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megalony · 13 days ago

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Another Life Lost- Part 2

Here is the next part of my Buddie x reader imagine, thank you all for the amazing feedback on the first part. I hope you will all like this one.

Please let me know what you think.

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@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Buddie Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Eddie, (Y/n) and Evan want to start a family together, but it doesn't seem to be going the way they planned. And now that they're pregnant, again, (Y/n) is starting to panic. She can't handle another loss.

Enjoy.

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Yanking his shirt over his head, Evan rolled it down towards his hips and clicked his neck into place before he trudged out of the bedroom. He tucked the end of his shirt into the top of his jeans that he snagged a little higher on his hips while he headed into the hall.

When his eyes glanced down to his watch, he clicked his tongue and padded across towards the bathroom.

They needed to set off or they were going to be late.

Evan had a thing for being punctual. He liked to arrive to things either ten minutes early or dead on time, being late wasn't an option.

"Baby, you almost ready to go? Eds is gonna meet us down there, remember?" He rapped his knuckles lightly on the bathroom door and leaned his head to one side as he waited for a response.

They were going to a scan today. It was Evan's day off, but Eddie had a long shift that he couldn't swap. Although, Bobby was gracious enough to let Eddie take an hour off to race down to the hospital, be there for the scan and then head back to the station. Bobby knew both men needed to be there today at the scan. (Y/n) wasn't going to cope on her own and Eddie's head wouldn't be on the job if he had to stay behind while his partners went to their scan.

So far, Bobby was the only one who knew (Y/n) was pregnant, and that was only so Eddie and Evan could tell him when they had appointments that they needed to be there for.

They both knew (Y/n) had begrudged telling Bobby because she didn't want anyone to know yet. She had almost burst into tears when Eddie said that after this scan today, he wanted to tell Chris. They couldn't exactly hide this from him and (Y/n) was going to start showing soon, Chris was bound to find out and he needed to be one of the first to know.

"Baby," His voice rung out in a sing-song tone and a smile danced across his lips as he waited for a response.

"I don't want to."

That wasn't what Evan had been expecting. His smile faded into a frown and a shot of adrenaline dosed through his stomach and wormed right up to his heart that added in three extra beats. The sound of her voice was panicked and Evan knew instantly that she was, or had been, crying.

"What?" He gingerly opened the bathroom door and peeked his head round to try and find his girlfriend and see what she was doing in here.

His eyes landed on (Y/n) almost immediately and his heart stuttered when he took in her state. She was perched on the toilet, arms secured around her waist, body slowly rocking back and forth like she was having some kind of panic attack. And she had tear tracks running down her face and trickling across her chin.

For a moment, Evan clenched his hand down on the door handle and leaned into the frame to support himself. He closed his eyes tight and tensed his neck so much that the back of his head began to ache. A gruff noise croaked at the back of his throat and he shook his head to rid the flashing memories from his mind.

He didn't want to remember the night he woke up to (Y/n)'s voice feebly calling out his name. Evan didn't want to remember seeing her laid on the bathroom floor, blood coating her thighs and hands and towels scattered round her as she tried feebly to hide what had happened.

When he opened his eyes again he sucked in a deep breath and pushed off the door, walking over towards her as he reassured himself that she was okay, at least physically. She wasn't crippled over in agony or screaming that anything was wrong or telling him her stomach was cramping or something bad had happened.

He let himself sink down on the edge of the bath with his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped together between his parted knees.

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to go. If there's n-no heartbeat, I'd rather not know." (Y/n) shook her head and refrained from looking down at her stomach before she unhooked her arms from her waist.

Her hands moved to smother her face and she held her breath, trying in vain to calm herself down and ward off the tears that somehow wouldn't stop.

(Y/n) didn't want another scan. She didn't want anymore scans if there was a chance they would turn out the same as their last one. They were around sixteen weeks. Right in the prime zone for something bad to happen. Again. They were nineteen weeks the first time when (Y/n) lost their first girl. She was twenty-one weeks when they went for a scan and found out it had happened again without any of them knowing.

If that was going to happen again, (Y/n) would rather not go and get that news. She would rather stay home and pretend that everything was fine and wait for the day she collapsed or the cramps she was waiting for finally took over.

Her arms started to tremble when she felt Evan's hands gently curling around her wrists and she felt him leaning so close his breath started to tickle the back of her hands.

He cautiously pulled her hands away from her face and leaned forward so he was within her sights. The broken look in his eyes made (Y/n) whimper, but his smile was etched with sorrow and it made her feel ten times worse. She didn't want to upset him. She didn't want to make either of the boys feel as broken and sad as she felt, especially when the pair of them were trying to be upbeat about this.

The feeling of Evan's thumbs tracing across her wrists and over her pulse made (Y/n) shiver but she couldn't help leaning towards him.

"No, no baby we need this scan, okay? We have to make sure they're okay and everything is going smoothly. There's gonna be a heartbeat because you're both perfectly fine."

He brought her hands close so he could pepper kisses against her knuckles and the touch was calming, but his words weren't having the desired effect.

"No, Evan please-"

"Sweetheart, we can't just not go to a scan. We have to make sure you're both okay, it's just routine, nothing's gonna go wrong."

"It did last time."

The last one was routine. They had gone into the hospital that day expecting to come out with a scan photo and the sound of their daughter's heartbeat. They didn't expect to come out with a scheduled date to end the pregnancy because their baby had been lost.

With a deep breath, Evan ran one hand down his face before he took (Y/n)'s hands in his again. "That was different… those things happen, baby. But not this time, trust me."

He wouldn't let it happen again. Evan didn't know what he would do or how he would prevent it, but he would do anything. He would pray if he had to. But Evan needed this to work out, he couldn't see all three of them break from another loss. They couldn't lose another, they couldn't each be mourning a child.

"I w- I want this to work out," Leaning forward, (Y/n) slumped her cheek onto Evan's shoulder and curled her hands around his arm, pinning it to her chest like it was a calming mechanism.

They wanted kids.

Eddie had Chris who had always been his world, and he wanted more kids. Evan had always wanted kids, he wanted a baby in his arms, a little life to watch grow and help thrive and someone to love and nurture. And (Y/n) wanted a baby with both her men. She wanted to have a baby of her own and have this experience. She didn't see why it wasn't working out so far.

Was there something wrong with her? Was she not supposed to be a mother? Was this a sign? Or could she just not have girls? Would this time work out because she might be having a boy?

"I know, sweetheart, and it will." Evan pressed his lips to the back of (Y/n)'s head and cupped her neck while she continued to cling to his arm. "Which is why we need to go today, hm? Check how bubba is doing, make sure both of you are okay."

He felt the way (Y/n) shivered against him, but Evan could of cried when he realised (Y/n) was nodding into his chest. And when she hummed, he sighed and kissed her head again.

He carefully unravelled his arm from her clutches and moved to hold her hips, helping her up. When (Y/n) bound her arms around his torso and meshed herself into his chest, Evan didn't object. He pressed his flush lips against her temple and reeled her in, cupping the back of her neck and winding his other arm around her waist to hold her close.

His cheek leaned on top of her head and they stayed huddled together for a few minutes until Evan was sure (Y/n) wasn't crying anymore and he could feel her breaths evening out against his chest.

He kept his arm around her waist and kissed the back of her head every now and then as they headed out the bathroom and went to get ready.

(Y/n) tangled her hands together in front of her to stop them from shaking. She could feel the resistence welling up inside of her when they stepped out the front door and headed over to the jeep.

She didn't want to go.

She didn't want to feel like this. They had been a little nervous and apprehensive the second time, but all of them had still been happy to get another chance at having a family together. That appointment ruined everything; it crushed all three of them.

Now all (Y/n) could feel was sorrow and worry and she didn't like it. (Y/n) wanted to go to this appointment- and hopefully more- and feel delighted and excited to see her baby on the screen and see them grow and get closer to having her baby. She didn't like feeling apprehensive and nervous and thinking that the worst was going to happen.

Her hand cradled her head when she sat in the jeep and slid down in her seat so she was slouched down.

She could still see the sorrow in Evan's watering eyes and she could see the hollow, broken expression on Eddie's face when he took Chris to one side to explain what was happening. They shouldn't of had to explain to a ten year old that the baby sister he thought he was going to get had passed away. Eddie shouldn't of had to explain that (Y/n) wouldn't be pregnant anymore.

That was why (Y/n) hadn't wanted to tell him yet, not until they had a few more appointments and knew for definite that nothing was going to go wrong.

"What're you thinking, baby?" Evan's voice was smooth like velvet, as if he too was drifting off into his own world in his mind.

Once they were on the road, Evan reached across and dared to press his palm over (Y/n)'s stomach. Like Eddie had said the other day, they needed to tell Chris after this appointment or he was going to work it out himself. He might see the scan photos the boys would have in their wallets and Evan wanted to pin one to the fridge. Chris would notice (Y/n) rushing off to the bathroom to be sick when she had morning sickness. He had already asked last week if she was okay when he saw her throw up.

He would see (Y/n)'s stomach started to become round soon enough, he would notice the cravings when he saw her eating different things and he would notice both dads being more cautious and careful around her. They had to tell him.

Evan was relieved when (Y/n) didn't brush off his touch and he felt shockwaves rattling down his arm when (Y/n) moved one hand to rest on top of his against her stomach.

"I don't want to know what we're having." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but Evan heard her.

"I think we should."

He managed to look to the right and sneak a glance across at her, but he bit his lower lip when (Y/n) defiantly shook her head and closed her eyes. She seemed to shrink down more in her seat but Evan felt the way she pressed his palm down harder on her stomach. As if she was trying to reassure them both that there was actually a baby there and that they were okay.

"No." She shook her head again and began to glide her thumb over the back of Evan's hand to distract herself from the millions of thoughts rolling around in her head.

(Y/n) didn't want to find out. She didn't want to know if they were having a girl or a boy because it would cement things. Knowing they were having a girl would tell them that this pregnancy wasn't going to work out. But if they had a boy and (Y/n) lost them, then there was no chance of them ever having a baby together. That would prove that being a mother was too much of a challenge for (Y/n) to overcome, and she didn't want to deal with that news.

"Not knowing might worry you, sweetheart. You're already so nervous and it's gonna make you feel sick again. Why don't we find out, hm?"

Evan stroked his fingers across her stomach and moved to squeeze her hip before he slid his hand from her touch so he could change gear and turn off.

He and Eddie had been talking, they were both worried about their girl. They could see (Y/n) was happy about this pregnancy, but she was so panicked too, rightfully so. They wanted her to calm down, they wanted to be able to do something to help her relax and prove that this wasn't going to go wrong again. But they didn't know what they could do or what to say.

They had both agreed to try and do this one day at a time and keep reassuring her and make sure they both looked after her so there was minimal chance of anything going wrong.

"It's a boy… it has to be." (Y/n) looked down at her stomach and dragged her fingertips along her waist while she tilted her head to lean her cheek on Evan's bicep.

She felt the tension running through him but she didn't see the way he bit his lip to distort the flash of pain from his face.

He knew not knowing was going to make (Y/n) paranoid and if Evan was being honest, it would do the same for him. Eddie wasn't superstitious in any sense, but Evan was. He believed in signs and curses and things that couldn't be explained by science. And he knew (Y/n) believed she wouldn't be able to carry a girl.

And he knew that finding out they were having a girl would tip (Y/n) over the edge. But then again, if it was a boy, that would only cement things for (Y/n) that this would be okay.

It was a fifty-fifty chance of either breaking down or calming down and Evan didn't necessarily like those odds. He didn't want (Y/n) to become superstitious during this pregnancy, but he and Eddie both wanted her to be as calm and settled as possible to make sure she and the baby were okay.

"Let's not find out, we'll do this the old fashioned way." Maybe it would be the best way to go.

He reached out for her hand and raised her knuckles to his lips and he felt her squeeze his hand. He had ended that debate quickly to stop an argument and stop them from worrying.

(Y/n) couldn't feel her legs when Evan pulled up in a space and it was time to climb out the jeep. She wanted to keep driving around until every thought faded from her mind and it was time to go back home. When she realised her arms were trembling, she bound them around her waist and tucked herself up into Evan's side as soon as he was standing beside her.

His lips attached to the top of her head and his hand deadlocked on her hip as they headed towards the doors.

"There you are," A lopsided grin spread across Eddie's lips and he tucked his phone into his back pocket when his eyes landed on the pair of them heading his way. "Ready?"

He sucked in a deep breath when Evan rubbed his free hand along the back of his neck and lightly shook his head while his eyes darted down to their girlfriend. She was nervous.

It was written across her face and Eddie's grin faded into a tender, loving smile. His hand fell on Evan's shoulder and he pressed a quick kiss to his lips before he looked down at (Y/n). His fingers pressed beneath her chin, tilting her head up in his direction so he could steal a sweet kiss from her lips.

"It's all gonna be fine."

Evan's arm stayed around her waist while Eddie interlocked her left hand with his and walked on her other side. Being sandwiched between the pair of them made (Y/n) feel safe and protected and she felt like melting down into a puddle between them.

Her eyes trained on the floor and her head leaned on Eddie's arm while she let the pair of them steer her in the right direction. They all knew where they were going, they had been here often enough in the past.

When they signed in, the three of them looked around the waiting room. There were only two other couples waiting, that gave them good odds at being in and out of here- if everything went well.

