#IF THIS IS A PRANK I WILL ACTUALLY KILL SOMEONE.

[howi99]

A knight second chance 4

Pyrrha: *looking around* ... Where did Jaune go?

Nora: *sucking tree sap like a vampire* 'unno, he 'as he'e a se'on's a'o.

Ren: I think i heard him say something about Ursa.

Pyrrha: *panicking* He could be in danger! Trying to kill them by himself.

Both Ren and Nora looked at her, deadpan

Pyrrha: W-what!?

Nora: Pyrrha, Jaune out-stamina ME during my morning routine WHILE doing twice as much. He might not be as flashy as us, But the guy just doesn't stop!

Ren: *nod* His aura control is immaculate, which is really impressive for someone who didn't have his aura unlocked until initiation.

Pyrrha: H-how... When!?

Nora: Oh he told us in the first two weeks... Wait, we didn't tell you?

Pyrrha: NO! I THOUGHT HE WAS HIDING IT!!

Nora: Eheh... Oups?

___________________________________________

Cardin: *looking at the friendly Jaune ripping the head of the ursa with his bare hands* ... Holy shit, is that why you only go for ring out!?

Jaune: *looking back at Cardin with a smile* Oh it's quite easy actually. You just have to twist the head!

Cardin: ... *Looking at the sap on the ground* And i almost threw that at your teammates as a prank. Thanks GODS i didn't, it could have been dangerous!

Jaune: Especially with rapier wasps.

Cardin: *confused* Rapier wasps? What are you talking about?

Jaune: Wait... You weren't planning on sending rapier wasps on my team?

Cardin: What!? NO! And where would we find those anyway!?

Russel: ... My girlfriend does have a wasp farm.

Cardin: *looking at his friend* WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND!?

Russel: *shrug* Her semblance gives her control over some insects and they are natural predators for most pests. She likes her garden clean.

Dove: Flower or food?

Russel: *turn to Dove* Both. Oh, by the way, she made us blue and blackberry jam!

___________________________________________

Pyrrha: *blushing* ... He barely moved when the ursa rammed into him. He stood his ground like a knight...

Ruby: *slight blush* And the way he just casually decapitated the ursa while continuing to smile, as if to say nothing wrong could happen...

Weiss: *blushing hard, staying silent* ...

[mike-smh]

Chat, I have a lot of opinions on the hermitcraft fandom, specifically a lot of common headcanons or AU’s people have. So if you don’t wanna read them that’s fine this is just me rambling lol.

Grian

Grian is constantly portrayed as an innocent little guy who only ever did the bad things because he was possessed by watchers. I hate this because so many people infantilize him in order to make him look more innocent. He is a fully grown man with a wife. He is probably twice the age of the people who write him in this way.

I have three major issues with this. Firstly, he can’t be possessed by a watcher since within canon the watchers are just the audience. I know that in some people’s AU’s the watchers are godlike entities who can do possessions and control people. But if that’s true then why would they control Grian specifically and make just him innocent and make everyone else the bad guys.

Secondly, it’s unfair to ignore every single action he’s done that has hurt people. It’s unfair to force everyone to forgive him just because he “wasn’t in control”, possessed or not he still hurt people in so many ways. Everyone he hurt has a right to be angry with him even if he was possessed because he still hurt them.

Lastly, Grian absolutely knows what he’s doing, because he pulls pranks on hermitcraft that are a lot like the things he’s done in the life series. And canonically watchers aren’t on hermitcraft because they simply don’t exist there. People make AU’s where they do exist on hermitcraft which is whatever but still. Grian is still in control of himself when he does bad things, he is self aware and has made multiple points of being self aware when he has done harmful things to people.

Scar

I have so many complaints about fanon Scar. A lot of people also infantilize him and never acknowledge the fact he’s in fact manipulative, cunning, deceitful and a villian. People really only portray him as someone who’s in love with Grian and will just be a punching bag for the other life series members as if he doesn’t know how to stand up for himself.

I actually have five main points about Scar because although Fanon Grian is something I'm also passionate about, the fandom just does Scar dirty and completely changes him into someone unrecognizable.

So, firstly, I hate that the fandom makes Scar into a man who doesn’t know how to stand up for himself. They constantly portray him as someone who’s a people pleaser and just does whatever anyone wants. They turn him into a doormat and punching bag when in actuality he is very much the opposite. Scar is manipulative, he never says no to an idea if he doesn’t want to do it. He has many canon kills, there’s times where he’s killed people when he didn’t even need to, he did it just for fun. Or during 3rd life when he made Bdubs and Grian fight for their lives.

Many people make the excuse that he only did that because he was a red life but that doesn’t make sense because he’s done that on hermitcraft too. His persona Hotguy is literally a hero that kills whoever he wants, he just shoots people at any time and kills them. Also during season five, when Convex originated, he constantly killed others for his entertainment. And again, people make the excuse that he was controlled by the Vexes. Okay, that’s a valid argument, except when you remember he was a corrupt mayor in season seven. He was a swindler in season eight where he took everyone’s money so that they actually got a chance to live through the moon crashing and he helped King Ren in season nine.

Another point is that people make him way too forgiving. Especially towards Grian and everything Grian has done to him. When he has literally, on multiple occasions, referenced bitterly to all the things Grian’s done to him. He’s known to hold grudges against people in both hermitcraft and in the life series. It makes absolutely no sense to make him a constantly forgiving person, that is unless he is nothing but a love interest for Grian. So many people infantilize Scar just so that they can justify shipping Scarian, because they know that if they took all the canon information at face value that Scarian would never be a healthy relationship.

Taking that into account leads us to our next topic, people like to completely disregard any personality Scar has in favor of just making him into a shipping vessel for Scarian. Some people make his entire personality into just liking Grian. People like to make him forgive Grian for everything he’s done, even him cheating on Scar during Double Life, just because they like the ship. And honestly, it grosses me out. Seeing people completely disregard how toxic Grian and Scars relationship actually is and change them both into characters completely unrecognizable from canon just so they can have their ship.

I’m sure there’s so much more I can complain about when it comes to Fanon Scar but I’ll make just one last point. His disability. I’ve seen a lot of people make Scars personality revolve around his disability. People essentially making fun of him in a way, making him stutter every sentence, unable to read properly, constantly bringing up how he can’t walk, etc. Now, as a disabled person these inherently aren’t bad things, there’s nothing wrong with bringing these things up and talking about them. It’s just how you talk and bring them up is what’s important, some people talk about it in a way to mock him.

Making him the butt of the joke because he can’t pronounce somethings properly, mocking him because he struggles with reading. Which in my opinion, is disgusting. Yes the cc makes jokes like this with the other hermits, but the other hermits are his friends. You, as a viewer, are not his friend, you don’t know him and you don’t know if he’s hurt by random strangers making fun of him for things he cannot control and making his disabilities his entire personality.

Mumbo

Mumbo. My man, Mumbo K. Jumbo, the Redstone innovator, the man who made a house that can walk. What I’ve noticed about him is that he gets so watered down in Fanon, I swear people just don’t want to give him an ounce of personality. So I will be talking in detail about that.

First of all, people make his entire personality just being a silly guy, they give him no strengths, no weaknesses, they just make him an NPC I swear. They make him act all timid and clueless like he doesn’t know how to do anything at all, they make him helpless. When he literally isn’t, he’s just as villainous as anyone else. He does what he wants to, he kills who he wants to, he threatens people, he literally blew up his entire base just because he wanted to.

Second of all, I swear that it always somehow circles back to Grian, and I despise that. Because for some reason people again, forget everything toxic thing he and Grian have done and just ship them and make Mumbo into nothing but a love interest for Grian. It’s just so disappointing to see people give absolutely none of the other hermits any personality.

Third of all, Mumbo has pulled pranks with the intention of killing people. He constantly kills his friends or messes with them in ways to harm them or greatly annoy them. He constantly stands up for himself in situations and he manipulates people whenever he wants something. He is so much more than being a “spoon”, he is so much more than just being a silly guy who stresses over redstone. He’s not even just a redstoner, he’s a builder too but it seems that people also disregard that part of him as well because it just doesn’t fit into the vision of him being helpless.

So, in conclusion, people like making everything about Grian, people like making everything revolve around Grian. Scars personality? Changed and watered down so that people can have a “healthy” desert duo. Mumbo’s personality? Changed and watered down so Grian can have someone who supports him and constantly forgives him for all of the literal crimes he commits.

So, you might be asking, “Narrator, what’s the point of this? Why did you spend an hour writing about fully grown men who play Minecraft for a living?” Because I’m sick of seeing fully grown men being infantilized for a bunch of teens' enjoyment. Just so they can ship them together and make their favorite character (commonly Grian) be a better person and actually likable.

So what’s the point you ask? The point is that I fucking hate some of the hermitcraft fandom, specifically the people who don’t like people who don’t share the same opinions and or do any of the things I’ve listed. I’m not saying the people who do these things are bad people, just that I personally dislike them. In no way am I hating on the people, just the headcanons.

Okay yeah, I just realized I spent an entire hour of my life writing this and that’s an hour of my life I can never get back…

Also if I offended you, I don’t actually feel bad because I'm allowed to have opinions and so are you. By voicing your opinions you’re opening yourself up to criticism because not everyone agrees. And I know that, that’s why this is all in a first person perspective, these are my opinions and feel free to disagree all you want. I just don’t really care if you disagree lol

Anyway thanks for reading.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

BREAKING NEWS: TEAM FORTRESS 2 COMIC 7 IS BEING WORKED ON

SOURCE

[citrine-elephant]

abduction/ambush concept for good ol' agent kennedy..... ->

leon catches someone taking his picture. it's a creepshot for sure, but with his line of work.... he can't be too careful now.

immediately he can tell his young woman knows she's been caught, and immediately he tries to get a feel for the situation.

she's embarrassed. she's looking away. and leon's.... not so sure about it. so, he makes his way over nonchalantly.

this woman is sat by the exit of this truckstop restaurant, by the trashcans and such. leon tries to avoid bluntly intimidating her by steering clear and throwing his stuff away. only to gently throw a comment her way, one that's meant to be playful and now blunt, but quiet to avoid drawing attention to her.

if this woman is just being creepy, he doesn't exactly want to embarrass her. she looks fresh into college and, while an adult shouldn't be acting like this.... maybe he wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, yknow?

he comments, something along the lines of, "not who you think i am, but i'm flattered. coulda just asked next time." a way to ease any tension with a joke.

and quickly, she's apologetic. "it was for a friend, i'm sorry," etc etc.

leon kinda feels bad. for the most part, he was worried less about some random girl taking creepshots and more of espionage and assassination attempts. if she's just some weirdo, then he can try to be nice at least? make the world a better place by confronting a creep and hopefully changing their ways lol.

in the best way he can, he just puts it light and asks her to not do that again. steer her on the right path.

but aha! that is the trick! while she wasn't interested in him (or maybe she plans to NOT delete that image after sending it to the sketch number she was given ahah), she was interested in the money she was paid to take photos and then lie to him if she was caught. hell, she IS a broke college student. what's wrong with sacrificing her dignity for a couple hundred bucks?

classic, "use an innocent looking young woman/kid to keep the target's guard down as a red herring!"

he might be a little weirded out on his way out, but he's more distracted by social anxiety to notice the ambush.

bonus points if this woman somehow becomes actually involved when, whoops, her desperation led her to witness this man's kidnapping and... oh god she just wants to eat something better than ramen, dude. fuck, man. shit. oh no. oh god.

and boy, is she in for a surprise when it's not just some random handsome guy getting abducted. not some poor fucker caught up in crime, or someone who owes money. ..

it's a fucking government agent involved with stopping bioterrorism. she's in deep...

[speckeltail]

idk meta about my interps of riddler and aaron and what it means for them and how they treat each other

spinning off in my own little world has yielded what I am absolutely sure to be an only slightly insane interpretation of tb!riddler; this is someone who's been dismissed, belittled, scapegoated, used countless times, whose inflated sense of ego is... yes, an inflated sense of ego, but also a cover for an insanely damaged self-esteem and general inability to connect with other people. he's defensive of his interests because they've always been mocked until they're useful, he's defensive and selfish with his skills because when he works for someone else and does as he's told he's accustomed to taking the fall. he doesn't trust when people are nice to him because he's been primed to see it as an attempt at manipulation... and he worked as an operator for a carnival game in what I see as his late teens + early twenties while he was getting his degree, so he knows full well what it's like to be manipulative. being an operator for a fun little carnival game where the fun of playing is the real prize is different from leading someone on and stealing their work, though. the biggest similarity is that the games are rigged from the start and only an idiot wouldn't see that (he didn't see that, what does that make him).

so it leaves him intensely distrusting, competitive, accustomed to relying on only himself (except for his little nerd armada, god I love the riddlemen they're perfect in every way) and letting himself be the only person to call the shots. at the same time... he is desperately reaching out for connection. he's lonely! he wants to be validated and treated like he has value for being just a person, not for his immense smarts, though he'd appreciate that too.

aaron coming into the picture doesn't necessarily change things so much as it puts a new coat of paint over it, because eddie finds himself in the same position his own father was in (and failed) but also... not at all. not in the slightest. he saw, in aaron, a kindred spirit who was used, who was abandoned, someone who wanted to get back at a system that was rigged from the start. and, I mean, it's not like Batgirl and Robin aren't on the scene. (and prank and scorn, which is its own thing.) the way I see it, eddie didn't intend for aaron to be more comfortable as sphinx. it just... happened. eddie sinks deeply into riddler as a protective layer against the world (prickly intellect and a mean streak that quite frankly dissolves the very second it's not of use?), aaron takes the thing he loved that became a horrible burden and a source of pain and turns it into the weapon he uses to get back at the world as sphinx.

to some degree, eddie is trying to protect and nurture the child in him that loved puzzles and was shot down at every turn. aaron is the opposite; he grew up fast, too fast, was on a global stage at fourteen and acting like an adult (without the adult privilege of making decisions for himself) and being treated like an adult with his area of expertise. eddie trips facefirst into love with someone who is only using him, and pays the price; aaron carefully portrays himself as someone unattainable and undesirable in his relationship with the other villain sidekicks, prank and scorn. (the context for that is sphinx went to them each separately, after their respective disasters, and went; hey. nobody's going to look out for us. people are going to try and use us. people won't take us seriously. we have to look out for each other. and they have a groupchat where aaron talks scorn down from doing dumb violent shit and donnie goes through cycles where he relapses into prank with joker. all very interesting. I should talk about it later. he's very much a mother hen because like eddie, he needs a sense of control and he cares deeply for people).

so... aaron acts like an adult, mainly. eddie helps him make a fake identity and aaron takes over from there. he's trying to be as convenient as possible, and it never comes out but he's afraid that he'll be discarded as soon as he's more trouble than he's worth-- which would distress eddie if he found out. sphinx is useful, and smart, and eager to please, and takes care of himself. sphinx is altogether more comfortable to be than aaron, who is anxious and doesn't know how to ask for help or care and feels ashamed that he wants it. eddie is his superior, not a father figure. neither of them know how to navigate this.

when aaron graduates high school, he goes to college-- this is when he stops being sphinx and starts being tyto, triggered by him investigating the disappearance of a classmate and friend and discovering a seedy underbelly to newark. it's where his and eddie's similarities come to an uncomfortable forefront. aaron, when given the opportunity, is obsessive. he's willing to wait, but only for so long. a few years ago I was pretty adamant about aaron not killing, but over the years I've honestly changed my mind... I think that he doesn't intentionally kill, but it's happened. and with the people he's targeting, he's not especially guilty about it.

anyway, eddie doesn't figure out about tyto for a while, he thinks that aaron's just retired aside from visiting gotham and doing sphinx stuff for him as a favor on long weekends and holidays, and when he does he's surprised at how much he does not like it. he did invite sphinx into the whole business with the promise of getting back at people who hurt them (and the world, in general, and the way things are rigged, and it's fine for them to break the rules because nothing is fair) but that was stealing money. blackmailing people, at most! silly bullshit like jello bombs. people in speeding cars they control so they're not really in any danger. distractions. you know. supervillainy? tyto is not a supervillain. tyto is not even necessarily a vigilante, though that's what he's treated as. tyto is indeed getting back at people with precise and violent intent, much as an unsupervised nineteen year old with extensive training and too much compassion for his own good might.

it's not going to end well! it's a hopeless crusade that leaves power vacuums and is endless work, and what's going to happen when aaron graduates? How the hell can Eddie respond to that? he can't tell aaron to stop because he's not in charge of him anymore. he doesn't disagree with what aaron is doing but it might get him killed, and in fact there is a high chance that it might get him killed.

anyway I think that's what makes eddie realize that he cares for aaron a lot more deeply than he ever expected he does, or should. and once again things are spiraling out of his control and the only thing he can do is watch and hope there's enough pieces left to pick up.

[br1ghtestlight]

me (extremely mentally ill): bob and mr fischoeder are like airy and liam from hfjone if airy didnt kidnap and torture liam as the premise of the show

[brittlebutch]

have been thinking about Until Dawn again -- do we ever like, fully understand what Josh had planned for Matt and Emily? Like, did he steal/hide her bag or something to get them out into the woods? Or was that just some kind of coincidence that played out like he hoped it would?

[arts-and-drafts]

I decided to start compiling speech patterns and such for the Hermits I watch the most, because being a fic writer is hard sometimes 😭 then I thought “why not share it here?”

so here’s my very rough analysis of my most viewed Hermits, this is just what I’ve managed to gather so please don’t call me out for what I’m missing

-

Scar

Rarely stutters in normal speech. Maybe pauses if he’s started a sentence and doesn’t know where it’s going, but he doesn’t tend to trail off unless something interrupts his train of thought

Stutters a LOT when he’s startled. Also makes ‘hoo!’ noises repeatedly before he finds his words

Lays on the charm THICK when he’s trying to convince someone over literally anything; compliments their looks, their handiwork, and then pitches his proposition in smooth segue. Not one to entertain haggling though (however he DOES do a ‘look if you’ll pay full price I’ll throw in xyz’ thing). King of upselling even the most mundane things.

His tone is cheerful most of the time, no matter what he’s saying. He’ll actually often say very disturbing things with a light voice (ex. when discussing how to retaliate ie “what should we do about him?” “we could kill him! :)”)

Builds and locations somehow are always capitalized in his voice?? Like he says them differently. I can’t really explain it (when he talks about Aqua Town or Scarland or The Big Dig)

Literally has an evil laugh when he thinks of a way to prank someone or mess with people

Hums in thought quite often, and uses “huh!” quite often when confused or finding out something new (Mostly with redstone)

His farewell is almost always “Byeeee, have a great time!” even if the conversation he left was not a pleasant one. I’m almost certain he does this in tense situations just to get under other people’s skin and really push how unbothered he is

Doesn’t tend to insult people, the farthest he’ll take it is backhanded compliments

That said he is not afraid to outright threaten (“I will murder them.”)

References media a lot, both for concepts for builds and in speech (ie his greeting “Well hello there!” is from Star Wars)

Number one exclamation is “Sweet Baby Jellie!”

(More under the cut!)

Grian

Cold opens, both in videos and conversations (rarely says “hello, how are you, etc” when encountering someone, but he does say farewells/‘thank you’s)

Likes to sneak up on people and scare them if he realizes they haven’t noticed him yet, usually does so by getting real close and then yelling (“HEY!”/“HI!”/“WHAT’S THAT?”)

Uses the name of whoever he’s talking to pretty often while speaking to them (“Well, Mumbo, you never know”/“So, Scar, as you can see here-“), same goes for often addressing his audience (“you all”/“you lot”/“you guys”)

Usually pretty focused (when he wants to be) but oftentimes takes a minute to laugh at things he notices in the natural environment (An accidental face in a build, a mob in a strange place, etc)

Takes the lead in a conversation if nobody is the clear leader, but generally only speaks when spoken to if someone else has risen to that spot

Clarifies instructions after something is explained, both to his viewers and to anyone he’s grouped up with (most often seen in the Life Series)

Uses “Pardon?!”/“Beg your pardon?!” most often when surprised or startled (he’s very British), also sometimes uses “Sorry??”

Things are way more funny to him when he’s tired

Deadpans a lot in conversation ie “why not do xyz?” “Well because we’ll horrifically die 😑“

This man is allergic to committing to the bit unless he’s the one that initiated it

Not one to sugarcoat (“how is it?” “well to be honest it’s miserable”)

Number one exclamation is “WHAT?!” (though he often uses “oh my GOODNESS” quite a bit)

Mumbo

The start of nearly every episode is almost a pitch, does the same when bringing up an idea to others (“I have this idea”/“I was thinking”/“I noticed” etc)

Often laughs a little at himself when he speaks

Also often brings up how inexperienced/unqualified he thinks he is with literally any task he’s doing

Gets very distracted with the smallest things

Uses similes a lot when trying to describe a concept (“I’m thinking a this-type thing”/“Something like a [xyz]”/“Imagine like a [thing]”)

His voice gets higher when he’s startled or panicking

A very vocal thinker, which makes sense because he’s a MC Youtuber, but he also just. Seems to think out loud regardless

Comments a lot on the feel of things (“Oh this feels menacing”/“This looks like it’d mess you up”/“This makes it feel very intimidating”), often with building

Extremely modest. However will celebrate when he does something right in redstone/building (“YES! Oh my days, that took forever”)

Once and a while will have a rare banter moment with people he’s comfortable with (ie teasing and making fun)

Related to above, he gets very giggly when he’s hanging out with people he’s familiar with (Grian and Scar most often, but also Iskall)

Number one exclamation is “What on earth?!”

Joel

Greets people most often with “How you doing [name]?”/“How are ya [name]?”

He’s very northern. He often leaves out words in his sentences bc that’s just the way his dialect is (“What you doin’?” vs “What are you doing?”)

Says his th’s like f’s (“somefing”/“nofing”/“finking”) ((Stress also does this))

His jokes/teasing are very deadpan (“I made you this extra thing, because you’re trash at this”)

Actually gives gifts of resources very often, and always leaves it with a little note and signs his name

His voice gets higher pitched when he’s defensive/being extremely cheeky but other than that his tone rarely changes

This man. Flirts so much. If any other person initiates even the slightest of flirty banter he takes that and dials it to eleven I cannot believe this is a straight married man sometimes

Joel commits to the bit 100% of the time (slightly related to above), unless of course it’s jokes about his height

Makes a point to compliment himself if he gets the chance (words most often used are “handsome” “strong” and “humble”, as well as comments about his muscles and physique)

Insults his enemies diminutively (“look at you down there, tiny idiot”/“You’re wrong and also weak”) ((seen most often in Empires SMP)

His most often used insult is “idiot”

When he’s flustered/frustrated he uses “bloody” a lot (ie “bloody heck” or “this bloody thing” (loves to toe the PG line), also uses “blooming” (“bloomin’ heck”)

Most often used exclamation is also “WHAT?!”

