet against your will. your panic was drowned out by the sound of remus’ pain.

no sooner had you spoke did wormtail re-enter the room, beady eyes unnaturally wide and glossy with terror. a chill ran through your body. whatever was out there, regardless of how dangerous the mysterious presence could be, it was going to be an even bigger problem than anticipated. remus was still transforming. someone was going to end up very, very hurt.

“it’s snape.”

remus’s strained cries were now replaced with moony’s heavy breathing, and padfoot’s erratic barking was the new chaotic noise to fill the air. prongs looked wild, snorting and shaking and stomping wildly. 

you found yourself scampering toward moony, claws leaving visible scratches on the floor in your haste. you positioned yourself in front of him protectively, as silly as it might seem, instinctively. you didn’t know why you did; it wasn’t like you could protect moony better than he could protect himself, and it wasn’t moony who needed protection. it was snape, who was in danger of being torn to shreds of slytherin meat at any moment.

“fuck. shit. i’m gonna de-transform and get him out,” prongs decided. “padfoot, thumper—keep him distracted. wormtail, make sure nobody sees anything.”

for all the four of you liked to joke about james’ intelligence, the boy was undeniably quick-witted and brave.

prongs took a hesitant step forward but stepped back, finding himself frozen in the middle of the room. before anyone could mutter encouragement, prongs had charged at the door, throwing it open to reveal a petrified snape at the doorway.

moony immediately began to growl, a deep, gravelly noise that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but a deadly threat. you watched as prongs took a bundle of severus’ robe in his mouth and began to make a break down the corridor, dragging the out-of-place boy behind him. wormtail followed suit, scurrying past prongs and snape and toward the castle in a blur.

padfoot stepped forward, growling in response. his lips pulled back, revealing a row of sharp canines. but they held nothing against moony’s fangs, which gleamed with saliva and malicious predatory instinct. padfoot jumped back and forth in front of the werewolf, who was utterly transfixed by the empty space where snape had been standing.

moony, who was beginning to seem less like moony and more like a primitive animal, stared padfoot down with narrowed eyes. hot, rancid breath hit your face, and you could no longer see moony in the eyes of the werewolf in front of you—in all your full moons together, moony had never been faced with a human presence. neither of the five of you was prepared for such a situation.

the werewolf snarled, shoving padfoot to the side with one large paw, and stalked forward with its mind made up. it disappeared through the doorframe, and you and padfoot chased after him in desperation. if the werewolf was aware of your trail—which he must’ve been—it didn’t turn to acknowledge or stop the two of you. it sped up, paws hitting the ground with more fervor as clouds of dust began to kick up in its wake.

“moony!” you could hear padfoot’s pleading barks as he tried to stand his ground in front of the werewolf, unsuccessfully attempting to use himself as a distraction. you sprinted around the scene, curving a larger arc to the side of padfoot and the werewolf’s showdown until you were placed between them and prongs’ retreating figure. you felt helpless; there wasn’t much you could physically do, and it seemed impossible to get through to moony.

the werewolf snarled, licking its lips hungrily and lunging at padfoot who lept out of the way in time to avoid any major injuries. that left the space in front of the werewolf free, and it charged forward unrestrained. you rushed to padfoot’s side and found him licking up the length of his arm, which in the moonlight, glistened with blood.

“padfoot!” it seemed that all anyone could do was call out names. “pads, are you okay? what should i do? how bad is it?”

“i’m fine!” padfoot insisted. “go after moony!”

you needed no further instruction, turning on your heel and bounding toward the castle with long, graceful leaps. you could hear padfoot shakily rise to his feet behind you, and you shoved aside any lingering feelings of guilt.

a shrill howl pierced the air, and you saw the werewolf’s silhouette in front of you. sitting on its haunches and waving its head side to side, rough fur rippling from the harsh wind, it sniffed loudly as it tried to track. the wind seemed to have disrupted snape’s trail of scent and the werewolf seemed slightly frustrated as it circled the grounds, grunting and panting.

you approached with caution, ready to make your escape at any moment. prongs and padfoot were the physically useful ones, and wormtail was an excellent scout, but your prowess had always been getting through to moony. you supposed it was a little different this time. this was not your moony.

you thumped your feet but the sound was quickly eaten up by the werewolf’s chaos. “hey!” you moved forward, grunting and stomping. “moony! remus! remus!”

the werewolf didn’t lower his head; you weren’t a threat. you were too insignificant to even be an annoyance. it continued to scan its surroundings for its chosen prey, leaving you disregarded at its feet. stomping was futile. the werewolf wouldn’t be able to hear you, and it likely wouldn’t care. it was too entranced by its mission, and it was the worst possible mission it could’ve set its mind to. you knew that if remus woke up the next day having hurt someone—potentially even killing someone—he’d never forgive himself. you’d never forgive yourself for letting it happen.