Eddie ticked his head to the side, indicating to a row of seats but his brows furrowed when (Y/n) shook her head and stayed stood near the wall. She didn't want to sit down. If she sat down she wouldn't have the will to get back up again.

Both of them seemed to understand her plight because Evan's arm stayed looped around her waist and Eddie twisted around to face them both. He rested his left arm high up on the wall just above (Y/n)'s head and leaned over to kiss her temple every now and then. Becoming an effective wall, shielding her from having to look anywhere but at her boys.

The moment her name was called, Evan felt the shiver that rolled through her and he moved his hands down to cup her hips, keeping tight hold of her to try and calm her down.

"Off we go."

(Y/n) deadlocked her hands around Eddie's bicep and pressed her face into his arm while she felt Evan walking close behind her. His hands remained on her hips until they entered the room and when (Y/n) slumped down into one of the chairs and Eddie sat next to her, Evan stood behind them both. He leaned over, his hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders and his lips attached to the back of her head.

"Hi (Y/n), how are you doing?"

"Fine." Her hands fiddled on her lap until Eddie discreetly slid his hand onto her lap and held his palm out towards her. He didn't budge or even blink when (Y/n) began to trace her fingertips along his palm like she was writing secret messages to him. He knew she needed to burn some energy and keep herself occupied.

"Good, are you still having trouble with morning sickness?" The midwife's eyes mostly remained on the computer screen where she was presumably bringing up (Y/n)'s file and jotting notes down.

"A little, but it's okay."

It was manageable, and (Y/n) wouldn't make a fuss or grumble. She didn't care if she threw up all day and night or if this continued right up until labour. As long as she could have this baby, she would bear any cross she had to.

(Y/n) could feel her head swirling from the questions the midwife was asking. It felt like she was trying to prolong this and drag it out to make her feel worse. There seemed to be more questions than last time, but she was glad when Eddie and Evan chipped in every now and then.

"Alright, and you've had no worries, no spotting or pains at all?" The question caused (Y/n) to clench her hand down on Eddie's and she bristled in her seat.

Was the midwife expecting her to lose this baby as well? Was she preparing for the worst case scenario?

She could feel Eddie holding her hand just as tightly and Evan pecked the top of her head, muttering 'breathe' into her hair to try and coax her to stay calm. It was just a question; just a precaution that had to be asked. No one was expecting the worst.

"No."

"That's good. If we can pop you on the scales, take a quick measurement and then we can do the ultrasound." Her smile was understanding and a flash of sympathy crossed her eyes before she got up and motioned to the scales next to the door.

(Y/n) looked between both her men and found Eddie smiling at her with his free hand scratching down the stubble littering his jaw. And Evan ticked his head to the side, silently motioning for her to stand up, he would walk over there with her if she wanted him to.

Anxiety flooded her veins and she couldn't stop from fidgeting, whether it was her feet tapping or her hands drumming against her thighs. Her eyes darted to watch Evan to try and distract herself when she got on the scales and the midwife jotted down the numbers and her height.

Her hands began to tremble when she slowly reeled her shirt up so it bunched beneath her bra. She found herself looking around the room, desperate for something to focus on instead of the midwife who was stood very close in front of her to examine her stomach that hadn't changed that much yet. Her bumpw as barely visible.

She found herself watching Eddie who had suddenly moved from sitting down to leaning against the back of the chair. He had his arms crossed over his chest, one leg stretched out and a calming smile on his face as he nodded at her.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on him while the midwife checked and measured her stomach and her smile suggested everything seemed to be fine.

"Let's take a look then."

Her legs trembled when she slowly trailed behind the midwife towards the bed in the corner of the room. It was a relief to have both boys following behind her, but (Y/n) realised she was trembling rather badly when she got to the bed.

A whimper burned at the back of her throat and she flapped her hand out to the right until she managed to grab Eddie's hand. She reeled his hand close to her chest, unable to stop from stumbling into him while her other hand rapidly pointed towards her eyes. Her expression was stricken and Eddie's brows rose in panic when he noticed how shallow her breathing was and the way she kept squinting up at him.

"C-can't…" Her hand continued to shake in front of her eyes even as Eddie cupped her chin and tilted her head up towards him.

"Amor, it's just a blackout. You need to breathe deeply for me… come on let's sit down."

(Y/n) gasped when Eddie's hands slithered down to cup the back of her thighs and he expertly lifted her up until she was sitting on the bed just behind her. Once she was sat down with her legs swinging back and forth, Eddie cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head up so he could kiss her temple.

The sound of his breathing and the way he held his breath for three seconds at a time encouraged (Y/n) to do the same. And within thirty seconds, the black spots dancing across her eyes started to fade out and all the pixels formed a proper picture again.

"It's okay to be nervous." She didn't realise Evan was so close until she felt his hand stroking across her thigh.

"Perfectly normal, but let's get you lying down and comfortable, it'll help to relax you." The midwife patted her shoulder and smiled when Evan helped swing (Y/n)'s legs up onto the bed.

She did feel a bit better once she was sat up on the bed and she let herself lean back, keeping her shirt tucked into her bra so it was out the way.

Once the gel was on her stomach, (Y/n) grabbed Evan's hand and tugged him closer until he was stood beside her shoulder. She could feel Eddie moving around to stand near her hip, one hand on the bed and the other holding her thigh, squeezing her skin every other second like a mantra to calm them both down.

"I don't wanna look." (Y/n) hated how quiet her voice sounded as she snapped her eyes closed and turned her head towards Evan.

She grimaced when the sonogram pressed into her abdomen and she had to hold her breath to stop from gasping and blacking out again. This was as close as they got last time. Lots of prodding and poking only to be told everything was all in vain.

Her shoulders tensed and pulled up but she felt Eddie firmly pushing her thigh down when he automatically knew she was about to coil her knees up towards her stomach. Evan brought her hand to his lips and ran his free hand up and down her arm to try and coax her to calm down.

He wanted to scream when he saw the panic plastered across (Y/n)'s face and the way she squirmed and grimaced showed how panicked she was. She was expecting something to go wrong and it killed Evan to see her like this and to know that in the back of his mind, he was expecting the same thing.

It seemed too good to be true that they could actually have a baby this time. They had no problems getting pregnant, it was getting through the process where they seemed to hit the bumps in the road.

"And there's baby, right there."

She still couldn't look. Not when Evan tugged on her hand and tried to run his hand up and down her arm again to gain her attention. Not when she heard the little sound Eddie ellicited when he looked at the screen. She didn't want to open her eyes.

"Blood flow is good, placenta is in place… and you've got a very strong heartbeat there. Everything is perfect, (Y/n)."

When she opened her eyes, she found tears distorting her vision and it took another minute to brush them away and manage to see the screen. The heartbeat suddenly flooded the air and made all three of them shake and press together like they thought they were sharing the same dream.

They could all see it. That grey and black outline and the little but steady movement of the heart beating. They could all hear that melodic sound. They could each see that little baby lighting up the screen, curled up perfectly like they were having a little nap.

Their baby was right there, the heartbeat was strong and loud and overpowering. And when (Y/n) felt Evan moving their conjoined hands to brush the side of her stomach, she realised she was smiling through her tears.

It was still early days, none of them could get ahead of themselves just yet, but this was definitely an improvement. Things were progressing smoothly, they had no cause for concern and no reason to panic.

Everything was going in the right direction.

"That's our baby."

***

A quiet hum filled the air as Eddie bustled about the bedroom, opening drawers and stacking the laundry back in place. His head ticked along with the song stuck in the back of his head while he started layering the shirts in order of colour.

He knew Evan. As disorganised as he could bee, there were certain things that Evan liked to have in certain orders. He liked all their plain shirts to be folded in the drawers and in separate coloured piles. He liked their button up and ironed shirts hung up in an order in the wardrobe. Evan liked the bedding to be folded and set in vertical rows in the bed drawer or else he would take them out and reorganise them.

Both (Y/n) and Eddie had learned very quickly how to organise the bedroom so it didn't irritate Evan. They all had their quirks and little ways and all three of them learned their dynamics so they could all help each other.

Eddie continued to hum but as he opened the middle drawer and started to put the pyjamas away, a smile flickered across his lips. He stopped humming and paused what he was doing when he felt a pair of hands on his waist.

His smile broadened when he felt (Y/n)'s hands slither around from his waist so her arms were encircled around his torso with her hands pressing against his abdomen. He couldn't help the way he shivered when she pressed her face into his back between his shoulder blades and he could feel each soft breath she took.

"Hi baby." He leaned back into her a little more so he could finish putting the pyjamas away and when he shut the drawer, he remained in place.

His hand reached down to rub up and down the back of (Y/n)'s hand but when he didn't receive a response, Eddie craned his head over his shoulder to try and get a peek at her. She was breathing softly into his shirt which told him she wasn't upset or annoyed or seeking something in particular.

"You okay, amor?" He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and waited to see if she needed anything.

"Hm."

"Good." He felt the way she sighed softly into his shirt and it made him wriggle in her arms at the touch. He waited another moment before he turned and slowly walked towards the bed to grab the rest of the washing while (Y/n) stayed attached to his back like a baby monkey.

Her arms stayed deadlocked around his waist and she twisted her face so her cheek was pressed against his back rather than her whole face. When Eddie leaned over, (Y/n) leaned with him and he grinned when he felt her press into him a little more until her bump was pressed between them.

When he was done with the washing, Eddie gave her hand a final squeeze before he turned around in her arms. His head tilted to one side and he narrowed his eyes when he looked down at her. There was something behind (Y/n)'s eyes that made his heart quicken; he wasn't sure what it was, but it made him worry.

His hands reached down and gently cupped her face so he could tilt her head back, allowing him to look down at her properly. While (Y/n)'s arms stayed around his torso with her palms now pressing into his back like she was keeping him pressed up against her in case he tried to pull away.

"What's up baby?" His thumbs swiped across her cheekbones and beneath her eyes while he darted his eyes up and down her frame as if checking for injuries or any distress signs.

"I…" She swallowed deeply and darted her eyes down. She didn't want to say it.

Her lips rolled together into a thin line and her eyes stayed focused on Eddie's chest until he gently tilted her head back a bit more and swooped down to steal a kiss. The touch took her by surprise but the feeling of his warm lips on hers distracted her from all the thoughts rushing around in her head.

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds when Eddie finally pulled back and let her catch her breath. When she looked up at him, she saw one of those heartwarming smiles on his face, one that always managed to reassure her in any situation.

The look in his eyes was silently telling her to talk. She knew he wouldn't judge or laugh or roll his eyes at anything she said or asked him, but she still felt nervous about what she wanted to say.

Her eyes trained down on his chest again while she unravelled her arms from his torso so she could reach up to hold his wrists where his hands were still cupping her face.

Intrigue flooded Eddie's eyes as he watched (Y/n) pull his hands away from her face, but she stayed standing close enough to him that their breaths mingled together. He watched intently as (Y/n) lowered his hands down until both palms were cupping her stomach. Eddie took a deep breath, unable to stop himself from stepping closer until he was pressing into her bump and his thumbs gently stroked up and down her skin over her top.

"I- I haven't felt anything, for a while. Check them… please?"

The look in Eddie's eyes softened like melting chocolate and his smile broadened when (Y/n) had been expecting him to laugh or shake his head and tell her she was being silly.

The quiet "Okay," that he murmured against her temple made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter with adrenaline and she squeezed his wrists.

He didn't want her to worry. If she asked him to check on the baby then that's what Eddie would do. There was nothing silly about why (Y/n) was panicking and Eddie knew if it would calm her down, he would always take a look and try to check on the baby for her.

His hands stayed firmly on her stomach and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when Eddie suddenly started to walk her backwards. She kept her hands on his forearms and slowly shuffled back until she felt the end of the bed behind her knees and Eddie nudged her to sit down.

Her head tilted to one side, curiosity burning within her eyes as she watched Eddie tower over her and she felt his hands moving along her skin. He scrunched his fingers up in her shirt- which he knew was one of Evan's lounge shirts- and started to tug.

"This is in the way," He murmured against the shell of her ear, pulling back just enough to pull the shirt over her head. He tossed it somewhere on the bed behind her and moved his hands down to her stomach that was now exposed to his prying eyes.

Eddie nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s, angling her head just right so he could kiss her lips.

(Y/n) shuddered when she felt Eddie's lips leave hers and peck the corner of her mouth, then the tip of her jaw. Her arms trembled from the shiver that tore down her spine when Eddie grazed his teeth across her neck like he was debating whether to bite down and leave a mark or not.

He seemed to decide on leaving a tiny mark before he switched to leaving hollow, open-mouthed kisses down her skin as his hands gripped her thighs and he crouched down.

She pressed her knees into his chest as Eddie crouched down in between her thighs with his hands periodically squeezing her thighs like he was reminding himself of something or trying to keep some sense of control.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do with her hands so she settled for dancing them across Eddie's shoulders, with her head tilted to one side as she watched him start to move. His hands left her thighs and travelled up to her stomach like he had just remembered she had asked him to do something. To check on the baby.

He started to press the heel of his hands around her bump that was finally starting to round out and get into shape. They'd never gotten past this stage before. This was as much as her stomach had ever changed. (Y/n) seemed to just start to show and get a proper shape, and then things went wrong. She just started to feel kicks and movements and wriggles and then it was all gone and she was left empty and hollow.