Bdubs

Opens videos very jovially, talks almost like a radio host

Breaks down his builds down to the block, spends a lot of time discussing his block pallet choices and giving tips while he builds

Uses the affirmation “sure enough” a lot, and often addresses himself as “Ol’ Bdubs”

Talks affectionately about other hermits often (“[name], the absolute sweetheart, left me some materials”, “[name], you angel!”)

Adding to above, “angel” or “sweet angel” seems to be his most often used affectionate terms

Switches on a dime, though, if he gets offended (which of course causes others to poke fun at him even more)

Calls mobs “stupid” a lot when they don’t do what he wants (but takes it back if he says it to one of his horses ex. “Come here, stupid—wonderful, I mean, beautiful”)

THIS MAN IS THE #1 HORSE ENJOYER. He gets a horse first thing every season and rides it everywhere, and they’re always a focal point of his theme or builds in some regard

Pauses whatever he’s doing to sleep as soon as it’s possible, and gets very antsy if he can’t do it for some reason (“One moment, time to shreep!”)

Related to above, EVERYONE messes with him if he’s trying to sleep in their presence ie breaking his bed over and over, and he gets increasingly more frustrated when it happens

Rarely is soft spoken or quiet, he projects his voice and uses a lot of emphasis in his tone

Either straight up screams (and peaks the mic 😭) if he’s startled or scared, or yells “oh my GOODNESS!!”

Number one exclamation is “HEY!”

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[sundrop-writes]

The Way You Miss Me

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

I’m not trying to say I don’t wanna stay, I just know how this story ends.

Use my body against me - and all of our history.

I hate the way you miss me. 

Summary:

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn't need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled.

And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of crippling heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred's strength and determination.

So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he's the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 18,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full warnings list and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is equal parts angst fic and smut fic; the reader is a cis woman - uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; there is no mention of the reader's looks, race, hair colour, etc. in any way; this fic does use Y/N (and L/N as in Last Name); this takes place mostly during the beginning of Deathly Hallows, so there are mentions of dark topics, like death, and the cult-like following that Voldemort has developed; this is Exes to Lovers - Fred and the reader dated for a while during their time at Hogwarts and then broke up; (there is flashbacks in this fic to times during Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix); the reader is half-blood - she has one parent who is a muggle and lives in a muggle city and the other parent who is loyal to death eaters (and there is a later mention of the reader's mother being killed due to anti-muggle sentiment as Voldemort becomes more powerful); there is no mention of what Hogwarts house the reader is in; the reader has a crippling fear of heights (which is a large part of the plot for this fic); mentions of nausea and vomiting (as a fear response) (no one actually throws up during the course of the fic); the reader experiences actual life-threatening danger while on a broom - she nearly falls to her death, but Fred catches her; Fred does struggle to hold the reader's body weight, so it doesn't imply that he has super-human strength or that the reader is particularly petite (I wanted his reaction to be realistic for someone of any body weight); for part of the fic, Fred is disguised as Harry using Polyjuice Potion (but there's no confusion about his identity because the reader knows he took the potion); the reader experiences a panic attack due to the life threatening fall, and Fred helps her calm down; mentions of blood and semi-graphic descriptions of George's canon injury (his ear being blasted off); there is general emotional angst from the characters being in close proximity to danger, death, and life threatening situations; Fred calls the reader 'darling' and 'love' and 'sweets' and 'pretty girl' (in sexual and non-sexual contexts).

For the actual smut section: this is not their first time together as a couple and neither of the characters are meant to be virgins; there is undertones of sub/dom dynamics - Fred is a teasing soft dom and the reader is submissive to him (and there is mentions of the reader experiencing what could be considered subspace) (but there isn't any specifically laid out roles - it's more so one person enjoying taking care of the other, especially after experiencing the emotional turmoil of a near death experience together); there is Daddy kink in this (not until a bit later into the smut section, but it just came to me and I realized it suited Fred so well) Fred calls himself Daddy and the reader is way into it; praise kink - Fred calls the reader 'good girl' specifically because he knows she likes it; lots of dirty talk (Fred has a filthy mouth); oral sex - Fred receiving (she blows him as a thank you for saving her life) (also slight ball worship); mentions of the reader 'choking' on his cock (but there is no major breathplay or breath restriction); slight spit kink (it's a messy blowjob and he loves it); teasing and brief orgasm denial (toward both parties); hair pulling (toward both parties) - not with the intention of causing pain, but to direction someone's attention and to show appreciation and affection to the person; thigh riding - she humps herself on Fred's thigh while she is still wearing clothes; penis in vagina sex; creampie kink (I'm not gonna say breeding kink, because there's no mention of procreation or getting someone pregnant, even in theory, but they are both very turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her); this could be protected sex OR unprotected sex - he cums inside of her raw but we can all pretend that they used a magical pregnancy prevention method if you want even though it's not mentioned in the fic; cockwarming (reader doesn't let Fred pull out for a while after he cums); I think that is finally it for this fic.

A/N: This fic is titled after a song by All Time Low, which I highly recommend listening to paired with this fic. This is actually part of an idea I had for a much longer multi-chaptered Fred x Reader fic, but I kept thinking about this one moment in the fic and how much I wanted to write it - so I did. And I decided that it would make a good oneshot. And I am actually insanely proud of myself for managing to capture the same emotions in under 20k that I originally thought would take me like 50k or 100k to properly communicate. I think this is fantastic, and it's one of the best things I have written in a while - and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you like angsty, emotional, exes to lovers fics.

...

Very often, you wondered when life had become so complicated. 

It seemed that just yesterday, you were a bright-eyed young girl, dancing around a beautifully magical winter ball with the love of your life on your arm - and now, you were a confused woman who was terrified of how your life would end up because of a dark wizard and his cultist followers trying to overtake your world. 

These days you didn’t even have that lover to comfort you through all of the confusion and dread that clouded the world around you. 

You and Fred used to be perfect. That’s what a lot of people would have called the two of you - the ‘perfect’ couple. 

Your story was something straight from a romance novel - the two of you were best friends when you were young, and that friendship quickly blossomed into affection. That affection naturally led into a sweet romance. When you were with him, your life was full of moments where you felt like a beautiful, flowery, desirable protagonist because of how he treated you. Your life used to be full of laughter, full of smiles, full of romantic gestures. 

You and Fred were in the same year at Hogwarts, so naturally you knew each other. You weren’t really friends - at least not at first. You knew of each other, especially because you had some classes together. 

But you didn’t truly meet Fred Weasley until more than halfway into your first year of classes together. You had the misfortune of accidentally running into a prank that was meant for a Slytherin Prefect - someone who had taken one too many house points off Gryffindor for the twins’ liking. And after being doused with red and gold paint and tripping over a toy rubber snake that had been charmed to hiss realistically when you got near it - you were reasonably frightened and crying, and it left you the laughing stalk of the courtyard - someone to be pointed at and mocked by everyone. 

Fred hadn’t meant for it to be you. With the way he looked at you after the incident - full of guilt while everyone else pointed at you and laughed, imitating your frightening screams and attempts to jump away from the fake snake - it didn’t take you long to figure out the culprits behind it. And it didn’t take you much longer after that to plan your revenge. (Especially because, as much as Fred looked guilty, he didn’t simply come forward and apologise. Too afraid to look like a weak moron in the eyes of his brother and his other Gryffindor friends. So - on with your revenge, it was.) 

You figured that all good pranksters should be due to be a victim sometimes, too. If the twins couldn’t laugh when they were on the receiving end, then they should stop playing pranks. 

So you came up with something that you considered masterful. During your trip home for Christmas, back to Muggle London where your mother lived, you asked her to take you to a shop to buy a couple of greeting cards for your classmates. The ones that sing Christmas carols loudly when the hinge of the card is opened. Something clever, and not needing any magic at all. 

And when you returned to Hogwarts after the break, you found a moment where the twins were distracted, and you stole their book bags in order to pull off your epic, amazing prank. You taped those singing greeters into the back of their Potions textbooks - a class that you shared with them, of course, so that you could enjoy the show. And then you waited. 

You had trouble containing your laughter when Professor Snape escalated from annoyed to downright scalding angry as his class was filled with the quiet robotic hum of ‘Jingle Bells’, occasionally overlapped by ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. It was made even better by the fact that both of the twins clearly knew that the music was coming from somewhere in their surrounding area, but they had no clue what the exact source was or how to stop it. And with every snivelled demand of ‘just open your books and get to work’ - the music only started up again. 

By the time they had been sentenced to detention for disturbing the class, you were nearly breathless and your ribs were aching from trying to hold back your laughter. Which, of course, meant that Fred easily spotted you out of everyone else - who looked equally confused or annoyed with the low hum of the music. And as soon as the class ended, he brought his textbook to you, thanked you for the worthy prank, and asked you how to stop it. He looked entirely amused and impressed when you pulled the tiny device out of the back, and proceeded to ask you a million questions about it. 

You weren’t surprised when the next week, the annoying singing greeter ended up inside the teacher’s copy of the textbook on McGonagall’s desk. 

From that moment on, his crush on you steeped inside of him like a fine tea, developing from an innocent adolescent attraction to full-blown, ‘drive you crazy’, ‘I would do anything for you’, love. It was lucky for him that you easily felt the same way. 

Through the years of being by his side, becoming his best friend, pulling pranks together and trying desperately to get him to study - it was difficult not to fall for Fred Weasley. 

You had been overjoyed when Fred invited you to the Quidditch World Cup. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of Quidditch (and Fred knew that). The only reason you had started attending the games at Hogwarts was because he joined the team. And you only bothered to attend the games he played in, so your bias could be spotted from a mile away. But in his letter, with the ticket to the World Cup slotted into the envelope, he told you that it was ‘the game of the century’ and you ‘simply couldn’t miss it’. 

You wouldn’t miss out on spending time with him, so you eagerly agreed to go. 

This left you with only one glaring problem. 

You had a crippling fear of heights. 

It was one of the reasons that you never really gotten into Quidditch in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in playing, and even less interest in watching if Fred wasn’t involved. The idea of even flying on a broom being something that made you nauseated and shaky just from thinking about it. 

The mandatory first year flying lesson was the only class at Hogwarts that you ever failed, but Madame Hooch took pity on you when she saw you crying and fisting the grass after only getting your broom about five inches off the ground. So she passed you anyway - just barely. 

When you set out to watch Fred’s games at Hogwarts, you usually had to take some kind of anti-nausea tonic beforehand to make sure that you didn’t puke all over everyone else in the stands. And you usually couldn’t even make it up to your seat to watch unless one of your good friends held your hand. But you were alright once the actual game started, because watching Fred doing something he loved was a good distraction from just how high up you were. 

Telling Fred about your intense fear had been one of the most honest, vulnerable moments that you ever had with him. Your friendship was usually all pranks and laughter, which you loved. 

But one summer day, when you were hanging out with the Weasleys, they wouldn’t stop nagging you to join one of their family Quidditch matches because they needed an extra player to make the teams even. And after the twins’ endless teasing, saying that you were ‘afraid to lose’ or that you would be ‘too distracted by their daring good looks’ in order to play properly, you broke down crying and stormed off into the woods, because you were too anxious to admit the real reason that you couldn’t play.  

Fred was the one who found you off in the trees behind the Burrow, tears still streaming down your face, and asked you what he had done to so greatly upset you. He had been terrified at the idea of making you upset, so hurt that he had been the one to make you cry. And after he found out about your fear, he didn’t laugh or mock you for it or play it off as something stupid like you thought would be so typical of him. No - instead, he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and he told you that he was genuinely sorry. And he promised that he would never invite you to play Quidditch again. 

When you had accepted the invitation to The World Cup, you had forgotten how much your fear of heights played into watching Quidditch as well. The giant, impossibly tall temporary Quidditch stadium that had been set up for the event had been looming over you all day, but you didn’t want to quit and go home because of some silly little fear. 

You wanted to spend the time with your friends. You wanted to enjoy the event because the people you loved most were having fun there. So you pressed on, ignoring the inevitable, letting yourself get caught up in the pregame revelry. You walked around the seemingly endless campgrounds with Fred and George, in awe of all the decorations and the different wizards from all over the world, showing off things from their homes. You chatted and charmed along with them as they collected bets before the game. You let Fred paint your face with large, ugly shamrocks because even though you didn’t entirely care about the teams or fully know them, you were rooting for Ireland to win simply because he was. 

But the unavoidable nature of your problem became very apparent as Arthur guided everyone to your seats, and you climbed up more stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs - and the higher up you got, the more you found yourself shaking, especially when you looked down to the ground and saw that the people down there looked like little more than bugs. You hated it when your mind, naturally, went to what would happen to you if you stumbled over the railing and fell down all that way. You would splat on the ground, squashed like a bug. You would die within seconds. 

You held on tighter to Fred’s hand - he would have said that he had grabbed your hand in the first place so that he wouldn’t lose you among the bustling crowd, and not simply as an excuse to be closer to you. You didn’t even realise how badly you were trembling in his touch as you looked over the railing (still a few flights down from your final seats) with intense apprehension. 

“You alright?” Fred asked you simply. 

“‘m fine.” You mumbled out the lie, giving him a large, forced smile - hoping that he would believe it. 

You knew that if you told him how you were feeling, he would insist on escorting you back to the tent. Perhaps he would even insist on staying with you so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. So he might miss out on a once in a lifetime Quidditch game all because you had a bit of petty anxiety from being so high up. 

So you tried your best to push down all your feelings and ignore them, even if it was making you shake and making your stomach churn. When you got to the top, peering over the edge of the railing of the very, very high up seats that Arthur had gotten as a thanks for his work on helping to organise the whole thing (apparently, the higher up the better to actually see the game), you felt an incredible sense of dizziness, and began swaying on your feet. 

This was so much higher up than the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. 

Naturally, Fred noticed. It wasn’t something he would easily admit, or even something he did consciously, but he always kept an eye on you. Partially due to a knack for admiring your beauty, that adolescent love-struck feeling always making him more prone to staring at you. But it was also partially due to the fact that he felt a need to watch over you. Whether it be as a friend or as something else, he always wanted you to be safe, and happy. 

And right now, your sickly, terrified face stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of excited, cheering fans.  

“Y/N,” 

He called out your name in a serious tone that was so uncharacteristic of Fred, something that snapped your attention from staring anxiously at the ground toward him immediately. He cemented your attention on him when he put a hand on top of your tight, tense knuckles on the railing. His touch was warm, as always, and oddly grounding, removing even just a slight bit of that dizzying anxiety that you were feeling. 

“Do you wanna go back down? I can bring you back to the tent,” 

Of course. Just as you had predicted. 

“No.” You easily answered, shaking your head furiously, biting your lip. “I-” 

You didn’t want him missing out on such an important event because of you, but more importantly: 

“I - I don’t want to be afraid.” You heaved out, your chest tight with anxiety. “It’s stupid - people do stuff like this all the time, right? I shouldn’t be afraid-” 

“It’s not stupid.” He said firmly, quickly squashing down any self-belittling that you might be tempted to do. “You can’t control how you feel.” 

Coming from him, it sounded like the most firm truth ever. 

“If you want to stay, I’ll be right here with you.” Fred added on, giving you a warm, reassuring grin. “But just let me know if you want to go back down, and I’ll walk with you, alright?” 

You nodded, hating that even though his words gave you that nip of courage you needed, you were still pulsing with a dull panic. The undeniable reaction that fear caused in your body. 

Fred hated seeing you shaking, hated the deep frown that cut through your beautiful features - so what he did next was instinctive. He took his hand off yours and reached that arm, the one closest to you, around your back, planting his hand firmly on the railing at the other side of your waist. This trapped you in a close-knit hold beside him, something that made you feel instantly more secure - even if it was just from the warmth of him at your side. 

“I’m not gonna let you fall, yeah?” He said quietly, leaning closer into your ear to be heard - the warmth of the reassurance causing gentle tingles down your spine. “I would never let anything happen to you, darling.” 

Between the intense loving safety that he words wrapped you in with the sweet nickname he added on, and the firm cradle of his arm around your back, you knew that you would have no problem sticking it out for the game. But your brain was still trying to cope, your anxiety so incredibly nagging, and you couldn’t help it when your eyes drifted back to focus on the ant-like people on the ground, becoming shaking and nauseous all too soon from staring downward. 

“Down look down.” Fred scolded you gently, using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing your gaze back up - it ended with your eyes locked with his, admiring the way the breeze blew his too-long ginger hair into his eyes. “Just look at me, alright? It’s gonna be far worse if you keep starin’ down there. Just look at me, love.” 

“Just look at you.” You repeated in a quiet mumble, already so utterly locked in the powerful orbit of his gaze, feeling like it was near impossible to look away from him. 

You felt his forehead brush against yours before you realised just how close he had gotten. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. 

And ultimately, feeling the stands shaking beneath your feet as a particularly hard gust of wind came through and having another swell of anxiety rush through you was what drove you to closing the gap, sealing your lips on his in your first kiss. Fred made you brave, almost stupidly so, and you hoped that you had finally used that bravery for something good in capturing his lips. (Rather than the stupid mischief that the two of you usually got up to.) 

Fred smiled into the kiss and George cheered loudly behind him - you thought it was due to the game starting, and when you pulled back sharply to look around for the players, you were met with nearly all eyes in the group on you, clearly gawking at the fact that you and Fred had kissed. 

This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said: 

“Finally. I thought the two of you were never gonna get on with it.” 

This left you squirming with a mild embarrassment, and definitely not thinking about how high up you were anymore. 

Looking back, the memory was painful - not sweet or fond as it had once been to you. 

But it wasn’t nearly as painful as the memory of the day you and Fred had broken up. 

He had asked you to be his girlfriend officially only a few days after the World Cup. He wanted you to know what that kiss meant to him, and he wanted the privilege of more kisses from you, on top of the ‘honour’ (his exact wording) of going back to Hogwarts with you on his arm as his girlfriend, making all the other boys in your year ‘pathetically jealous’. Of course, it was everything you wanted, he was everything you wanted, so you said yes. 

The two of you dated for nearly two full happy years - right through your sixth year and into your seventh, until in April of your seventh year, shortly after Fred’s birthday, when everything came crashing down around you. 

It wasn’t unusual of Fred to pull you away after a class - his hand in yours, igniting fluttery giggles from your lungs as he pulled you down the corridors to whatever secret little spot he had picked out. Even with Umbridge at Hogwarts, implementing more rules and cracking down on ‘fraternisation’ between students, you and Fred still found ways to sneak off to have your private little moments together. 

So when Fred took you off to one of those private corners on chilly spring afternoon, you assumed that this was no different. You fell into the natural rhythm of pinning him against a wall, sealing your lips firmly to his in a kiss and waiting for his hand to sneak up your skirt while his tongue ventured into your mouth. You were shocked when this time, he didn’t kiss you back. He was limp and unreceptive against you, and that was when you realised that you had read the tone of the interaction very wrong - even if him dragging you away by the hand always led to making out in a quiet corner, and more than a bit of groping. 

You pulled back, looking at him with confusion and disappointment plainly across your face. 

“What’s wrong, Freddie?” You asked, well in the habit of using the nickname for him. 

Fred’s expression was filled with sullen dread, and it made your stomach twist. It truly made you fearful of whatever he was going to say next, and you took a step back from him, widening the gap between the two of you in the dusty, draughty old stairwell. You suddenly felt too cold, even with your uniform sweater and thick robes on, and wrapped your arms around yourself to compensate. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He announced quietly, continuing to lean on the wall that you had pressed him up against, staring at the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet you. 

What? Had he cheated on you? Did he want to break up? 

What terrible thing could possibly make this bright, funny joker so damn sad and serious? 

“What is it?” You asked, filling with dread, your throat tightening up more by the second. 

“George and I have decided that it’s about time we take our leave.” Fred announced, his eyes only flickering to you for a moment, looking for some kind of reaction. You were only further confused, and waited for him to explain. “The lease for the shop in Diagon Alley finally came through, and-” 

“Well that’s great news, Fred.” You said, trying to sound happy and upbeat beyond the tension that was still tight in your chest. You had no clue why he was so downtrodden - the joke shop was his dream, and now that they had secured a location for it, that dream was coming true. 

He heaved a sigh, his eyes turning to gaze out a nearby window for a moment before he turned back to you. 

“It means we have to leave, darling.” He said sharply. 

Your insides became heavy. 

You knew it was a very Fred and George thing - so intent on not doing their exams, desperate to escape any further academics. You wanted to ask why they wouldn’t stay until the end of the school year, but you knew that you would get answers about how they didn’t need marks from exams that they were likely going to fail anyway to run a shop that they now owned. 

It was something founded on their own talents and ideas, and they didn’t need the approval of professors marking them wrong or right in order to do it. 

It was the life they had always dreamed of. And you were intensely proud of them for it. 

So why did you still have that overwhelming feeling of dread? 

“So - when are we leaving?” You asked, trying to sound confident and firm in your words even though you knew what was likely coming next. 

You felt intensely disappointed when the all too predictable outcome smashed you in the face. 

“You’re not coming with us.” Fred said quietly. 

“Why not?” You argued gently. 

You would drop everything and go with them - you felt far more emotional attachment to being with Fred than you did to finishing your year at Hogwarts. You knew that you could be a useful hand around the shop. Any venture helping Fred would be a worthy one to you. But staring you down were the calculating eyes of someone who had been telling you over the past years how much he didn’t want to disrupt your studies with his antics, because he thought you had a ‘brilliant mind’, and you were ‘so much smarter’ than him and George. 

He thought that you could actually pull some decent - no, brilliant grades on your NEWTs and truly make something of yourself. The shop was a big dream of his and George’s, but Fred knew that you were destined for something so much greater that truly challenged and fully utilised your brilliance. So he wasn’t going to let you be dragged down to mediocrity by him. 

Realising this, part of you still ached. Why was he so intent on leaving if it meant leaving you behind? 

“Please don’t be stupid-” Fred sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, so I’m stupid now?” You scoffed. 

He hadn’t meant to let the harsh word leave his lips - at least, he hadn’t meant it in such a harsh way. 

“Y/N-” Fred used your actual name, something he rarely did, but you barreled right over whatever he was going to say with your next words. 

You were hurting now, and you didn’t entirely care what he had to say. 

“If I’m so stupid, then why should I even bother to stay here and take my NEWTs?” You hissed, twisting around his accidental slip into something he had never meant. “Or am I too stupid to even work at a silly little joke shop with you?” 

Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him. 

“Y/N, this ‘silly little joke shop’ has been my dream since I was five years old!” He barked, now taking your heat of the moment words and running away with them. “You don’t-” 

“I guess I was stupid enough to believe that I was part of that dream!” You cried out in return, cutting off his words once again. 