the clicking of falling rocks stole both your and the werewolf’s attention. prongs was tugging on snape’s robes and in his haste, tripped both of them over a stone step, landing them in a heap of legs and limbs. prongs stumbled to his feet and whined impatiently for snape to recover; the boy was on his hands and knees as he scrambled up the stairs.

the werewolf’s breathing deepened and slowly lowered into a rumble. you could feel the pounding of your heart in every part of your body—rabbits were physically incapable of processing too much adrenaline, and you were seriously beginning to worry that you’d be taken out by stress instead of an injury.

the werewolf’s knee bent in your peripheral and you knew it was about to run. it was stupid. it was reckless. you threw yourself at one of the werewolf’s front paws and bit with as much force as you could, running your nails down the side of its leg. thin gashes accompanied by beads of blood were left in the wake, but it was nothing compared to what the werewolf had done to padfoot.

you were, unsurprisingly, thrown to the side like a minor inconvenience. your heart stuttered, your paws slashed through the air for a grip that you wouldn’t find, and you landed on the ground with a soft thud, skidding with small jumps until your descent was finally stopped by a cool boulder.

--

it had been a while since remus had woken up after a full moon in such bad shape. his eyelids were sticky as he blinked himself into consciousness, becoming aware of the pressure of bandages wrapped tightly around his left arm and the sting of disinfecting ointment spread across the entirety of his right hand. 

madam pomfrey was by his side in an instant. her eyes were heavy with sleeplessness and laced with poorly concealed fear. “remus?” she whispered in a shaky breath. when he blinked up at her, she lifted her head and called to another presence in the room. “he’s awake!”

a flurry of footsteps made their way to remus’ bedside and he was greeted by the anxious faces of james, sirius, and peter. james’ head was bandaged; his hair was squished and not tousled from the wrap that adorned his scraped forehead. he smiled crookedly at remus, who blinked away more fog.

“what happened to you?” remus rasped, thumping his chest as he coughed phlegm from his throat.

peter, who looked the least scathed, opened and closed his mouth nervously. “you had a bad night, moony.”

remus frowned. he could feel the evidence of a bad night, that was for sure.

“how much do you remember?” sirius’ voice was dry and quiet. his arms were bandaged as well and he sported a bruise on his cheekbone, just below his left eye.

“not enough,” remus grumbled, pushing himself up onto his forearms. “where’s thumper?”

the three boys looked at each other oddly. james spoke. “you don’t remember anything? at all?”

“not right now, i’m sure it’ll come to me,” remus frowned. “where’s thumper?”

peter chewed his lip. “i think you should lay back down, you-”

“hey, i’m serious, where’s y/n?”

“miss y/l/n is stable, remus,” madam pomfrey said from a bed further down the row where remus lay. “she just went back to sleep.”

“she’s hurt?” remus hurried to a sitting position, craning his neck in the direction of madam pomfrey’s voice to catch sight of you. “what happened? did i hurt her?”

there was no answer given to remus in a satisfying amount of time, so he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stubbornly tried to walk over to your side in search for his own answers. his knees buckled almost immediately, and sirius caught him before he could fall with a grip so tight remus felt like it was cutting off circulation.

“let me see her, damn it!” remus stumbled forward, using sirius as an unwilling crutch. remus’ breath hitched as he approached, the details of your face becoming more and more defined. your lip was split, chapped and red and scabbing on one side. most of your body was covered by one of the hospital wing’s itchy blankets, but remus could make out angry, inflamed discoloration crawling from your collarbones down the exposed part of your arms. your under eyes were dark with fatigue.

“merlin…” remus breathed, extending a trembling, tender hand to brush over your cheek. your eyelids fluttered as he ran his touch over a small bruise, and he winced at the pain he’d inflicted—again.

“it was… yeah, it was pretty bad,” james confirmed grimly. “snape was there,” he whispered under his breath.

remus stiffened as memories of last night flashed through his mind in splintered, nightmarish fragments.

snape was running into the safety of the castle walls. the doors slammed shut, and a stag whirled around to find himself face to face with the werewolf—with remus. remus didn’t feel in control of his body as he roared in foreign hostility toward his best friend. he lunged, furious at the escape of his prey, only to feel his chest light on fire. the stag lowered his head and charged forward, stabbing his antlers into the werewolf’s torso. the werewolf—remus?—no, the werewolf was howling.

the werewolf licked its wounds as it backed away in shock. it whimpered and sobbed, pawing at his chest that was matted with dark blood and decorated with puncture wounds. he heard similarly pitiful cries from nearby. they belonged to a dog, who was limping unsteadily toward a third figure. a rabbit lay motionless by a rough boulder, on top of which was perched a squeaking rat on its hind legs.