She liked the way both Eddie and Evan seemed to reach out for her stomach during the night now. She was getting used to waking up with either a hand or a protective arm draped over her bump.

"They're lying properly," Eddie whispered and leaned forward to kiss the centre of her bump. "Head is over here… so we should feel some kicking round here."

He pressed his fingertips around a little more and circled the area where he felt the feet were. He pressed his lips over her stomach before his hands shifted to press down into the mattress either side of her hips so he could push himself up. He hovered between her thighs again, leaning up enough so he could steal her lips away in another tender kiss.

Whenever (Y/n) started to get nervous, Eddie would make a show of checking how the baby was laid and waiting with her until she finally felt them wriggling or felt a kick. He knew that last time (Y/n) hadn't felt or noticed anything go wrong and that had come as a great shock to find out the baby had passed when she felt fine.

Now that they were starting to feel movements, (Y/n) panicked any time she hadn't felt anything for a while. It was understandable and Eddie and Evan would calm her down any time she panicked, like today.

"Still hasn't moved," (Y/n) looked down at her stomach and danced her fingertips over the side of her stomach.

Usually when Eddie started to prod around and check on the baby, it made (Y/n) nervous and fuelled with adrenaline and it got the baby moving. That was all she wanted. She just wanted the baby to constantly move and kick or just make a little tiny movement so she knew they were okay and all three of them could be reassured.

Eddie's fingers pressed beneath her chin so she was once again looking up at him.

"Since when?" There was no annoyance or irritation in his tone, only love. And it made (Y/n) feel calm. He wasn't annoyed that she was asking him again and he wasn't telling her she was being silly for getting worried.

"Before dinner, it's been a while."

"Okay, stay there." His lips pecked her temple before he got to his feet and headed out the room.

(Y/n)'s eyes followed him as he left the room and her hands danced across her stomach while she wondered what he was up to. He had vanished from the room to go and get something or to go and do something, but (Y/n) wasn't sure what he was thinking. Usually they waited around for the baby to move. Maybe he was going to grab a drink, sometimes cold water made the baby liven up.

The nerves in her chest ignited again when she watched Eddie waltz back into the room with a grin on his face and a stethoscope hanging around his neck like a chain.

"Let's double check."

(Y/n) wasn't sure why they had a stethoscope in the medical cupboard but she figured one of the boys had brought it home from work. God knows Eddie and Evan were always getting into accidents and getting colds so it was handy to have that around the house for those little emergencies.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) leaned back and planted her hands down behind her on the bed to prop herself up. Her head tilted to the right and her eyes stayed intently zoomed in on Eddie as he crouched between her thighs again and took the time to kiss her stomach.

She loved how calm and collected he was and how he looked like he was a medic on shift again when he set it in his ears and moved the stethoscope around (Y/n)'s stomach.

She couldn't help but reach one hand out to run the pad of her finger across his freshly shaved jaw when his head tilted to one side. He looked like he was in the zone in his own little world and the hint of a smile on his face made (Y/n) want to drag him up to her and kiss him. But the way his smile brightened and pushed up into his cheeks made her hold her breath.

She watched as Eddie carefully unhooked the stethoscope from his ears and reached up to set them in hers instead.

"Nice and strong, don't you think?"

There it was. (Y/n) could hear it. That steady drumbeat that sounded like someone tapping on the window, periodically thumping away like the best song they had ever heard.

"Probably just having a nap, nothing to worry about, mi amor." Eddie's free hand moved to cradle the side of her bump and he leaned up to peck her lips again.

"He's okay."

"Baby, it might not be a boy." The warning tone in Eddie's voice made (Y/n) shiver and take a sharp breath as he reached over her and took the stethoscope from her ears after a minute. He couldn't resist from having another listen but that warning look of one brow arched and his lips pursed stayed on Eddie's face. Even while he reached over to slump the stethoscope on the bedside table.

(Y/n) cast her eyes down while she shuffled back on the bed until she was sat in the middle with her legs stretched out and her eyes focused on her lap.

She thought Eddie would of carried on wandering around the room, tidying up like he had been doing before she distracted him. But she was surprised to find him crawling onto the bed with her- more specifically, on top of her.

His knees pressed down into her hips so he was hovering over her lap with her effectively trapped beneath him. And he sank back on his heels while his hands reached out to cup her face and he leaned over, meshing his chest down into hers so he could snatch a kiss.

"I wouldn't get this far if it was a girl."

The broken look that filtered across (Y/n)'s eyes tore at something in his chest and his hands tensed against her face as he kissed her, swallowing her words like he wanted to snatch them from her mind. (Y/n) felt his tongue tracing her lower lip and the way his chest tensed and pressed down into hers.

They were twenty-three weeks along now. This was the furthest they had gotten and (Y/n) couldn't help but believe that was because they might be having a boy. Sometimes it felt as if her body knew the boys were desperate for a daughter and therefore evicted any girls she tried to have.

"Mi amor I told you, me and Buck are gonna take good care of you. We might have a girl in here, but even if it is a boy, nothing bad is gonna happen this time. I swear. Okay?"

(Y/n) nodded quickly and moved her hands to cup his wrists, tracing her thumbs over the back of his hands while she grazed her teeth along his lower lip.

Whatever this baby was, (Y/n) had to keep them safe.

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #buck x eddie #buddie x reader #another life lost

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themoonistalkingtou · 9 months ago

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Pick a pile: What will the personality of your next partner be like + songs ⁺◦

Disclaimer: These readings are not professional, I use my intuition + tarot and a translator because English is not my native language! Choose the pile that resonates with your intuition ♥︎ you can choose more than one if you like. Your partner have neutral pronouns! sorry if some paragraphs are longer than others!

Pile 1 — Pile 2

Pile 3 — Pile 4

Pile 1:

Knight of wands, 6 of swords reversed, Temperance

They like to live adventures and are impulsive. Furthermore, they like stimulation, although one must be careful as they have unresolved issues from their past which can cause difficulties. However, they are still able to remain calm and find harmonious solutions when problems arise in the relationship since they are capable of putting themselves in your place.

"With you, chaos is ordered in harmony"

Pile 2:

9 of swords, the hermit, the empress reversed

They are a very lonely and anxious person. Additionally, they are quite shy initially. Furthermore, it is difficult for them to integrate into groups as they do not easily express their feelings. Instead, they are someone quite reflective who thinks a lot before acting. Gradually, they will start to open up emotionally, though they do this with only a few people.

"Resolve with your tenderness my secrets"

Pile 3:

3 of swords reversed, the devil reversed, 8 of cups reversed

They are mature and, while they had ex-partners before, they have overcome them and are ready to commit to a relationship. Specifically, they have accepted their pain and want to move forward. Namely, they know that being in a relationship is not easy but they will do their best to make it prosper. Notably, they demonstrate a lot of security and dedication to the couple as they are not afraid of commitment for a worthy cause. Essentially, they have freed themselves from many things and do not flee from conflicts, instead, they are willing to face everything so that the relationship succeeds.

"What used to tie me down no longer stops me, my heart is yours"

Pile 4:

King of cups, king of wands, the sun

They are a very compassionate, sensitive and happy person. In addition, they dedicate a lot to the couple and can understand the feelings of others. Also, they are very fun and dynamic. Moreover, they are meticulous and spread their good mood to people around them. Likewise, they are good at giving advice to people and have a lot of leadership presence as they radiate light and warmth.

"With you, life taste like colors"

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it.

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add.

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it.

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic.

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob.

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself.

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions.

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse.

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride.

If only it was that easy to fool himself.

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest.

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it.

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings.

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t.

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation.

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party.

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere.

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here.

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation.

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him.

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt.

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back.

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write something about reader having an ED and Harry doesn’t notice at first but then starts to notice And then eventually helps you through it?

Try To Find a Way Back

trigger warning: mentions and direct references to eating disorders. please be cautious if you find this topic triggering

so, i don't know a ton about eating disorders and what it's like for someone who has one to be actively struggling with it, and writing about something i don't completely understand makes me nervous bc i don't want to get it wrong. however, since you asked, i'm going to do my best to write this!

in case anyone is curious, this is the article i referenced while writing

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"I just don't understand what her issue is. If I was in her shoes, I'd get help. It's that simple."

"I don't know if—"

"I mean, it's not like struggling with eating makes her special. Like, everyone has body image issues and we just deal with it. Harry will probably break up with her because of all the reassurance she needs. Poor guy probably didn't know what he got himself into when he asked her out. God what a headache for him."

You backed up slowly, not wanting to hear the conversation that was so clearly about you anymore. You'd gone to grab drinks for yourself and who you thought were your friends, but now your hands were shaking so hard you worried the contents in the two wine glasses would come spilling out, glass shattering to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, bile rising in your throat. Finding the nearest server walking around with an empty tray and, you set the glasses down before booking it out of the club.

Tears were already starting to pool in your eyes as you ordered an Uber to take you home. Phoebe was one of Harry's friends, but she'd been kind to you since the day he introduced you to her and the rest of his close knit group of friends he'd had for years. You'd been incredibly nervous. You were an outsider, not a model or a writer or a musician or an actor. You weren't extraordinarily talented or beautiful, you were just...you.

None of that seemed to matter to Harry, though. He'd been nothing but flirtatious since the moment he met you. Well, once he was able to look past his nerves. He'd been a bit of a stuttering mess at first, and it wasn't until an hour into talking to him where he really got comfortable enough to flirt, and flirt he did.

It took not one, not two, but three tries to get you to go out with him, your insecurities getting in the way the first two times. But that had been a few months ago, and now you were pretty sure you were in love with him, except now you knew his friends hated you.

She doesn't understand, you thought. It isn't so black and white. You would love to just fix yourself, to make yourself see a doctor, seek help. But eating disorders were a behavioral disease, and when you were in the thick of it, it was hard to shake. You'd told Phoebe about your struggles with your weight and eating disorder in confidence, thinking she was someone you could confide in, only to find her mocking your pain behind your back to someone else, and now you didn't know what to do.

Your phone buzzed with a text message, and you tensed when you saw who it was from.

Bubbie: hey where'd you run off to?

You: not feeling well. heading home

Bubbie: why didn't you say anything? let me take you home

Wiping away a tear, you typed out a text. In most cases, being around Harry would've brought you comfort, but right now, you just wanted to be alone. You couldn't let him see you like this, so unsteady.

You: it's ok. enjoy your first night back with your friends. kissies xx

*.*

You'd been avoiding Harry for the last week and a half. Phoebe's words sent you into a bit of a tailspin, and shame kept you from speaking to him, not wanting to involve him in your issues. Because you realized Phoebe was right. To some extent. You should've been able to ask for help, you should've been able to tell Harry how much you were really struggling, but your shame kept you from reaching out to anyone or asking for help, along with the desire to keep up your habits, which created a toxic cycle.

"It seems like this boy is doing you more harm than good, honey," your mom said over the phone. She was the only one you told about what you overheard Phoebe say.

"He's not the problem, Mom. I just—"

"You were doing so well up until you started seeing him. I just don't want you to slip again. I worry about you, and if being with that boy is causing you problems, then you need to look at the bigger picture."

Her heart was in the right place, it really was. Your mom had been there for a lot of your darkest moments and was rightfully protective of you and your health. But Harry really wasn't the problem. He'd never made you feel like you needed to change your body for him, it was quite the opposite in fact. He constantly praised the way you looked, and not because you needed reassurance or asked him to, despite Phoebe's assumptions. He just really thought you were beautiful.

"I can't just live my life alone, Mom," you said eventually, not wanting to admit more. "He makes me happy."

You heard your mom sigh, but she thankfully didn't press the matter further, even though you knew she had lots to say. She always had lots to say where your boyfriend was concerned. The last thing she said on the matter was, "Just...be careful."

Once you hung up the phone, you fell back against your bed for a few minutes before standing up and walking to your kitchen. A trip to the grocery store was in order, just based on the meager items in your pantry and refrigerator—pasta and no sauce, cereal but no milk, veggies but they weren't organic, and did you really need the family size bag of Doritos—

You took a breath, willing those thoughts away. You were fine. You were just upset about what Phoebe had said about you, nothing more. "It's just the grocery store," you murmured. "You go all the time."

*.*

The grocery store had never looked bigger. There were too many labels, too many colors, too many brands making promises of health and wellness. Your hands gripped the shopping cart until your knuckles were white, eyes wide as you carefully browsed the aisles. Everyone else was going about their business just fine. You watched as people grabbed what they needed with ease, scratching items off their lists and moving into the next thing.

How did they know which bread to buy? How did they decide on a cereal? Whole grain or multi grain? They didn't even look at the nutritional facts before putting something in their carts, didn't stop to do the math, counting calories and carbs and grams of sugar against what they already had. How could they just exist without caring about—

Your phone buzzing pulled you from your anxiety-riddled thoughts. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your oversized zip-up, Harry's face popping up with the notification that he was calling you.

"H—Hello?"

"Hey, you! I feel like I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd call and check in."

You smiled, despite the anxiousness that still had your shoulders tensed. "Sorry, I've been...busy."

"God, me too," Harry said woefully. "But I've let work get in the way far too much this week. I need to see you. Are you free tonight? I can come over and make dinner for the two of us."

The word dinner filled you with dread. That wasn't a good idea right now. The idea of anyone seeing you eat, even Harry, felt terrifying. But what could you do? Saying no would involve having to explain yourself, and you wanted to do that even less.