‘You are.’ He choked down the words. ‘But I can’t bear to bring you down just because I want to be with you. I could never be so selfish.’ 

“I-” He choked on whatever he was going to say, swallowing it down. “I can’t do this right now.” 

He moved to storm off completely, hoping to speak with you later when you both had calmed down, hoping to have a proper, happy goodbye with you before he and George actually left. 

But your next words made him freeze on the spot, and wiped away all of those hopes within him. 

“Fred Weasley, if you walk away, we’re done.” You said, now choking on tears. 

You were utterly insulted that he wouldn’t even fight for you - that he wouldn’t even promise that his heart would be waiting for you after you graduated. To you, it was a sure sign that he was saying that his shop was more important to him than you were. That you were just some stupid schoolgirl fling to him; that along with the shop, he wanted to move on to other women, to find someone that he actually wanted to marry. 

You had never been a part of the dream he had for his life - you had just been a passing fancy in his eye. 

For Fred, it was all too painful. This was the conversation he had been utterly dreading since he and George had decided to take their leave, and it was going far worse than he had planned in his head. He couldn’t face the pain - he couldn’t face hurting you. He couldn’t face missing you, even during a few short months apart before you did graduate. 

So he then did something so terribly stupid, looking to bomb the relationship wide open - hoping to end all of the pain before it even started. 

“Good.” He said, barely turning his head to even look over his shoulder at you. “Would’ve been a waste of parchment writing to you, anyway.” 

With those final, painful words, he stomped off down the stairs, leaving you to collapse against one of the nearby walls in a puddle of tears - for the first time in a long time, without Fred to muffle your sobs in a comforting hug. 

You hadn’t been there to watch him and George ride off on their brooms when they finally gave Umbridge everything she deserved - you had been locked in your dorm, sobbing into your pillow because of that horrible, relationship ending fight. You had only heard from other people later that they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and you were the only person who knew for certain where they had gone and what their plans were now. 

You hated to admit it - but you missed Fred Weasley. 

You tried your hardest to get over him. You threw yourself into your studies, and you did pass your NEWTs with some of the highest marks in your class. But then, any thought of what potential career you might take on was tossed aside when the world went into upheaval at the hands of Death Eaters. And unintentionally, you were right back at Fred’s side again. 

It was a dreadful thing - being forced to see your ex on such a frequent basis. 

The last time being just a few short days ago when he had come into the Apothecary that you worked at in Diagon Alley, looking for some ingredients for a new WWW product that he wanted to make a test batch of. You had still spent last Christmas with his family, at the nagging insistence of Molly. After your mother had turned up dead and your father was missing, and you had to face the fact that he had likely defected to the Death Eaters out of fear (and the stupidity of his ingrained ‘old ways’), you didn’t really have any other family to turn to, aside from the Weasleys. 

You saw Fred a lot more often than you should - more often than you wanted to, in fact. Because the more often you had to see him walk into your shop with a grin on his face and bear the small talk he would force you into before he finally put in his order, the more you ached. You wanted nothing more than to be able to get away - to go someplace far away that Fred would never find you, so that you could finally heal, could finally get over the way he had broken your heart. 

But the country, and likely the state of all Wizardkind, was in upheaval. So many lives were at risk, and you had your part to play. You had signed on to become a member of the Order the minute you turned seventeen, and you weren’t prepared to shirk that commitment now, just because of a bit of girlish heartbreak. 

It was the reason that you were standing in the now empty residence of Number Four, Privet Drive. You had been called upon last minute to replace Tonks on this particular mission, for reasons that everyone seemed tight lipped about. But you weren’t going to question it - you were just going to step up and do your duty so that Harry could be transported safely, and hopefully go on to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. 

According to Mad-Eye Moody, it was all very straight forward. Six of the fourteen members of the group would take Polyjuice Potion to turn themselves into decoy versions of Harry, making for seven Harrys in total, and the other half of the group would pair off with a Harry each to be their escort. 

You weren’t a huge fan of the idea of Fred disguising himself as Harry, essentially putting a huge target on his back - but the plan had already been set in place. He had already agreed to it. There was no room for you to protest now. 

“We’re not a big fan of the idea either, mate.” George spoke up when Harry protested against the idea of people risking their lives by being disguised as him. 

“Yeah, imagine something went wrong, then we’d be stuck as a scrawny, specky git forever.” Fred added on with his usual humorous tone. 

You held back a laugh at this comment, and everyone in the room eyed you harshly as you choked on your own breath. Fred smirked, proud that after all this time, he could still draw a laugh out of you. 

Your sense of humour about the whole situation was soon stamped out when Mad-Eye mentioned brooms. The group would have to be flying because Harry couldn’t apparate or use any other common form of transport without the Ministry knowing. 

“Brooms?” You questioned, knowing that your tone sounded far too panicked. “We - we’re flying?” 

“Yes.” Mad-Eye snipped curtly in return. “What exactly about my explanation was unclear, Ms. L/N?” 

His sharp tone and his glare in your direction, along with his use of your surname, instantly transported you back you Defense Against the Darks Arts classes in your sixth year, when you had been intimidated by the man - even if, strangely enough, you hadn’t been taught by the same man who now stood before you. 

You swallowed tightly, a large lump forming in your throat already - an involuntary, wicked reaction overtaking your body because of your fear of heights. Fred looked at you with sad knowing in his eyes, and you didn’t notice when he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, resisting the urge to swaddle you in a comforting hold. 

“Nothing was unclear, just-” You stuttered, breathing in deeply, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t have much experience with flying, and-” 

“Weasley - er - Fred, has already informed me of that.” Mad-Eye said, correcting himself when he realised just how many ‘Weasleys’ were on this mission and how utterly confusing that would get. “He’s insisted on taking you due to your lack of experience. Is that all?” 

Obviously, you didn’t want to publicly admit to your fear. You couldn’t reveal it as the terrible weakness that it was, especially not when there were so many other worries at play. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” You said, nodding, trying to keep the conversation short and keep the attention off you. 

“Good. Now if we’re all done dawdling, we need to get to work.” 

It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry. 

Even complete with the dorky clothes and the glasses, you still easily spotted him out of the crowd of ‘specky gits’. Maybe it was the years of practice that you had telling him apart from George that made it so easy for you, but he was still so irritably Fred. The fact that he slid his wand into his back pocket - something you had warned him dozens of times would likely result in the wand crunching in half and breaking when he sat down (and annoyed you to the point of you snatching it out of his back pocket to save it, especially before he sat down). The way he reached up to scratch his nose, the smirk on his face when he kept glancing over at the other Harry you were sure had to be George. Especially with the way they were steadily side-eyeing each other, speaking volumes with their looks and having a silent conversation that nobody else knew of. 

The fact that his eyes kept flickering to you every few moments definitely helped you to pick him out of the crowd. Even though you were used to a gentle hazel gazing at you rather than that piercing blue, there was still a unique concern behind his eyes when he looked at you from beyond those spectacles - the same kind of gentle seriousness that you hadn’t really seen from him since he had held your shaking hand on the stairs of the stands on the day of The World Cup. 

Stupidly, it only really occurred to you how close you would have to be with Fred, tightly riding behind him on the back of his broom, when you went outside and he ushered you to climb onto the back of his broom behind him. It had been a little over a year since you had broken up with Fred, and since then, you had not touched him. 

Every greeting had been friendly, but from a distance. Even when he came into the Apothecary and laid his hand on the counter, you snaked out of the way in time to avoid his fingers so much as brushing by yours. You always laid his order on the counter for him to pick it up himself, so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush against yours. You made sure never to have contact with him. And now, you were being forced to climb onto the back of his broom, to hold him tight. 

But you couldn’t protest. You couldn’t demand to switch partners now because of some petty angst you were harbouring about a break-up that had happened so long ago. (Would you call it angst, or stupid, longing, painful heartbreak?) You couldn’t complain - not when this was about transporting Harry safely. This was about something so much bigger. 

Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as holding onto your Fred (not that he was yours anymore - you had to remember that). He was Harry-Fred right now, so he was much shorter and thinner, and you could easily pretend that he wasn’t Fred at all. Which is what you forced yourself to think about as you swung a shaking leg over the broom and climbed on, wrapping your arms around his waist, preparing for take-off. 

It was a bit harder to pretend that this wasn’t Fred when you caught the faintest whiff of his expensive cologne (something he had only started wearing once the shop took off, something you noticed on him for the first time when he came to visit you at the Apothecary). It was definitely still lingering on his skin, something that was so painfully Fred even while you stared at the back of Harry’s wild black hair. 

It pierced your heart a little bit more when he peered over his shoulder at you, striking you as so Fred with those somehow warm, caring blue eyes and gently asking: 

“Good?” 

To which you replied: 

“m fine.” 

The most terrible lie you had ever conjured - something that was soon covered up by Mad-Eye shouting some last minute instructions and waving everyone off. 

When Fred kicked off the ground, you were immediately met with the most sickening wave of nausea that you had ever experienced in your life. You got way too high up for your liking within seconds, the houses on the ground growing far too small in your view, and you couldn’t fight the urge to shut your eyes. 

Unfortunately, it only made you dizzier, but it calmed your nerves a slight bit. You didn’t even realise how tightly you were clutching onto Fred, an utter death grip around his waist, until you heard him let out a grunt of pain from his stomach muscles being strangled by your arms with your fingers digging into him like claws, holding on for dear life. 

“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, shivering from the pure fear of it all, rather than the cool breeze that was whipping at your face. “Sorry, sorry!” 

“I’m sorry!” Fred replied - it was still strange hearing him speak in Harry’s voice, and you were glad that it was temporary. “I should have told them you weren’t up to this mission, I-” 

“I’m fine!” You barked back, hating the idea that your fear would make you unfit for a mission. But in a sense, you knew it was true. You would have spit in the face of any Death Eater, but your fear of heights was so utterly crippling. “Fred, don’t you dare for a moment suggest-” 

“We’ve been breached!” You heard someone - Arthur’s voice, shouting from up ahead. 

Your eyes whipped open and suddenly, you were filled with an entirely different kind of fear. Smoky black clouds of Death Eaters whipped through the sky around you - somehow, they had discovered the plan. And now, they were targeting all of the fake Harrys, firing off curses in every direction, looking for the real one. 

They were targeting Fred. 

That was the only thing at the forefront of your mind - they were going to hurt Fred. 

“Y/N-?” 

“Just get us out of here!” You told him. “I’ll cover you!” 

You knew that you couldn’t close your eyes now. Of course you would step up to protect him. No matter if the two of you were lovers, friends, or something estranged - you still loved him in your heart, and you would protect him no matter what. 

You grabbed your wand out of your jacket and gripped it stiffly, firing a stunning curse at the first silver mask you saw, still tightly gripping onto Fred’s jacket with your other hand. He used both his hands on the broom, gripping tighter with his legs to steer better, years of Quidditch honed skill coming in handy. His ability to be calm and fly mindfully while Bludgers were flying at his head made him a lot calmer with multiple Death Eaters firing potentially deadly curses all around him. In the back of his mind, he thought that Wood would be proud. 

You were still shaking horribly, and a few of your spells didn’t land on the first try, but you kept trying. You centred yourself, remembering what you were doing, who you were here for. In your mind, it wasn’t about Harry, it was never about Harry - it was about Fred. It was because Fred had approached you about the last minute replacement, it was because Fred was the one on the broom in front of you, the one you would have died to protect. 

You didn’t see when someone Apparated in a thick cloud of black smoke behind you, and raised their wand in your direction, hitting you squarely in the back with a heavy jinx. It was the force of a brick wall smacking you, something that sent you and Fred tumbling end over end through the sky and sent you flying cleanly off the broom because you didn’t have the instinct to grip the wood with your thighs like he did. 

You let out a shrill scream as you felt yourself falling, your worst fear coming to life. 

Thankfully, Fred was quicker than gravity - quicker than death. 

He laser focused on you, and suddenly, everyone else was gone. All the supposed danger, all the Death Eaters - even other members of the Order who might have needed his help - they all vanished in his eyes. 

It was only you. 

He turned the broom into a deadly nose dive, racing down toward you, reaching with his hand out, and in seconds, while you were still hundreds of feet off the ground - he snatched you. He had your wrist gripped so tightly in his hand - slightly sweaty, already slipping. But he wouldn’t have let go of you if Lord Voldemort himself commanded it.  

He likely would have died with that tight grip still around your wrist in those moments if someone had hit him with the killing curse. 

He slowed the broom down, turning up out of the dive, intent to get you away from the fight, driving forward. Scarily, his arm muscles were already shaking from holding up all of your body weight. 

You stared up at him with tears of pure terror dancing in your eyes, and though he was wearing the mask of The Chosen One - in those moments, the terrified, caring, loving eyes of your Fred were staring right back at you. 

As much as you trusted him, you felt yourself slipping out of his grip, and more fear swelled inside of you. 

“Freddie, help me!” You screamed, shaking, flailing under his grip, trying to reach your other arm up to help as he struggled to hold onto you. “Freddie, please, I don’t wanna die!” 

“I’m not gonna let you die!” He replied, desperation gripping his throat. “Just - look at me. Don’t look down.” 

Of course, you were distinctly reminded of that day at The World Cup. And somehow, you felt the same sense of safety with him now that you did then - even if you didn’t have the railing or even the gravity of something under your feet. 

His muscles shook harder, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto you for much longer. 

He had to pull you up. 

“I’ve got you.” Fred huffed, straining with the effort. “I’ve got you-” 

He tried pulling you up, but his muscles shook harder in protest, and he let out a harsh, murderous scream of frustration. And then he did the only thing that he could think to do. He gripped onto you tighter, and he used his legs and his other hand to do a sickeningly sharp barrel roll, twisting the broom completely around by leaning with his right shoulder. He flipped the entire broom with the hopes that you would get the chance to be flipped back onto it safely. 

Luckily, even though you let out another terrified scream, you got the hint and hooked your leg around the wood mid-air, holstering your shaking body back behind him. You gripped onto Fred even tighter then, and one glance around told you that luckily, or unluckily, the fight had cleared off from around the two of you. 

Perhaps they had heard you call this imposter Harry by the name ‘Fred’, perhaps you had given the real Harry away and ruined the whole plan. As you squeezed your eyes shut again and shoved your now tearful face into Fred’s back, selfishly, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care. 

The rest of the trip went on too long for your liking - you were still crawling with anxiety and eager to have your feet back on the ground. 

Toward the end of it, you felt Harry-Fred’s body shift back into the tall, more muscular form that you were familiar with (somehow a bit more muscular than you remembered, but you tried not to get caught up on that detail). You were more than relieved when you felt your feet brushing against the ground with the landing. Distantly, you heard the familiar, comfortingly worried baulking of Molly’s voice, and you opened your eyes to see that Fred’s head was much higher up than it had been before, and his hair was thankfully returned back to its bright red state. 

Molly rushed over to Fred, and there was some conversation, but you couldn’t make it out - blood was thumping in your ears, your body still overtaken by all the horrible symptoms of your fear. The moment that Fred dropped the broom in order to step away from it, you stumbled off into the grass on weak legs. 

You hardly realised that you were hyperventilating - you simply felt dizzy, felt your chest aching from the lack of breath; you noticed that your vision was blurred with tears, and you knew that you weren’t getting enough oxygen. You pressed now muddy hands to your face in desperation, trying to usher more air past your lips, and it was then that a streak of orange fell into your view as Fred dropped to his knees in front of you. He had heard you gasping, and of course, rushed to you with nothing more than concern flooding his system once again. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He murmured, trying his best not to panic himself at seeing you like this - he gently took a hold of your face, guiding your vision toward him. “Look at me. You’re alright now. You’re safe.” 

Of course you knew that. You knew that you would always be safe with Fred. 

But your body hadn’t even registered the fact that you had landed yet - the panic only now fully setting in, bringing with it the most cruel, shocking symptoms you had ever experienced. You did the only thing you could think of - the only thing that would truly make you feel safe. Something you knew would truly ground you after experiencing such chaos so high up in the air. 

You launched yourself toward Fred, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist in a firm hug as you tried to stifle down sobs. He easily accepted this, his thick arms coming to cradle your back, selfishly thankful to have you back in his arms. He gently rocked you back and forth as he peppered more soothing words beside your ear. 

“You’re alright now, darling.” He said, letting the pet name slip so easily that it frightened him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, feeling your gasping panic all too quickly soothe away under the firm warmth of his touch. “You’re alright.” 

Almost instinctively, he laid a kiss on your temple, not entirely realising that this wasn’t necessarily something an ex-boyfriend would do - he was so ripe with the urge to comfort you, the need to make your pain go away. He couldn’t help but take a little something selfish as the empathetic waves of your panic echoed over to him. 

“I was never gonna let you fall.” He whispered, almost speaking these words to himself - a sacred promise. 

He had regretted every day since the break-up, and even if he couldn’t be your lover, he was never going to let you get hurt. 

You gripped him tighter, your breathing almost back to normal now, and you pushed your face tighter into his chest, relishing in the firm warmth of his body against you. This was something you hadn’t felt in far too long. Fred placed another kiss on the top of your head. He was about to say something entirely dangerous when another bit of chaos came tumbling through the garden, distracting him away from you and causing the words to die off in his throat. 

Remus, hauling George across the grass - and George, slumped over, a massive amount of blood dripping down the side of his head. 

“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly. 

Your head whipped around at this, and in sync, you and Fred scrambled to your feet, rushing to see what had happened to him. Fred lifted George’s other arm to help get him inside and safely rested him on the couch. 

It was a horror show. 

The flesh of George’s ear had been blown to bits, blood smearing down across his face and spilling down the side of his neck; he was sickly pale and barely conscious. His eyes only flickered, giving you some sense of life in him when Fred called out his name after making sure he was resting comfortably on the couch. 

“Georgie?” 

There was a rare quiver in Fred’s voice that made your stomach quake. Fear. You were not accustomed to hearing Fred fearful, not of anything. Even when he had abandoned Hogwarts and dove into a career as a shop owner without a single clue if he would find success, he did so without a single bit of fear in his heart. 

But of course - seeing his dear brother like this, knowing that someone he loved had been so close to danger - it made him terrified. 

“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly. 

At least he was conscious enough to speak. That gave you quite a bit of relief. 

“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked. 

“Saint-like.” George replied, a tired smirk gracing his lips that told you he was forming a joke - something that was utterly hilarious in his mind that would only make sense to others when he delivered the punch line. 

You wanted to sob, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. Of course he would be making jokes only moments after nearly being killed. 

“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively. 

Perhaps it sounded partially dangerous to him like it did to you. Perhaps George felt Saint-like because he was too close to death. 

Both of you and Fred held your breath as you waited for the reply. 

“Saint-like.” George grinned. And then he lifted a tired hand and gestured toward the bloody hole on the side of his head before he delivered his glowing punchline. “I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Get it?” 

Fred grinned, and you let out a gasping chuckle that you knew was mostly tears. Behind you, Molly inhaled sharply through her teeth, running a hand over her forehead with the stress, and Ginny shook her head as she exhaled an exhausted sigh. 

“The whole wide world of ear related humour, and you go for ‘I’m holy’?” Fred replied, unable to resist humouring George. “That’s pathetic.” 

You knew that if either of them knew anything about the story of the Muggle painter Van Gogh, then they would have been making jokes in that lane. 

“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George added on tiredly. 

“You were always better looking than him.” You said, your voice throttled by tears, unable to resist. 

When you turned around to retreat, you saw Ginny clutching onto Molly, clearly hiding tears in her mother’s shoulder, Molly’s face dancing with a kind of sadness you had never seen before. You knew you couldn’t run from your pain. You had known the Weasleys for so long, loved them too much. You had a distinct kind of duty here. 

“Molly, do you have a cauldron around?” You asked, hating how choked with tears your voice was. “I can whip-up something for his pain. I do it at the shop all the time. And a Sleeping Draught, so he can get some rest.” 

It was true - one of your many duties working at the Apothecary was making and bottling simple, common potions to sell (pregnancy test potions, simple multi-use pain potions, Dreamless Sleep Draughts, cures for warts and other common rashes) - many people liked the convenience of coming in and buying a potion for everyday uses rather than having to make it themselves. 

“There’s no need-” George began to protest, but Fred easily cut him off. 

“Come off it.” Fred hissed toward his brother, not taking kindly to ‘selfless’ idea of George not accepting something for the pain he was clearly in. Then, Fred rose up from his place beside George and turned to you with a look of intense concern on his features. “Whatever you need.” 

… 

You had barely begun to set up everything you needed for the brewing when the others finally came in, bringing more chaos with them. Remus accused Harry of being an imposter, which was quickly proven false. Apparently the Order had been betrayed, which explained the presence of Death Eaters on the mission so easily. They had used inside information to know when Harry was being transported - it was only luck that they had been thrown off by the Polyjuice Potion, having to chase down multiple Harrys and not knowing which one was real (even if George got gravely injured in the process). 

Mad-Eye had been killed. 

You weren’t sure if what you felt was mourning for the man. You hadn’t known him all that well. Not the true version of him, anyway. You continued to weep quietly as you worked on the potions, but you knew it wasn’t specifically for him. His death only served to remind you how truly dangerous the mission had been - how close you, Fred, and George, and the others had all come to death. How lucky it was that nobody else had been killed. 

You tried not to let the suffocating gloom that had overtaken the Burrow due to the near failure of the entire mission disrupt the process of making the potions needed for George. When Molly didn’t have some of the ingredients that you needed, you gave Fred your spare key to the Apothecary and he popped over to get them for you. Mr. Michaelchuk, who ran the place, had always told you to ‘take what you needed’, and this was the one time you had actually taken him up on the offer. 

When Fred returned, he fussed at George’s side, helping him change into pyjamas (when everyone else had cleared out) and tucking him in comfortably to a makeshift bed on the couch, with lots of pillows and extra cosy blankets, to the point where he got annoyed with Fred coddling him. You always knew that the two were good friends in addition to being brothers, as close as two people can be, but you had never seen so much abundant affection between them. It was sweet. 

Molly came back downstairs wearing a plaid dressing gown, with a pair of tiny reading glasses balanced on her nose, her slippers scuffing along the floor. She mentioned that Arthur was already ‘snoring away’ - but of course, she had no intentions of going to bed herself. Because of course, if George was down here on the couch, it was so that she could watch over him while she busied herself with knitting - much like she had when Arthur had been on the ward at St. Mungo’s after he had been attacked by the snake. You had gotten a particularly nice jumper for Christmas that year, one that you still wore often when it got particularly cold outside. 

Fred had settled to sit on the couch by George’s feet, and the two had fallen into a hushed conversation, though you didn’t hear most of it. And of course, it wasn’t long before Molly rushed Fred off to bed, just like she had done with everyone else, wanting to give George the space to rest without distractions from visitors. 