the black dog collapsed at the rabbit’s side, nudging it with its nose. the trio of animals was joined by the stag, who bent its legs and sat gracefully beside its companions. and that’s when remus realized that these were not just animals, but his animagi friends. remus—moony—padded closer, only to be greeted by a menacing growl. padfoot had stumbled to his feet and fixed his heels in front of your body protectively, blocking you from moony’s line of sight. padfoot crouched and lowered his stomach to the ground, taking an active defensive stance.

moony retreated to an observational distance, fighting his mental blank as he slowly came to his bearings. he watched as prongs dipped his head and saw peter appear in place of his animagi form to crouch over your limp body. peter pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and then his fingers to your wrist, checking for a pulse. there was visible relief in all three of the conscious animagi’s faces when peter found it.

peter stood with the still body of a rabbit in his arms, flanked by two territorial animals who stared moony down warily. peter’s thumb rubbed between the rabbit’s ears, which twitched. moony vaguely remembered having done the same action… when? he was a werewolf, after all…

remus felt sirius’ hands around his own. sirius was flattening remus’ balled hands, freeing his fingers from the chokehold fist remus had unknowingly imprisoned them in. small crescent moons were indented into his palms.

“she’s awake, right?” remus’ eyes were pleading as they locked with madam pomfrey’s. she nodded, stroking your wrist dotingly.

“she was asking for you, y’know,” peter blurted. “the minute she woke up, she wanted to know how you were doing. she cares about you a lot, moony. everyone knows it. we know you care about her too.”

remus didn’t speak, electing to busy himself watching the steady, reliable rise and fall of your chest.

“you could break that girl’s heart and i don’t think she’d ever look at you with anything but complete adoration,” sirius added.

“i don’t want to break her heart,” remus murmured.

“that’s why you should tell her,” james pitched.

remus looked up at him. “tell her what?”

james scoffed. “are you kidding? you’re fucking- for fuck’s sake.” james stood from a visitor’s chair and flung his arms in the air with exasperation. “fucking figure it out yourself, moony.”

remus looked at his lap wordlessly. his legs were still and unmoving and his feet were planted firmly on the floor. 

you love her, you coward. you love her. you’re in love with her. it’s too late now. you tried, you failed, and now you have to suffer the consequences. or more accurately, she’ll have to suffer the consequences. but you love her, remus. you love her.

remus pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the temporary pain ground him. 

“i’m getting breakfast,” sirius announced suddenly. “so, bye.” he left plainly and unceremoniously with peter in suit. remus watched them leave in confusion, only to be answered by a strange look from james and his own exit.

madam pomfrey left you—and remus, who decided he needed to see you awake and alive with his own eyes to believe it—alone soon after the boys’ departures. save the shuffling of parchment from pomfrey’s desk and the occasional grinding of mortar and pestle, the hospital wing was eerily quiet. remus felt his eyes droop. his body begged him for sleep and he tried to stave off the chemical signals. 

remus’ attention was captured by a book on your bedside table. the shining. a mirthless chuckle escaped him. he picked up the book, testing its weight in his hands, and found it much lighter than he’d originally remembered. remus’ body, in general, was much lighter than he remembered it. it was like he was on a permanent buzz, floating somewhere between present and past. he imagined ghosts feeling a similar way.

the first few pages of the book were pristine and for a second, remus feared you might’ve bought the book brand new just for him to read. but as he continued further, he found small annotations inked into the margins in your careful penmanship and smiled. crossing his legs, he allowed himself to indulge in the world of stephen king. it was surprisingly comforting to read horror and lose yourself in a character’s story which was much more horrifying than your own. for a moment, it was like sweet escape.

remus was interrupted mid-action scene by stirring. you groaned and smacked your lips together to rid yourself of cotton mouth. remus perked up.

“love?”

you squinted against the harsh morning light. your face broke into a marvelous beamed when you recognized the face hovering over yours, and you licked your dry lips before you spoke. “remus?”

remus grinned, huffing in relief. he watched as you acquainted yourself, prodding the broken skin of your lip with your tongue and then scratching the back of your neck as you sat straight.

“when’d you wake up?” you croaked, reaching for a glass of water at your bedside which remus beat you to. he held it under your chin, moving the straw in front of you mouth. you let him help you without complaint.

“uh, i dunno. two hours ago? sorry i wasn’t there when you came to.”

“it’s okay. you didn’t miss anything particularly interesting. i threw up, though. it was pretty ugly.”

remus snorted. “cute.” he searched your eyes for any trace of resentment and was unsurprised to find none. he wished that he’d found some form of distaste, though. he almost wanted you to come forth and shove him, scream at him and stomp him to the ground, so he could take the easy way out and bury his feelings again. how weak, weak, weak he was.

you broke remus’ gaze and looked at your crossed fingers instead. “i don’t blame you, y’know. i know that’s what you’re thinking right now.”

“that predictable, huh?” 