"I'd love to," you said, all that anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah? You're in for a treat, I happen to be a fabulous cook."

"Can't wait."

You couldn't even feel excited to see Harry. The dread of having to sit through dinner took up too much space in your mind. You tried to will it away. You liked Harry too much to let your mind get in the way of messing up the good thing you had going.

*.*

A few weeks later, and you were at Harry's house for dinner again, only this time it wasn't just the two of you.

Your date with Harry went better than expected. You picked at your food and pushed it around, shame eating away at you as you lied through your teeth about not feeling very well when Harry asked why you'd hardly eaten anything. He'd been so sweet, making you a cup of tea, laying down with you on his couch to soothe your fake stomach ache, kissing the top of your head and rubbing a hand over your stomach comfortingly.

You felt horrible for lying to him, and you very well couldn't come clean after the fact, but it was better than talking about it. The less you talked about it, the better.

Tonight, you'd been carefully picking at your food again, making sure to take bites that were big enough to look normal and trying not to look like it was making you physically unwell. Each bite was excruciating, your mind telling you not to eat anymore and that you could never exercise all those calories away. It was all you could do to not focus on all the ways you knew how unhealthy this dinner was. It didn't match at all with your diet journal and you'd have to make up for it by—

"—just so hard, don't you think, Y/n?"

"Huh?"

Phoebe smiled at you, but it didn't feel very friendly. You'd avoided talking to her all night so far, had even taken the farthest seat away from her at the table.

"We were talking about how hard it is to live here in LA," she said, gesturing vaguely to the people around her. "It feels like there's a new diet trend every week, and it's just so hard to lose weight while not looking completely anorexic—"

"Phoebe," Harry said tightly, cutting her off before she could finish.

Your grip was tight on your fork, unable to meet anyone in the eye. Did they know? You'd been careful tonight, and any of the other times you'd seen Harry or his friends recently. You didn't want their pity or their questions or their judgement. Nothing would've been worse than the disappointed look on Harry's face, or the look of disgust if he discovered the truth.

That still wasn't enough to stop, though.

"What? I didn't mean to be offensive. I'm just saying how hard it is to get to that perfect size. Y/n knows what I'm talking about. God, I feel like I can taste every calorie I eat, can't you, Y/n?"

"I—Not really," you said meekly. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now, especially since it felt like you could feel everything you'd eaten tonight, every single bite, sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

"God, I wish I could just throw it up, you know? Then I could eat whatever I want and not feel guilty about it. No more diets, no more counting calories, I could—"

"That's enough," Harry said, voice sounding harder than you'd ever heard it. He glared at Phoebe, whose mouth was still open from stopping mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide with shock as she tried to justify her conversation topic.

"Excuse me," you murmured to Harry, standing up on shaking legs to step away from the table.

"Y/n—"

"I just need to use the restroom," you said, trying your best to talk around the lump in your throat.

You went upstairs to one of the guest bathrooms where you wouldn't be disturbed, though you locked the door to the toilet for good measure. Panic and guilt and self-loathing swirled through you, tears burning your eyes.

For weeks, you told yourself you had it under control. Your behavior was strict, but not worrisome. And effective, too, but that only made guilt and shame mingle with the feeling of success. Your jeans were loose, but you took to wearing baggy clothes so no one would notice. The scale in your bathroom got lower, but it never seemed low enough. Your stomach was taught, rib cage starting to poke through skin, but that just made you feel even worse about yourself and how quickly things escalated. It was a neverending cycle, but as you continued to lean over the toilet, you told yourself it would be just this once. Just this once and you wouldn't do it again. Just this once—

"Y/n? Can you let me in?"

Tears fell harder when you heard his voice. You couldn't let him see you like this. You couldn't face the humiliation, how disappointed he'd be when he realized—

"Y/n, open the door, or I'll break it down, I swear to God," Harry said with urgency in his voice.

Wiping your eye and then your mouth, you stood up, trembling as you turned the lock. You opened your mouth, unsure if an apology or an explanation would come tumbling out of your lips. But Harry pulled you to his chest before you could say a thing. You couldn't help the sobs that wracked your body as he held you up. His hand held the back of your head fiercely, but not harshly, the other one pushing you as close to him as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've said something sooner. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't realize—I never should've—I'm so sorry."

You didn't find out what Harry thought he shouldn't have done because he rested on top of your head, kissing you repeatedly. He squeezed you so tight, as if he worried you would slip away if he didn't. You couldn't focus on anything else but your own emotions, too ashamed at being caught and guilty for having slipped so far in the first place.

"I was okay," you sobbed. "I thought I was okay. I thought—I thought I could control it."

Harry finally leaned away from you, just enough so he could hold your face in his hands and look you in the eye. "This is not your fault. Do you understand? It's not your fault."

More tears streamed down your face, but Harry's thumbs were there to wipe them away. His eyes roved over your face, searching for something, but you didn't know what. Eventually, he said, "There's so much I want to say, but I think for now...I think you should rest."

You agreed, so you didn't try to object. You were exhausted, just wanted the whole evening to evaporate into thin air. You didn't even care if Harry's friends were still in the house or not, you just wanted all the thoughts in your head—the ones still screaming at you to finish what you started and the ones begging you to let Harry help—to stop.

"I just want it to stop," you mumbled.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, breathing in deep. "I know."

*.*

"You're doing so well, love."

It didn't feel like it. In fact, you felt the exact opposite of well. But Harry was holding your hand as you walked through the aisles of the grocery store, his encouragement pushing you to take each step. "I don't think I can do this today."

"What did your eating disorder say to make you think that?" Harry murmured, causing you to grumble under your breath, but it did the trick. You took another step and grabbed the jar of pesto off the shelf.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since you came back from the treatment facility, he talked about your eating disorder as if it were a separate person, like it was a little devil with red horns talking over your shoulder and not a disease. It grated on your nerves at first because it made you feel like he was talking down to you, and because he was right. Your eating disorder had been the voice in your head and making you make unhealthy decisions. How he saw it first, you had no idea, you were just thankful he was still here, still with you on your road to recovery.

The trip to the grocery store took longer than it probably should've, especially since you only needed a couple things. But the minute you stepped inside, your body tensed up as you took everything in. It was a struggle not to turn packages over to read the nutritional facts, and even harder to put things in your cart. Today was re-introducing day, which meant eating a meal that had foods you'd actively avoided in the past. It scared the shit out of you, which was why Harry was here.

He'd been incredible, more patient than other people would be. He put up with your mother's harsh words when she blamed him for your relapse, he was there every day he was allowed to visit, and he picked up every phone call when you eventually came home. Whether it was to talk you down or talk about random things that came into his head to distract you from dangerous thoughts, he was there.

You honestly didn't know what you did to deserve him.

"How can I help?" Harry asked when you came to another stop.

"Do we really have to buy the parmesan cheese?" you asked, eyeing the aisle filled with various cheeses with a queasy stomach.

"I think you can do it," Harry said, not entirely answering the question. "I can tell you a story while I put it in the cart for you, if that helps."

"Okay," you said, not really sure if it would.

"Right, let me think for a moment," Harry said, mostly to himself. "Oh. Got it! Okay, so one time I went on this blind date, right? And I normally don't like them because my friends seemed to think I can't function without a partner, which is horribly embarrassing, and I normally have a horrible time, but I went to the bar I agreed to meet this person at, and—"

"What? You hated it?" you asked. Part of you thought it was weird that Harry was talking about a date with someone else, but it was doing its job.

Harry raised his brows at you. "I talk, you push."

You rolled your eyes, but pushed the cart another inch, trying to focus on his voice and not where you were headed.

"As I was saying, I get to the bar, and I'm like, holy shit, because I see the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life, and as I go over to talk to her, someone calls out to me, and I realize the girl I saw wasn't who I wasn't supposed to go on a date with, it was someone else. But I can't just ditch this other girl even though I'm dying to just go over to the girl by the bar, so I stay put and try to engage in conversation and laugh when I think I'm supposed to, but I just—All I could think about was the girl in this cute little mini skirt and vest and what was making her laugh so damn much."

"Mini skirt and vest...at a bar...Wait, you don't mean—You were on a blind date when we met?"

The bar in question wasn't one you frequented. It was an upscale one, and you went because your friend dragged you inside, curious to see if she could get any CEOs to buy her a drink, and you...you were just there to make sure your friend got home okay. But somehow you bumped into Harry, though now you supposed you knew why.

"Not technically," Harry said. "The date was over when I walked up to you, and, well, you know the rest. I charmed the pants off you."

You snorted. "That's not what happened."

You'd known who Harry was when before he introduced himself, it was kind of hard not to. You'd seen music videos and heard his songs on the radio and seen him on your TV more than a handful of times, but it was definitely surprising to see him in person, especially because on screen he seemed so chill and cool and cute, the Harry you met was cute, but he could hardly get a word out.

"Nonsense. I remember it differently," Harry said with a sniff.

"You were so nervous it was so cute," you said, wrapping your arms around one of his while he took a turn with the cart.

Kissing the top of your head, he said, "If that's how you want to remember it, fine. But I do remember talking to you for hours and feeling like no time had passed at all. We closed down the bar, do you remember?"

"Mmhm," you said, nodding against his shoulder. "And then you tried to take me home."

"Can you blame me? I met the girl of my dreams, I couldn't just let you leave."

"You mean that?" you asked, looking up at him.

With everything you'd been through recently, it surprised you to know Harry was still with you. This battle you were fighting was lifelong, and you wouldn't have blamed him for leaving somewhere down the line. You loved him, and it would've hurt like hell, but you would've understood. But he never did, and every time you asked him about it, he just said he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

"I do," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You did it, love."

"What?" Raising your head off his shoulder, you looked around. You were at checkout, all the items you and Harry set out to buy today sitting in your basket. "We did it."

"You did it, Y/n. I'm so proud of you."

Relief rushed through you. It was one hurdle, just one, but each one was a victory, and Harry was there to help you celebrate each one. It was too public to kiss him, even though you felt the urge to, so you squeezed his hand and kissed the top of it instead.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he said, taking you by surprise when he tilted your chin up for a brief kiss. "You ready to check out?"

Anxiety filled your belly once more as the weight of your situation bore down on you once again. Squeezing Harry's hand again, you shook your head.

Harry wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side. The warmth emanating from him was a comfort, and you breathed in deep, letting the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent flood your senses to distract you.

"Don't listen to the disease, Y/n. Listen to me, okay? How about another story?"

You nodded. "Please."

"You're going to be alright, Y/n, I promise," he said.

And maybe you didn't believe him completely now, but you trusted him enough to believe it for you until you did.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #hs angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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weasleyreidstyles · 8 months ago

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Serendipity Headcannons; Mattheo Riddle

series masterlist

A glimpse into our main boy's life leading up to sixth year (where Serendipity kicks off) – eventually going to do them for each character (the ones who are a constant in the series), except meadow since that's more reader-centric but let me know who i should do next (this is me putting off writing chapter 17 because its making me want to rip out my hair)

It actually ended up being so long (i got carried away) that i'll have to do a separate post for the nsfw😏 hcs that i also wrote down - if that's something that people want to see of course

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of parental death, menions of torture and abuse (tried to make this as mild as possible), allusions to self harm (literally one bullet point), mentions of blood supremacy/cannonical pureblood madness, mentions of alcohol consumption/drug use, mentions of being sick (sorry fellow emetaphobes), allusions to an ED

Obviously he's Voldemort's son (its a known fact; when his name was called shortly after Harry's during the Sorting Ceremony, people immediately began to fear him for his last name – avoided him in corridors and older students were horrible to him)

His mother died when he was born, so he never got to meet her. But she had loved Tom Riddle with all her heart, despite knowing what kind of person he was (I like the tom hughes fancast for an older version of him – TikTok editors have me influenced)

When he failed to kill baby Harry, Theodore Nott's mum took it upon herself to care for Mattheo (who was only several months older than Harry at the time) – she was close friends with Matt's mum

They may not be related by blood, but Matt considers Theo to be his brother as well as his best friend

Mattheo's childhood (up until he was eight) was relatively acquiescent, but obviously being the heir to the Dark Lord comes with its own traumas – he was plagued with nightmares he swears were real conversations with his father

When Theo's mum died, his father wasn't the nicest to either of the boys; they both grew to resent him – the man either ignored them, shouted at them or beat them senselessly (to build character)

They had a Governess in the years after Theo's mum died, so that they'd be well ahead of their peers once they got to Hogwarts - also a way to keep them out of Theo Nott Senior's way

During his sorting, the hat immediately placed him in Slytherin, but it wasn't as quick to choose, like it was with Draco or Blaise.