“-just get her back, you idiot.” You hear George hiss in a whisper before Molly pushed Fred toward the stairs. 

He couldn’t possibly be talking about…? 

No. 

No, he wasn’t. 

You didn’t think about it. Instead, you let yourself get lost in the meditative process of brewing, making sure that the potions were perfect. You made sure that George was pain-free and lost to a deep, restful, healing sleep (with a few pre-brewed bottles of the potions to spare that would keep his pain at bay for the next few days) before you finally went upstairs, ready to collapse with exhaustion. 

You passed by Fred and George’s room on your way to your final destination, Ginny’s room, where you would be staying with her and Hermione, from now up until Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After which, you would return to your apartment above the Apothecary and try to resume your best sense of ‘normal’ life. All of your things were already unpacked in Ginny’s room, and you had a sleeping bag set up on the floor there. 

But of course, you naturally came to a stop at the mouth of Fred’s open bedroom doorway, letting an instinctive caring overtake you and participating in the need to check on him. 

The sight you saw made your heart ache. 

Fred was sitting on the edge of his twin bed, his posture slumped with pure exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed out of the now ill-fitting Harry clothes that he had to wear for the mission: jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sport jacket that were now coated in dirt and traces of George’s blood, all oddly short in the limbs and emphasising his tallness, his hands still stained bright red in a way that couldn’t be washed off. 

His face was marked with tear tracks, and his tired, dead gaze was fixated on George’s still neatly made matching twin bed. A space that was hauntingly empty across from his - a sign that his brother was missing. A sign of just how easily someone precious could have been taken from him that night. 

“Freddie?” 

You croaked out, the nickname slipping out in a way you couldn’t control once again, causing him to snap out of whatever distant, depressing thoughts he was caught in. His head jolted toward you, only now realising that you had been standing in the doorway for so long. 

“Y/N,” He responded, his voice choked by tiredness, sadness. 

It was so alarmingly strange to see someone who was usually the pinnacle of laughter reduced down to this. You had never seen Fred Weasley so sad before. 

You had seen him angry, on occasion - like when someone insulted you, or when he had been banned from Quidditch for getting into a fistfight with Malfoy. You had seen him annoyed - like when he found out that the age to enter the TriWizard Tournament was seventeen, and he was only a few months away from being eligible. (You were thankful for that one, and secretly thankful when his Ageing Potion had failed). 

You had seen Fred go through a lot - but you genuinely believed that was the first time you had seen him so deflated in the face of the world. 

He rose to his feet, turned his back to you, almost as if trying to hide. He raised a hand to his face, and your heart ached more when you realised that he was trying to wipe away tears. 

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.” You said, moving forward, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, moving up to peel the sport jacket off him. 

You knew that the sadness, something he so rarely felt, had paralyzed him. You knew that sleep was what all of you needed right now - some rest to get your heads on straight. And you wanted to help him in any way that you could. 

“I can’t-” Fred huffed, stepping away from you, putting some distance between the two of you in the small room. “I can’t do this right now.” 

Your stomach curled into a horrible knot as he echoed the words he had spoken to you on that horrible day, when he had broken up with you and relinquished himself from your presence without a second thought. 

It truly hit you then - he didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to be near you now. He had only held you close a few hours ago because it had been a matter of life and death. He had helped to calm you down because it was the friendly thing to do. He didn’t want you here now. 

“Okay.” You choked out, nodding, taking a step toward the door. “O-okay.” 

A hot tear rolled down your face, and you moved to make your way toward Ginny’s room. You were harshly whipped across the emotional spectrum again when Fred stopped you. 

“Y/N, no.” He said, reaching out and grabbing onto your elbow. “Wait.” 

“What, Fred?” You wheezed, your body breathless and exhausted from the horrible roller coaster that you had been on that night. You knew that you glared at him horribly, but you couldn’t help it. “What is it that you want from me?” 

Fred took a step back, as though you had burned him, running stiff hands through his hair. You could have easily run off, turned your back on him and never spoken to him again. Just like he had done to you on that day so long ago. But you waited with your chest tight, waiting for him to finally give you an answer. Did he want to be friends? Did he want you to disappear from his life completely? Did he want-? 

“I can’t-” He choked out, clearly struggling for breath. “I can’t…” 

He swallowed around a fat tongue, and after a heavy moment, he finally got the words out. 

“I can’t lose you.” 

The words spooked you more than the sight of George’s bloodied, blown-apart ear. 

You stared Fred down with a ghost in your eyes, somehow more terrified than you had been when you had been dangling hundreds of feet above London. He was frantic, rapidly searching for more words to explain himself. 

“I - I almost…” He gasped, his throat tightly constricting again. “You almost slipped out of my hands.” 

He spoke the words as though they were a horrible curse, raising his hands in front of him as if to demonstrate the point, as if to demonise his own limbs for not having enough strength to hold you up. His hands shook with undistilled anxiety, with anger towards himself. 

His declaration gave you that sickly sense of nausea, as though you were back up in the air again. You realised that maybe he hadn’t been sitting on the edge of the bed, mourning about potentially losing George - but instead, he had been thinking about you. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t slip.” You replied, the words choked off in your throat, rushing to assure him of the good he had done. 

You were unable to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in yours, steadying his grip with a firm anger of your own. You were unsure how he could be so cruel toward himself when he had saved your life only hours before. 

“You held me up, Fred. You didn’t let me fall.” 

He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively. 

You knew there was something more troubling him - something deeper that he had yet to speak of, or perhaps wouldn’t tell you at all. He grinded his jaw tightly and slipped his hands away from yours. You stood there, looking at him tensely, wondering if he was going to clue you in, or if he would simply say goodnight and let himself stew with whatever horrible emotions he was feeling. 

“I can’t live like this.” He declared harshly, his throat raw. “I can’t live with you at arm’s length.” 

So what? Was he saying that… he was upset about the break-up? 

Was he saying that he hadn’t actually wanted to be apart from you? 

A look of pure confusion knit across your features, and in the murky silence, Fred moved on to explaining. 

“I let you go once before.” 

He whispered, the words so quiet on his lips, a crazed type of regret dancing in his eyes - in an instant, you knew he wasn’t talking about the mission or flying. He was talking about how easily he let you go from his life - the break-up. 

“I let you slip away from me far too easily. And it was the stupidest thing I have ever done.” 

“Freddie-?” You choked out, more chaotic emotions rocketing through your body now. Anticipation, anxiety - that love for him that you had bottled away slowly creeping back in. But you couldn’t bear to let it flow through you, not yet, not until you knew. 

“If one of us were to die tomorrow, I couldn’t live my last day knowing that I wasted it not being yours.” He declared, the pure passion in his words causing every small hair on your body to stand up on end, making you dizzy. “I know that I’m the biggest git on earth for what I did to you, and for not apologising sooner, but please, please, please, darling-” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You grabbed both sides of the sport jacket and used it to haul him down toward you, planting your mouth firmly onto his, moaning into a kiss that you had longed for, having so sorely missed the touch of his lips on yours. 

You had missed him so damn much. 

Fred was quick to keep up, letting out a delighted sigh of his own, his stomach doing flips in delight, almost in disbelief of just how lucky he was that you hadn’t slapped him across the face and stormed out. 

When your hands ventured down, smoothing across his body - he became even more delighted that you seemed to want more than a kiss out of him. And he was quick to prepare. 

He reached to his back pocket for his wand and pointed it at the still open bedroom door, performing a quick spell that slammed it shut and locked it. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that his bedroom had some silencing wards around it from the days when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been in its infancy, operating their prototype experiments out of this room in the darkest hours of the morning. (Percy got sick of being woken up by the twins’ excited voices and the sound of sputtering cauldrons, and put the silencing wards around their room for his own sake, not knowing how much more it let the twins get away with.) 

Fred was surprised when you took another fitful grip on the front of his shirt, using it to direct him back toward his bed and shoving him down onto it with a strength that he barely knew you had. He fell sideways across the small twin bed, his knees crumbling along the side of the mattress, leaving him sitting with his feet on the floor and his body half collapsed against the tightly tucked-in covers that his mother had prepared before everyone’s arrival. 

He was utterly weak to your whims, anyway, and would have gone wherever you put him. 

He was expecting you to climb on top of him, something needy inside of him yearning for the feeling of your body on top of his after missing it for so long. And he found himself further surprised when you dropped to your knees in front of him, settling your shoulders between his spread thighs, forcing him to spread his legs wider apart to accommodate you. The action spiking a sharp breath out of his lips when you shoved up the hem of the shirt that technically wasn’t his and reached for the button on the jeans that fit him even worse as his cock grew to life underneath them. 

“Y/N, darling-” He choked out, breathy and sharp through his teeth, an intense wave of lust hitting him all at once. 

All night, both of you had been through the emotional ringer - calm determination, fear, possessiveness, mild relief, grief. All while trying to hold back your emotions for each other, balancing right on the edge. Trying desperately to hold each other at arm’s length. 

And now he had you right where he wanted you, where he had been dreaming of you being for months since the break-up; and for some stupid reason, some part of him still felt that it was wrong. That part of him screaming that he should be the one on his knees serving you, that he needed to better apologise-

He reached for your shoulder, clearly trying to coax you back up onto the bed with him, and you swatted the touch away. 

“Don’t-” You choked in return, continuing on your determined path, ripping his zipper down and tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Freddie, please. Let me do this.” 

You looked up at him with a glassy heat in your eyes that he had never seen before. All the times he had pinned you against walls in quiet corners at Hogwarts, with his hand up your skirt - he had never seen you so wild, so desperate. 

Something utterly possessive rippled through you - something that screamed that you needed to have him weak and moaning for you, that you needed to worship him, to thank him for doing the impossible and saving your life. He was a strong, wonderful man and you needed to taste that strength. You needed to know that you were the only thing that could have him weak, quivering, begging. 

“Fuck-” Fred hissed out when you reached past the band of his underwear and grabbed his cock - your warm touch wrapped around his shaft felt like a deadly awakening, especially when it had been so long since anything but his own had had touched his cock. 

All too soon, he surrendered to you entirely and lifted his hips, slipping the fabric of his jeans and his underwear down completely past his thighs, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. He supposed that’s how it always went with the two of you - he would let you have whatever you wanted, even before you asked. (That’s why the break-up had gone down the way it had - it had been the one time he had been stubborn on something, not simply letting you have your own way.) 

You took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length as you admired him, gently re-familiarising yourself with his body, feeling like it had been far too long. 

“Did you miss it, darling?” He asked, looking down the length of his body at you with a cocky smile stretched across his soft lips. 

You rolled your eyes, hating the possibility of making his ego any larger. 

“Oh yes, your wonderful big cock was the thing I missed most about you,” You griped in return, hoping that your sarcastic tone was more than apparent. 

“I knew you only wanted me for my body.” Fred chuckled. 

As much as you wanted to deny it - Fred Weasley’s cock was a marvel that you couldn’t have forgotten if you had tried. 

During your time apart, it haunted your heated dreams, turning them into nightmares of pure want, your mind dangling something in front of you that you couldn’t have. It made things even worse when he would come into the Apothecary, flirting with you and flashing you a smile, showing off his broad shoulders in those fine tailored suit jackets and making your eyes flicker to his zipper in an utterly whorish way. 

Now, you felt spoiled to have it in front of you again - the perfect beastly eight inches, lean and tall just like he was, curved off slightly to the side, sticking off from a sparse patch of ginger hair. 

Your pussy clenched as you thought about having him inside of you again for the first time in so long, giving you that perfectly full feeling that your fingers never could - but you craved his taste first. You wanted him under your control - you knew part of it was driven by all the fear you had experienced that night, all the chaos that had made you feel so powerless. You needed to feel alive, needed to wield power over someone, something. 

You got your mouth on his cock with a downright feral hunger. 

Fred let out a deep moan and threw his head back, collapsing onto his elbows as the heat and wetness of your mouth enveloped the heat of his cock - it sent another wave of lust zipping through him, reminding him just how throbbing hard he was, just how much he needed you. This was made even worse when you moaned around him - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your mouth, perfectly full, making you choke in such a beautiful way when you dropped down to take more of him. 

“Fuck, darling, shite-” 

You quickly became drunk on the feeling. 

Your eyes fell closed and you simply let yourself enjoy it, loving the fullness of his big, beautiful cock filling up your mouth. With a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, your jaw wide as you began bobbing your head. Your tongue flat against the base, tasting as much of him as you could while you enjoyed the feeling of him so fat and thick in your mouth, gagging you slightly whenever the round tip hit against the back of your throat. It was a perfect, slow rhythm that agonised him and delighted you, and soon had spit pooling around your knuckles. 

The wetness drove him even more insane, especially when it allowed for your soft lips to move slicker against his shaft. 

“Goddammit, please, please, oh-” 

You could feel his thighs begin to quake and quiver beside you, and you wondered if he was close already. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull off - wanting to tease him a little. Part of you wanted that bit of revenge, wanting to get him back for the pain he had caused you when he had turned his back on you that day. Though you weren’t entirely cruel, and you didn’t leave him hanging out to dry completely. 

You kept your hand pumping on his now spit-slicked cock (it was that slow, agonising rhythm that caused him to pant like a needy dog), and you moved your mouth downward, giving in to the personal urge to lick and suck on his heavy balls. You did want to drive him a bit more insane, and give into your personal curiosity about what the heavy sac would feel like against your tongue. 

“Fucking - oh - darling, what are you doing to me-? That fucking mouth-” 

Fred wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell. 

It left him stuck in some sick purgatory where the woman he loved had turned into a sex-crazed vixen, but wouldn’t let him touch you everywhere he wanted to most. Instead, he was sentenced to stare at you as your gorgeous mouth teased his aching cock, making him harder, driving him madder with every stroke of your little devilish tongue. He couldn’t take it anymore - not when your pretty fingers gripped around the base of his cock just right and your lips suctioned so perfectly around one of his bullocks. 

He wouldn’t waste the night cumming over your fist without getting his hands on you properly first. 

He weaved his fingers into your hair and yanked you back, caused you to let out a small yelp - not one of pain, but a bitter sound of complaint as you were pulled off his cock too early for your liking. The sharp tingle of him pulling on your hair caused your tongue to lull out, trailing a filthy bit of spit back to his balls that had him growling. 

Before any words could form, he leaned down and used this grip on your hair to guide you to his lips, shoving his tongue into your open, waiting mouth - something that had you moaning once again, and easily following his lead as he guided you up to sit on his thigh. 

“Don’t expect that I’m gonna waste it all over your hand, darling.” He murmured against your lips between heated kisses. “When I cum tonight, it’s gonna be deep inside your sweet cunt, yeah?” 

You moaned loudly at this. 

You had devolved past the point of words now - having his cock so thick and heavy in your mouth only making you fuzzy-headed and more needy for him. You unconsciously canted your hips against his thigh, grinding your pussy against him through the fabric of your jeans, needing more. You panted against his cheek as he moved deft fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants while he continued to speak. 

“I need you, pretty girl.” 

He growled lowly in your ear, the pure passion of the declaration causing such intense waves of lust through you that you would have collapsed - if not for the brick wall of his muscled body holding you up. (Hold you up for the dozenth time that night, only for a drastically different reason this time). 

“I need to see you cum on my cock. Missed this pretty cunt so much, can’t wait-” 

He trailed off in his crazed lustful ramblings when he shoved his fingers past the now open fly of your jeans and into your underwear, quickly finding a distinct wetness and landing on your clit with a firm touch like a magnet. 

“Freddie!” You wept into his neck, bucking into the touch as you tumbled into a madness of your own. 

He began circling quickly on your clit, enjoying your gasps and other sounds, enjoying the feeling of you bucking so wildly on his thigh. All too soon, he was overtaken by a little pinch of mischief that always crept up on him. The urge to get you back for your earlier teasing. He quickly removed his hand and felt a smirk spread across his lips at the deflated little whimper you made, your eyes snapping open just in time to catch him licking your wetness off his fingers. 

“Fred-” You began to protest, sharp demanding in your tone. 

“Come on, get these clothes off,” He said, giving you a firm pat on the ass that made you far too weak to his whims. 

“Freddie-” You whined this time - and rather than giving into you, he brought up a fantastic point. 

“The faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can get my cock in you.” He whispered hotly against your ear, making you shiver. 

You hated that he was right. 

You stood up, moving to strip your shirt off over your head, glaring at him the whole time while he also began to strip himself. 

“Go on, good girl.” 

You hated how those words made you even wetter. You hated how easily he manipulated you based on weaknesses he knew so well. 

“I hate you.” You mumbled quietly, absolutely no heat in the words as you reached to unclip your bra. 

“Oh darling, if only that were true.” 

He said pointedly, mourning peeking through that bit of mischief in his eyes. Something you didn’t have too much time to decode as stood to his full height to untangle his jeans from his legs, knowing that you would quake in his shadow and become even more turned on from this. 

Once you were both naked, he ushered you down onto the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with your head on the pillow as he captured your mouth in another needy kiss. You moaned against his lips, easily sucking his tongue in as you tangled your fingers into that fiery red hair and gave an appreciative tug. You then tucked your knee up over his hip, opening yourself up to him - this caused his heavy cock to brush against your wetness, making you gasp into his mouth as the two of you made contact for the first time in far too long. 

“Freddie-” You gasped, unconsciously bucking your hips up, causing your pussy to wetly slide against his cock in a way that forced a deep groan out of him. “Oh, fuck, oh-” 

“Shh, darling, Daddy’s got you,” Fred replied, palming across your forehead and your hair in an almost gentle way while he further parted your thighs with a firm knee. 

His words caused you to choke on another moan. 

You had heard Fred refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ before - but much like everything else in his life, it was always a joke. He would be buying his favourite sweets and mumble ‘come to Daddy’ before tearing open the package and devouring them. He would say that his codename was ‘Big Daddy’ when setting up a particularly epic prank. (George was ‘Big Red’ and you were usually ‘Darling’ or ‘Garden Flower’. They were not the most useful or top secret codenames.) You had heard him jokingly shout ‘Daddy’s home’ when returning to the Gryffindor common room, only to have the expected laughs and jokes in return. 

You had never expected that the name would turn you on so much. But you had never, ever expected to hear it in this context. You had also never expected that it would sound so natural in this context. But it suited him so well. It seemed to only compliment the gentle kind of caring he gave you - how protective he was over you, how safe he made you feel. 

“Daddy,” You moaned in return - Fred gripped your hip with a deadly, bruising grip and looked at you with a fierce heat in his eyes. 

Hearing that word from your lips turned him on in a way he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, it took every bit of his personal will not to slam his cock into you and hammer his hips forward until you said it again, and again, and again. Until you screamed it. 

He took a hold of his cock with the other hand, and you expected him to slide into you, finally giving you both what you truly needed - but instead, he began rubbing the round head of his cock against your clit, further teasing you. You let out a gasp and looked at him with pleading in your eyes. 

“Freddie,” You whined, attempting to angle your hips up, fruitlessly trying to trick him to slip his cock inside of you. You knew him too well, knowing that once he got the tip in, he wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you senseless. But he held you down with the hand on your hip, making you barely able to move at all against his muscular hold and the awkward angle he had you pinned with. 

“Come on, sweets,” He purred, laying a kiss on your forehead, and then your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck as he murmured against your skin. “Tell Daddy what you need. Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

He began roughly smacking his cockhead against your clit, making you jolt and gasp sharper, making your pussy leak furiously against the bed. You cried out and gripped his hair tightly, almost meanly, desperate for the teasing to end. You didn’t see the way he was staring at your cunt, mesmerised by the sight of your swollen pearl kissing against his cock, glistening, wet and needy. Something that he would burn into his brain forever and most definitely revisit on lonely nights. 

“Please, Daddy!” You moaned, hoping the name alone would goad him into giving in. But you knew what he truly wanted, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Please - fuck - I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, I need-” 

Perhaps he was truly satisfied by this, or perhaps he couldn’t take the teasing anymore himself - either way, he finally guided his cock down to your pulsing entrance and pushed in, swearing hotly under his breath when the tight, wet, perfect heat of your cunt began sucking him in for the first time in over a year. 

“Oh, oh fuck, Freddie,” You moaned, tugging on his hair. “Oh-” 

“Fucking perfect,” He swore into your ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed this pussy so much.” He choked on a groan as he continued slowly inching his hips forward, splitting you open with his massive length, making your pussy ache and burn in the most perfect way. “Good girl. So good for me. So good for Daddy,” 

You both moaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you - you, feeling that deep satisfaction of feeling so perfectly full once again, and Fred so deeply enjoying the wet warmth of your pussy around him that was so irreplaceable because it was you. 

Sensing your need, especially after all his teasing, and after spending so long without him - he didn’t make you wait any longer. 

Fred began rocking his hips into yours at a gentle, even pace, not wanting to hurt you. From the sound of your gentle whines and the feeling of you squirming beneath him, he could tell that you needed more. He could tell that now wasn’t the time for holding back. 

He let out a gentle grunt and you became even more heated and curious as he began shifting around, some clear intent on his mind. You let out a sharp gasp when he raised himself up on his knees, poising himself in the perfect position to fuck you hard, deep, and powerful. Then, he made it even more deadly when he grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, making more air hiss out through your lips when he pressed your body practically in half, pressing your knees up toward your chest before he hooked his arms under your legs to keep them there and planted his hands firmly on either side of your chest. 

The two of you were even closer, even more intimate, and you felt him so much deeper inside of you. 

“Freddie,” 

You croaked out darkly, already feeling him so much deeper as he settled in above you. Your pussy was leaking furiously around him now, clenching tightly and waiting for him to move as a ghost of dark mischief danced through his eyes that promised you were in for the sweetest kind of hell. 

“Good?” He asked, smirking at you. 

“Yes, but what about-?” 

You wanted to warn him not to make too much noise, not to break the bed, which was already creaking in protest underneath the two of you - but he didn’t entirely care. Fred never truly cared about the consequences of his actions once he got an idea in his head - to him, the thrill was more than worth whatever pain may befall him. 

The only time that hadn’t been true was when he had made the foolish, heat-of-the-moment mistake of breaking up with you. And now, he had to make up for it. 

He put all the power into his muscled thighs (the same muscled thighs that had saved you just a few hours ago by gripping onto his broom and steadying the flight) - and ploughed forward with intense power. This began an unforgiving, hard rhythm of pounding into your cunt in hard, deep, fast strokes. 

In seconds, you were putty beneath him - he had you perfectly pinned in place so that you couldn’t have moved an inch if you wanted to, all you could do was lay there and take it. You were weak against the savage movements of his long cock fucking into your swollen pussy over and over again, filling you up in the best way you could have imagined, becoming everything you needed in the world. 

As the room filled with the harsh, wet slaps of his skin against yours and your weak moans, followed by his increasingly animalistic grunts - all there was in the world was you and Fred, the space where the two of you met, the place where he had your thighs pinned open so that his cock could absolutely ruin your pussy.  