“uh huh,” you nodded firmly. “and i bet now you’re wondering what sorts of injuries i acquired, like the nosy know-it-all you are.”

remus laughed to himself. “you’re right. and are you gonna tell me the answer?”

“it was a couple broken ribs and a concussion, but i took skele-grow last night and i’m feeling pretty good. could probably play a round of quidditch this afternoon, even.”

“you know i think you’re absolutely beautiful, but bun, you’re not looking pretty good at the moment.” remus reached out to touch your arm tentatively. “…may i?”

with your permission, remus slid up your sleeve and felt his insides plummet. 

you laughed forcefully. “it’s okay, i can’t even feel it!” you flopped the arm remus was holding, painted shades of green and yellow from bruising. he gestured to your torso, too nervous to pull up your shirt on his own. you lifted the fabric to reveal pinkened bandages wrapped tightly around your ribs; remus could see indents left by the wrapping still bitten along your skin. whatever was under there would surely scar.

“stop pretending.” remus recoiled even as you dropped your shirt and covered your injury from his view. “stop trying to make me feel better,” he said through clenched teeth. he tried to swallow down his self-hatred. he loved to make things about himself, didn’t he? even as you lay in front of him, injured, all he could think about was how it made him feel. fuck.

“i’m not trying to make you feel better,” you snapped. “are you kidding? remus, are you kidding me? i just told you, i feel better!” remus tugged at his hair. “i hurt you! the proof is on you forever. i- i’ve made you like me.” 

you scoffed. “well, i think you’re beautiful remus; i don’t know what you want me to say. you’re talking about a scar like i give a shit; i don’t think less of you for your scars and i’ll be damned if you shame me for mine. ‘cos this is my scar, remus. not yours. and i have no problem with it.”

“godric,” remus’ voice cracked with emotion, “i know you’re lying to me, y/n! you always lie to spare my feelings. i- i can’t trust you anymore.”

your jaw dropped. “why the fuck would i lie to you?”

“because you love me!” remus seethed.

an instantaneous silence wedged itself between you two.

“yeah,” you sniffed angrily, “i do love you.”

remus squeezed his eyes shut. “i know,” he sighed in resignment.

“you know? you’re not gonna- that’s all you’ve got?”

remus shook his head in disbelief. “what do you want me to say? ‘i love you too?’”

“uh, that’d be ideal, yeah!”

“well, i do! i do love you.” remus’ breaths were heavy and he took a slow, steadying one. as he exhaled, he unclenched his jaw and made an effort to slow his erratic heart. “i love you, and i’m sorry i couldn’t put it into words earlier. i- i mean, you understand, don’t you? yesterday, with snape… and i hurt you; i could’ve k- killed someone. there’s so much… bellatrix and i don’t want you to have to deal with me too, you’ve-”

you cut him off with a kiss.

your lips, rough and peeling and tasting faintly of blood were on his, and remus’ lips, hesitant and parted, wasted no time finding their place. there was copper and bitter medicine on his tongue and he probably tasted like morning breath, but the fierce press of your mouth on his seemed to be a much more effective treatment than anything madam pomfrey could’ve prescribed. your hands, vice-like, gripped the fabric of his shirt with possessive hunger. remus’ hands made their way to your waist, the same place he’d found them lingering with increasing frequency as of late. the pads of his fingers dug into your soft skin and he felt you shiver and loosen under his touch. remus always thought you’d been the one casting spells on him, but it seemed he had some power over you too. 

slowly, though, rough pulls and firm kisses became breathy, desperate ones. remus’ muffled groan faded into your soft whimpers and your hands which clung to him like a lifeline lifted into wandering touches like you were making sure the boy in front of you was real.

“my love…” remus breathed, pulling his lips away from yours but keeping his proximity by resting his forehead against yours. “y/n…”

“yours,” you mumbled dazedly. “i’m yours, remus, and there’s nothing else you can do. you already have me. i’ve been yours for a long time now. i don’t think i’ll ever not be.”

“i love you,” remus said. “i love you and merlin, i promise i’ll never stop saying it. i just- fuck, you mean everything to me, bun. i’d rather… i’d take on anything if it meant you were okay, but you keep finding ways to run back to me and i do, i really do want you here but not if it means you’re gonna get hurt,” remus babbled. he cupped your cheek with one hand, settling his thumb into the indent of your chin. “you have to promise me that you won’t pull shit like last night again. you-” remus laughed incredulously. “you tried biting me?”

“you’re not the only one who’d do anything, remus,” you huffed. “i was ready to die before i let you wake up with blood on your hands. i know you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you’d hurt snape. that’s who you are.”