Harry had unconsciously made him public enemy number one when he found out who he was (I mean his dad did kill Harry's parents so) as well as Draco and co

Mattheo doesn't believe in the blood supremacy that is spouted around pureblood families – has never used 'mudblood' to insult anyone (draco take notes fr) – but thats only due to theo's mother and the way she raised her boys – also it would be so hypocritical because he's a halfblood (i think, idk the twisted lore of purebloods too deeply)

Professor Quirrell took a particular interest towards Mattheo (his dad was literally playing house on the back of the guys head)

He found out that Quirrell was Voldemort (?) pretty quickly when the Dark Mark was burned onto his left forearm – something that continuously happened in his nightmares so he thought he was in one when it happened

Partly why he didn't say anything – he was also weary that no one would believe him

He tried everything to get it off his skin – burning, scratching, spelling, even carving it out, but nothing worked. The Dark Mark was engraved onto his arm like it had buried itself within the very cell structure of his skin

He didn't gain as much attention as Harry did in first year. He went practically under the rader after the first couple of months, only interacting with his small group of friends (Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Pansy) and competing for the top academic spot in class – when Theo's father found out that both boys were being beaten for first place by a muggleborn (go Hermione!), he used the cruciatus curse on both of them - moreso on Theo :(

Second year was a completely different story however

When the Chamber of Secrets opened, people whispered that he could be the heir of Slytherin (because his father is literally Voldemort so technically they weren't wrong) and he didn't go as unnoticed as before

He developed a thick skin towards the insults and returned them with steely looks that sent people scurrying the other way

He began physically fighting some people when his restraint snapped at times though – he didn't have a way to relieve the tension from all the agression at this point

The only people who spoke to him with no fear were his friends

When the first student was petrified, he was brought into Dumbledore's office for questioning

During the dueling session, he watched in awe as Harry spoke to the snake but didn't dare say a word

He was the only one in his group that didn't bad mouth Harry at this time or call him the 'heir of Slytherin'

He's actually really smart (not at Ancient Runes though lol) and is among one of Professor Flitwick's favourite students

When Harry and Ron posed as Crabbe and Goyle you (Meadow) had posed as Pansy and he had thought it was strange to see her with the two of them, but she had a small crush on Draco in first and second year so he brushed it off as her trying to impress his friend

But he knew it wasn't her when Draco had mentioned Hermione (calling her a mudblood) and 'Pansy' had gone deathly still

He's been skilled at Occlimency for as long as he can remember, as has Theo. But Mattheo has a certain affinity (he calls it a curse) for hearing people thoughts without even uttering the spell – also why he's so good at preventing people like Dumbledore from using it on him

Wasn't aware of his father's diary being used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets, but at one point he heard the whispers in the pipes and vehemently ignored it until it eventually stopped (big mistake, cus voldy holds grudges very well)

Once Ginny was rescued from the Chamber, he felt incredibly guilty even though he literally had no control of the situation – sent her an 'anonymous' gift basket as an apology (he knew it would never make up for what happened to her, but he hoped it would at least make her smile) – it did, she thought it was a gift from dumbledore though

One of the only times he was even a little kind to the Golden Trio and their friends

The summer after second year was hellish for him and Theo

The basilisk was obviously meant to kill Harry so Theo Nott Senior was angry that his master's big plan had failed (2 years running🤝)

Third year was more mild than the last (thank God, honestly)

Mattheo had made it onto the quidditch team now that half of them had left the year before

He's a beater and proud of it – lets out all that pent up agression on the field, which makes him one of the best in his house (dare i say whole school🤭)

Quidditch became his whole personality basically (he's a teenage boy duh – it's like the football obsessed idiots in the pub levels) and he came to love the attention it brought him – he was starting to be noticed by girls outside Slytherin and making enemies with the rival players

He decided then that he wanted to play quidditch professionally in the future – he would not be caught dead behind a desk in the Ministry (they probably wouldn't hire hom anyway, simply because he's a Riddle)

Because he was on the team, he was invited to more parties which he also enjoyed – the man can drink!

But he wasn't one to jump around like a madman like some people he saw at the parties. He and his friends (those on the team – Theo, Blaise and Draco) would sit around the sofas and play drinking games with others who were sat down – including you and some of your housemates at times – but never the Gryffindors

Sirius Black was on the loose which took the pressure of being Tom Riddle's son off his shoulders somewhat – no one actually dared to fuck with Mattheo now that he was a beater either

Buckbeak took a liking to him, surprisingly, as did the thestrals that only he, Theo and so few others could see

The dementors affected him as much as they affected Harry – he could hear his own mother's cries

During the boggart lesson, he was apprehensive of what he would see – would he see what he sees in his most horrifying nightmares? Or would it be something as trivial as a grindilow or something?

Safe to say he was glad that Professor Lupin stopped the lesson after Harry's turned into the dementor

Speaking of dementors, one of the only spells he cannot cast is the Patronus Charm – even his happiest memories are not strong enough to envoke the magic

People thought he helped Sirius into the castle at one point (absurd, i know)

He and Harry got into some arguments at times – Mattheo liked to provoke him for the fun of it, mostly so that competition on the quidditch field was filled with extra tension, but also because Harry and Ron are dickheads who like to talk shit about him and his friends (hypocrites because the Slytherins literally do the same thing lol)

This is the point where you're on his radar a bit more frequently – you, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade a lot and were frequently in the same places as Mattheo and his friends

He does not like you at all, partly for the fact that you follow Harry and Dumbledore so blindly but also – you are one of the reasons he and theo get so much stick at home, along with hermione being top of the class, you are as well so he grows to resent you a little

He's always there when you're yelling at anyone who says something against your friends (usually Crabbe or Goyle – our mortal enemies fr)

When Sirius escaped the dementors people genuinely thought he helped (again, absurd i know)

Moving onto fourth year...he went to the Quidditch World Cup with Theo and Nott Senior disappeared after the match ended and festivities began

We all know what happened but when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Theo, Draco and Mattheo all looked at it in absolute horror, having heard the harrowing stories first hand from their families

Mattheo had a panic attack at the thought of his father returning – after the run in with him in first year, he's been certain that Voldemort isn't really dead, and this confirms it for him (because why the fuck would his father's mark appear out of nowhere?)

Because of that, the school year is off to a great start

He gets into fights left, right and centre – especially since quidditch has been cancelled in favour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament (i've obviously aged up the characters but lets pretend the age limit still exists in some capacity)

The Durmstrang students practically worshipped the ground he walked on – which was ego boosting to start with, but Mattheo quickly grew irritated by their constant infatuation with him – especially Karkaroff who always compared him to the great Tom Riddle or the 'Dark Lord' interchangeably

Whenever Professor Moody stared at him for too long, he got an odd sensation on his left forearm, where the mark sits, like spiders were scurrying and crawling around – he decides after the very first DADA lesson (unforgivable curses) that he did not like this professor.

There was just something off about him, but Mattheo couldn't quite figure out what – foolishly tried Occlimency but obviously it didn't work on the most infamous auror

Wasn't even surprised when Harry's name came out of the Goblet – he is coined 'Saint Potter' by the friendgroup (started of course by Draco)

He and Theo snuck out to the forbidden forest to see the dragons up close before the first task – almost got caught by Charlie Weasley, had Hagrid and Harry not showed up with Madame Maxine mere moments before he could spot them

He took a random girl from Beauxbatons to the Yule Ball because he did not want to deal with the hassle of Hogwarts gossip – but everyone gossiped about it anyway (busybodies)

Rumours went around about the two of them (you know like how Snape caught two people in the carriage🤭)

At this point, you were just his arch nemesis' best friend so you were not fully on his radar past sneering comments and jibes, but a small part of him can admit that you looked beautiful in your glittering dress (think Feyre starfall dress vibes)

The rest of the year went by uneventfully – he got on with his school work and remained one of the top of class except in Ancient Runes which theo tried to tutor him in....unsuccessfully

In the months leading up to the third task, Mattheo noticed Moody's skittish behaviour (also Karkaroff and weirdly...Snape) especially after Crouch was found murdered in the Forbidden Forest after the second task

On the day of the first task, he had the worst gut feeling he's ever felt – bigger than the day he found out that his surrogate mother had died

Sitting in the stands with his friends, near the back of the stadium, his arm begins to burn so painfully that he has to fight physically crying out at the crippling pain (Voldemort just got resurrected as a noseless alien)

Excuses himself to his friends' utter confusion and concern – Theo stops Pansy from running after him, letting him have space, somehow just knowing what Matt's sudden departure meant (he saw Mattheo cradle his left arm while he walked away)

Just before Mattheo walks through the exit, Harry apparates back with the trophy (portkey) and Cedric's dead body beneath him screaming that "Voldemort's back!"

He couldn't hold back the contents of his stomach at the statement because he knew it was true. He just knew it deep in his bones.

He had to hide behind the bleachers of the quidditch pitch while everyone was stampeding to leave, where he just sobbed and sobbed because he knew then what his future would be.

Theo found him an hour later and together they mourned for the future Mattheo had desperately always wanted

That summer was the worst he's ever experienced to date.

He met this snake-like version of his father, his only other memories being of a handsome man (Tom Hughes vibes) not whatever this thing was.

His father thanked Theo Nott Senior personally for taking such good care of his heir – this was such an ego boost for that horrid man

Mattheo was tortured into the perfect soldier that summer – tasked with training other Slytherins/purebloods into the regime

Its not very discernable but if his hands are still for long enough, they begin to shake unconsciously due to just how many times Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him

His nightmares had become a reality that summer – he no longer slept, and only ate when Draco had to force him to

There was one silver lining at least

No one believed Harry Potter.

So Voldemort's army grew exponentially in secret, as did their knowledge of certain prophecies

We know that Professor Trelawney had the vision but Voldemort has a seer of his own – who made him aware of the order being in possession of a siphon but not able to say who it is (its meadow of course🤪🤪🤪)

His fifth year marked the start of the war, even if the otherside didn't know it just yet

At school, Harry started many explosive arguments with him, that he admittedly fed into a little bit out of pure amusement

His stoic facade was ever present this year. Not an expression painted his handsome face in the public eye. Rarely did anyone catch a glimmer of joy in those onyx eyes.

It was around this time, when he discovered that Harry was being taught Occlimency that you were doing some studying of your own

He heard the soft whisper of your thoughts in his head – a pleasant sound – mumbling little bits and pieces about the art, as if you were revising them over and over like a broken record

He knew you were Theo's patrol partner because Theo would not stop complaining about having to deal with one of Saint Potter's loyal followers (the two of you did not speak for 5 whole patrol sessions – lets say between September and November)

Thats when the idea sprang

Admittedly it started out as a way to satisfy his curiosity

He wanted to know why you were learning Occlimency and actually doing surprisingly well, despite not having someone to actively practice it on/with you, while Potter was not taking it seriously at all

So he asked Theo to try and befriend you – when asked why, he explained that he was curious and wanted to know if he hunch he had was right – his gut feelings are almost never wrong

Theo begins his task of slowly befriending you and relaying anything remotely important to Mattheo – no progress at first, until the two of you happen to bond over your hatred for the new DADA professor

He joins the Inquisitorial Squad because Theo's father wanted him to, and by extension said that the Dark Lord wanted his son to set an example too (lets not forget, in his prime Tom was literally the smartest in the school – was definitely head boy as well as an academic weapon)

This is how he finds out what Umbridge's detentions truly entailed

Speaking of Umbridge (she deserves her own tw actually), she had shown particular favouritism towards Mattheo and his friends, to anyone who was against Harry, really – never gave them detentions and let them off easily, even defended Mattheo's honour against Harry's 'heinous' accusations

But back to the detentions – both he and Theo found out about the blood quill around the same time

He was waiting for Theo to finish patrols so they could go smoke in the Astronomy Tower, when he overheard Umbridge talking to the two of you

Well actually she was talking to you – because apparently it was now against the rules for prefects to walk around past curfew (even though thats their literal role?) and she gave you a detention for it

When you asked why in Merlin's name Theo wasn't being treated the same, she said it's because he's on the Inquisitorial Squad and was therefore exempt from her detentions

You had detention the next day and did not show up to your next few patrols, but Mattheo saw the hints of a glamour covering your non-dominant hand (he would know because he's had a glamour over his scarred forearm for years)

Theo told him that you refused to admit that something was wrong - you hadn't even told your friends about whatever was bothering you

They found out by chance – a first year that had gotten lost was cradling their hand and the boys saw the words of the boy's own scrawl etched harshly into the flesh of his hand

When Matt was observing you in the library one day (happenstance, he's not a stalker lol), he was deducing how far along you were with Occlimency but found that you winced and held your head when he actively tried to enter your mind – not good for how long you'd been teaching yourself the art

So he gets Theo to talk to you mentally and the first time it happens is actually comical – you drop the contents of your potions incredients onto the floor out of shock before you whack Theo across the head with your hardbacked potions textbook

That's really how the two of you became friends, your friendship with Pansy following soon after

Now you're slowly building up the tolerance for Occlimency with a little help from a friend

Leading up to Christmas, the mark burns wickedly against his skin at all hours of the day

Then Arthur Weasley is attacked and Mattheo is surprised that no Weasley has come to deck him in the face for simply being Voldemort's son

Obviously no one does because everyone (barring you and Hermione) have been swept away to 12 Grimmauld Place

After Christmas he does get decked – George sends a bludger his way that most definitely had the power to break his entire arm (and definitely a few ribs); after the abysmal Christmas break he's had, he's almost tempted to let it happen – but his beater instincts kick in and he's pelting the bludger and all its momentous energy towards one of Gryffindor's chasers instead

His Dark Mark burns every time his father fails to retrieve his and Harry's prophecy

He begins to suspect that you are the siphoner when you perform wandless magic like its a second nature during breakfast one morning (you're using your magic to flip through the pages of your book, while you leisurely sip coffee, probably awaiting Granger's arrival)

His suspicions are more than confirmed when your magic seems to literally pulse like your pulling more of it from the air – it's almost indiscernible, but if he paid attention, he could see the symphonic ripple of your magic and the Great Hall's magic mingling in the air (and he knows Dumbledore can see it too)

He explains this to Theo without telling him so much that'll get him involved with what knowing this will mean for his brother

He passes all his O.W.Ls with a plethora Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations grades, except for Ancient Runes where he gets a mere Acceptable (which somehow still allows him to retake the class in his N.E.W.Ts options, funnily enough)

What's not funny is Voldemort's reaction to this anomaly of a result :(

Lets rewind to june 18th (aka battle of department of mysteries; RIP Sirius Black you icon, you legend)

The DA have just been busted (like two weeks/a week prior to the date above) and you're all in detention writing out the line "I must not disobey the Ministry" over and over again – to the point where it has become a permanent scar that you see everyday

Exams are happening and Harry has just been delivered a vision by Voldemort (he just passed out in a DADA exam🫣)

Saint Potter and his band of followers try to break into Umbrige's office and fail exponentially

The Inquisitorial Squad catch you all in the act of guarding the corridor outside her office while Harry, Ron and Hermione try and contact Sirius

You're all trapped in the office and everyone (including the Inquisitorial Squad) is shocked when she goes to cast the cruciatus on Potter – internally Matt is cringing and fighting the instinctive flinch

"You can't do that! It's illegal!" Your defence of harry is ignored as Umbridge puts Fudge picture face down – Matt swears your eyes burn a violent indigo, but it's gone in a blink

Hermione and Harry end up taking her to where 'Dumbledore's secret weapon' is and you lot are now all stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad

Theo actually only holds you loosely, and he's the same with Ginny – not forcefully holding her, but also not allowing her to break free at the same time

Crabbe and Goyle take Ron's bate and eat the Puking Pastilles from the Weasley twins' personal collection and you all escape

Then the battle eventually takes place and everyone knows that Voldemort truly has returned

Now onto the current timeline of Serendipity!!