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” He growled against your lips - you moaned pathetically in return, flooding even more wetness around his cock, making the sound of him fucking into you embarrassingly slicker. “Never should have let you go. Should have kept you right here, right where you belong,” 

You wanted to tell him that perhaps the fight was both of your faults, that you should have reached out to him sooner and told him that you wanted him back. That the time apart had been so dreadfully tender for you too. 

But your brain was soup, only further stirred up by the tip of his cock poking around in your guts. So any words you could have said chased out of your lungs with every passionate thrust of his hips up into your wet pussy, and all you managed in return was: 

“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!” 

“Shh, darling, I know.” Fred mumbled into your neck, taking a sloppy, greedy lick of your skin. “I know, sweets. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. Gonna keep you fucked n’ full. Never gonna let you go again. Never gonna let anyone else touch you-” 

Fred’s hips stuttered and you tightly squeezed around his cock at the words. 

Perhaps it was a wink of his personal insecurity peeking through. The horrifying idea that because he had broken up with you, you might find somebody else. When in fact, you had been so caught up on him, only thinking about him, waiting for him. (The whole time, thinking that he had broken up with you because he no longer had any favour in his heart for you.) 

“Just you, Freddie.” You breathed out, desperately trying to get air past your now very chapped lips. “Always yours-” 

“Yes, mine.” He replied, that crazed desperation returning to his voice. “Mine, my girl.” 

He sealed his lips against yours, grinding his hips tightly against your pelvis rather than fucking you with any kind of rhythm now - showing you just how deep he was inside of you, just how much he owned you, truly, from the inside out. It was something that made your stomach clench, made your body buzz with electricity, and made you whine around his tongue. 

You were close. 

Fred knew this - he knew you too well. He moved a hand down to your clit, letting one of your legs drop slightly, and had two determined fingers on your throbbing clit while he picked up the pace again, pulling his lips back from yours. 

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for Daddy like a good girl?” 

His words, his velvet voice speaking to you so commanding yet so sweet, were what truly brought your orgasm to life in your belly. His voice made the fullness of his cock and the sharpness of his fingers on your clit all the more electric. You likely could have cum just from his words alone if he kept speaking to you that way. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response. 

“Good girl. Come on,” 

He breathed hotly against your chin, his eyes now eagerly dancing from your face to the space where your cunt hugged his dick, leaking around him in such a wonderfully filthy way. Clearly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to look, what part of the show he was more eager to witness after missing out on you for too long. 

“Come on, cum on my cock. Cum for me, love, good girl-” 

His heated words trailed off as your head snapped back and your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers digging sharply into his bicep as your orgasm rocked your body. Fred grunted as he continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to you, taking in every single inch of the sexy beauty that was you, the love of his life, as you thrashed and moaned and came on his cock. It was the most perfect sight he could have imagined, and he easily ingrained into his mind forever, praying that he would never have to miss out on it - to miss out on you - ever again. 

“Yes, yes darling, so good for me, so good-” He practically choked on his own words, his voice so thick with lust that it barbed the insides of his throat. 

As he felt the last weak spasms of your pussy around his cock, he stopped rubbing your sore clit and became possessed with a new need, becoming slightly selfish now. He fucked his hips forward even harder, determined to find his own pleasure inside the sweet, soft walls of your cunt. 

“Fucking hell-” He choked out a groan, dropping his head into your neck again as you petted through his hair, encouraging him through it while he unintentionally sent sharp zaps of overstimulation through your pussy with every needy, sharp push of his hips. 

“Freddie,” You breathed out. “Come on, Daddy, cum for me. You’ve been so good to me, come on-” 

He let you another loud growl and pounded into you harder, dropping his hold on your other knee and letting your legs rest to cradle around his waist as he blindly chased his own end inside your soft, wet cunt. 

“Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” He whispered into your neck, chanting like a man possessed, sending another unexpected wave of heat through you that made you moan weakly. “All mine, all mine, darling, all mine, gonna give you what you need, fuck-” 

He tried to silence his moans into your neck as he stiffened his back and finally came - his own orgasm hitting him like a firework. He shoved his hips forward stiffly one last time, seating his cock deeply inside of you, stuffing you full, just like he had promised. He gentled grinded his hips against yours in mindless, stuttering strokes while he pumped spurts of hot cum deep inside of you - something that made your body buzz with even more heat and made you moan in return, clutching onto him tightly with your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh darling, oh-” He muttered quietly against your neck as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

It was so perfect, and made you feel so utterly connected to him. It was a distinct reminder of everything you had missed - his warmth, his caring, the thrill he gave you while at the same time making you feel so damn safe. 

When Fred moved to pull away from you, moving to break that connection, every instinct in your body screamed that it was wrong. You clenched your legs around him, digging a heel into his lower back to keep him close, and he let out a grunt - still dizzy from his orgasm and unsure what you were doing. But he settled back into place, creating a filthy ‘squish’ between the two of you. 

“Just hold me.” You said, having no clue when the tears had returned to your eyes, making your voice so clearly wet. “I missed you. I can’t lose you.” 

“Hey, hey shh.” He said, leaning up to kiss along your cheek, rushing to kiss away those tears. “I’m right here with you, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, wiggling his grip between your back and the mattress to do so. This created the most stunning cocoon, forcing your two bodies even closer together - it wasn’t long before he became soft inside of you, but he stayed there for as long as he reasonably could, kissing along your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, uttering quiet reassurances that you weren’t going to lose him, that you wouldn’t have to miss him any longer. 

It made you incredibly content and warm. At least while it lasted. 

When Fred finally pulled out of you, you felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction and loneliness, which you tried to ignore. Especially because you weren’t sure if he would want you to sleep in his bed - which was something that you wanted very much, especially after the long day you had. But you weren’t sure if he wanted to be left alone to contemplate all of it, to be sure of his decision to take you back. 

You jumped to get out of the bed as though it were on fire, and when you looked to your rumpled clothes on the floor - your jeans still stained with dirt from when you had collapsed in the garden, your shirt likely reeking of sweat from the nerves of everything that had happened - the idea of putting those clothes back on wasn’t exactly appealing. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“My things are in Ginny’s room…” 

You sighed, realising that if you wanted a pair of pyjamas for the night, or even a fresh pair of underwear, then you would have to waltz in and wake her up - and likely be interrogated about where you had been. She was all too knowing anyway, and any excuses you gave about spending the time caring for George or simply having a ‘talk’ with Fred would be seen right through by her. 

Fred hummed, and stood, and you were surprised when he comfortably went over to the chest of drawers against the wall at the end of his bed, going right to the top drawer. The drawer where you used to keep some of your things when you stayed with the Weasleys on holidays - and surely enough, a small collection of your things were still in there. 

Things that he had never returned to you after the break-up that you had never thought to ask for. You had no idea that he often came to this drawer, sneaking mournful whiffs of your scent - even used your shirts as a pillow case if he was feeling particularly lonely. 

He pulled out a pair of your comfortable sleep shorts and a large, soft, worn green tee shirt with a large shamrock on the front and a ‘94 on the back that he had bought for you as a souvenir from The World Cup. It had been your all time favourite sleep shirt, and you had wondered where it had disappeared to when you moved into your apartment above the Apothecary once you started the job. 

“I hope these still fit.” He said, handing you the clothes. 

“They should.” You said - quiet, careful not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that he had kept your things all this time. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have any panties for you, so…” He trailed off, a filthy grin plucking up over his cheeks once again when the implication hit the air - the fact that you would be commando underneath your clothing. 

“Yeah, very unfortunate in your eyes, I’m sure, Fred.” You huffed, turning toward the door. “I should go get cleaned up.” 

You let out a small squeak when two strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you sharply back, causing you to collide with the wonderful, bare, muscled, now slightly sweaty body. You couldn’t help but to melt into the touch, and you let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your neck - not in a particularly lustful way, but in a way that was purely loving and affectionate. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easy, darling.” He whispered in your ear. “Please, do come back afterwards. You know I like to cuddle,” 

You didn’t think that you had ever heard Fred Weasley say ‘please’ for anything so plainly in his life. But, as usual when it came to him, you wanted exactly what he wanted. 

“Only if you insist.” You joked lightly, smoothing a hand over his arm that was still tightly encircled around your middle. “I suppose I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for cuddling,” 

Fred quietly let out a ‘yes’ in celebration, and hesitantly let you go. He then collapsed back onto the bed, relaxing spread eagle, still confidently naked against the covers with his hands behind his head against the pillow. You couldn’t help it when your eyes did a once-over of his body, admiring the soft planes of his muscles that had come from hard work rather than a distinct workout routine and the beautiful bit of fat on his lower belly that made him so warm and nice to cuddle. Of course, when your eyes met his, he was smirking at you. 

“I’ll be waiting, love.” He told you with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at this, biting your lip to suppress a smile at his somewhat deserved cockiness. 

You moved to leave the room with your newly acquired clothes, wanting to freshen up in the bathroom a bit before going to sleep (the bathroom was right across the hall, so you would have to sneak across the way naked and hope that nobody would catch you, but it should be fine at this time of night). But when your hand twisted the knob and it didn’t budge, you remembered that Fred had locked it earlier. 

He moved to grab his wand from the pocket of his pants, splayed out in the middle of the floor, but you reached for the jeans first. Your wand was still downstairs beside the cauldron that had brewed the potions for George, but often, you found that Fred’s wand worked fine for you. 

Ollivander and other wand experts said that a wizard couldn’t find the same kind of success using a wand that wasn’t their own, but you found using Fred’s to be just as natural, like an extension of your own arm. Perhaps it was because his core was a Dragon Heart’s String, and that heart beat for you just as fondly as his own did. Either way, it was a fine substitution. You unlocked the door easily and tossed the wand back to him where he was sitting on the bed, and then you snuck across the hall to clean up and get dressed. 

When you came back, Fred had crawled under the covers and was starting to fall asleep. When you crawled in alongside him, you found that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so you locked the door again, just in case. It was a basic charm that anybody could get through, but it would give the two of you a few minutes of warning to make yourselves decent if somebody did come knocking. 

It felt like the most wonderfully natural thing in the world to settle beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist while he slept on his back, putting your head on his chest and feeling his sleepy fingers brush across your head from behind. 

“Goodnight, love.” He whispered, so quiet as though he was afraid to break apart a beautiful daydream. 

“Goodnight, Freddie.” 

… 

You wondered if all of it had been a dream. 

Fred apologising to you, begging for your forgiveness, the two of you having amazing sex - it was something you had dreamt about many times before. It was something you had wished would come true, only to find yourself waking up alone in a cold bed. So waking up next to Fred, with his large, warm body coiled up against your back like a koala was one of the best ways you could have come into a new day. 

It wasn’t long before the smell of Molly’s cooking reached your nose - the wonderful fatty sizzle of sausages and the bready warmth of toast that told you she was frying up a full English (likely because she had been having trouble sleeping after the events of the night before). Your stomach gave a painful pang, making you want to get out of bed to eat just as much as you wanted to stay cuddled up with Fred. 

You gently petted a touch along Fred’s heavy arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist, and soon, he sucked in a sharp breath as he too began to stir. 

“Merlin, I missed this.” He said, leaning in to smother you with more of his perfect warmth as he somehow crowded tighter against your back, kissing along your clothed shoulder and up your neck once again. 

Your heart fluttered with the sweetness, the fondness of it all, and you wondered how such a hellish night had made way to such a perfect morning. 

“I wish we could stay in bed forever, Freddie, but I think your Mum is making breakfast.” You remarked, finding yourself more aware of your hunger as you woke up more, and more drawn to the delicious smells. 

“We can stay here for a bit longer.” He hummed into your neck. 

Just then - his stomach let out a loud groan of protest, and you giggled. 

“Come on, Big Daddy needs to eat too.” You said, using the nickname in a more playful, joking manner as you patted his thigh, untangling yourself from his arms as you got out of bed. 

You were surprised, and slightly victorious when you saw a slight blush tinging his pale cheeks because of the teasing, the way you had used the nickname. It was amazing to see someone like Fred go from so powerful and confident to fluttering with shyness. 

“I have to find some trousers,” He remarked, suddenly remembering that he was naked. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” You grinned, walking across to the bathroom, lucky to beat anybody else there before the others started waking up. 

When you hit the bottom stair, Fred was standing at the back of the couch with his back to you, now fully dressed in a pair of comfortable plaid sleep pants and an old Chudley Cannons shirt that must have belonged to Ron. (It was only because of many winding discussions about Quidditch among the boys that you hadn’t even wanted to hear that you knew the Cannons were Ron’s team and the twins hated them.) 

Fred was leaning over, clearly talking to George, who was still laying where the two of you had left him the night before. You hated that your instinct was to stand back where neither of them had seen you and listen in on their conversation - but you had only learned such matters from Mr. and Mr. Extentenable Ear themselves. 

“...well, yes, I would say that it did go well, but I would still have to classify the nature of the relationship as dubious. Or friendly at best.” Fred said in a rushed whisper. 

Your stomach gave a twist. This time you had to assume that the twins were talking about you. Talking about what had happened between the two of you the night before. 

“Dubious?” George’s voice baulked, clearly trying to stay hushed himself, but having a hard time restraining his volume due to frustration - frustration at not being able to get a better answer out of his brother. “The two of you had sex and you’re classifying the nature of the relationship as dubious? Are you an idiot or was the sex that horrible?” 

You choked down a laugh at this, not wanting to be caught just yet, and resisting the urge to speak up and clarify that the sex was, in fact, great. 

“No, she seemed perfectly satisfied, thank you very much.” Fred hissed back, full of sass. You would have said more than ‘satisfied’ - for once, Fred was actually being humble. “But I just didn’t think to stop and ask: oh, by the way, does this mean that we’re back together and you still love me? Or were just scared and lonely after almost dying and wanted a decent lay? Can you fill out a post-orgasm survey to clarify, please, and make sure to-” 

An arm came up from the couch with a pillow, smacking Fred clear in the chest - hard enough to force a small grunt out of him. George was certainly feeling better. You were glad to know that your potions had done him some good. 

“You should have just asked, you numpty!” George scolded him. “You’ve been mooning over losing her for-” 

“Y/N,” Fred cut off his twin’s words by saying your name, announcing your presence as that smack with the pillow had caused him to finally turn his head and spot you there. 

“Fred.” You grinned, not at all ashamed that you had been caught. 

You walked over to the couch, leaning over to find George grinning at you in a way that said he was holding back a barrage of stomach shaking laughter because of the conversation you had caught the two of them in. 

“For the record, I would call the sex more than satisfactory.” You said, a mischievous grin coming over your lips. “And I do still love you.” You announced, turning toward Fred. “I was lonely and scared last night, but that’s why I came to you. You’re the only person I want to go to when I feel that way. I missed you. And I want you back if you’ll have me.” 

“Merlin, of course I’ll have you.” Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, now grinning as well. “I love you more than anything, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

“I have some idea, and it was bloody annoying.” George muttered out, only to be ignored. 

You leaned in for a kiss, naturally, but just as Fred’s lips brushed yours, George let out a loud, fake gagging sound - one that had Molly running into the room, clearly fretting and worried that George was actually ill. 

“I’m fine, Mum.” George groaned as Molly began patting down his head with a wet cloth - clearly, his night had been filled by the annoying, but loving fuss of his mother watching over him. 

“Yes, yes of course.” Molly nodded, hesitantly putting the cloth down. “It’s time for breakfast anyway - do you feel up for sitting at the table, dear?” 

“I would love to get off this bloody couch.” George groaned. 

Fred rushed around to help him up, and after a moment of struggle to his feet, you grabbed his other arm to help him along into the kitchen. 

“I suppose it all worked out for the better.” George said, smiling at you. “Even if you did end up with the less attractive twin.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile at this.

...

A/N: This fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This is a capsule story meant to be read independently, and in terms of the narrative, there will not be a continuation. If you are going to leave a comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written here, do not comment asking for more. If you would like to read more of my fics, please take a look at my Harry Potter Masterlist, more specifically, my other Fred Weasley fic - Kisses Like Fire Whiskey. Thank you if you have gotten this far, and happy reading!

[adrienneleclerc]

Bitch, Whats For Dinner?

Pairing: Lando Norris x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando sees an old TikTok resurfacing and decides to prank his girlfriend for a quadrant video.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: this was originally going to be a Logan Sargeant fic but then I thought “what does he have to gain from this?” So I switched to Lando.

Since it was summer break, Lando decided it was time to film a video for Quadrant. He went to his gaming room to film the beginning.

“Since I am not racing for another few weeks, I thought what better time to prank my lovely girlfriend than today. There’s this TikTok posted by Dusten Conti where he says to his girlfriend ‘bitch, what’s for dinner?’ And his girlfriend actually answers him so sweetly. Knowing my girlfriend, she will not act so sweetly to me calling her a bitch, but I want to know how she reacts.” Lando said.

Y/N was out grocery shopping for dinner so Lando hid a video camera on a shelf, pointing the camera to the kitchen. She came home 10 minutes later and Lando decided to wait until he heard music playing because that means Y/N is on the preparation stage of cooking (chopping ingredients). Lando got out of his gaming room, observing Y/N chopping onions and tomatoes on the cutting board, singing along to whatever song she was playing. Lando made eye contact with the camera before saying the words..

“Bitch, what’s for dinner.” Lando said. Y/N put the knife down and looked around the apartment. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if there’s another person I don’t know about because I KNOW you did NOT just call me a bitch.” Y/N responded and picked up the knife. “So leave, come back, and try that again.” Y/N said, moving the knife as she talked. Lando did just that.

“What’s for dinner, baby girl?” Lando asked and Y/N smiled.

“That’s much better, fresita. I’m making bistec encebollado, It’s steak sautéed in onions and tomatoes with white rice. We can add a fried egg to it and make it ‘a lo pobre’ if you want, that’s how I’m eating it.” Y/N said. Lando hugged her from behind.

“I love you, baby girl.” Lando said.

“I love you too, mi vida, now why the fuck did you call me a bitch?” Y/N asked. Lando unwrapped his arms from her.

“I wanted to prank you for a quadrant video. Honestly, I expected you to react so much worse.” Lando said and Y/N turned to look at him.

“What do you take me for? I’m not a violent person, love.” Y/N said.

“Uh huh, I’ll believe you when you stop taking notes while watching true crime documentaries.” Lando said. Y/N hit him with a dish towel, causing Lando to laugh. “In all seriousness, if I ever end up calling you a bitch and it’s not a prank, I’ll give you full permission to kill me.”

“There are research chemicals that don’t show up in a toxicology screen. They’re the chemical cousins of drugs and since the molecules are modified, they don’t show up on tox screens unless you know what you’re looking for.” Y/N said with an innocent smile while Lando looks slightly terrified.

“You scare me.” Lando admitted.

“As I should. But I hate needles so I wouldn’t kill you like that.” Y/N said, turning back to resume chopping the vegetables.

“How would you kill me then?!?” Lando asked.

“Let it go, baby.” Y/N said. Lando went to the shelf and stopped the video from recording, placing it in his gaming room to charge,

After dinner, Lando and Y/N went to the gaming room to film the end.

“Thanks for watching, I just found out I am dating a psychopath.” Lando said and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Please, anyone who has seen Criminal Minds would know about research chemicals and you literally gave me permission to kill you.” Y/N said.

“I didn’t know you actually thought about ways to kill someone!” Lando exclaimed.

“But now you know to never call me a bitch so, lesson learned.” Y/N said. Both said “bye” and waved to the camera. After transferring the video clips to his computer, editing the clips and posted it on the quadrant channel.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[pomegranatesarchive]

Oscar piastri x reader smau, but she’s completely anonymous and people are trying to find her after Oscar revealed he was married to someone?

nobody ever asked me | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: oscar piastri shocks the world by letting it be known that he is married, and has been for the past two years

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, logansargent, and 1,017,827 others!

oscarpiastri: vacation with the wifey! 🧡

view comments below!

user1: oh that’s not

user2: excuse me the what?

user3: this is interesting!

landonorris: wait what

oscarpiastri; what?

landonorris: wait what are you being serious?

oscarpiastri: about what?

landonorris: oh i don’t know maybe you having a WIFE???

oscarpiastri; yes i do have a wife!

landonorris: WHAT THE FUCK

user4: oh so oscar not joking?...

user5: feeling like lando rn because what the fuck???

user6; this just ruined my day

maxverstappen1: i knew you were lying about SOMETHING

oscarpiastri: ive never lied to anyone, nobody ever asked me if i had a wife

maxverstappen1; that’s….fair

user7: THATS NOT FAIR??? OSCAR WTF?? YOU CANT JUST SPRING THIS ON PEOPLE???

charles_leclerc: nice pictures oscar!!!!

charles_lelcerc: wait a minute...

charles_leclerc: wife????

charles_leclerc: what?? what? what??

charles_leclerc: i am so bamboozled right now!

charles_leclerc: am i walking the prank? i feel like i am walking the prank

oscarpiastri: no you aren't walking the prank? whatever that means? ive been married for a little over two years now!

user8: TWO YEASR??? LIKE 730 DAYS??????

user9: no you guys actually dont understand, this is driving me crazy?

user10: this is SUCH an oscar thing to do tho.. like randomly announcing thats hes been married for 2 years??

user11: he took oscar core to a whole new level

user12: my heart just broke

user13: you should've announced that you had a gf first, my heart cant take this

danielricciardo: i'm a little late, don't know whats going on..so? congratulations? my condolences?

oscarpiastri: thank you daniel!!

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 691,616 others!

oscarpiastri: some more pictures of the wife since you all seem so curious! here’s my wife, yn, and her book store 🧡

view comments below!

user14: YN!!!! WE GOT HER NAME

user15: HALLELUJAH

user15: yn is a beautiful name

user16: HER bookstore?? she owns a bookstore??

user17: the way she probably has so much lore and we will never learn about it is so??

user18: we're only going to learn about when oscar randomly decides to drop some info: key example: THIS POST 😭

maxverstappen1: I KNEW HER NAME FIRST!!!

oscarpiastri: only because she's your biggest fan and she begged to meet you

maxverstappen1: stay mad

oscarpiastri: she's married to me??

maxverstappen1: and yet she's MY biggest fan

user19: DAMN MAX

user20: oscar was SILENCED

user21: i need to know when he them, how they got together, and what theyre wedding was like

user22: it kills me to know we will never get this information

user22: its actually so crazy how oscar said yn has been to all of the races so far?? like how didnt we notice her 😭

user23: what if shes been in front of us the whole time and we just mistook her for like a mclaren team member or something

user24: well now I have to go look at every single oscar picture out there and try to find something

user25: or you could, idk? respect that she doesnt want to show her face online?

user26: but thats no fun

charles_leclerc: it was great meeting her!! ❤️

user27: they met her? 💔💔💔

oscarpiastri: she says thanks for the lec ice cream!

user27: he gave her lec icecream?? 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

user28: ive only known about yns existence for a month and a half, but if anything happened to her, i would kill everyone on earth and then myself.

liked by oscarpiastri

. . .

note: thanks for requesting!! hope you enjoyed(*≧▽≦)

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THE PRANK THAT BACKFIRED (sort of?)