“and you didn’t think about what’d happen if it was your blood on my hands?” remus scowled. “merlin, it’s futile, isn’t it? you still don’t know how important you are to me. fuck, you think i’d give a fuck about snape? it’s you, my love. everything i do… everything i care about… it’s only you.”

you slapped both your hands on either side of remus’ face, not returning the favor of his gentleness. you shook his head side to side with vigor. “i love you. isn’t that enough? won’t you stop worrying, just for a bit, and let me love you?”

and you were right, weren’t you? you were always right. remus had nearly ki- you could’ve died last night, and remus would’ve never forgiven himself if he’d let you leave him without knowing just how much you meant to him.

remus slowly pulled your hands from his cheeks. “it’s more than enough,” he said, kissing the backs of each your hands before letting them go. “it’s more than i could ask for. or deserve.”

“we’ll work on this self-esteem issue of yours later,” you scolded, to which remus smiled sheepishly. “just shut up and hold me, please.”

･ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

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[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Valentine - Oneshot

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Steven sends you flowers on Valentine's and sends you into a tailspin. Based on this song by Laufey.

Warnings: friends to lovers with Steven Grant, both Steven and the reader are inexperienced in relationships and essentially have really awkward conversations

A/N: Leslie Knope and Ann Perkins make a brief appearance at the beginning of this for all my Parks and Rec fans! I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Ann, the office receptionist’s desk, as well as the rest of the office, is filled to the brim with pink streamers, red heart chain links and little teddy bears holding hearts that say they love you. It’s all Leslie’s work, the miracle boss who could transform a whole building level into a Valentine wonderland overnight and still be able to lead the weekly Monday morning meeting with more energy than the whole floor combined. 

So, as you’re passing by Ann’s desk for a cup of coffee, you assume that the bouquet of roses was just part of the charade. Because there’s no way anyone but Leslie Knope would buy a bunch of, if you’re guessing, a hundred roses, surely causing a flower shortage in the greater London area. 

They let off a dreamlike aroma, as if you’re passing the door to another dimension, where roses rain from the sky and into the rivers. You pause, finger one of the blooms, flit your hands over the delicate baby’s breath lining the border of the bouquet. 

“Pretty,” you murmur to yourself. 

Ann looks up from her notepad and smiles at you, “They’re for you.” 

“Yeah right,” you scoff, leaning in and taking a final breath in of that divine smell. “As if.” 

But she barely bats an eyelash, making your heart falter as you look back at the roses and start to seriously consider that she isn’t joking. You feel something nudge your hand, you look down and see Ann holding out a small card for you. 

I love you bunches. 

Steven. 

You turn it around, still blindlessly in hope of some saving grace that will prove it as some sort of running office gag that you had to be at the butt of this Valentine’s day. The florist logo only looks back at you expectantly. 

“Ann, where…” The vase is massive to say the least. The flowers are going to take up at least half of your cubicle, leave alone the fact of how you’re going to manage to take this home on the tube. “I can’t take these.” 

“Well, you’d better!” Leslie’s chipper voice makes you start. She throws an amicable arm around your shoulders, pulls you into her without preamble. “Because if they’re up for grabs then I call dibs!” 

“I uh-” you’re not sure how Steven would feel if you gave his grand romantic gesture away to your boss. Steven loved Leslie, that much was for sure, but that much? You can’t even fathom Steven loving you that much. “I…Leslie-” 

“Ah, just pulling your leg,” she pokes your side, winking at you cheekily. Her phone goes off and she starts running towards the elevators with a, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” 

You stare at her, stare back at the flowers, stare at Ann. She stares back at you, “Need help getting them to your desk?” 

“I…” the card weighs heavy in your hands. I love you bunches. It couldn’t have been anyone else but Steven. “No, that’s alright. I’ll go clean up some papers and I’ll be back.” 

“Alright, thanks hun.” 

The rest of your workday, you can say for certain, is lost to the wind. As soon as you manage to focus your scattered attention on a document, someone stops at your desk with a, so jealous of you and a lucky lady, reminding you once again of the flowers you’d never really had forgotten about in the first place. 

Previous Valentine’s Days were usually spent by yourself, a couple of other single friends at most. You’d sit around, drink some wine and half-watch a rom-com as the rest of the crew cried their eyes out and stuffed their faces with chocolates, lamenting about how single they were. 

Steven however, loved love. His apartment could give Leslie’s office a run for her money, what with his pink, superfood beetroot lattes, the paper hearts stuck in the windows and the extra pink knackage in Gus’ tank. 

But this?

You turn your chair to get a better glimpse of the flowers. 

This was a gesture that was supposed to be exclusively reserved for the Hugh Grant and Matthew Macfadyen primary male love interests. Gestures that make your friends cry and swoon all night long, lamenting about why they don’t make guys like that anymore. 

Not Steven. 

Your Steven. 

Steven Grant that you’d started seeing romantically for a few months at best. This was a gesture so bold and tacky that you wouldn’t peg it to be him had it not been for the note. At least, it seemed a bit much for where you thought you two were together. 