Mattheo decides over summer that he wants to help the otherside desperately

Especially because Draco is now a Death Eater

And Enzo and Theo are set to become Death Eaters the following Christmas – punishment for what happened during the battle in June

Proposes the idea that he teach you Occlimency in exchange for you helping them get out – the group agrees and Theo and Pansy set out to persude you to help

Roll on the Serendipity plot where he slowly begins to actually care about you (scary feelings; unknown territory)

He's never felt this strongly about someone before, not in the way he feels about you

At first he enjoyed how infuriated you became with him; he also despised how many questions you would ask (but that was your nature and he grew accustomed to it)

You're the only one whose ever called him Théo, after the death of Theo's mother, the name was as good as dead to him, until you started calling him it – he never wanted you to stop

The feelings you invoke in him are what finally allow him to produce a full patronus – when the majestic form of a Hippogriff bursts from the tip of his wand, swirling and spiralling at the thought of you, he let out a genuine laugh

He's so soft for you – his persona changes in the blink of an eye at times – from cruel and brooding to gentle and compassionate

His friends have never seen him happier – admittedly were surprised to learn of your relationship, but when they watched the way the two of you interacted after you'd become a pariah to your old friends, they understood.

Mattheo is so protective of all his friends, and somehow he's even more protective of you – he had wanted to incinerate Harry and Ron on the spot for how they'd made you feel, but knew you would never forgive him for it, despite how badly they'd hurt you

He'd burn the world down if it meant you'd be safe, especially because you had the one power that his father desired to have in his ever growing arsenal

Mattheo always has to be touching you in some way (he's a physical touch kind of guy), whether that be a hand on your thigh when you're seated; an arm wrapped around you as you walk; interlocking pinkies, etc. He just loves feeling you near him.

You're such a typical Slytherin/Ravenclaw couple – your intellect amazing him all the time, and he's no longer miffed that you always beat him for a spot at the top in class – his ambitions and adamant loyalty are something that you admire dearly, and hold close to your heart

You both know without having to voice it that your love is unconditional and eternal. Its a love as rare as your magic.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #headcannons #angst #fluff #flangst #slytherin boys #slytherin x ravenclaw

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awesomefringey · 4 months ago

Note

You know what keeping me up at night, I want to know who took the photo of Louis and Ed with Harry in the background, like who in the hell took it 😭

Oh my god, nonnie, I never realized this appeared without a source? 👀 Maybe it was Oli?

#ask #ed sheeran #larry in berlin #euro 2024 #louis in berlin #harry in berlin #larry reunion

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allthesmutl0vers · 1 month ago

Text

Managing Mischief: Weasley Twins x Fem!Reader (Part Seven)

MDNI, NSFW, 18+ Masterlist Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader x George Weasley TW: Mentions of ED, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving and giving), Just general fluff, and Ron who makes you facepalm yourself. 🤦🏻‍♀️ A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this! I'm re-writing this story and the chapters are long af, and just a mess. (This was my first ever fic from like 2 years ago on Wattpad.) I solemnly swear that I will update this more. Tag: @helendeath @ the anon who asked where this was. Please reblog and/ or comment if you like the story, as they help me stay motivated to keep writing 💜🥹

Chapter Seven

Fred

Looking at y/n sitting next to me, talking to our friends, makes my heart pound. She’s so goddamn beautiful. I just wish we could make her see it for herself. George and I have tried to come up with reasons why she doesn’t eat when we’re alone, but we can’t seem to find one. We notice the weight loss. We were the first ones to notice it. At first, we thought she just wanted to slim down a bit, not that she ever needed to.

But now? She’s so tiny that her ribs are poking out, and that can’t be healthy. What really worries us though, is when she gets so lightheaded she almost faints and has to sit down. Neither of us cares how much she weighs. We never did. We just want her to be healthy and happy. She will always be the most beautiful girl in the world to us, no matter her size.

I’ve never been into Angelina. She’s a good mate and a fair chaser, but nothing more. The way that y/n got so defensive and chewed her out, though? Fuck, my dick swells just at the thought of it. Not to mention the way she blew up at Malfoy, calling out about having a shitty dick. That made my heart soar and almost cripple me with laughter.

But what really got my attention? The way she said that she screams my and George’s names. I can only imagine what that’d be like, what it will be like. I squeeze her leg a little tighter, and she looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that I just want to fall into and never come out of.

She gives me a curious look, and I lean down to whisper in her ear. “So, you scream our names, hm, little one?” I ask her softly and feel her shudder and clench her thighs under my grip. I love the way she reacts to my touch and my words.

“Maybe,” she whispers back and softly whimpers. Biting her lip when I slide my hand further up her skirt. Fuck, I love the little sounds she makes. Every single one of them goes straight to my cock. I lick my bottom lip as George grabs her attention as we pull into the train station.

George

I’ve seen y/n pissed off before, but her yelling at Angelina and Katie was something else. Something something much sexier. I’ve never given Katie so much as half a glance outside of quidditch practice, and during games, I’m focused on the game. At most just keeping people from getting bloodied up too bad. But I’m fairly certain she would’ve killed them if Harry hadn’t stepped in.

I could’ve destroyed Draco on the spot when he asked to have a moment with her. But this girl, with her tiny little hands and fingers, stopped me instantly. She ate him up, spit him back out, and I’m pretty sure she made him cry. And he deserved every last bit of it. I don’t know what made him think it was a good idea to try to talk to her, alone for that matter. Did Blaise not tell him we’re together? Oh well, the whole school is going to find out sooner or later, and I can’t fucking wait.

The only thing that really worries me is her eating habits or lack thereof. We haven’t really found the right time to talk to her about it, but we talk to each other about it. Fred thinks it’s just stress, but I think it could be an eating disorder. She’s losing weight so fast, and she’s so light that now I can lift her and swing her around with one arm without breaking a sweat. For Merlin’s sake, my trunk is heavier than she is. It scares the living daylights out of me when she almost faints. We can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. I wouldn’t survive it.

My attention is drawn to her thighs clenching under my hand, and I look over to see Fred, no doubt whispering some dirty shit in her ear. She thinks she’s going to win whatever little game she is playing, and she just might. I want to get down on my knees and serve her every single chance I get. I haven’t even tasted her pussy yet, and I’m fucking addicted.

I see her pull away slightly from Fred and take the opportunity to grip her chin and force her to look at me so I can whisper my dirty shit in her ear. She leans in with those perfect, supple lips and I fight the urge to just kiss her instead. But I hold back, whispering into her ear instead, smelling the strawberry conditioner in her hair. “We may be going to a feast, baby, but I’m going to eat you out like it’s my last fucking meal,” I hear her gasp softly and feel her thighs clench together even more, rubbing her legs together like she’s searching for some kind of friction. I kiss her as we pull into the train station, and she stands up to follow Fred out of the compartment with me right behind her.

Y/n

I take Fred’s hand as I slide out of the booth. My panties are fucking soaked. This is going to be a long dinner, and the sorting ceremony feast is always long. As we we off the train, Fred and George go ahead of me, and each helps me down, taking my hands in theirs. We walk with our friends, everyone holding hands with who they’re now officially dating as we walk to the castle as the sun begins to set.

We’re all some of the last people to enter the great hall. I can’t help but feel anxious with so many people staring at me, Fred and George. They sense it, though, and grip my hands tighter as they walk me to the Gryffindor table, and we take our seats across from our friends. “Everyone is staring,” I whisper to both of them.

“Let them stare, little one,” Fred tells me with a smile.

“Nothing, and nobody can hurt you while we’re around. I promise, baby,” George says softly, stroking my hair. I nod my head and turn to the front as Dumbledore starts his speech.

“Good evening, and welcome back,” Dumbledore says with a smile as the rest of the chatter dies down. “Here starts another year of education, friendship, and memories. While we may be separated by house, we are one school, one body. And we must all look out for each other, care for one another, and protect everyone. As with every year, we will begin with the sorting ceremony, welcoming fresh minds and new friends. Be kind, be generous, and be helpful. I’m sure you all remember the first time walking through those doors and the uncertainty that came along with it,” he chuckles before continuing.

“Show them that no matter what house you are sorted into, everyone is welcome, and everyone has a place here. This year, we will also have a new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor joining us as well. A man I believe to be one of the bravest, most loyal, and even one of the most trouble-causing previous students I have ever known. Please give a warm welcome to Sirius Black,” he claps with a smile.

We all look at Harry and smile. We all stand up and clap the loudest of anyone in the great hall, Fred and George whooping and hollering as Sirius walks out from a room behind the teacher's table, smiles at us, and takes a seat.

*****

“That concludes our sorting ceremony,” Dumbledor claps as the new first-years take their seats at their assigned house tables. “Let the feast begin,” Dumbledore says as platters of all sorts of food appear on the table in front of us, damn near throwing me into a full-blown panic attack.

Everyone digs in, and I start to look for the lowest calorie foods, mentally counting them in my head and comparing them to how much exercise I’ll have to do to make up for it when Fred takes my plate and starts putting food onto it. “What are you doing?” I ask him, trying not to panic.

“Serving you, little one,” he says calmly, putting a scoop of potato salad on my plate, knowing it’s my favorite. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand when I see the size of the scoop, double what I would’ve taken for myself. My breathing intensifies as I watch him put beans and chicken on my plate, too.

George takes my hands in one of his and tips my face to look at him. “Deep breath, baby. It’s alright. You don’t have to eat it all. We just want you to try, okay?” He says in a soothing tone of voice. I nod my head as tears well in my eyes, begging myself not to cry as Fred takes control of my plate. “Hey, hey, look at me,” George says, getting my attention again. “Take a deep breath in with me, okay? In,” he says and we take a deep breath in together. “Good, and out,” he says as we blow it out. We do this three times until I’ve finally calmed down. “Good girl, you feel a little better now?”

I nod. “A little. I just hate eating in front of all of these people. I feel like they’re all staring at me,” I sniffle.

“I promise they’re not, baby. But would it make you feel better if the others blocked you from looking at them?” George asks me. I nod shyly, and he smiles and kisses my cheek before leaning over the table to Hermione. “Pst, Granger,” he says, getting her attention as Fred sets my plate down in front of me.

“Yes?” she answers, leaning over.

“Tell everyone to scoot down so our girl doesn’t have to look at everyone while she eats, will you?” he asks quietly. Hermione gives him a thumbs up.

Fred rubs my back lovingly and places some water and tea down in front of me as the others scoot down. “I don’t think I can eat all of this, Freddie,” I admit quietly.

Fred smiles sadly and leans in. “It’s alright, little one. Just eat half, okay?” He says softly.

I nod. “I’m sorry,” I admit, feeling ashamed.

Fred tilts my chin up to look at him. “Listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously, and I nod as he continues. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, we’re here. Until then, and after, we will do everything we can to help you, okay?”

“Thank you, Freddie,” I say softly.

Fred genuinely smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Anything for you, little one.”

Our four friends scoot down to block me from looking at anyone else, and Fred and George tilt their bodies slightly to block me on the sides. “I still don’t see why we had to move,” Ron groans as I pick up my fork.

Hermione nudges him in the ribs. “I told you, we’re helping y/n,” she scolds him.

Ron rolls his eyes and looks at me. “Honestly, what did you need our help with, anyway?” Ron asks as he puts more food on his plate.

I bite my lip nervously before I answer him. “I promise, I’ll tell you later. But I really do appreciate it,” I respond, giving him a small smile.

Ron swallows a big bite and looks at me. “Whatever it is, it better be good, is all I’m saying.”

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at Ron. “Honestly, Ron, just eat.”