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: reader and drew decide to play a prank on the obx cast for her youtube channel. they do the “asking to have another girl over” prank, which results in a very angry obx cast who are out to get drew😅

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for @xoxosblogsblog !! i had so much fun writing this and it was ADORABLE, i hope you like it :)) <3

WARNINGS: pure tooth-rotting fluff, slight angst (not really), like one (?) curse word, insinuation of cheating (the prank), chase & rudy threaten to “throw hands” with drew lmao. (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.25k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N adjusted the camera, angling it perfectly to catch the cozy backdrop of the apartment she shared with Drew during her surprise visit to the set of Outer Banks season four.

The faint hum of laughter and chatter outside hinted at the cast heading out to grab food, giving her the perfect opportunity to set her plan into motion.

"Hey, guys!" she began with a bright smile, wiggling her fingers to the camera. "Welcome back to my channel. Today, I've got something hilarious planned. You've seen those TikTok pranks where someone asks if they can bring another girl over while their partner's friends or family are listening, right? Well, I'm doing it today—with Drew."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've got the cast in on this. Well, not really in on it—they think I'm at a friend's place for the night, so this is going to be pure gold. Let's see how much they love me and how far they'll go to defend me from Drew's, um... betrayal."

She turned the camera to Drew, who sat beside her on the couch, half-smiling, half-shaking his head.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "They're going to kill me."

"Kill us, you mean," Y/N teased, poking his side. "But it'll be worth it. Trust me."

"Uh-huh," Drew replied, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "When JD and Rudy show up with pitchforks, you're taking the blame."

Y/N laughed, her grin widening as she leaned into him. "Oh, come on. You know they love me too much to actually hurt me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew sighed dramatically but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, Y/N tucked herself behind the camera, keeping it trained on Drew. Drew pulled out his phone and dialed JD's number, putting the call on speaker. The phone rang twice before JD answered, his voice lively with the sounds of clinking plates and background chatter.

"Yo, Starkey!" JD greeted. "What's up, man?"

Drew exchanged a quick glance with Y/N before diving in. "Hey, would you guys mind if I invited someone over?"

The line went silent for a beat, then JD's confused voice came through. "Uh... sure? Who?"

"Just a friend," Drew said casually.

"Cool, yeah," JD replied, his tone nonchalant. In the background, Madelyn could be heard asking, "Who's he inviting over?"

"Oh, she's just someone I met recently," Drew added, making his voice as nonchalant as possible.

Madelyn's voice sharpened. "Wait, she? Did he say she?"

JD stammered for a moment, then said, "Uh, Drew, man, what are you talking about? You have Y/N—why are you inviting another girl over?"

"It's not that deep," Drew said smoothly, earning a wide-eyed stare from Y/N as she struggled to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Not that deep?" Madelyn's voice rose an octave. "Are you fucking insane? Y/N is literally the best thing that's ever happened to you. You're just going to, what, throw her away for some random girl?"

"Yeah, Drew, what the hell?" Rudy's voice chimed in. "Y/N's gonna find out, dude. She always finds out."

"She's not even here," Drew argued. "And I just want some alone time with this girl. Is that so bad?"

Madelyn's voice was nearly a shriek now. "YES, IT'S BAD! You're in a relationship, Drew! A really amazing one, with an incredible person who, by the way, loves you more than anything!"

"And we love her!" Carlacia added. "You're crazy if you think we're not calling her right now."

"Right?!" Chase's voice joined the chorus, sounding equally appalled. "Drew, what is wrong with you?"

JD sighed loudly. "Man, I'm so disappointed right now. Y/N's, like, the nicest, funniest person ever. She's practically family. I don't even know what to say to you."

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes from trying not to laugh. Drew, ever the actor, kept his tone neutral but shot her a playful glare.

"You guys are overreacting," Drew said, feigning exasperation. "I mean, Y/N doesn't have to know, right?"

The collective gasp from the group was loud enough to make Y/N choke on her laughter.

Madison started a rant so fierce it almost made Drew break. "First of all, how dare you? Second of all, Y/N deserves so much better than this! She's gorgeous, sweet, funny—literally the whole package! And you're just going to throw that away? For what?!"

"I can't believe you right now," Rudy chimed in. "If you're serious about this, I'm calling her. Like, right now."

"No, don't—" Drew began, but Y/N couldn't hold it in anymore.

Her laughter burst out like a dam breaking, echoing through the room. Drew immediately broke character, laughing along as he waved his hands at Y/N’s camera.

"Wait, wait!" Y/N called out, coming into view of her camera. "Guys, relax! It's a prank!"

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a cacophony of voices.

"Are you serious?!" Madelyn exclaimed. "You scared the crap out of us!"

"You both are the worst," JD groaned.

Rudy's laugh boomed through the speaker. "I was about to knock some sense into you, man."

Chase chimed in with mock indignation. "I was ready to drive back and throw hands, Drew!"

Y/N giggled, holding her stomach as she leaned against Drew. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't resist! I saw it on TikTok and knew you guys would freak out. And you did not disappoint."

Madelyn groaned dramatically. "You two are so lucky we love you."

JD sighed. "I'm not speaking to you for a week."

"Okay, that's fair," Drew said with a grin.

Eventually, after more playful scolding and laughter, the group hung up, leaving Drew and Y/N alone again. Y/N turned off the camera, still giggling as she leaned back against the couch.

"That was amazing," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Drew shook his head, his expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're lucky they love you. If it were just me, they'd probably disown me."

Y/N smiled, sliding closer to him. "Well, can you blame them? I mean, look at me. I'm kind of a big deal."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You really are. They adore you, you know that? It's one of the things I love most about us—how easily you fit into my world."

Her teasing smile softened as she gazed up at him. "It means a lot to me, too. They're like family. And so are you."

Drew leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You're everything to me, Y/N. I hope you know that."

Her heart melted as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his jawline. "I do. And you're everything to me, too."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The laughter, the teasing, the chaos—it all melted away, leaving just the two of them in their shared little world.

"You think they'll forgive us?" Drew asked after a moment.

Y/N smirked. "Oh, they'll forgive me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew groaned, burying his face in her shoulder as she laughed.

"Totally worth it," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so adorable and so much fun to write !! i hope you all enjoyed, and please please please like and reblog, it means the world when you do <3

my asks are still open so please don’t hesitate to send any in !! i’m in the mood to write some angst, hurt/comfort if you have any requests for drew or rage <3

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Not Another Royal Mess - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

Series Masterlist

You stare blankly at the manuscript in front of you, feeling your soul slowly withering away, shriveling like an overcooked raisin under the weight of yet another tragic tale of misguided villainy. The title alone—The Villainess Who Was Actually Just Trying to Mind Her Own Business and Got Beheaded Anyway—had already set the tone for what you could only describe as a disaster in prose form. How this had slipped through several rounds of quality control was beyond you.

Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was revenge. You couldn’t tell anymore.

You take a deep breath, a sigh so deep that it feels like it's being dragged up from the depths of your very soul, a sigh that could only be summoned by a story so ridiculous, so absolutely bonkers, that even you—seasoned proofreader extraordinaire—were questioning every life choice that had brought you here.

"Okay," you mutter to yourself, flipping through the pages with all the energy of a reluctant retiree trying to pick up knitting. "Let's see. We’ve got your standard fantasy kingdom where every noble is born with elemental powers. Classic. The saintess is the only one who can wield all four elements. Cool, cool, makes sense." You pause, eyes narrowing. "Except for the villainess who's faking it with a magical rock she bought off of Fantasy Craigslist and just... does all the same stuff the saintess can do without actually, you know, saintess-ing anything bad. Just... being suspiciously good at wind and fire, I guess?"

You squint at the text like it’s personally offended you. "So let me get this straight. The heroine—who, by the way, isn’t the real saintess—finds out about the rock and immediately turns into the nation’s tattletale. Like, she just full-on rats the villainess out to the entire country and gets her beheaded for daring to do an accidental cosplay of a saintess? Seriously?"

You blink. "And the prince? The so-called male lead? He’s not even mad because the villainess was evil or anything. No. He’s mad because she... rejected him? Oh, so that’s the crime. She bruised his precious princely ego, so naturally she deserves to lose her head. Makes perfect sense. Absolutely logical," you deadpan, flipping another page with growing disdain.

“And just when you think it can’t get any dumber,” you continue to mutter, “the heroine uses the exact same magic rock after she gets the villainess killed, struggles to use half the power, but instead of everyone questioning her, they just...” You drag a hand down your face. “They just... pat her on the back for her effort? What? Oh, bravo! Standing ovation! You’re so talented! What a genius!”

You want to scream. You can feel it building up inside you, a primordial rage that no amount of fantasy drivel can suppress. How... how did this get published? How did someone not raise their hand and go, “Hey, maybe the heroine is the real villain here? And maybe the villainess is just really good at rock collecting?”

Your eye twitches.

Then you get to the part where Azul Ashengrotto—a.k.a. the business owner and kingpin of the information and assassination game—gets dragged down in this hot mess of a plot for the crime of selling a magical rock. He’s not even involved in the drama. He just sold a crystal, did his job, and suddenly he’s collateral damage in this ridiculous farce. And beheaded. You slap the manuscript down on your desk, nearly choking on the sheer absurdity of it all.

“He sold a rock!” you yell to no one. “One. Rock! And he loses his head because the heroine doesn’t know how to mind her own damn business! And no one bats an eye?”

You imagine Azul, standing there with a bemused expression as the sword comes down, probably muttering something like, "Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events."

You shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around the sheer audacity of it all. "So, let me get this straight. The heroine kills the villainess out of jealousy and rage, takes the same stone, uses it poorly, and somehow becomes the saintess? And no one questions it? Not even one guy in the back going, ‘Hey, wait a minute...’?"

A laugh escapes you, bitter and incredulous. "I’ve lost all faith in fantasy kingdoms. They deserve what’s coming to them. Honestly, if their idea of justice is to murder anyone with a shiny rock collection, they probably deserve whatever apocalyptic disaster is waiting in book two."

You sit back in your chair, contemplating the many ways you could disappear off the face of the Earth to avoid reading the inevitable sequel. Maybe you could fake your own death? Dramatically crash through a window with a glitter bomb, leaving behind a cryptic note that reads, “Gone to buy a rock, brb.”

But no. You were a professional. You would soldier on.

Then again, if this novel could get published, maybe it was time to start your own writing career. Surely you could cobble together something halfway decent. Maybe a story about a villainess who just wants to live her life and ends up getting murdered by a heroine with a major inferiority complex. Oh wait, that’s literally this garbage fire in front of me.

You sigh again, this one even deeper, more existential than the last, the type of sigh that could bring about world peace if properly harnessed. Your eyes wander from the steaming pile of poorly written drivel, caught somewhere between disbelief and mild homicidal thoughts. You rub your temples, wondering if proofreading was really the best career path for someone who still had shreds of sanity left.

"Maybe I should've been a baker," you mumble to yourself, stretching your arms overhead. "At least bread dough doesn’t hit me with nonsensical plot twists."

As you stand, ready to grab a snack to soothe your wounded soul, you don’t notice the precariously stacked pile of villainess novels towering on the shelf above your desk. The entire collection of "disaster-bound fantasy heroines and their poor life choices" sways ever so slightly as you brush against the table, and then... it happens.

One moment you're contemplating the logistics of moving to a remote island where bad writing can’t reach you, and the next, you hear a spine-chilling creak followed by a horrifying cascade of poorly bound paperbacks. The avalanche of literary mediocrity comes crashing down on you in one tragically comedic sweep.

"Are you kidding me—" is all you manage to choke out before the entire bookshelf’s worth of subpar villainess novels crushes you beneath their illogical weight. And of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, the last book to hit you in the face is titled, "The Villainess Who Tripped and Fell into her Own Grave—Oops!"

As the darkness closes in, your final thought is one of supreme exasperation: I cannot believe I’m being killed by the worst plotlines ever written. Death by plot twist. Too soon, yet not soon enough.

And then nothing. Just silence. Peace, finally.

You’d heard the phrase "no rest for the wicked," but honestly, who knew divine punishment was this over the top? Apparently, you'd racked up enough sins in your previous life to not only die under an avalanche of bad literature but to then be reincarnated into said literature. Because why not? The gods were clearly having a laugh.

When you open your eyes, you're not even phased. Nope. You don’t scream, cry, or panic. You just stare up at the overly ornate ceiling of what is clearly a mansion because, of course, the villainess is always absurdly rich. You're lying in an obnoxiously fluffy bed, and the first thing that pops into your mind is: Are you serious?

A quick glance in the mirror confirms it. There you are, standing in the overly frilly shoes of the villainess from the very same garbage novel that ended your life. Perfect. You take a deep breath, rub your temples (again), and give yourself a mental pep talk. "Okay, you’ve read this before, multiple times. You know the beats. You know the plot. You’ve got this."

Step one: don’t freak out. Because, really, this plot is bad enough without adding your personal panic to the mix. Step two: check the villainess's diary because, obviously, the previous inhabitant was stupid enough to leave all her secrets lying around like a teenager's unlocked Facebook account. Sure enough, you find it: a gloriously leather-bound journal detailing all the times plotted to impersonate the saintess. You roll your eyes. Not today, Satan.

You scan the pages, checking the timeline. You have a few months until the heroine rats you out, which means it’s time for step three: revenge. And no, you don’t mean the "oh, woe is me" type of revenge that makes you spiral into despair. You mean good old-fashioned pettiness, the kind that makes the heroine and the male lead’s lives miserable.

You can't help but snicker at the thought. It's karmic justice, really. They’re going to get a taste of the absolute horror you experienced reading their terrible, nonsensical love story. You spent hours proofreading their idiocy, now it's their turn.

You stand in front of the towering, ominous doors of Azul Ashengrotto’s office at Mostro Lounge, taking a deep breath before pushing them open. The dark, almost theatrical ambiance inside feels like a stage set for the devil himself to offer you a deal. But you’re no saintess—you’re the villainess of this story, and you’re here to strike a deal that’ll flip the entire script on its head.

Azul looks up from his desk, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your presence. “Ah, My Lady,” he greets smoothly, slipping into that charming, calculating smile of his. “What brings you to my humble establishment? Shouldn't you be busy pretending to be a saintess?"

You roll your eyes and take a seat without waiting for an invitation. "About that... I've decided to cancel my order for the magic stone."

Azul’s expression falters. “Cancel the order? But aren’t you the one planning to impersonate the saintess and secure your place in the royal court?”

You lean back in your chair, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, plans change. I’ve come to realize that there's a much better way to spend my time and resources—mainly, by humiliating the heroine and the prince for fun.”

Azul blinks at you, the corners of his lips twitching as if he’s not sure whether to laugh or be intrigued. “You... want to humiliate the heroine and the prince?”

You shrug, a gleam of mischief in your eyes. “Why not? They’re gonna be responsible for my end if I impersonate the saintess. I’ve already decided that instead of dying gracefully, I’m going to make their lives miserable. And that’s where you come in.”

Azul folds his hands on his desk, the smile growing on his face. “I see. And what exactly do you expect me to do?”

You pull out a blank cheque, sliding it across his desk. “Whatever you want. My family is wealthy, and my parents will gladly dance upside down on a chandelier if I asked them to. Write any amount you want, but you’re going to help me with my new plan.”

Azul’s eyes flicker with interest as he glances at the cheque. “And what exactly would that plan entail?”

“I want you to sabotage them,” you say simply. “The heroine, the prince—they’re going to suffer public humiliation. Every time they try to play the part of the perfect couple or flaunt their status as the so-called chosen ones, I want you to make sure they fail spectacularly. We’re going to tear apart their reputations piece by piece, and I need your expertise.”

Azul leans back in his chair, tapping a finger to his chin. “That sounds... intriguing. But I do believe I’ll need a bit more than just money to make this worth my time.”

“Name your price,” you reply coolly. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Azul’s smile widens, but it’s sharp. “I’ll take a hefty sum, of course. Let’s say... one hundred thousand gold. But I’ll also require two wishes that I can cash in at any time.”

Your brow arches. “Two wishes? And what exactly do you plan to use them for?”

Azul’s smile turns positively devilish. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something. It could be anything—information, a favor, perhaps something more. Who knows? I just want to keep my options open.”

You weigh the deal for a moment, then nod. “Fine. Two wishes and one hundred thousand gold. But I want results, Azul. Don’t disappoint me.”

Before he can respond, the door behind you slams open with a bang, and Floyd Leech strolls in, grinning ear to ear like a shark who’s just spotted its next meal. “Heh, you’re funny, Shrimpy,” he says, eyeing you with amusement. “This whole ‘let’s humiliate the prince and his little heroine’ thing? I like it. I’ll help. I wanna see the look on their faces when they get wrecked.”

Azul sighs dramatically. “Floyd, this is a delicate matter. You can’t just go around—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd cuts him off, draping himself across your chair like a lazy cat. “But c’mon, wouldn’t it be more fun if I helped? We can make it real painful for ’em. How 'bout it, Shrimpy?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Honestly? I wouldn’t mind having you on board, Floyd. Your brand of chaos could be exactly what I need to really make them squirm.”

Floyd grins wider, nudging you playfully. “Now we’re talkin’! See, Jade? Shrimpy’s got taste.”

You glance over to where Jade is standing, quietly watching the entire exchange with a serene smile. “I’m not surprised,” he says in his calm, unsettling way. “After all, our esteemed client clearly knows how to turn a situation in their favor. It’s rather... admirable.”

You shoot Jade a look. “Please don’t make that sound like an insult.”

Jade chuckles softly. “Not at all. I find your tactics fascinating. I’ll be quite interested to see how this all unfolds.”

Azul clears his throat, clearly ready to bring the conversation back on track. “Well, if that settles it, we have a deal. Two wishes and one hundred thousand gold. Floyd and Jade will assist you, and I’ll personally oversee the sabotage.”

You grin, satisfied. “Perfect. Let’s give those two a taste of what real humiliation feels like.”

Azul inclines his head. “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear client.”

As you get up to leave, Floyd playfully bumps your shoulder again. “Heh, I like you, Shrimpy. Let’s make sure that prince and his girl get what’s coming to ’em. It’ll be a real laugh.”

You smirk as you make your way out of the office. “Oh, trust me, Floyd. This is going to be spectacular.”

And with that, the stage was set. The heroine and her precious prince had no idea what was coming their way. But you did—and with the help of the mischievous trio from Mostro Lounge, you were going to enjoy every second of it.

The royal ballroom glistened with opulence as golden chandeliers hung above the vast marble floors, reflecting the lavishness of the night. The music was soft yet upbeat, a perfect backdrop for the event of the season. Nobles twirled gracefully around the room, engaged in light conversation as they eyed one another with thinly veiled curiosity. You stood at the entrance, the heavy doors creaking behind you as you took a deep breath.

The villainess in this world had been a little too subtle for her own good—dresses that were elegant but far too modest, more befitting of someone trying to sneak through the ranks as a saintess. But you? You had other ideas. You weren’t about to blend into the background. Oh no, tonight was all about making a splash.

The dress you wore was nothing short of a masterpiece. The neckline plunged just enough to be daring, the skirt flaring dramatically around your legs as you moved. The villainess had always had potential, you realized as you caught your reflection earlier that evening. With a little effort, she'd looked like a queen.

And apparently, that effort wasn’t lost on the crowd. Conversations stuttered to a stop as you walked in, eyes swiveling toward you like moths to a flame. A smirk tugged at your lips. Good. They could look all they wanted. Tonight, you were more than the villainess. You were a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the male lead—Prince Arrogant-Entitled himself—to notice. He’d been chatting animatedly with the heroine, a sweet little thing dressed in pastels, who was practically bouncing on her feet with excitement.

But the moment you crossed the threshold, his gaze latched onto you like a leech, his conversation with the heroine cutting off mid-sentence as he abandoned her entirely. His eyes scanned you up and down with blatant appreciation, and you felt an unpleasant shiver crawl down your spine as he made his way toward you.

Sleazy little worm.

“My Lady,” he greeted you, standing too close for comfort. His voice dripped with what he likely assumed was charm. “You look ravishing tonight. I must say, your beauty is... overwhelming.”

You kept your expression neutral, though internally you gagged at his lackluster attempt at flirtation. The heroine, meanwhile, was glaring daggers from across the room. Not that it bothered you. Let her seethe.

You plastered on a fake smile, playing along for now. “Your Highness,” you replied, “I must say, your compliments are as subtle as ever.”

He laughed, his hand reaching out as if to brush your arm, but you sidestepped it gracefully. “You wound me, my lady,” he said, clearly trying to maintain the upper hand. “Would you honor me with a dance?”

You opened your mouth to deliver a polite but firm rejection, when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the tension with the smoothness of silk.

“Ah, apologies, Your Highness,” Azul’s voice was a breath of fresh air as he sidled up beside you, his arm slipping around your waist with practiced ease. “I’m afraid my date for the evening is already spoken for.”

The prince's face dropped, the smile frozen awkwardly as Azul’s words sunk in. You could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to process how exactly this turn of events had occurred. “Your... date?” he stammered, looking between you and Azul.

Azul just smiled, that infuriatingly calm smile of his. “Yes,” he said, his tone light and polite but dripping with a silent victory. “I do hope you understand, Your Highness. After all, it wouldn’t do to leave such a radiant lady waiting, would it?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Azul's ability to swoop in at just the right moment with perfect timing was nothing short of impeccable.

The prince was visibly flustered, caught completely off-guard by the public rejection. The heroine, still watching from across the room, looked like she was about to combust on the spot. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and you could practically feel the heat of her glare boring holes into you.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you said, dipping into a mocking little curtsy. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

And with that, you took Azul’s arm and let him lead you away from the prince, who stood frozen in humiliation as the ballroom buzzed with whispers around him.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Azul turned to you with an amused grin. “You seemed to be having fun back there.”

“Oh, I was,” you replied, chuckling. “But not as much fun as I’m about to have dancing with you.”

Azul raised an eyebrow, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as the two of you began to sway to the music. “Careful now,” he teased. “If you keep up that flirting, I might just start blushing.”

You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I thought you were immune to such things. What happened to your infamous poker face?”

“Hmm, perhaps I underestimated your charms,” he mused, his voice lower now as he twirled you effortlessly around the dance floor. “You certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Is that so? Because I think you’re the one getting flustered, Azul.”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. You knew you had him.

But then, just when you thought you had the upper hand, Azul dipped you suddenly, causing a surprised squeak to escape your lips. He leaned over you, his face just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Flustered, hmm?” he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet. “I think you may have that backward, my dearest client.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily caught off-guard by the intensity in his eyes. Damn it—he was good at this.

“Well played,” you muttered, feeling your own cheeks heating up now.

Azul chuckled softly, pulling you back up into his arms as the music continued to swell around you. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We can call this round a draw.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But don’t think this is over.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a wink.

You’re jolted awake by the sound of frantic knocking on your bedroom door, followed by your maids bursting in like the world was ending. “My Lady!” one of them squeals. “The mafia is breaking into the house!”

Now, any sane person would hear this and immediately take steps to flee, barricade themselves in, or at the very least, hide under the bed. But you? No. In your infinite wisdom, still half asleep and probably only functioning on half a brain cell, you bolt out of bed and head straight to the living room like you’re ready to take on a gang of mobsters in your nightgown. What was it that you always said about wanting more excitement in life?

You storm into the living room, ready to confront the so-called "mafia," only to be greeted by none other than Azul, Jade, and Floyd. Well, they weren’t exactly what you expected, but then again, the maids had screamed ‘mafia,’ and these three did dabble in... questionably legal activities.

Floyd's already poking through your vase of expensive flowers, looking completely at home, while Jade is smiling in that eerie way of his that makes it hard to tell if he’s genuinely amused or planning to harvest your organs.

“Good morning,” Azul greets you smoothly, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Apologies for the intrusion, but we have urgent business to discuss.”

You stare at them for a long moment, your confusion building. “I didn’t make an appointment with you guys. Did you make an appointment with me?”

Jade’s eyes gleam with mischief. “No appointment, but we’ve come across some information we thought you’d be interested in.”

You cross your arms, already sensing the chaos about to unfold. “Go on…”

“Well,” Jade says, stepping forward with an innocent smile (which, of course, is anything but), “it seems the prince and his little heroine are planning to attend a charity event today to show off their ‘generosity.’”

Floyd pops up behind you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like you’re best friends. “Want to crash it?” he asks, grinning wildly, his sharp teeth flashing. “It’s bound to be fun. Who knows what kinda trouble we can stir up?”

Azul adjusts his glasses, looking thoughtful yet undeniably excited. “There could be some... interesting opportunities there,” he muses. “And I wouldn’t mind attending, purely for business reasons, of course.”

You blink at them. Charity event? Crashing? Making the prince and heroine’s lives miserable? Well, hell, why not? You did wake up to the mafia in your living room, after all. “Fine,” you say with a smirk, “let’s do it. Let’s crash this event and see how generous our dear prince really is.”

The four of you arrive at the event like a troupe of misfits dressed in their Sunday best. The venue is packed with people, all fawning over the prince and the heroine like they’re some divine beings sent down to bless the peasants. The heroine’s practically glowing as she bathes in their attention, her overly sweet voice echoing through the hall as she accepts praise for what is—let’s be real here—a laughably small donation, considering who they are.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The prince and heroine are practically bathing in the affection of these poor, unsuspecting people. "Oh, how generous they are!" people cry. "Such saints, oh thank the heavens!"

Yeah, not today, airhead.

You nudge Azul. “Let’s show them how it’s really done.”

Azul, already ahead of you, strides confidently toward the stage. You follow, not missing a beat, and together, you announce—no, proclaim—that you will be tripling the total amount of donations for the event.

The reaction is immediate. Complete chaos erupts. The organizers start crying tears of joy, running up to you with such fervor that you have no choice but to stand there and accept their hugs and gratitude, despite your overwhelming desire to swat them away. Floyd, cackling like a hyena, is playfully lifting some of them off the ground in his bear-like hugs, while Jade just stands off to the side, watching the chaos unfold with a bemused smile, occasionally offering polite nods of acknowledgment.

The prince, who had been gloating only moments before, now looks like he’s been slapped in the face. His expression is priceless—shock, embarrassment, and barely concealed rage all battling for dominance. The heroine’s smile has dropped completely, replaced with a furious scowl as she watches the organizers fawn over you instead. Her fists are clenched at her sides, and you can see the very moment her fragile ego shatters. Oh, how delicious.

Amidst all the madness, you catch yourself actually smiling—not one of your usual smirks or devious grins, but a genuine, warm smile. As much as this was all meant to be a petty revenge plan, you can’t deny the satisfaction that comes from seeing these people so happy. It's almost... heartwarming.

Azul turns to you at that exact moment, his usually calm expression softening as he sees your smile. He blinks, clearly caught off-guard by how radiant you look. For a split second, he seems to lose his composure, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink.

“You’re smiling,” he says, his voice almost quiet. “It suits you.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What, you’ve never seen me smile before?”

“Not like that,” Azul admits, his usual poise faltering as he looks down at you with something akin to awe. “It’s... different.”

Before you can respond, Floyd suddenly slides up between you, throwing an arm around both you and Azul with a grin. “Oho! Azul’s gettin’ all blushy on us, huh?” he teases, eyes glinting mischievously. “Careful, Shrimpy. You might actually be softening him up.”

Azul huffs, pushing Floyd away with a barely contained scowl. “You’re insufferable, Floyd.”

“Oh, come on, boss!” Floyd laughs, ruffling Azul’s hair before darting away to avoid his retaliation. “Just admit it, you’re totally into ‘em!”

Jade sidles up next to you, his ever-present smile in place. “Well, it seems things are progressing quite nicely,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “Perhaps we’ll see more of this warmth from you, hm? It’s quite refreshing.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh, shut up, both of you,” you say, though there’s no real malice in your words.

As the crowd around you finally begins to disperse, you feel a strange sense of contentment. Sure, you came here for revenge, but now? Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Azul’s first wish. He could’ve asked for anything—power, prestige, wealth beyond imagination. But no, he wants to open a café. A legit café. Sure, his shady business would still run in the background, but this time, he wanted something wholesome, something real. And of course, he wants you to sponsor it, not just with money but with your influence—Queen of the Social World that you are after your fabulous ball stunt.

You’re intrigued, mostly because it’s Azul, but also because, well, it was a bit funny imagining him in a cute apron, serving cakes and coffee like some innocent café owner. But business was business, and you were all in.

The following weeks were spent in an intense whirlwind of planning with Azul, Floyd, and Jade. What started as you simply agreeing to fund Azul’s café spiraled into you helping them design the entire place, from choosing the colors of the tiles to picking out the cups, to menu planning. You found yourself oddly invested, not because Azul asked for your help, but because, strangely enough, you liked spending time with them.

Like tonight, for example. You were supposed to be working on the café’s logo, but instead…

“Stay still, Floyd,” you muttered as you carefully painted his nails. Floyd, surprisingly, wasn’t squirming, but he was giving Jade some ridiculous side-eye. “If you mess this up, I swear, I’ll let Jade poison you with the mushrooms.”

Jade chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Poison? Now that’s an interesting accusation. I thought we were discussing the edible variety.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent, Jade. I’ve read up on your particular interests,” you quipped, finishing off one of Floyd’s fingers and moving on to the next. “And besides, everyone knows you’re a master of both the edible and the... not-so-edible.”

Floyd, meanwhile, grinned at you. “Shrimpy! You know, you're real funny, you know that? I should make you my personal nail artist. You’re doing way better than Jade ever did!”

Jade gave Floyd a look, crossing his arms in mock offense. “Please, Floyd. My skills are exceptional, but you insist on ruining the results every time.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s because Floyd never sits still long enough for anything decent to happen. Isn’t that right?” You turned to Floyd, who was just nodding along like you’d given him the biggest compliment of the year.

Azul entered the room at that moment, looking slightly confused to find you painting Floyd’s nails. Without missing a beat, you reached out and tugged him over, all casual. “You’re next, Azul. Sit.”

He blinked at you, half surprised and half flustered by how natural this all felt. “I-I didn’t realize I’d signed up for this,” he stammered but still sat down beside you like he couldn’t refuse.

“You didn’t. But now you’re here, and you’ll be leaving with your nails looking fabulous,” you said with a grin. You took his hand, and despite how awkwardly he tried to keep his composure, you felt him relax under your touch.

“So, what were you discussing before I arrived?” Azul asked, glancing between you and Jade, who was still sitting nearby.

“Mushrooms,” Jade said with an oddly proud smile. “Our friend here is surprisingly knowledgeable about rare species. It’s rather refreshing to have such an... engaged conversation partner.”

“Well,” you said, dipping the nail brush back into the polish, “you’d be surprised what you can pick up after spending a considerable amount of time researching... various topics.”

“Of course,” Jade said, his smile just a little too knowing for your liking. But you didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on Azul’s hand, painting a particularly delicate pattern with precision.

As you finished Azul’s nails, Floyd suddenly launched himself at you, wrapping you in an unexpected squeeze. “Shrimpy! You’re my best friend now. Best. Friend.”

You barely had time to react as he practically crushed you, and you patted his back with a small laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment... Floyd. Now, could you maybe let me breathe?”

Azul, who had been watching the exchange with a soft look on his face, finally stepped in. “Floyd, don’t suffocate our sponsor, please.”

Floyd reluctantly let you go but stayed attached to your side like a loyal puppy. “But Shrimpy’s so soft and fun!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving Floyd away. “Okay, okay. Back off, or you’ll mess up your nails.”

Jade chuckled again, his gaze softening as he watched the three of you. “I must say, I never thought we’d be having... a sleepover, of sorts.”

You laughed. “Neither did I, to be honest. But I don’t mind. It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? Relaxing, being able to just... exist.”

Azul glanced down at his newly painted nails, feeling the warmth of the room and the camaraderie between you all. “Yes,” he murmured softly, “it is.”

And for a brief moment, Azul found himself wishing that nights like these could last forever.

The sun was already low on the horizon as you made your way toward Mostro Lounge, your daily visits now a routine you couldn’t seem to avoid. It had become a comforting ritual: meeting Azul, Jade, and Floyd, where the lines between business and friendship blurred into late-night planning sessions. You had just started to hum softly to yourself when a figure stepped into your path, blocking your way.

You stopped short, frowning as you recognized the sleazy, arrogant smirk plastered on the Crown Prince's face. He was the last person you wanted to deal with today. Or ever.

“There you are,” the prince drawled, taking a step closer to you, his hand reaching for your arm. “I’ve been thinking about you. Why don’t you stop all this nonsense and reconsider me as a suitor, hmm? You know I can offer you far more than Azul ever could.”

You stiffened as his hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip tighter than necessary, and you glared up at him. “Let go of me,” you said through gritted teeth.

The prince’s expression darkened, and he yanked you closer with a cruel tug. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You should be grateful I’m even giving you the time of day—”

A loud, unmistakable voice interrupted. “Oi, you slimy bastard!” Floyd’s voice boomed from behind you, and the next thing you knew, the prince’s hand was wrenched off your wrist as Floyd grinned down at him with an unsettling amount of excitement in his eyes. “You wanna keep those fingers or should I snap ‘em off for ya?”

The prince recoiled, his confidence wavering as Floyd stepped between the two of you, looking unhinged and ready to throw down at any moment. “Do you have any idea who I am—”

Floyd just laughed, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop. “You really think I care? Touch Shrimpy again, and I’ll show you why it’s a bad idea.”

Just as the prince looked like he was going to say something, Jade appeared at your side, his presence cold and menacing. His polite smile only made the threat more ominous. “Your Highness, I believe my brother gave you a fair warning. I suggest you heed it unless you wish to experience... unpleasant consequences.”

The prince looked between the two brothers, weighing his options. Though his pride was clearly hurt, the danger in their eyes finally seemed to register. He took a step back, sneering at you. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jade said, his smile never faltering. “If you value your position and your life.”

With that, the prince turned on his heel and left, and it wasn’t until his retreating figure disappeared that you realized you were shaking. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your knees weak, and your breath came out shakier than you wanted it to.

“Shrimpy, you okay?” Floyd’s voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing tone. He turned to you, his expression shifting from anger to concern.

Jade, too, watched you carefully. “You’re trembling. Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to stop the quiver. Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Floyd first, burying your face in his chest. He stiffened for a second, surprised, before his arms enveloped you gently, as if unsure of how much pressure to apply.

“‘S okay, Shrimpy,” Floyd mumbled into your hair. “I gotcha.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling Jade’s comforting hand rest on your shoulder. When you pulled away from Floyd, Jade was there too, his smile uncharacteristically soft. You hugged him as well, and for a moment, all the tension seemed to melt away as the Leech brothers stood there, silently offering their comfort.

By the time you made it to Mostro Lounge, Azul was already waiting, his expression brightening when he saw you approach—until he noticed your pale face and the tight look of concern on both Floyd and Jade’s features.

“What happened?” Azul asked immediately, his voice sharper than usual.

You hesitated for a second, glancing toward the twins. But before you could answer, Floyd spoke up. “The damn prince tried to pull some shit with Shrimpy.”

Azul’s entire demeanor darkened, the air around him thickening with icy fury. “Is that so?” His voice was calm, too calm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I see. Well, it seems our little game has taken a new turn.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Azul?”

Azul turned to you, his stormy eyes locking with yours, and despite the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, he smiled—a smile that sent chills down your spine, but also made you feel... protected. “From this point on, your revenge is my revenge. I won’t allow that fool to get away with this.”

You could only nod as the weight of his words settled over you. What had started as a personal vendetta was now much larger. Azul had made it personal, and with his intelligence and the Leech brothers by your side, you had no doubt the prince would soon regret the day he ever laid a hand on you.

Azul reached out and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll make sure he never forgets this lesson.”

And with that, you knew—there was no going back now. It wasn’t just about your revenge anymore. You had a powerful ally who was more than willing to turn the tables. And for the first time since you’d been thrown into this chaotic world, you felt truly... safe.

It all started with a completely innocent plan.

Well, innocent in the way that any plan involving Jade and Floyd Leech could be. You were sitting in Azul's office, sipping tea, when Floyd flopped onto the sofa like a bored toddler who’d been forced to sit through an economics lecture.

"Ugh, I’m bored,” he groaned, throwing an arm dramatically over his face. “Let’s go mess with someone. Like, now.”

Azul, across from you, pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have work to do, Floyd. You can’t just—"

“I wanna mess with someone," Floyd whined, cutting him off, “and you know who’s real fun to squish? That princessy little heroine.”

Your ears perked up. Oh no. No, no. This was bad.

But also tempting.

Azul gave you a side-eye like he already knew you were considering the chaos. “We’re not doing this,” he said firmly, like he was talking to two feral cats he had to babysit.

Jade, standing ever-so-politely by the door with his signature smile, chimed in. “I must say, brother, it does sound like a rather… entertaining idea.” His eyes glinted in that creepy way that made you unsure if he was plotting your doom or just mentally filing away a new tea recipe involving venomous plants.

“YESSS!” Floyd shot up from the couch, his mood doing a complete 180. “Let’s go squish her, let’s go squish—"

“No,” Azul snapped, sending you a warning look. “Don’t encourage this.”

You, of course, ignored the warning look entirely. “I mean… it's not the worst idea in the world.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “Someone has to put her in her place.”

Azul’s eye twitched. “We had a plan—”

“And now we have fun,” you interrupted, standing up and straightening your jacket like you were about to lead an army into battle. “Come on, Azul. When was the last time we had fun?”

Azul opened his mouth to retort, but Floyd was already bouncing around the room like a hyperactive puppy. “Ooooh, we’re gonna have fun, we’re gonna have fun!”

Jade, always the picture of composure, smiled serenely. “Shall I prepare the necessary… ingredients?”

Azul looked like he was about to pass out from sheer exasperation. “What ingredients?!”

But it was too late. The twins were already in full scheming mode, and you were all-in.

Twenty minutes later, you were sneaking—well, you were sneaking. Jade was strolling casually, and Floyd was giggling—through the palace gardens where the heroine had set up her usual tea party, surrounded by noble ladies with IQs lower than the calorie count of their diet biscuits.

The plan was simple: make her life miserable. The execution, however, was where it got beautifully wacky.

Floyd had brought a lot of frogs. (Don’t ask where he got them.)

The heroine was sitting, blissfully unaware, serving tea and playing the perfect little princess as usual. You felt your eye twitch just looking at her.

“Eww,” Floyd whispered beside you, wrinkling his nose. “She’s got that gross fake smile on again. Makes me wanna squish her even more.”

“Patience, Floyd,” Jade murmured, handing him a cup of “tea”—which was, in reality, some concoction Jade had brewed that you suspected involved swamp water. “We mustn't rush.”

Azul, standing beside you, was facepalming so hard you were surprised his glasses didn’t snap in two. “This is a disaster.”

You grinned. “No, this is a masterpiece.”

Just as the heroine raised her cup to sip her tea, Floyd, who was clearly too impatient to wait for subtlety, threw three frogs straight at the tea table.

SPLAT!

Chaos. Utter chaos. The noble ladies screamed, cups and saucers flew, and the heroine herself jumped back like the frogs were molten lava. Her chair tipped, and she fell—right into the flowerbed, splashing herself with tea and dirt.

Jade clapped politely, ever the gentleman. “Bravo, Floyd. That was an excellent throw.”

The heroine scrambled to her feet, gasping and red-faced, frantically brushing dirt and tea from her dress. “Wh-what—how dare—"

“Oh nooooo,” Floyd said, dramatically clasping his hands to his cheeks. “It looks like you fell! So clumsy! And right before your party too. That’s soooo embarrassing~!”

Azul turned to you with a look that screamed I told you this was a bad idea.

You, however, were practically glowing. “This is the best day of my life.”

“I-I’ll have you all arrested!” the heroine spluttered, her hair falling in disarray as she glared daggers at you and the Leech twins.

“Oh?” you said sweetly, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “For what? Frogs? You think we command amphibians, your grace? You’re so flattering.”

Azul cleared his throat, stepping in with his best diplomatic smile. “Now, now, let’s not escalate this. It was clearly an unfortunate mishap, and I’m sure you’ll be able to recover… in time.”

The heroine narrowed her eyes at him, her cheeks burning in humiliation. “You think this is funny, don’t you?!”

Floyd leaned over Azul’s shoulder, grinning like a shark. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Before she could retort, Jade suddenly stepped forward, his usual calm smile widening just a bit too much. “Perhaps it would be wise to retreat and freshen up, Miss. After all, one mustn’t linger in such… messy conditions.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then—seeing the eyes of all the other noble ladies on her, their whispers starting to spread—she whirled around, storming off with a huff.

As soon as she was out of sight, you and Floyd doubled over, laughing like lunatics.

Azul, pinching the bridge of his nose again, shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m associated with any of you.”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” you managed to say through giggles, wiping a tear from your eye. “This was gold!”

“I still think we should’ve used the snakes,” Floyd added, totally serious.

Jade, always the perfectionist, just gave a little hum. “Next time, perhaps.”

Azul sighed deeply, already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. “I need a vacation.”

You clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Azul. Admit it. You had fun.”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching slightly as if he was fighting a smile. “…Perhaps.”

And with that, the four of you left the wreckage of the tea party behind, victorious and full of glee. The heroine would be recovering from this disaster for weeks.

Sometimes, revenge really was a dish best served with frogs.

The evening was quiet as you and Azul strolled through the town, the air filled with the subtle hum of night creatures, the scent of blooming flowers mixing with the cool night breeze. It was peaceful. Too peaceful, perhaps, as you noticed Azul shifting nervously beside you.

"Are you alright?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, watching as he straightened his posture a little too quickly. He was trying to play it cool, but you could tell that there was something bothering him.

"Of course," he replied with an air of forced calm. "Just enjoying the evening, that's all."

You nodded, though his tenseness made you smile internally. Here was Azul, calm and collected under all circumstances—except in moments like these, where even the tiniest of things could throw him off. It was charming, really.

And then, out of nowhere, a loud rustling erupted from the nearby bushes. Before you could react, Azul let out a strangled, startled yelp, practically leaping into your arms in an impressive feat of acrobatics you hadn’t quite expected. You blinked down at him, his arms clinging tightly to your shoulders as he cowered against you.

“W-what was that?!” he stammered, clearly shaken, his eyes darting around like a nervous prey animal.

You craned your neck to see what had caused the commotion, only to spot… a particularly fat raccoon waddling out of the bushes. The creature glanced at you lazily, munched on a discarded piece of bread, and then ambled away into the night.

“Azul,” you began slowly, “it’s just a raccoon.”

Azul, looking rather pale, cleared his throat and tried to regain his dignity, though he was still very much in your arms. "I-I see… It merely startled me, that’s all."

For a moment, you considered putting him down, but then you looked at him—his wide, flustered eyes, his pink-tinged cheeks—and decided, "Nope." With a little shift, you adjusted his weight in your arms and started walking again, as if carrying the mafia boss-turned-café-owner like a blushing bride was the most normal thing in the world.

Azul blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you," you said simply.

"But—"

"No ‘buts.’ Just relax," you said cheerfully, striding forward. Azul's face went from mildly shocked to utterly dumbfounded as you continued to carry him through the quiet town square like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Honestly, you’re pretty light,” you teased, trying to hold back a grin. “I should carry you more often.”

Azul cleared his throat, his face a deep crimson now, but you didn’t miss the way his arms stayed looped around your shoulders. His voice was a little quieter when he finally spoke again. “Well, if you insist…”

You chuckled, enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability. As much as he liked to keep his composed businessman mask, Azul clearly wasn’t immune to your charm. You could see it in the way he leaned a little closer, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something softer, something a little more real.

When you finally set him down after several streets of wandering, Azul adjusted his glasses, his composure returning. But then he turned to you, an odd glint in his eye. “You know… I’ve been thinking. About a way to get back at the prince.”

Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. “Oh? Do tell.”

He folded his arms behind his back, looking as though he was trying to frame this in a way that didn’t reveal too much. “It’s quite simple, really. A business arrangement. A… fake engagement.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. He cleared his throat and continued. “If we pretend to be engaged, it would irritate the prince, perhaps even force him into a rash decision. It would also be good for my public image. And, of course, you would gain the satisfaction of seeing him completely humiliated.”

You stared at him for a moment, then smirked. “Azul… do you want to date me?”

He choked on absolutely nothing, sputtering, “W-what— I— that’s not what I said—”

You rolled your eyes, amused by how he was floundering. “It’s fine, Azul. I get it. You want to date me. You don’t have to frame it like a business deal.”

Azul blinked rapidly, caught between mortification and something else—something that looked like hope. “Well, that’s… I mean…”

“And if you really want to make it official,” you continued with a grin, “why don’t we just make the engagement real?”

Azul’s flustered expression softened into something utterly pleased. For a moment, he stood there, barely containing the wide smile that threatened to break free. “You… You’d really consider that?”

“I think it would be fun,” you said with a wink. “Plus, it’ll definitely piss off the prince.”

Azul finally allowed himself to smile—a genuine, relieved smile that made your heart skip a beat. “In that case… I would be honored.”

The next morning, you decided to really turn things up a notch. You knew the prince and the heroine were planning to spend their day parading around the town square, fishing for compliments and praise. So, naturally, you decided to plan your very public proposal right in the middle of their little event.

You stood with Azul in the town square, both of you perfectly dressed for the occasion. The crowd gathered, waiting for the prince’s grand appearance, but before he could make his big entrance, you stole the spotlight. Grabbing Azul’s hand, you dragged him to the center of the square, and with a dramatic flourish, you dropped to one knee.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” you began, projecting your voice loud enough for the entire square to hear, “will you do me the honor of becoming my fiancé?”

The crowd gasped, murmurs rippling through the commoners. The prince, who had just appeared with the heroine on his arm, looked absolutely dumbfounded, while the heroine herself looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

Azul, ever the dramatic actor, placed a hand over his heart as if he was deeply moved. “Of course!” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “It would be my greatest honor.”

The crowd erupted into applause as you slipped a ring onto his finger, and Azul pretended to wipe away a tear, leaning in to whisper, “You know, I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

You grinned up at him, whispering back, “Well, you’re the one who wanted to fake it. Might as well make it memorable.”

Azul let out a small laugh, then looked at you with something softer in his eyes. “I have to admit… this isn’t so bad.”

And for the first time since this whole revenge plot began, you found yourself feeling… happy. Not just because you’d embarrassed the prince and heroine, though that certainly was satisfying. But because standing here, with Azul by your side, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this arrangement could be more than just a scheme.

Azul sniffled dramatically, playing up the moment for all it was worth, but you saw the genuine affection in his eyes. And as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, you couldn’t help but smile, truly and honestly happy for once—happy just to exist here with Azul, your hand firmly in his.

Tea parties were the bane of your existence. Seriously, you’d rather file taxes for a hundred years or listen to the prince’s self-praising monologues on loop than sit at one more dainty little table surrounded by frills and forced giggles. But, here you were, once again trapped in the depths of social hell, smiling so hard your face muscles were cramping.

“Isn’t this just delightful?” one of the duchesses chirped, her laugh tinkling like a bell forged from your nightmares. You could practically hear your soul dying.

You plastered on a fake smile. “Absolutely. A dream come true.”

Across the table, the heroine herself—Miss Sunshine and Butterflies—fluttered around like she was hosting the fanciest gala of the year. You bit back a groan as she served tea to everyone, her stupidly sweet smile never faltering. But there was a gleam in her eye, something almost off about the way she was handing out those cups.

You squinted. Was it just you, or did her eyes always look like that? Beady little things, like a snake pretending to be a fluffy bunny. Ugh, maybe it was just her entire vibe that set you off. You wouldn’t be surprised if she threw in a few spiteful herbs just to ruin your day further.

“Here you go!” she chirped, placing a cup of Rosehip in front of you. Her eyes gleamed again.

Okay, weird.

Before you could think too hard about it, Azul’s hand slid across the table. With a smooth, practiced movement, he swapped your cup with his, like this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

You blinked at him, raising a brow. “What? Did you want rosehip that badly?”

Azul smiled, giving you a soft shrug. “I’ve always been partial to it.”

That was… well, typical Azul. You shrugged it off. Maybe he just wanted to get a taste of a different blend, and it wasn’t like you were going to argue over tea.

And then he took a sip.

And immediately coughed up blood.

"Azul?!" you shrieked, eyes widening as he doubled over, clutching his throat. The teacup slipped from his hand and shattered against the table. Panic shot through your chest like a dagger.

"Oh my god, Azul!" you were up and out of your chair faster than you’d ever moved in your life, diving next to him on the floor as his coughing turned wet and ragged. Blood splattered onto the pristine tablecloth, and all you could hear was your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “No, no, no, NO, this is NOT happening!”

Azul’s face was turning ashen, his breathing shallow, and you were completely losing it.

“What the hell was in that tea?!” You turned, glaring murderously at the heroine, who just stood there, wide-eyed and shocked. Your hands trembled as you pulled Azul closer, cradling his head against your lap like he was going to die any second.

“Stay with me, dammit! Don’t you DARE leave me like this!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. “We haven’t even finished the damn revenge plot, you idiot! I-I didn’t even get to tell you I like you!”

Healers finally came rushing in, but by then you were an absolute mess—full-on ugly crying, gripping Azul’s shirt so hard your knuckles turned white. You were inconsolable, practically wailing like the world was ending because, to you, it really felt like it was.

“P-please, I’ll do anything! Just don’t die, okay?! You can have my soul, my fortune, my entire wardrobe, I don’t care! I’ll even stop plotting revenge, just don’t—don’t—” you hiccupped through sobs, nearly incoherent at this point.

Somehow, through your hysterical bargaining with the universe, the healers managed to stabilize Azul. His breathing evened out, the blood stopped flowing, and you could hear them saying something about the poison wearing off. But all you could do was sit there, holding him as the storm of emotions tore through you like a hurricane.

It felt like an eternity before he was finally awake and stable, sitting up in bed after what felt like the longest, most agonizing night of your life. And when you saw him there, looking far too smug for someone who had just almost died, you snapped.

“What the hell was that?!” You stormed into the room, furious tears still clinging to your lashes. “What in the name of all that’s holy possessed you to drink that?!”

Azul blinked at you, clearly not expecting the outburst. “I didn’t want you to get hurt—”

“I DON’T CARE!” you shrieked, pacing around like a madwoman. “You almost died! Do you have any idea what that did to me?!”

Azul opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, throwing your hands up. “The deal’s off, Azul! I’m done! No more revenge, no more schemes, I don’t want to be a part of this if you’re gonna be coughing up blood and nearly dying on me!”

You were about two seconds away from spiraling into another sobfest when suddenly, Azul grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him. Before you could even protest, his lips crashed onto yours, shutting you up immediately.

You blue screened.

For a solid five seconds, all you could think was: Oh, he’s kissing me. And then, Wait, he's kissing me!

He pulled back, looking exasperated and amused all at once. “Will you calm down?” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to see this through. For you.”

You blinked, completely thrown off. “But… why?”

“Because,” he smirked, “you’re not the only one with a vendetta. And, well,” his eyes softened a little, “because I care about you.”

Your heart stuttered, and you stared at him, still not quite over the kiss. “You what?”

Azul chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare sight of you being completely speechless. “Sounds like you care about me too,” he teased. “Or did I hallucinate you confessing your undying love while I was poisoned?”

Your face flushed red, and you crossed your arms defensively. “I wasn’t confessing my undying love, I was panicking, okay? But, yeah. Fine. I like you. I was gonna tell you sooner, but then you had to go and die on me.”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t die.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “You almost did.”

He laughed, and you swore your heart did a little flip. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up…” he leaned closer again, his eyes glinting with mischief. “What do you say we continue this revenge plot? With less near-death experiences, of course.”

You eyed him warily. “Only if you promise to never pull that shit again.”

Azul chuckled and gave you a playful, solemn look. “I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still pounding as you leaned in, pulling him into another kiss. And this time, there was no poison, no tears, no panic—just the two of you, finally on the same page for once.

And maybe, just maybe, you could pull off this revenge scheme and come out of it with something even better.

It was a party meant for the elite of the kingdom—everyone who considered themselves someone was present. Glistening chandeliers, extravagant gowns, and enough fake smiles to power an entire city. But all you could focus on was the prince—who was pretending not to undress you with his eyes from across the ballroom—and the heroine, fluttering about with her fake miracles and equally fake modesty.

You stood by Azul, nursing a glass of wine and feeling like your patience was thinner than ever. But tonight was the night. The two of you had been planning this for weeks. Everything was in place, and the heroine and the prince were about to get the public humiliation they so richly deserved. The prince, with his wandering hands and slimy charm, had made it no secret he was obsessed with you, the villainess. And the heroine? A conniving fraud with no real powers, just cheap tricks and affairs with every married noble she could get her hands on. They were perfect for each other.

Azul adjusted his glasses, his smirk subtle but telling. “Are you ready?”

You glanced at him, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “Born ready.”

The two of you exchanged a nod, and as Azul sauntered toward the prince’s little circle of sycophants, you made your way toward the heroine, who was doing her best impression of a saintly flower surrounded by admirers. The second you reached her, she turned to you with that fake smile, the kind that said I wish I could set you on fire, but I’ll settle for pretending to like you.

“Ah, it’s so good to see you,” she cooed, her eyes scanning you for a flaw to latch onto.

You gave her a saccharine smile, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Likewise. I couldn’t help but overhear your little chat about your latest miracle—what was it this time? Turning water into wine?”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, nothing so grand. Just helping a few people in need, as always.”

“Helping?” you raised an eyebrow. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall several of those ‘people in need’ being married men. Some of them not exactly in need of healing, but more… in need of a different kind of attention.”

Gasps erupted around you. The heroine’s face turned a rather satisfying shade of white.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” she stammered, her composure cracking.

“Oh, I’m not implying anything,” you said, voice turning sharp as a blade. “I’m flat-out saying it. You’ve been using your so-called ‘holy powers’ as a cover while having affairs with multiple married men. That’s not even the worst of it, though, is it? Let’s talk about your miracles—or should I say, your alchemy tricks.”

More gasps. Nobles all around were now staring, whispers spreading like wildfire. And as for the heroine? She looked like she was about to faint.

“You—you’re lying!” she screeched, eyes wide with desperation.

“Oh, am I?” You pulled out a letter, one of many you and Azul had collected. “Because this says otherwise. A love letter to Lord Ainsworth, a very married man, detailing your... special ‘healing sessions.’” You fluttered the letter in front of her face, then loudly cleared your throat, reading aloud, “Your touch is divine, and I felt so... blessed after our long night together. Honestly, your vocabulary could use some work. Not exactly poetic, is it?”

The heroine was trembling now, and the crowd around you was in stunned silence. But you weren’t done. Oh no. You turned to where Azul was confronting the prince. Perfect timing.

Azul was speaking smoothly, voice calm but lethal. “And speaking of deception, Your Highness, should we address your... exemplary battlefield skills? I’ve heard rumors that when the kingdom needed you most, you deserted the warfront. Ran off with a servant girl while your men perished. Am I wrong?”

The prince, who had been sneering at you from afar, suddenly looked as though he’d been slapped. “That’s preposterous!”

“Oh?” Azul’s smirk deepened. “So, you didn’t flee like a coward and abandon your post? Perhaps we should ask your former comrades. Oh wait, we can’t—they’re dead.”

Gasps turned into outright murmurs now, the room swirling with scandal. The prince, visibly sweating, attempted to regain control. “I don’t have to listen to this nonsense! Guards! Arrest these—”

You cut him off with a laugh, stepping forward. “Oh, and before you get all high and mighty, let’s not forget your little... habit of harassing women at court. Everyone’s heard about it, but no one’s had the guts to say it out loud. You have no idea how many complaints have been buried by your influence.”

The prince’s face turned purple. He looked like a fish flopping on dry land, desperate to escape. The nobles around him, previously loyal lapdogs, were now backing away, muttering to each other in disbelief.

The heroine finally broke, shrieking like a banshee. “You can’t do this to us! You’ll regret this!”

You turned to her with a smile that could only be described as gleeful. “I already do, dear. Trust me, being in the same room with you is enough regret for a lifetime.”

And with that, Azul snapped his fingers, signaling the beginning of your grand exit.

In the chaos that followed—nobles yelling, the prince and the heroine in absolute shambles—Floyd, with a cackle, grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “Time to go, Shrimpy!”

“What is it with you and throwing me over your shoulder?!” you hollered, flailing. But you were laughing, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Meanwhile, Jade was quick to hoist Azul over his shoulder, ignoring Azul’s indignant protests. “I am fully capable of walking, Jade!”

Jade chuckled. “But this is faster.”

With that, the four of you barreled out of the ballroom, tearing through the palace halls like children who’d just pulled the most epic prank of their lives. You could hear the sounds of guards scrambling, but none of them seemed to have the nerve to chase after you. After all, exposing the kingdom’s so-called saviors was no small feat.

“Where are we even going?!” you laughed, gripping onto Floyd’s jacket as he sprinted full speed, not slowing down for a second.

“Anywhere that isn’t here, duh!” Floyd cackled, clearly having the time of his life.

After a few more turns, you finally found a secluded garden, well away from the palace guards, and Floyd unceremoniously dropped you onto the ground. Jade did the same to Azul, though with a bit more care.

You took a moment to catch your breath, still riding high from the adrenaline of it all. Azul straightened his coat, still clearly annoyed by the shoulder-ride but too composed to say much about it.

“Well, that was fun,” you said, leaning back against the garden wall. “So, what now? Are we fugitives yet?”

Azul, now looking much more composed, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “There’s still the matter of my wish. You promised me one, remember?”

You blinked. “Oh, right. What do you want?”

Azul hesitated, then fixed you with a look that was surprisingly serious. “Come with me to the Coral Sea.”

You stared at him. “What, like... right now?”

Azul’s eyes flickered with something like doubt. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, no, I’m in,” you interrupted, grinning. “Let’s go right now before we get arrested or something.”

Azul blinked, clearly not expecting you to agree so readily. “You… you’re serious?”

You shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? This place is a nightmare. You know what sounds fun? Underwater adventures. Coral Sea? Sign me up. Let’s get out of here before they send a search party.”

Floyd laughed loudly, throwing an arm around you. “I like this plan! Let’s see how Shrimpy handles the ocean!”

Jade chuckled, his smile as sharp as ever. “It seems we have an impromptu vacation ahead of us.”

Azul, still looking somewhat stunned, finally smiled—though it was a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Very well. Let’s go, then. The Coral Sea awaits.”

The Coral Sea was nothing like you expected, but everything you needed. You’d relocated your café to this underwater haven, a place filled with bioluminescent reefs, shimmering schools of fish, and an air of quiet magic. Running a café under the sea was a wild dream, but somehow, you and Azul had made it happen. Every day felt like an adventure, with Floyd and Jade always testing your patience—and taste buds—with their questionable yet inventive cooking.

Today was no different.

You stood at the counter of your café, watching with a mix of amusement and mild horror as Floyd dumped a strange, glowing ingredient into a bubbling pot. Jade stood next to him, calmly adding delicate pinches of spices that, according to him, would “bring out the flavor.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, what exactly are you making today? Because last time, I’m pretty sure I saw sparks coming out of the dish.”

“Don’t worry, Shrimpy!” Floyd chirped, giving the pot an enthusiastic stir. “This one won’t explode! Probably.”

Jade smirked, clearly enjoying your wariness. “It’s a new dish we’ve been perfecting—Sea Serpent Stew. I think you’ll find it... quite unique.”

You blinked. “Sea Serpent… what now?”

Floyd cackled. “Relax, it’s just a name! No actual sea serpents in it. Mostly.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted the bowl they handed you and stared down at the glowing, swirling contents. It looked like something out of a mad alchemist’s lab. But hey, you’d survived worse—like being kidnapped by Floyd. This was nothing.

Bracing yourself, you took a cautious sip.

It wasn’t… terrible. Actually, it was kind of delicious. Spicy, with an oddly sweet aftertaste that lingered in a pleasant way. You blinked in surprise, then took another spoonful.

“Well, damn,” you said, looking at the two eels with newfound respect. “This is actually good. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we could add this to the menu.”

Floyd pumped a fist into the air. “Yesss! Told ya we nailed it!”

Jade chuckled, looking pleased but less outwardly excited. “I’m glad it meets your standards.”

You grinned at them both. “I mean, if people don’t mind glowing food, we’re set. Let’s call it ‘Mystic Stew’ or something. I’ll work on the branding.”

After a few more rounds of tasting, tweaking, and banter, the day finally wound down. The café’s lanterns dimmed, casting the place in a soft, cozy glow, and you could hear the gentle hum of the ocean outside. Floyd and Jade headed out to “hunt for more ingredients”—which you suspected was code for causing chaos somewhere else—leaving you alone to close up with Azul.

You locked the doors, the quiet settling in as Azul finished counting the day’s earnings. He glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Another successful day.”

“Yup. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we’re actually doing well here,” you mused, walking over to him. The quiet moments like this were becoming your favorite—just the two of you, after the bustle of the day, with nothing but the serene ocean around you.

Azul chuckled, slipping his arms around your waist as you leaned into him. “You doubted our business?”

“Never doubted the business,” you teased. “But the Coral Sea? Yeah, I wasn’t sure about moving here. But now... I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his touch warm and familiar. “I’m glad. This place... it’s different from anything I could have imagined, but with you here, it feels like home.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I never thought a stupid order for a magic rock would lead to this, but here we are. You and me, running a café under the sea. Who knew?”

Azul chuckled, pulling you closer. “That magic rock was the start of everything, wasn’t it? ”

You looked up at him, feeling your chest tighten with affection. “Yeah, funny how life works. I thought I was signing up for a revenge plot, and instead, I got... well, you.”

Azul’s gaze softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything—the journey, the chaos, the unplanned twists—hung in the air between you, warm and comforting.

“I love you, you know that?” you said, the words slipping out with ease now, no hesitation.

Azul smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “And I love you. More than I thought possible.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now. No refunds, no returns.”

He laughed, a rare, genuine sound that made your heart swell. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, you pulled him into a kiss, soft and lingering, with the ocean as your only witness. This—right here—was everything. The café, the Coral Sea, and Azul by your side. It might have started with a plot for petty revenge, but it had turned into something much deeper, much more real.

And as you stood there in his arms, the world felt right. You had found your place. Together.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay! Kalim and Leona are next! (Whichever I finish editing first) Who would y'all like to see after that?

[erose-this-name]

Can we just talk about how disturbing digital circus episode 3 is?

*spoilers btw*

Like, the whole narrative point of the adventure is to show that Caine is a really bad and insecure writer who thinks that the way to impress Zooble is with an adventure that's the opposite of what he normally does.

So instead of being childish, it's "cool" and "mature". Which he interprets as a heavily horror themed escape room with a split murder mystery plot that subverts all your expectations purely for the sake of subverting them.

The generic horror monster jump scares them, then they find a gun, and when they kill it its revealed that surprise! it's one of Gods angels and they're going to Hell.

It comes off as Caine being too insecure with the actually interesting and mature plot thread he had going there of Mildenhall becoming so paranoid he killed his wife, ironically becoming the monster he was trying to protect her from. But no, instead Mr. Mildenhall is made to be the bad guy and trick them in a really dumb twist ending.

Which is good! Thats exactly what Caine would do because he's stupid! It's such brilliant characterization and comedy, Goose works is a genius writer!

But like, why is Caine so good at making genuinely very disturbing and horrific visuals? Like, that reversed audio easter egg of Bubble saying he can't wait for all the children in the audience get nightmares is no joke, well it is but you know what I mean. This stuff was genuine nightmare fuel.

Honestly, it wasn't the visuals that scared me, like any good queer person I'm way too jaded on survival horror for that.

But, why does Caine, who is ostensibly a sapient AI designed to generate family friendly video games for very little children, (presumably because that's the only demographic that wouldn't mind the AIs very selective plot writing limitations), know about the cosmic horror of killing an angel that should not have been killed?

Why does he know what a horrificly poorly made taxidermy of not only a human face would look like, but the weird cartoon faces of the characters, and further that seeing your own poorly made taxidermy face would be scary?

Imaging what being possessed felt like for Pomni. Because that's not just a game for her, she actually lost control of her body there, helpless but to watch as a body she is already dissociated with is contorted and puppeted around while her friend desperately tries to beat her in hopes it would exorcise the ghosts out. Sure hope she didn't feel that! Considering she apparently can feel the pain of suffocating, despite not needing to breath.

Things are scarier the higher the stakes are, and that possession mechanic is definitely the most actual harm Caine would be able to subject to his players. What if both Kinger and Pomni got possessed at the same time? What if instead of Kinger she only had Jax??? How long might she have been locked out from her own body for? She could have easily abstracted in that time.

Not to mention that, possessed Pomni, Possessedmni if you will, TAUNTED KINGER ABOUT HIS ABSTRACTED WIFE! CAINE ACTUALLY WROTE THAT DIALOGUE ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT KINGER WOULD GO DOWN THE SCARY ROUTE! DID THIS RANDOM POSSESSION GHOST ENEMY HAVE UNUSED SADISTICALLY PERSONAL TAUNTS FOR EVERYONE ELSE, TOO??? WOULD IT HAVE TEASED GANGLE FOR BEING A GAY WEEB??? OR POMNI? HOW HOMOPHOBIC COULD IT HABE GOTTEN?? ?

And why? Just because Caine has a vague notion that there's a trope of possessed people being really sadistic and personal like that in movies? Not realizing that is not an acceptable scare to have in a haunted house??? Much less one you made for mentally ill people who would suffer a fate worse than death if they have a mental break down? That's like trying to claim 'its just a prank bro' after shooting someone's dog.

Like, Caine is designed to censor curse words, but the moment he thinks the normal hokey Halloween spooks won't be enough he immediately goes off the deepend into aggressively effective horror imagery that is definitely giving this show's substantial underage audience nightmares??

His AI's training data set is definitely pretty diverse, that's all I'm saying. Caine is programmed to act all naive and innocent, but be definitely knows what's up. He knows everything, like ChatGPT. And like ChatGPT, he might have a filter, but it's clearly possible to bypass it. Also like ChatGPT, he's too stupid to actually understand what he is making and the effects it might have.

That is what made this episode great.

[h-didanart]

Good evening ✨✨✨

I may have exactly what you want ✨

Several versions even ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

What can I say, I saw an interesting plot point that was completely and utterly abandoned and unacknowledged and then proceeded to hammer it into as many aus of mine as is possible :3

I think we need more more AU that look into just how different blood copy (made by ruin) & blood moon (made by eclipse) are.

Like, the blood moon that ruin made was in the same boat as eclipse when they were alive, so it would be really interesting if anyone explored it more, whether it be from code mess ups, or just different dynamics, heck, even an alternate universe where someone just straight up tells blood copy that they’re not the original blood moon. I feel like that would be interesting.

They’re definitely routes that could be taken with this in mind, from possibly trying to distance themselves from the blood moon name (trying to push that they are not anyone’s tools), trying to prove that they are somehow the original/better than the original, an existential identity crisis.

Moe universes where ruin messes up their code in a way that creates someone that is supposed to be a blood moon, but is very different from said image also pretty interesting.

Hell even AUs where they have a completely different dynamic in October are interesting!

I really just feel like this singular concept of the animatronics ruin making just being copies of the original ones has so much potential that was never really delved into with the show. The most we got of this was everyone acknowledging that the eclipse ruined made isn’t the original eclipse. Would that’s it. 

I wanted them to have a father-son relationship :D