Your friendship with Steven had years to grow and flourish, having run into him at the gift shop after an exhausting day with your goddaughter. Your romance with him had had much less time. 

It had taken him close to four years to ask you out. He’d rambled and stumbled his way through his sentences on a night where he’d been more chatty and nervous than usual. At first, he was asking you out for dinner, then he’d thought the best of it and said he wanted to go rock climbing. He’d then remembered that his shoulder had been giving him some pain and he was surely the most uncoordinated person out there, so he settled for coffee. 

Steven had paused for maybe a second, before he started to correct himself to make sure that you wouldn’t think he wasn’t serious about this, just because he was asking you for a coffee and not dinner. If you wanted, he would take you to dinner, he had no qualms about that either, it’s just that he didn’t want you to think that he was too serious about this either. He loved and valued your friendship, above anything else in his life, and should love not work out for the two of you, then he’d want to still stay and friends and- 

Finally you had cut him off, took his hand in yours to make him calm down a little and had said that coffee, dinner or even rock-climbing sounded nice. That you’re scared of what this might mean for your friendship, but you’re willing to give it a try. 

Turns out taking a gamble on Steven was the best choice you’d ever made. Now that he had your full permission, he let loose all the bottled up, puppy-like energy he’d discretely expressed in little chunks. It’s a little overwhelming at first, having him not only listen to you looking at you like there was nothing more important in the world, but to also have his hands wander anywhere they wanted, making your head dizzy and fingers jittery. 

You can’t imagine going back to a life pre-Steven. A life where he wasn’t there to quiet down your screams as a fly flew from one side of the flat to the other, with Steven hot on its tail until it was chased out the window. A life where, after closing the window, he’d turn to you, breathless and sweaty, and say, “That ought to take care of it, love.” 

In two seconds flat you were in his arms, kissing him as if he were life itself. 

Two weeks into your relationship he told you he loved you. 

He’d done it at a movie night over at your place, a weekly tradition that hadn’t been broken with the change in your relationship. On habit, you’d drenched the popcorn in caramel. Without a second thought, you pull out a bottle of Irn-Bru, a Scottish drink, a favourite of his from the fridge. 

“Oh, you’re amazing!” he’s grinning wide at you, his whole face lighting up when you press the toxic orange-coloured drink into his hand. “Oh, I love you!” 

When he’d made no move to take back what he’d said, to chalk it up to a long day at work, you pointed it out to him. 

“Did you mean that, Steven?” you swallow thickly, your hands suddenly sweaty. “You don’t have to, we can pretend it never happened.” 

“Mean what, love?” His glasses are on, his left hand already sticky with sugar, his other holding the remote as he scrolls through the options. 

“That…” the words feel heavy and foreign on your tongue. There’s a strange feeling blossoming up inside you, one that you’ve been trying to tamper down for a while now. “That you love me.” 

“‘Course I do,” he says it as if he’s saying that he needs more vegan dark chocolate if you happen to pop by Tesco after work. He looks at you and smiles, half-munching on a mouthful of popcorn, “Don’t gotta say it back or anything, really. Just thought you’d like to know.” 

Truth be told, you’d never been in love. Ever. There were faint infatuations and obsessions that you went through in your life, if the layers of movie posters in your childhood bedroom had something to say about it. When you were older there were a couple of crushes that disappeared the moment they asked you out. Every time love had the faint chance of approaching you, you’d knocked it down. Had kept the walls around your heart tight, though you peeped in through the gaps and briefly fantasised about what would happen, should you let someone in. 

But Steven had already passed through the walls of your heart, had his own corner filled with his niche books and oversteeped, cold cups of forgotten tea. So, when he started to return the subtle affection that was growing inside you, your last line of defence had faded away and you were left with a strange feeling inside you instead. Weird. You felt weird. Steven made your heart flutter in palpitations that almost sent you to A&E, concerned that you’d had a heart attack. 

The feelings return that same night when halfway through the movie, he turns to you and tells you that he not only loves you, but thinks that you’re very pretty as well. 

You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you seemed too self-absorbed, and Steven had scolded you enough times for you to know that denying the compliment would be worse. He’s looking at you expectantly, and you know that if you don’t say something soon he’s going to burst out in his nervous ramblings again. 

“You’re-” maybe it’s not the right thing to say “-you’re pretty too.” 

“Why, thank you, darling!” He bites his lip, chunkily leans in and brushes his lips against yours in a sticky kiss, smelling of Irn-Bru and love. 

So, though you had no doubt about how much Steven loved you, and how much you’ve grown to care for him in return, you couldn’t wrap your head around his over-the-top, tacky gesture today. Because the rest of your relationship hadn’t been necessarily tacky and over-the-top, and Steven, at least you thought, preferred to love you openly under the soft glow of the TV, behind cracked book spines and barely-there kisses. He shied away from loud noises, from praise and comments about what a lovely couple the two of you were, and turned red if your hands strayed to his lower back. 