I manage to eat half of my plate before the table magically clears and dessert appears. I take a deep breath, feeling my anxiety start rising again, but before I can get too deep into it, a voice behind me pulls me from my thoughts. “Ms. Hunt?” I turn around to see the headmaster, Dumbledore, behind me, looking down at me with a kind smile.

“Oh, yes, sir?” I respond politely.

“I hate to steal you away from your friends, but would you kindly accompany me to my office? I need to speak with you,” He asks like I have a choice.

“Of course, sir. Right now?” I ask, looking around at my friends and wondering how I could be in trouble when we literally just got here.

Dumbledore smiles and nods once. “Yes, if you please. I will have you back to your common room with plenty of time to visit and settle in.”

I nod and stand from the table. “Of course, sir. Lead the way,” As I walk through the great hall with Dumbledore, everyone, and I mean everyone, stares. But this time, I also hear the rumors.

“She’s probably in trouble because she’s dating the twins,” someone from our table says.

“Hopefully, the slut gets kicked out,” someone adds in response to the first.

“Did you see her crying at the table? Fucking pathetic,” someone from the Ravenclaw table says.

“I heard she’s on drugs, and that’s why she doesn’t eat,” says someone from Slytherin.

I try to ignore them, but my eyes are filled with tears by the time we exit the great hall, and I can’t stop the sniffle that breaks free. Dumbledore doesn’t speak about it, simply handing me a tissue without saying a word as we walk to his office.

“Sherbert lemon,” Dumbledore says to the griffin statue that leads to his office. The statue turns, and stairs appear in its place. When we get to his office, he opens his door and allows me to enter first. “Please, have a seat,” he says kindly, motioning to the chair in front of his desk as he sits behind it.

“Sir, am I in trouble?” I ask nervously as I sit down in front of his desk.

Dumbledore looks at me curiously. “Now, why would you think that you’re in trouble?” He asks, making me want to roll my eyes. He always does this. Answers questions with a question.

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know,” then it hits me. “Is it my Mum?” I ask worriedly. “She’s in the hospital, you see, at,”

Dumbledore raises a hand, cutting me off. “At St. Mungo’s, with your father. Yes, I am aware,” Dumbledore says with a small smile. “Your father wrote me this morning and explained the whole situation. I am happy to say she is quite alright, even if she hasn’t woken yet,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “And you are not in any trouble.”

Now, I’m even more confused. “Okay. Forgive me, professor. It’s just that I’ve never been called into your office before,” I say, looking around.

“I asked you up here because I noticed that you seemed to be struggling at dinner. And I wanted to ask if there is anything that I can do to help,” Dumbledore responds kindly.

I breathe a small sigh of relief. “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure,” I answer honestly, but I can see that he is waiting for an explanation, so I decide to just tell him everything. “Over the summer, I went through quite a bit,” he nods, waiting for me to continue. “My eating disorder has returned. It started in year three, and I got it under control in my fourth and fifth years, but this last summer,” I look off to the side, my hands shaking. “It returned in full swing. I noticed that I had gained quite a bit of weight and well…” I sigh and shrug my shoulders as I look back at him. “Here I am.”

Dumbledore nods, thinking for a minute before he speaks. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Hunt,” he says sympathetically. “You care so deeply for your friends, and you are always kind to everyone around you. I notice it when I am doing my evaluations during the year, and even just around the school in general,” he explains. “You are always the first one to offer help to another student, regardless of their house. I admire that about you,” he says with a smile.

He thinks for another moment and speaks again. “How about this,” he explains. “There is a big enough table in your common room for you and your friends. How would you like to eat your meals there instead of the great hall? Your friends can join you, of course. You can eat your meals there in peace and just join the rest of the school when you feel comfortable enough.”

“That would be amazing, professor,” I say surprised. “But I would hate to burden you or the elves. I know nobody thinks about them, but I do. They already have so much on their plate: starting the fires, cleaning, and warming the beds on top of everything else. I would hate to add on to that.”

“I think it is a beautiful thing that you think of them,” he smiles. “You’re right. They are often overlooked. But I assure you, with your permission, of course, that when I explain the situation to them, they will be happy to help. Especially Dobby. As I hear, you have gotten quite close with the elf?”

I chuckle and nod. “Yes, Dobby is wonderful. He always listens to me when I need someone besides my friends to talk to. And always with hot chocolate,” I smile fondly at the memories and nod. “Yes, I would very much appreciate that. You have my permission to speak with them about it. I know I can trust you and them.”

Dumbledore nods and smiles. “Thank you for trusting me. Forgive me for asking, but does anyone else know of your struggles? Your friends, for instance?”

“Not yet,” I shake my head. “I was going to tell them when we got back to the common room once everyone else went to bed. I know I can’t fight it alone. Part of me doesn’t want to fight it at all, if I’m being honest,” I admit nervously. “But I’m tired all the time, and it’s scary when I almost pass out,” I sigh. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Dumbledore nods with understanding. “Yes, the battles we have within ourselves tend to be the hardest to win. But,” he points to me. “They are also the battles most worth fighting for,” he says with a smile. “There is one more thing I wanted to share with you.”

I lean forward slightly, paying attention. “Yes, professor?”

Dumbledore clears his throat and leans forward. “When I corresponded with your father, he mentioned that when you’re stressed, it helps for you to have your own space,” I nod in agreement. “I have made arrangements, and you will have your own dorm room this year,” my eyes widen in surprise. My own dorm?! “If, at some point, you would like to share it with Ms. Granger or Ms. Weasley, that will be your choice, and we can arrange it. But it is your choice.”

“Thank you, professor. That is very generous of you,” I smile. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a burden.”

“None at all,” he shakes his head. “You may also, if you choose, have co-ed sleepovers. You are a bright witch, and I trust your judgment,” he explains, interlocking his fingers. “But only in your dorm room, and as long as you are careful and remember to take your potions every day. You are a young woman, and I understand that you have, well, shall we say, desires, but I do not want to hear you or your friends bragging about your privileges in the halls or class,” Dumbledore says sternly.

“As you know, private co-ed gatherings in the dorms are allowed for sixth years and above, but only before eight o’clock. Should I hear you or your friends bragging about your privilege, it will be revoked. Is that understood?” he asks seriously.

I nod profusely. “Yes, professor, I understand entirely,” I respond, trying not to jump for joy right out of my seat.

“Very well. Now, let’s get you back to your common room, and I shall confer with the house elves about your accommodations,” he says as we rise from our seats and walk out of his office. “Your dorm will be at the end of the hall, past the other girls’ dorm rooms. It’s a new door, so you can’t miss it.”

As we walk down the corridors and up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, he shares some of the amenities of my new dorm. I have to refrain from running ahead and telling my friends all about them as he tells me. Dumbledore also tells me how to lock and unlock my door. Apparently, my door is just like the doors to the common rooms, and once I set a password, so charm in the world will open it. Dumbledore also tells me one more surprise I’m excited to share with my friends tonight, while the rest of the school will be told in the morning.

“Ms. Hunt, may I offer you one more piece of advice?” He asks as we reach the portrait of the fat lady.

“Of course, professor,” I answer him.

“In the course of my many years, I have heard a lot of foul rumors. Some about myself. The one thing I’ve noticed about all of them is that they are almost always false, and all from people who simply don’t understand or won’t understand one’s situation. As hard as it may be, pay no mind or attention to the rumors we heard upon our exit from the great hall,” Dumbledore tells me as he places a hand gently on my shoulder. “People tend to create such horrible things to say to cope with their internal issues. Not a single one I heard tonight defines you.”

“Thank you, sir. That does make me feel a bit better,” I tell him truthfully.

“Of course,” he nods with a smile. “Goodnight, Ms. Hunt,” he says, turning away.

“Um, professor?” I call after him.

“Yes?” He asks, turning to face me again.

I smirk and point to the common room door. “I don’t have the password.”

Dumbledore chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course, my apologies. The password is ‘Fortuna Major.”

I nod and Dumbledore turns and walks away as I turn back to the door. “Fortuna Major,” I tell the fat lady. She nods, and the doorway opens, allowing me to pass through.

I walk into the common room and see my friends and the twins all waiting for me on the couches by the fire. Other than that, the common room is empty. Everyone else is probably still at the feast, given the fact that it doesn’t end for another hour. That, or they’re in their dorms, unpacking and settling in. When they see me, they all jump up excitedly. I walk over to Fred and George, giving them a big hug.

“Are you alright?” George asks me as he kisses the top of my head.

“Yes. He just wanted to talk to me about what I need to talk to all of you about,” I tell him as I pull back. “Also,” I smirk. “I got my own dorm room.”

“What?!” They all ask in shock.

“You lucky witch! How’d you manage that?” Ginny asks in surprise.

“So that’s what the new door is for! Nobody could figure out how to open it,” Hermione laughs.

“Yeah, I’m the only one who can unless someone has my password. I guess my dad and Dumbledore talked, and they decided that with everything going on, I should have my own space,” I explain as everyone still looks at me in shock. “So…” I smile wide. “You guys want to come check it out with me?” I ask them all excitedly.

“Um, yes!” Hermione says excitedly as we start to walk toward the stairs.

I turn around when I notice that the boys aren’t following us. “You guys coming?” I ask with a raised brow.

They look at each other, and George scratches the top of his head. “Uh, it’s after eight, baby. No boys can be up there.”

“Yeah, but we’ll wait here until you’re ready to talk,” Fred says with a look of disappointment.

I smirk as I look at them. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that my dorm is co-ed twenty-four-seven,” I smile wide.

The boys look at me like I just sprouted seven heads. “What? Seriously?” George asks in shock.

“How’d you swing that?” Ron asks in equal shock.

I shrug my shoulders and smile. “I guess Dumbledore trusts me,” I giggle. They all immediately follow us up the stairs and to my door. “Okay, I need to think of a password so nobody except us can get in. Any ideas?” I ask our group.

“Oo! One second, let’s make sure there’s nobody around first,” Hermione says, checking the dorms. “Okay, all clear,” she says when she comes back.

“How about ‘butterfly’?” Ginny suggests, then shakes her head. “No, that’s too easy.”

“How about your Mum’s maiden name? Nobody would be able to guess that,” Harry suggests next.

“Excellent idea, Harry!” I say with a smile and turn to the door. I place my palm on the wood like Dumbledore told me to and set the password. “Password set to ‘Benson,’” I instruct the door.

“Did it work?” Fred asks behind me.

I shrug. “I don’t know, let’s see,” I say, gripping the door handle. “Benson,” the lock clicks, and the handle turns as I open the door. I gasp as I see my room. It’s beautiful.

The room is huge. It’s square with the brick walls exposed. A big, four-poster queen bed is against the wall by my door, with a nightstand on both sides. A large table with a comfortable-looking chair overlooks my window, and next to it, a minifridge filled with Redbull, water bottles, and the potions I take every day.

On the wall directly in front of my bed is a fireplace with a TV on top, filled with my favorite streaming services. In front of the fireplace, two small couches face each other, with a coffee table in the middle. On the left side of the room, a private bathroom and a wardrobe for all of my clothes.

As we all explore my room, everyone tells me how much they love it. “And the best part?” I smile, moving to the green button by my wall. “You can all stay the night. This button summons beds, snacks, and drinks. I press it again, and they disappear,” I explain.

“Wicked,” the twins say in sync as they sit on one of the couches. I smile and sit between them as everyone gets comfortable.

“So, onto more serious matters,” I sigh. I need to talk to you all about something,” I tell them as my hands begin to shake.

“You can tell us anything, y/n. We’ll listen,” Ginny says, giving me a reassuring smile.

“You’re our best mate,” Harry adds, pulling Ginny onto his lap.

I nod and turn to look at Fred and George at my sides. “Whenever you’re ready, little one.”

I turn to look at everyone again and take a deep breath. “Please hold any questions or comments until I’m done. Because it’s a lot,” I ask everyone. Everyone nods as they wait for me to continue. I close my eyes, relax, and begin to explain.

“So, as I’m sure you all noticed, I don’t eat a lot, or sometimes, not at all,” I take another deep breath and continue. “I have anorexia. It’s an eating disorder that causes me to starve myself. It started in my third year, and it got better in my fourth and fifth year, but it’s back,” I look down at my hands. “I’m not proud of it; as a matter of fact, I hate it,” I sniffle. “I’m just so ashamed of my body and so scared of getting fat that I can’t stop, even though I hate feeling so dizzy all of the time.”

Fred and George each take one of my hands, holding them tightly as I look back up at our friends. “I hate eating in large crowds. That’s why George and Hermione asked you guys to scoot down in the great hall. To prevent me from having to see anyone else or anyone else seeing me,” Ron covers his mouth and looks at me with a sympathetic expression.

“I also have really bad anxiety. I take a potion for it every morning. Nobody knows because Molly would slip it into my coffee in the morning. I also carry around single servings of a stronger dose of it in case I have a bad anxiety attack. I hope you guys don’t think less of me or think I’m weird because of it. But I feel like I can trust all of you, and I feel like you won’t. It’s just hard sometimes because my anxiety tells me people will,” I finish explaining, wiping away the few tears that fall.

Fred and George help me stand as everyone stands with them and they pull me into a big group hug. “We would never do that, y/n. You’re our best mate,” Harry reminds me.

“Exactly. You’re like a sister to me. Hopefully soon, a sister-in-law,” Ginny adds, making all of us laugh as we pull back.

Ron looks at me with a guilty look on his face and a tear falling from his eyes as he pulls me into a tight hug himself. “Merlin, I’m such an ass,” he sniffles. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course, I can, Ron,” I assure him as I pat his back before I pull back. “None of you knew.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Hermione says as she hugs me. “I’ll do some research, and I’m sure we can find a way to help you beat this.”

I giggle as I pull back. “Thanks, ‘Mione. I can always count on you and your research,” I giggle. And turn to Fred and George, seeing them crying. They rarely cry, if ever at all.

“I’m sorry if this is all too much,” I go to apologize, but before I can finish, they pull me into their chests, hugging me between them in my safe space.

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence,” Fred tells me as he sniffles and kisses the top of my head.

“You’re never too much, baby. We will always be here for you,” George assures me. They pull back and wipe my tears that started to fall again and kiss my cheeks. “Always,” George says as he looks into my eyes.

I put my arms around their waists as they drape their arms over my shoulders when I turn back to our friends. “I have one more surprise,” I smile. “Dumbledore is giving everyone the day off tomorrow as a mental health day. He said he wants everyone to just relax and have an extra day on the grounds before school starts. So, I was thinking we break in my new room with a good old-fashioned sleepover.”

Everyone cheers, and I turn back to Fred and George. “You guys still have those bottles of Firewhiskey?” I ask, biting my lower lip with a smile.

“Oh, baby,” George smirks and leans on my shoulder. “We have bottles for days,” he flirts, kissing my cheek.

“Okay, but we need to be careful because Dumbledore said nobody else can know that you all are allowed in here after eight,” I warn him.

“Here,” Harry says to Fred and George, reaching into his bag and pulling out his invisibility cloak. “Take this to go grab ‘em. Will you grab Ron and I pajamas, too? The four of us won’t fit under there,” he says, handing the cloak to Fred.

“No problem, mate,” Fred says, taking the cloak from Harry and turning to me, kissing me deeply. “Be right back, little one,” he says with a wink.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll hold the clothes while you hold the bottles,” George says to Fred before kissing me. “Back soon, darling,” he says with a smile as he gets under the cloak with Fred, and they sneak out of my dorm.

“So,” I walk over to the green button on the wall and face my friends. “Should we press the button?” I ask with a smile.

“Yes! But we should probably move the table and couches first, get them out of the way,” Hermione mentions.

“Good point,” I agree. We push the couches out of the way and push the coffee table to the end of my bed, clearing the floor for whatever kind of beds pop up. “Alright,” I say with a smile as we finish, and I walk back over to the button. “Here goes nothing,” I say as I press the button.

We gasp as two beds appear in front of the fireplace, adorned with pillows and fluffy-looking comforters. The table by the window magically fills with snacks and drinks. Chips, dips, cookies, pumpkin pasties, two liters of soda, a jug of pumpkin juice, and a kettle with hot chocolate.

“Merlin, y/n. This is officially the coolest room I have ever seen in this castle,” Ginny squeals excitedly.

“Um,” Hermione says with a blush. “Didn’t you say there would be the right number of beds for guests?” Hermione asks shyly as she looks at the two beds.

I shrug. “Well, Dumbledore said couples were allowed, so maybe there’s a bed for each of you,” I suggest. “The magic probably knows you’re with Ron and that Ginny is with Harry.”

“If you’re not comfortable, Hermione, Harry, and I can take one, and you and Ginny can have the other,” Ron says, giving Hermione a reassuring smile.

Hermione kisses his cheek and smiles. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I was just curious,” Hermione says with a blush.

“Cool, because I, for one, want to sleep with my boyfriend,” Ginny smiles and kisses Harry as he wraps an arm around his waist.

My bedroom door opens and closes, looking empty until Fred and George remove the cloak, already dressed in pajamas, holding two bottles of Firewhiskey and pajamas for Rona and Harry. “Only two extra beds?” George asks as he hands Harry and Ron their pajamas.

“The magic knows they’re together,” I quickly explain as Fred sets the bottles down on the table.

“Oo, so we get to sleep with our girlfriend, too?” Fred flirts, wrapping an arm around my waist and dipping me.

I giggle and kiss him. “Easy, tiger. Nobody is getting laid tonight.”

Fred lifts me back up and spins me in his arms to George, who catches me and sways. “Hey, no complaints here,” he says before leaning into my ear. “For tonight at least, baby.”

“Just know you’re never getting rid of us now,” Fred says with a wink as he appears at George’s side.

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Oh, no. Whatever will I do?” I ask in a flirty and sarcastic tone.

For hours, we drink, eat, play cards and wizard chess, and eventually put on a movie as we all lay down. We all put on ‘Zombieland’ and mostly laugh at it. After the movie, our friends are knocked out hard, and I lay down between Fred and George on my bed, stretching my arms over my head as they wrap their arms around my waist.

Fred leans in and kisses that sweet spot right behind my ear, making me hum in pleasure. “Can you be quiet for us, little one?” He asks flirtily, drawing lazy circles on my lower stomach.

“Why do you ask, Freddie?” I ask, loving their touches.

Fred and George look at each other and smirk before looking at me again. “We know you said ‘no fucking,’ but we want to finger you,” George says, biting his lower lip.

I think about it for a moment, just the thought getting me wet. “What about the others?” I ask, not saying no.

Fred leans over the edge of the bed and lays back down next to me. “They’re passed out. We may or may not have put a sleeping potion in the bottle they were drinking from,” Fred says with a wink. “As long as you don’t get too loud, they won’t wake up.”

I nod my head and bite my lower lip as Fred and George rub my thighs, making me clench them together. Maybe I’m crazy, but after all the teasing today, I need a release. “And you two are okay with not going all the way?” I ask, double-checking.

“Completely,” they whisper together with devious smirks.

“Plus, you deserve a reward after today,” George says, kissing my neck as his fingers trail up the inner part of my thigh, making them fall open on their own.

“Mm, okay,” I hum softly. “I’m in.”

“That’s our good girl,” Fred praises. “Just lay your pretty little head back and relax while we take care of you.”

George quietly pulls back the covers and positions himself between my thighs. His fingers graze over my skin as he moves up the waistband of my sleep shorts, setting off sparks wherever he touches. He pulls down my shorts and panties, and his tongue pokes out to lick his bottom lip. “Mm, fuck. She’s glistening, Fred,” he smirks and looks at Fred next to me.

Fred leans down to look at my pussy, making me blush as a low groan escapes his chest. “So wet for us, huh, little one?”

I whimper with need at their words as Fred moves back to lean over me from my side. “Yes,” I moan softly as George swipes one finger painfully slow between my folds.

Fred removes my shirt, leaving me bare before them. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he praises me as he leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, drawing another small moan from my lips.

George rubs slow circles around my sensitive clit as he slides one finger, then another, inside of me. “So tight and wet,” George praises.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” I moan as George starts to thrust his fingers in and out faster.

“You like that, little one?” Fred asks as he switches nipples, pinching and rolling the one he was just sucking.

“Yes, mm, I love it,” I moan, rolling my hips to meet George’s fingers. He pulls them out, making me whimper at the loss until I feel him shift, and his tongue meets my clit, licking and sucking on it as he slides two fingers back into me, curling and thrusting them in a delicious rhythm. “God, yes, George,” I moan, my back arching.

George moans against my clit as his arm wraps around my hip and thigh, holding me in place. “You taste fucking devine,” he groans.

Fred swallows my moans as he kisses me deeply, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. “Fred,” I moan softly when he pulls back. “I want to suck your cock,” I whimper against his lips.

Fred chuckles darkly against my lips. “Is that so, little one?” he asks. I nod my head with another moan as George sucks my clit again. “How do you ask?” Fred teases me.

“Freddie, please,” I moan softly, one of my hands moving down to clutch George’s hair as he laps at my clit and thrusts his fingers inside of me faster.

Fred sits up, pulling down his pajama pants and boxers, freeing his long and hard cock. My mouth waters at the large size of it. I part my lips, sticking out my tongue to accept his cock in my mouth as he slides it in. “Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth, little one,” Fred praises me. “Doesn’t she, George?” He turns and asks George with a groan as I take him deeper.

“Like a fucking vision, Fred,” George says breathily before going back to my clit, flicking it fast with his tongue and making me mewl around Fred’s cock.

I take his cock deeper in my throat, swallowing around him and hollowing my cheeks to create more suction as I bob my head up and down his long shaft. “Yes, just like that,” he moans, tilting his head back. “Fuck, switch me, George. I need to taste her now,” Fred groans.

“Mm, don’t mind if I do,” George groans as he withdraws his fingers, and they switch places, making me whimper.

“Needy, aren’t we, little one?” Fred teases me as he settles between my thighs and licks a long, slow line from my entrance to my clit. I hum and nod my head, making him smirk. “Guess we better take care of you then,” he winks and plunges his tongue into my entrance.

I gasp as my back arches, and I grab the sheets of my bed. “Shh, don’t want to wake anyone,” George chuckles as he leans down and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “Mm, you want to suck my cock too, baby?” George asks me as he bites my lower lip.

“Yes, Georgie, fuck, I want it,” I moan as he pulls down his pants and boxers. I grasp George’s cock, taking it into my mouth as Fred’s tongue moves to my clit and his fingers thrust into me harshly, making me whimper.

“My God, you taste so good,” Fred groans against my clit, adding a perfect amount of vibration. My thighs attempt to clamp together around his head as I moan, taking George further down my throat. Fred forces them back open and thrusts three fingers inside of me. “Keep your fucking legs open,” he demands. The roughness of his hands, the demanding voice, and his sinfully skilled fingers only drive me closer and closer to the edge.

I pull back off of George’s cock, stroking his cock and taking a breath of air. “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” I moan pathetically as my legs begin to shake.

George thrusts his cock back into my mouth, gathering my hair in his hand and holding my head still as he starts to fuck my throat. “Good girl, cum for us, baby,” he moans, biting his lower lip.

“Cum on my face like our good little slut,” Fred orders as he flicks my clit with his tongue faster and thrusts his fingers into me harder, curling his fingers and hitting that perfect spot inside of me.

I force myself to take George in my throat all the way to his base, gagging around him as my orgasm starts to crest. “God, yes. Swallow my fucking cum, baby,” George moans as his cock twitches in my throat. My legs begin to shake uncontrollably as George spills himself down my throat, sending me right over the edge myself. His cock barely contains my moans as Fred holds my hands down at my sides, riding me through my orgasm with his devilish tongue as I swallow every drop of his twin’s cum.

When George pulls himself out of my throat, he kisses me harshly, not caring about tasting himself on my lips. I pull back with a gasp as I look down at Fred. “Freddie, I want you to cum down my throat, too,” I plead. I had only just cum, and I already need more.

Fred smirks and bites his lip as he comes up to my other side. “Your wish is my command. Open up, little one,” he instructs me as he presses his cock to my lips. “Fuck, that mouth,” Fred groans as I take him to the base, and he grips my hair tight.

George’s fingers find their way back to my sensitive clit, rubbing circles around the tender nub. “I want you to be a good girl and cum for us again. Can you do that for us, baby?” he teases as his fingers slide to my entrance and back to my clit. I nod against Fred’s cock, and he harsh;y pulls me off of his cock by my hair, making me whimper.

“He asked you a question. Use your words, little one. Are you going to be our good girl?” Fred asks in a low, demanding voice that makes me fucking feral.

“Yes,” I hiss as he pulls my hair harder, only making me more wet.

“Yes, what?” He groans, his cock twitching as the tip drips with pre-cum.

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl,” I answer, sticking out my tongue and licking the slit on his cock where his pre-cum is dripping.

Fred hisses, and a low growl comes from his throat. “That’s our good girl,” George praises as he thrusts three fingers into my entrance, as his thumb rubs my clit. “Such a good little slut for us. Cum all over my fingers, baby,” George moans as my legs begin to shake.

Fred pulls me off of his cock again. “Who’s good little girl, are you?” He teases me.

“Yours and Georgie’s,” I moan softly.

“That’s fucking right,” Fred groans as he thrusts himself inside of my mouth again and starts to fuck my throat. I feel myself come undone as Fred cums down my throat, shooting hot, salty ropes of cum down my throat, holding my head still as he gives me every drop. I feel my walls clench around George’s fingers, moaning and whimpering pathetically around Fred’s cock.

When Fred pulls himself from my throat, he grabs my throat and slams his lips to mine as George fixes his pants and puts my shorts and panties back on, leaving soft, gentle kisses up my legs. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred whispers against my lips.

“I could say the same to you two,” I whisper back as George lays back down next to me.

Fred chuckles and sits me up, sliding my shirt back on and laying down on my other side. “You good, baby?” George asks me, drawing lazy circles on my hips.

I smile and nod as I look at him. “So good,” I say quietly as Fred runs his fingers through my hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” I giggle.

Fred chuckles and kisses my neck softly. “You say that now, little one. Just wait until we get our cocks buried inside of you.”

“We’ll wear you out,” George flirts with a wink.

“Mm,” I hum, satisfied as I close my eyes and yawn. “Can’t wait.”

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Fred says, kissing me good night.

“Goodnight, Freddie,” I say against his lips.

George tilts my face to him, holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Georgie,” I say, kissing him just before sleep pulls me under with their arms wrapped around my waist.

#harry potter smut #weasley twins smut #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader

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