The workday ends, though your despair about the flowers doesn't. 

Steven, on habit, is waiting for you in the lobby, his coat unbuttoned to reveal his appropriately matching, heart-scattered pink button down, his hair an unruly mess. He’s grinning as if he hadn’t sent you in a tailspin regarding the very essence of your relationship with him. 

His hug, as always, engulfs you. He leans the majority of your weight into him, presses his face into the side of your neck to murmur, “Happy Valentine’s, love.” Hours spent in his arms feel like seconds. In Steven you feel you’ve found your other half, your missing piece, the pearl to your oyster. He pulls away too soon, holding you awkwardly by your shoulders before he lets go and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “How was work?” 

“Good,” it surprises you that he still hasn’t brought up the rose garden he’d had delivered this morning. “I was distracted all day, however.” 

He pouts, “And why’s that?” 

Leaning up, you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger and shrug non-comitantly, “How was work?” 

“Fine,” you’re hoping he’ll take the bait and go off on a tangent about the new exhibit he’d started exploring on his lunch break, tell you how he’s going to take you to see it over the weekend. “I was distracted all day, however.” He grins when you realise what he’s done and start to hide behind your hands. “C’mon darling,” he gently prys your hands away, ducks his head until you catch his eye. “Didn’t you like the flowers?” 

“I did,” it sounds so shaky and unsure you repeat it over once more for yourself. “I did, really I did, Steven.” 

“But…” he’s fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, eyes flickering away and back to you in nervous movements that resemble a butterfly. 

“It took me by surprise that’s all,” you smile, tracing the edge of his eyebrow, following the line to tuck a curl behind his ear. “I didn’t think you were the type for grand romantic gestures.” 

“I’m not,” his eyes are sparkling. “But, you’re my Valentine, love, that’s what a Valentine is for. Grand romantic gestures and the likes, yeah?” 

Valentine. How did your Steven turn into your Valentine overnight? “I’m your Valentine?” 

“Well, at least I’m hoping you are. You are, aren’t you?” He scratches his neck awkwardly, looks down at his shoes and shuffles his feet together, and back out like a penguin. 

“I’m-” you reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers together, giving him a comforting squeeze. “I guess I am.” 

So many aspects of your new-found love with Steven feel childish, like they belong back in your school days with the harsh eyes of the librarian chaperoning your every move on the gym floor. At times, like right now, holding hands in a semi-crowded lobby filled with your co-workers, it feels just as taboo as it would if you were eleven. 

You decide you like navigating this dance with him, finding stable ground in an earthquake and holding on to each other like nothing else matters in the world. 

“Oh!” His face lights up as he goes digging through his bag and pulls out a pink-coloured box and a couple of other papers from work. It sends the both of you to the ground, him rambling on about his horrible lack of balance, knocking heads as you come back up. “I got these too-” he holds the chocolates out for you “-for you. Happy Valentine’s. ‘Course I told you that already but, ya know, thought I’d say it again. Chocolates n’all.” He averts his eyes away from you and back to his hands. 

“Steven,” you don’t care that he doesn’t look back up. That it isn’t the moonlit, romantic confession you dreamed about giving to your dreamy prince as a child. “Steven, I love you. And not because of the flowers or the chocolate. I just, I really love-” 

The chocolate box drops from your hands, spilling out truffles onto the floor. You don’t pay it any mind, what with your Valentine’s lips on yours, making your head spin and your heart beat erratically.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it, it means the world to me! Masterlist here.

Everything tags: @whats-belay

Moon Knight tags: @alicetweven

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[lovelybkg]

protective | t.s.

pairing : todoroki shoto x gn!reader

request by @pocky-writes​ : how about a soft yandere todoroki who likes to spoil his sweetheart, and at first they don't like it until he scolds them and tells them that if they don't accept the spoils, he won't give them anything else. smuggle in some praise from him at the end too?? <33

note : wanted to write protective shoto, and i thought the request kinda fit so i decided to add it ! sorry if it isn’t the main story D:

warnings : very protective behavior, reader is kinda childish and sensitive, slight manipulation

you woke up to an empty bed, devoid of the usual gucci and other designer brands packages shoto left for you. you let out a sigh of relief, thinking he finally listened to you and stopped sending you so much expensive stuff. surely, you didn’t need all those gowns and designer bags. hell, you don’t even go out! were you supposed to wear those fancy clothes in your small apartment? upon telling him about this, he offered to let you move in with him in his penthouse. as if. 

you love him, you really do. but he just has to listen to you sometimes! you don’t want him wasting so much money on you! he’s already paying for your college tuitions, that’s already too much. whenever you tried to tell him to stop, he just shuts you up with a chuckle and a kiss on your forehead, telling you not to worry about it. 

opening your phone, the 27 unread messages from him didn’t even phase you. he did have the tendency to send you a lot of text, most of them to check up on you. you knew how much it bothered him not being able to meet you often because of hero work, that’s why you were so understanding of his protectiveness and clinginess. he’s just worried, after all. you sent him a good morning text, proceeding to answer all of his questions as to avoid making him worry. he does get fussy when you don’t reply to his texts quickly. 

then you remember the plan you made with your friends to go out later that afternoon. you knew there was no way shoto would let you go, he doesn’t really allow you to go out much anymore. you understand though, he just wants to keep you safe! but maybe he’ll let you this time? before you can carefully plan how you’ll ask for permission, your phone flashes with an incoming phone call from him.

his deep voice greets you as soon as you answer the call, “good morning, my love”

“good morning, sho! are you at the agency?” he couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiastic way you greeted him. you were just so cute! he feels all his stress melting away by just hearing your voice.

the conversation went on for about an hour. he tells you about how stressful his morning was, with the new interns messing up during patrol and how dynamight couldn’t control his temper in front of the media again, which ended with him having to take care of everything with the agency’s pr department. you wanted to know more about his day, but he quickly changed the subject, instead asking you about how your sleep was. were the new pillows he bought you comfortable? how about the cotton silk pajamas? did you wear them? upon answering yes, he asked you for a picture. you quickly sent him one, fixing your hair before doing so.

“you look adorable, baby. do you like them? i’ll buy you more once i have the time” before you could protest, he changed the subject again as if he knew you were going to refuse. 

“what are your plans for today? i don’t think i can visit you today, it’s quite busy here at the agency. maybe you could read the new books i bought you, or just rest and take naps for the whole day. also, don’t forget to take care of yourself. i left my credit card there so you can order food, okay?” suddenly being reminded of your plans by his question, you braced yourself for what you were going to say next. 

softly calling out his name, he hums as if asking you to go on. what were you so nervous about? he knows you get quiet when you want to ask him for something, he just wishes you would stop being so shy. after all, he would give you anything your little heart desired. 

“can i go out with my friends tonight? please? i promise i’ll be home by ten!” you practically squeaked out with how nervous you were. it’s as if you could hear your heart beating out of your chest with the silence that followed your question. why isn’t he talking? is he upset at you?

“no” his voice was cold now, quickly replacing the doting tone he was speaking to you in earlier.

“w- why? it’s safe! there’ll be six of us so there’s no way i’ll get hurt! please, sho, just this once? i haven’t seen my friends in so long” your voice started to crack, a sign you were close to crying. 

“i said no, baby. so stop arguing, alright?” you started crying now, all he could hear from the phone was your soft sniffles before you hang up on him. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you woke up with a headache and a strong arm wrapped around your waist. as you begin to panic, you realize it’s just shoto next to you due to the scent of mint and expensive cologne that practically engulfed your room. 

remembering what happened a few hours ago, you felt tears well up in your eyes again. you didn’t even notice you fell asleep. you hugged him tightly and buried your face in his chest, startling him. 

“im sorry sho!” you blurted out. you snuggled further into his chest, refusing to look at him. you didn’t wanna see his face! he’s so scary when he’s angry!

quickly recovering from his shock, he started rubbing your back softly as he reassured you that he wasn’t upset at all. he readjusted your position, forcing you to look up “im not mad at you baby, but i am glad you know what you did was wrong. i just want to protect you, you understand right?”

you nodded your head yes as you tell him you love him too. of course you did, shoto took good care of you. he does everything for you, the least you could do is listen to what he says! after all, he knows what’s best for you.

he gives you a kiss on your forehead before smiling softly at you, “you were crying, weren’t you? i’m sorry baby, but i’ll make it up to you. we’ll go shopping later, alright? i’ll buy you whatever you want”

you whined out a no, puffing out your cheeks like a child. he seriously needs to stop spending money on you, you didn’t deserve it! 

as if reading your thoughts, he rushed to reassure you “why not? baby, let me spoil you. you deserve it,” you know you don’t deserve it. you’re already so lucky, being able to date him, knowing millions of other people wish they were in your place. what can you even give him in return?

“shouuuu” you whined, “you already give me so much! and i can’t even give you anything in return. i dont deserve you” you pouted, showing your clear displeasure of his insistence on spoiling you.

he let out a light chuckle, face laced with amusement from what you said. his naive baby, why can’t you understand that he wants to do this? he loves you, you’re his sweetheart, and he’s going to take care of you. he’ll give you the entire world if he could, it’s what you deserve.

“i don’t expect anything in return, my love. and i’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. you’re the sweetest baby anyone could ask for, i’m very lucky to be able to call you mine”

the writing is kinda choppy, especially the conversations dhshs im sorry! D: