#also the fire last year had nothing to do with the oven but the first time I went to use it after getting back to the apartment it started

[lavendette]

So far, I’ve made sourdough crackers (which were amazing, didn’t last for more than an hour or so), currently have a sourdough dutch baby in the oven, and have a sourdough cinnamon bun dough in the fridge to bake this afternoon. I am having so much fun with the baking something everyday, and it’s getting me using the oven regularly again, which I have had a bit of a phobia of since the fire last year. Plus using the oven heats up the apartment in the morning which is nice and adds to the coziness of baking and taking care of the sourdough

[royallyprincesslilly]

Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide

So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.

So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.

I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)

Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.

When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳

He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.

Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.

I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.

To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.

Tips from the gas/electric company tech

-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.

-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.

-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.

-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).

-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.

Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

“CHIAROSCURO” was very well-written! May I request a oneshot of Yuji Itadori within the recent manga chapters? Instead of Choso, the one to protect him from Furnace was the reader, and they have a final “date” in a innate domain of sorts and say their goodbyes before the reader is burned to nothing. Have a good day! 💝

── 1800 DEGREES

Synopsis: By some miracle, you are granted the gift of saying goodbye to Yuji Itadori, one last time.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Itadori x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.0k

Content Warnings: jjk spoilers, angst, character death, nobara is dead fr in this, lots of talk about heat (literally not erotically), reader and yuji’s history is left very vague

A/N: it’s actually criminal how long this has been in my inbox omg i’m so sorry!! but i’m glad you liked chiaroscuro anon and i love your mind for angst HEHE i hope this fits what you were going for!! sorry again that it took a bit 😫 also 1800 degrees fahrenheit is the highest temperature that a typical crematorium’s ovens will be set at so uh reference ig 😓 if you were wondering why the title is so odd

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It was hot — unbearably so. You could not even sweat, it was that level of scalding, and you knew that within a few moments, you would lose any ability to think, to reason or feel. That meant you had to act now and act quickly, before you lost your final hope at anything resembling a victory.

Yuji, dear Yuji. You had to protect him; it was the only thing you knew, the only thing you could concentrate on as the flames of Sukuna’s Domain licked closer towards you. You could not falter nor flinch. You could only think of him, though this, at least, was nothing difficult — because so many of your thoughts had been occupied by his presence throughout the past year that it was all but a habit at this point for your mind to linger on him.

He was shouting at you. He must’ve been, though you were hardly and dimly aware of it. He never raised his voice at you, but all rules had their exceptions, and this was one such exception, one such circumstance in which even the mild-mannered Yuji Itadori could be driven to screaming at you. 

Only your technique could do it. No other would be of sufficient strength to protect against Sukuna’s fire, but this immense power came with a cost: it could only save one person. That was it. You could only save one person, and every other time you had been selfish and saved yourself, but not today. Today, when you cast that barrier, whose summoning was as learned as it was innate, the shimmering wall did not form around you but, for the first time, sprang up around another person entirely.

You wanted to look at him. You didn’t want to confront Sukuna and give him that satisfaction, and neither were you brave enough to stare at your impending doom with your shoulders squared and your head held high. Instead, you turned your back to it and kept your eyes firmly locked on Yuji’s, smiling in the face of his horror, trying to reassure him with your gaze if not your words that this was your decision, that he was the one who had to do it, because nobody else could. Because you could not, certainly you could not. This was the last thing you could offer him.

Reaching out your hand, you pressed it to the barrier, your fingers splaying against the cursed energy, which had coalesced into a form as solid as diamond. There, you waited, as his muscles trembled, as he shook his head, over and over in a firm denial, his mouth moving like he was rejecting what was happening though it was out of his power to do so. His hand moved despite his stubborn insistence, resting opposite yours in a clear farewell, forehead slamming against the barrier as he tried fruitlessly to get to you.

You wished that, in these final moments, there was not this wall between you. You wished that, if you had to leave him forever, you could hold onto him one last time. You wished that you could say goodbye, properly instead of through this impenetrable barrier.

Then a sensation engulfed you, warm and strong, not burning and anguishing as you had expected. It took you a moment to realize that you were longer in Sukuna’s Domain but instead in a different location, a sweet-smelling meadow dappled with sunlight and wildflowers, and that sensation which you still felt was the tenderness of Yuji’s embrace.

You wanted to ask him: where are we? How is this happening? Is it even real? Are you real? Have these past few months been nothing but a nightmare, and is this then the truth? But all you could do was sniffle, burying your face in his shoulder, pulling yourself closer to his chest and clutching onto him as tightly as you could.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking, one of his hands traveling up from your waist to the nape of your neck, clinging to you as tears welled in your eyes and splashed onto his skin. “Y/N, I—”

“I’m frightened,” you said. “Don’t speak about it. I’m very frightened, and I don’t want to — I don’t want to think about it or talk about it or anything. By some miracle, I have been given this last chance to see you, and I don’t want to ruin it by being frightened.”

His nose pressed against your cheek as he inclined his head, a small, choked sound escaping from him. Besides that, he was silent for a while, and then: “I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“I didn’t hear it,” you said.

“I still did it,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you,” you said, trying to laugh as best as you could. “Just barely.”

He let you go, though now his hands came to rest on your shoulders, and he was so gentle even when you knew he was falling apart that it brought tears to your eyes anew. You raised your own hand up so that it could trace against the scar by his lip, and he let out a shuddery, achy sigh.

“Is that the only thing you forgive me for?” he said.

“It’s the only thing that bears forgiving,” you said. “Nothing else you’ve ever done is something you should apologize for, so what more could I forgive? Let’s sit.”

Now that you were less bewildered, you took the time to take in your surroundings properly. The clearing you were in was composed more of white and pink than green, a carpet of blooms in many heights sprawling out until they hit the surrounding trees, whose branches arced up towards the sky like they were protecting the two of you. Somewhere in the distance, a creek bubbled happily, but that was the only sound, besides the breeze and Yuji’s soft breathing.

You leaned against Yuji’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as he nervously picked flowers, his fingers ever needing to remain busy, a companion to his racing mind. 

“This is the last time I’ll see you, isn’t it?” he said, the rise and fall of his chest growing progressively quicker. “Because you…you know. It’s goodbye forever, isn’t it?”

“We’re luckier than most,” you said. “At least we get to say goodbye in the first place.”

“Not that lucky,” he said. “We still have to say goodbye, so how can we be lucky?”

“I never said lucky. Just that some people don’t get to say goodbye at all,” you said. “And here we are in such a wonderful place to get to do it.”

“Do you think it’s real?” he said.

“I should be asking you that,” you said. “Is this a trick being played by my mind? Or are we here together? For me it doesn’t matter, but I can’t help hoping that it’s real, or at least that you are. I want you to remember, too.”

“I’ll remember,” he said. “I’ll never forget it. Until the day I die, I’ll remember this. Remember you.”

“If you ever get married and have kids one day, will you tell them about me?” you said. “Not in the sense that you loved me before their mother, or more than her, or anything like that. Just that we were friends, and I saved your life once or twice.”

“We’re not friends, though,” he said.

“No, I suppose we’re not,” you said. 

He nudged you in the side. You peered up at him, his shimmering eyes and the way his nose scrunched so that he could attempt to appear happy, and you raised your eyebrows. He lifted a garland of flowers up, like he was asking for your permission, and when you nodded he set it atop your head like a crown.

“You look like a princess,” he said. “So pretty.”

“I’m relying on you,” you said. “I can’t see myself, so if I look like a fool, then you have to be honest and say as much.”

“I’m telling the truth,” he said. “You’re as beautiful as the day we met. Or even more. I don’t know.”

“I want to go back to that day,” you said. “Go back and relive the past few months in an endless loop, just so I could meet you every time.”

“Even with everything else that happened?” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “Even with everything else that happened. I’d suffer it again and again, just to experience the day I first saw you once more.”

He held your face still with his roughened hands, leaning down and pressing his lips against your own. You sought him out, your hands running through his hair, his rubbing against your jaw, the heat of his mouth different and yet so similar to the way you knew the fire of your death would feel. But this was a fire and a death you could choose, would choose, over and over until there was nothing left of you to burn away.

“It’s not fair,” he said when he pulled away. “Why do you have to leave? Why are you leaving me?”

“I just have to,” you said, fanning yourself as the sun beat down hotter than before. Yuji seemed unaffected, cocking his head at you for the odd behavior, but you only shrugged.

“Why can’t I go with you?” he said.

“You have to stay and protect the rest of the world,” you said. His brow furrowed, and you knew it was the same conflict that warred in him eternally springing to life once again. You did not want for him to be conflicted, though. He could not afford to be, not when everything was resting on his shoulders. “Yuji. Yuji, I’m so hot. Why aren’t you sweating? Why don’t you feel it?”

“What are you talking about?” he said in alarm. You stood, panting, pacing around to dissipate the blistering feeling crawling on your skin. “It’s the same temperature as before. It’s nice out, Y/N. Why are you acting like this?”

But it was not nice anymore, it was like you had been submerged in a vat of boiling water. Walking through the air felt like swimming, and in the corner of your vision, you saw something shimmer. It was a shade of red that you had not seen in so long; unbidden and despite your enduring discomfort, you grinned.

“Yuji,” you breathed. “Yuji, she’s here. It’s Kugisaki!”

“Where?” he said, head whipping about. You pointed at the visage of the girl, who was standing and waiting at the edge of the clearing, her hands folded behind her back and a placid smile on her face. “There’s no one there. Y/N, Y/N, please stop, there’s no one there…”

“She’s there,” you repeated, trying to tug him to his feet and finding that he was stuck by some invisible force. “She’s there.”

“Stop!” he said as you backed away, making his own effort to stand but finding himself unable to. You walked towards where Kugisaki was waiting for you, leaving the struggling Yuji behind. “Y/N, stop! Wait! Just one more minute, just give me that much!”

You turned to look at him one final time. He was reaching out for you, but you knew without really knowing how you did that it was futile. At least for now, he could not reach you. Kugisaki was beckoning you to a place that Yuji could not follow, a place that you did not even want him to.

He shook his head at you, one last, desperate effort that even he must’ve known was doomed to failure. “Please.”

You smiled at him. “Let’s not meet for a while, Yuji. Think about me every now and then, won’t you?”

With that, you took Kugisaki’s hand and allowed her to drag you somewhere far away, where you would never again know pain and the air was cool instead of searing, where you would wait until enough years had passed that you could see Yuji Itadori again.

[ladylooch]

WAIT can you do Nico smut about letting him go without a condom for the first time? maybe he finishes quick and reader expects him to be done so the reader is a bit disappointed

A Night of Firsts- Nico Hischier

(say thank you GIF makers of Tumblr. We love you. Plz GIF more Nico at Worlds. Thx!)

A/N: So. I almost feel like I should apologize here. This is.. yeah. Whew. I’m a lil tomato here posting this cause it’s pretty smutty. Also, I’m getting on my soap box. As a.. mature (yuckie) woman, this may be an different opinion but it is fucking HOT when a man is like… omg I’m not going to last long and comes in a few strokes. I’m going to pat myself on the damn back about this 100% of the time. Now, our partners have a responsibility to handle it a certain way after and I think Nico does that here 😉 Enjoy bby.

World Count: 2.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, toys of the adult variety.

I sit on our bed in a plush robe, staring at the door to our master bathroom. Flickers of light are waving under the door at me from where my boyfriend is inside. It’s been quite the day for us. After the Devils were eliminated in the second round by the Hurricanes, Nico needed a day like this. We both did. What has the day entailed? Absolutely nothing. Except for soft touches that are igniting a need between the two of us. We had coffee in bed. Lunch at our favorite restaurant just down the street. We napped. Made Baked Ziti for dinner- the long two hour from prep to finish one- and indulged on hot chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven. 

After all that food, we were sleepy, but opted to watch a comfort movie: The Holiday. Nico secretly loves this movie and often puts it on when he sees it as an option on our various streaming platforms. Armed with a blanket and dressed in comfy sweatpants, we snuggled together under a fortitude of warmth. I was almost asleep when his hands started to wander. At first, just his finger tips dipped below my sweatpants, but it didn’t take long for him to begin stroking fire just above and below his favorite places. 

When I started returning the favor, Nico begin to writhe beneath me. 

“Let’s take a bath.” He blurted out suddenly once I finally skimmed my fingers over the tent in his pants.

“What’s in the bath that we don’t have here?” I asked. He bit his lip, looking at the two distinct points in my shirt.

“You wet and naked with a glass of wine.”

That sounded like heaven, so here I am, waiting patiently for him to open the door and let me in.

“Ready?” He asks when he finally cracks the door open. Just one of his eyes pokes out to look at me.

“Was five years ago.” I joke. He rolls his eyes. 

“Welcome to paradise, babe. Right here in Jersey!”

I grin as I step into the low, flickering light of the candle lit room. The smell is a combination of lavender and lemon. The bath is drawn perfectly and the warmth from it’s water fills the bathroom. Nico turned our towel warmer on to get our towels ready for when we inevitably dash out. He comes behind me, kissing the back of my neck as he gathers my hair up. He makes an awkward bun on top of my head, securing it with my purple scrunchie. 

“Ooo, that’s bad. Don’t let me do your hair when it matters.”

“Wasn’t going to.” I laugh as he works the tie of my robe apart. “Would ask Timo before you.” Nico considers and nods in agreement as he pushes the robe off my shoulders. He sighs when I’m naked in front of him. He brings me to the tub and steps in, then guides me to move between his legs. I settle back into his chest, feeling him grow hard beneath me. I look at him over my shoulder, gnawing on my lip aggressively as he hands me a glass of red wine.

“Thank you.” I murmur in appreciation. I lean back to rest my head against his shoulder, sighing at how good he and the water feel on my skin. I could stay here forever. I close my eyes after resting my wine glass back on the edge. Nico’s fingers trail from my hips up my stomach to my breasts. He holds them both in his hands, swiping the peaks into stiff points. My lips part with a pleasureful sigh.

“We’re gonna play tonight.” He whispers in my ear. “Wanna worship every part of you.”

“Okay.” I respond.

He plays with my nipples longer, letting the soapy water lap at them when his fingers take a break. I wiggle against his thick thighs, scratching my nails along them as he becomes stiffer against my lower back. His touch moves down my chest to glide between my legs. He fingers my opening then rubs a few, welcoming circles along my clit. A heavy moan falls from my mouth as he pushes my legs wider. 

“This thing waterproof?” Nico asks me, bringing my vibrator in front of my face. 

“Uh.” I sputter in surprise. “Yeah.”

“Can I use it on you?”

“Yes.” I whisper, eyes wide as he brings it into the water with us.

“Show me which setting you like.” He presses it against my folds and I suck in shallow breaths as I bring my hand over his on the device. It’s a clit focused vibe that has air suction with it. I turn it on, moving his hand back to adjust the intensity so we can build together. I feel Nico’s dick pulse against my back as I moan, setting the sucker over my clit. “Just hold it here?” He whispers into my ear. I nod, breathing in deep as he presses a bit further in. I jolt and he pulls back, sensing it’s too much. 

My legs widen further, one of them extending out of the bathtub. I dip further down Nico’s chest. The hair at the base of my skull gets wet as I dig my finger nails into his forearm.

“That mean more or less?”

“More. Next setting.” He increases one press and my loud moan rattles off the bathroom walls back to us. Nico grins into my hair, savoring the way I grind against the toy and his hand.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah. Ohmygod.” I yell, arching off his chest as his unoccupied hand comes to my breast. He rolls my nipple while biting my ear lobe.

“Mmm, good girl.” He praises. I’m gone after that. I shutter against the bathtub, pushing the toy away as I pulse rapidly. Nico drops it to the bottom of the tub gently rubbing my clit through the waves. 

“Holy fuck.” I moan to him as he kisses along my bare shoulder. I turn to capture our lips together.

“I’ve been wanting to do that to you for a long time.” He admits. 

“You should have asked sooner. I would have let you.” I murmur against his mouth. His tongue snakes out, lapping at me. He tastes like desire and red wine- my favorite things. I turn in his arms and work my way to straddling him. We make out. Nico’s hands trailing up my back. Between his touch, the orgasm, and the cooler air, goosebumps form along my skin. I shiver a bit, causing us to break apart. He lets me sit back further into the water, still mounted on his thighs.

“Maybe…We could have another first…” I trail off, smearing the bubbles on his chest as he places his wine glass back on the edge after a sip. His hands then grip my hips before trailing up to my ribs, just below my breasts. “Maybe I could feel all of you tonight?” Nico looks into my eyes, confused. “No condom.”

“Yes.” He says immediately, sitting up straight. “Yes and yes and yes.” I laugh as he leans forward to stuff his face between my breast, getting sudsed up in the process. 

“Nico.” I murmur, wanting him to think with more than just his dick.

“Baby, yes. We’re clean. We trust each other. We are in love. I want you pregnant with my baby as soon as possible. Just yes.” He knocks off all the worries I have in my head without them even being expressed. I bite my lip, not quite believing he’s real, even as his fingers run around to my ass cheeks, spreading them and working my hips into his hard cock. He’s just too perfect.

Nico stands, our bodies dripping obnoxiously as he walks us from the tub. He sets me on the bathroom counter, grabbing his towel and tossing me mine. We wipe as much water from us as we can before he’s hustling us into our bedroom. My damp back hits the comforter hard. I work my way up the bed as Nico follows me eagerly.

He strokes his head once through my folds then shoves himself deep. The feeling of his bare skin stroking mine is everything. I can’t even describe the feeling that rocks through my body. Nico shakes above me, mouth open to breathe as he watches my eyes. I bite my lip, breaking eye contact to groan in ecstasy. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, breathing ragged as he strokes. It feels incredible, I agree, but I’m a little worried about how much his words quiver as he tells me how good I feel. He’s close already.

“Oh shit. Ah, I can’t. I’m sorry.” He pants abruptly from above, sliding out to come on my stomach. I purse my lips against the laugh at the way his face is distorted in pain and pleasure. “I’m sorry.” He moans as he strokes himself. I can’t help it and start to laugh, clasping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh god, now she laughs.” Nico hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut with a final grunt.

“It’s okay. It’s hot. I came without you earlier.” I assure him, rubbing at his thick thighs. The hair there tickles my fingers as I stroke him.

“You felt so good, baby. Fuck.” He mumbles against my lips. He hovers over me making it hard for our lips to stay connected while he tries to not get cum on himself. “I’ll be right back.” He says, walking off to grab a towel. I laugh as he swipes along my stomach, digging into my belly button and making me cackle. He tosses the used cloth onto the floor, then comes back to give me a real kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I say back to him, biting down on my bottom lip. I feel a little disappointed that it’s already over. We spent hours teasing each other for it to end without the ultimate high for me. “Wanna finish the movie?” I move to sit up, pushing those thoughts aside. Nico gives me a put off look.

“Uhhh… we aren’t done.” I look down at his softening shaft and then back into his face. I open my mouth to respond but then shut it again, not sure what to say. “Because I’m done we are done?”

“Well, yeah isn’t that usually how this works.”

“Not with me, baby. You’re not leaving this bed anytime soon.”

“Neeks, it’s okay you don’t have- oh.” I startle, snapping my head back into the pillow as his mouth moved between my thighs. He places teasing kisses all along the plumped lips. In the past, when old boyfriends would come early, that would be the end of this. Nico seems to have a different perspective. “Oh wow.” I whisper to the top of his head, threading my fingers through his hair. I pull his strands, mouth falling open to suck in a deep breath at the incredible circle his tongue forces along. I startle forward, quivering. He moans against my clit, making me buck harder into his face. His light stubble creates a friction that begins to slowly drag my orgasm to the surface. It’s incredible, deep and soft laps, then swift circles that make it hard to breathe.

Without me even asking, he slips his middle finger into my entrance, curling it up to hit the velvety spot I need him to. My abdominal muscles quake. I reach for his other unoccupied hand, placing it on my breast, so he can rotate my nipple between his fingers. I come hard against his lips, shaking into the tender kisses he leaves on my inner thighs. In a quick twist, he gets me to my stomach, then encourages my hips up into the air.

“I’m more than just a hockey all star.” He tells me as he strokes his plumped head through my sensitive folds. He’s rock hard, ready to dunk into the abyss again.

“Yeah you are, baby.” I groan as he slides in to the hilt. He’s so thick and deep. My head claps all the way back, lips parted and sobbing at the ceiling as he moves.

“Ugh.” He sounds tortured again. “You are so wet. Wish you could see how beautiful you look like this.” The slickness of me eases his thrusts and allows for him to pump deeper without any protest from my body. I reach around, gripping his wrist that holds my right hip. He leans forward, working his left hand around my stomach to press in a bit, making his cock feel so much deeper.

“Ooooo.” I breath out, quivering at how damn incredible he feels against my cervix. My teeth chatter in my mouth as Nico whispers in my ear.

“You’re taking me so good. Can you handle a bit more?” I nod and he presses deeper in. I become limp in his arms as my orgasm rocks through me. It’s so intense, Nico has to hold me up from collapsing off the bed. I pulse agressivly around him, pulling Nico off the cliff with me. He comes inside of me, smearing my walls unexpectedly.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” He sputters for a completely different reason. He pulls out, stroking the last little bit of cum out of himself in a half ditch effort to save the moment. “I am so sorry. Baby. Shit.”

“Nico.” I reach around, holding his thigh so he can’t leave the bed. “I’ve got an IUD. We are good. And that was perfect. Don’t ruin it by freaking out.”

“I just.. I love and respect you and we didn’t talk about that being okay-“

“Consider this me saying it’s okay.” I grunt as I fall onto the bed, melting into the mattress and looking up into his face. “Tonight and every day after this. Don’t change a thing for next time.” Relief relaxes his shoulders and face. He looks down at me, eyebrows pulling together in adoration of me. My face is pink, hair curly from the dilapidated bun and our hot bath. My skin is peppered in gooseflesh from his strokes. “What are you thinking?” I ask. HE is quiet, eyes get deeper, fingers stroking at my face. 

“That I’m looking at the rest of my life.”

I smile back, knowing I’ll remember this moment with him forever.

[sailforvalinor]

See about Tentoorose's wedding, the thing is Jackie Tyler obviously has been planning Rose's wedding since she was like five years old because Jackie never got to have the big fancy wedding she wanted as she and Pete were too poor, and she had this scrapbook-equivalent of a Pinterest board full of ideas for Rose's wedding back at their old flat, but of course she lost that when they got stranded in the alternate dimension, so she's spent the last couple years trying to piece it back together and remember what all was in it in the first place, and when the wedding is on the horizon she refuses to hire a wedding planner because she wants to do it all herself, except she's never been a very good planner and she can't make it live up to her vision and she's desperately trying to remember what all was in that scrapbook, meanwhile Ten has been begging Rose to just elope with him for weeks but Rose refuses because a) it would absolutely break her mum's heart but also b) she secretly has always wanted an extravagant wedding herself, so Ten has to live through the absolute nightmare of Jackie freaking out about what they even put on the invitations ("what am I supposed to do, write "you are cordially invited to the wedding of The Doctor and Rose Tyler"? What are people gonna say to that? "Your daughter is marrying a man named 'The'?") and trying to come up with people to even invite because Ten of course has no one to invite and Rose due to her desperate search for Ten over the past couple years never cultivated any friends except her coworkers at Torchwood, except in inviting them they'd also be in the same room as all of Jackie's friends (which she has inevitably made) and are going to have to keep up the pretense the whole time that they're totally not Rose's coworkers from the top-secret government agency that monitors extraterrestrial activity but instead all work with her at the local department store or something, and after all this, the wedding ends up going exactly as you'd expect--the venue cancels on them at the very last minute due to an electrical fire and they end up having to hold the wedding in the Tylers's backyard and text everyone who was invited about the venue change, there isn't a bridal party to speak of, 80 percent of those invited don't end up coming due to the confusion about the venue change and due to an unexpected bout of bad weather, which drives everyone inside sopping wet, including Rose in her wedding dress, Jackie completely forgot to order catering and the only thing to eat is fruitcake and so she's desperately trying to bake four frozen lasagnas in her oven that she sent Pete out to get in the aforementioned terrible weather for the twelve people who actually showed up, and in all the hullabaloo Pete stumbles into the living room where Ten and Rose are fruitlessly trying to dry off a bit and asks if they're postponing the wedding, and Ten takes one look at his bedraggled bride and grins, then, pulling the rings out of his pocket, says to the priest, sitting on the sofa, "Nah, wouldn't wanna make you come all this way for nothing, would we? Go on, do your job," and thus, soaking wet and giggling like only idiots in love can, Ten and Rose are married in Pete and Jackie Tyler's living room, and it's all just a beautiful, joyous disaster, and Jackie finds that at this point she's perfectly happy with it, swearing off wedding planning entirely.

[lillylvjy]

Dancing (around the Christmas tree)

A/n~ hi hi! My first Christmas fic for December! Um I hope you enjoy and you can request things! My request are open:) I’m also using my own prompts for these blurbs!!

Warnings: swearing and cheesy romantic stuff (like usual)

Pronouns: none mentioned 

(cc!) wilbur soot x reader

(This fits so well^^)

Wilbur for once had the day off. No practice with his band. No stream. Nothing. And it was so nice. Since Wilbur was off, you both decided to decorate the apartment and bake some cookies.

Maybe cooking with Wilbur wasn’t the best idea. He spilled the flour everywhere to begin with and tried to blame it on the ‘shaky hands he gets when he’s next to you’. And then he didn’t mix the ingredients correctly so it just looked like a huge dry lump of dough. You shooed him out of the kitchen and told him to start putting the lights on the tree, while you made new batter and made shapes into it. Once you were done with the cookies and they were i the oven, you went to see how Wil was doing and the sight did not surprise you.

Wilbur, looking annoyed and frustrated, was caught up in the lights trying to undo them and somehow got wrapped in with them. You bursted out laughing, while Wilbur groaned about being stuck. 

“Can you at least help me!” He asked, looking at you with a straight face. Once you were done laughing, you wiped your eyes with your , or should you say Wilbur’s, sweater. 

You went up to him and cupped his face, “You’re glowing babe, literally.” You said with a smile. He rolled his eyes, smiling back at you. 

“I always do, now can you please help me?” Wilbur said, looking down at his body. You nodded and started help him unravel his body from the lights trap.

“Better?” You asked.

“Much. Thank you love” He said, kissing your forehead. “Now let’s get this tree decorated, yes?” Wilbur asked, and you nodded. 

“Let me get some christmas music on at least” you told him as you went to connect your phone to the speaker you have in the kitchen. You picked a random christmas playlist and the first song to play was ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! You started to sing along to it , while Wilbur watched and untangled the lights. 

“Face on a lover with a fire in his heart. A man undercover but you tore me apart!” You sang out as Wilbur smiled at you starting to get the lights on. 

“As much as I love to hear you sing darling, but are you going to help, or just stand there dancing and singing like a fool?” Wilbur asked you, holding up the lights in his hand, “ I need some help if we want this decorated.” He said. You groaned as you walked over to him while he gave you the most shit-eating grin. 

“I hate you sometimes you know?” you asked him.

“No you love me too much.” he said with a smirk

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “yeah your right.” you said and pulled him down in a kiss. “ And your helping me put on the ornaments this year, even if you broke one last year. You have one more strike until I don’t let your clumsy ass put on ornaments” you said, handing him a ornament that you made together this year. “Wanna do the honors? I get to do the angel though.” 

He smiled and gently took the glass object and put it right in the middle of the tree, like a trophy. “Look at it, love! Our first christmas together as a couple.” He said smiling down at you. 

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “ And I couldn’t be more happy. Now up! I need to put this ornament on.” You said smiling as he lifted you up. 

[ramenaddicted]

Nice and warm

synopsis: I cook soup for my man and reminisce about how we met, also recipe included.

an: So this little ditty is part of the @love-and-lore autumn self-ship collab, so if you are not into that feel free to skip this one.

The stage is set. My boyfriend won't know what hit him. I chuckle to myself as I continue to dice my yellow onions. The strong scent of onions stings my eyes and they start to water slightly. It’s September; that means soup season, and I aim to introduce different soups to my boyfriend through the fall and winter. My boyfriend is so picky. He only likes to eat foods that are easy to cook and easy to eat like chicken tenders and mac & cheese. There’s nothing wrong with those foods. I love a good bowl of mac & cheese every once in a while. However, I also like to get my daily intake of veggies so to increase his intake of veggies, I’m going full throttle.

As I finish chopping my onions, that’s when I start peeling and mincing my garlic. The delicious yet pungent aroma of garlic is a promise of the delicious soup that is to come. My kitchen is on the smaller side with its light green walls and the awkward color countertops. I have zero space so I have to mince all this garlic by hand. 

I turn my attention to a bowl of potatoes sitting in water, soaking and cleaning, the last of the prep for the heavy load of soup. With all of my fresh veggies neatly prepped and put into bowls, I start on the potatoes. Taking my peeler, I swiftly peel each of my potatoes and then cut them in halves. To make sure I don’t get early-onset arthritis, I bought a little gadget to help me easily dice my potatoes. I transfer them into a large bowl with cold fresh water to keep them all nice and white. 

I take a step back and marvel over my work. Wow! All of my items have been perfectly prepped, but now here comes the fun part: cooking! I decide to take out my beautiful butternut squash-colored Dutch oven and turn the fire up high on the stove.  As I feel a tiny bit of heat radiating from the pot itself, I layer the bottom half of the pot with bacon slices.

The bacon does its job and slowly cooks. I decided to take time out and measure my wet ingredients: 4 cups of chicken stock and 2 cups of milk. 

As the bacon slowly cooks, the scent radiates throughout the kitchen. It’s a wonderful smell. Hopefully, my boyfriend likes it. I had decided on a soup that was easy to make and very pleasing with the accouterments such as the bacon in the cheese.

Cooking bacon takes a while, especially when it’s still in its strip form and not chopped up like I should’ve done it. Still, who cares? As I slowly drift off into La La Land, the bottom of the pot with the bacon starts to turn brown. I am reminded why I am doing this. I'm doing this because I love my boyfriend and I want to eat soup; two birds. one stone.

My boyfriend and I have been dating for about two years. Within those two years, I found out so much about him; I know he’s a picky eater, a hard-core gamer, and I know he has a selective group of friends whom I affectionately call the ragamuffins or the little bastards. Anywho, when I first met my boyfriend, Tomura Shigaraki, I was a bit put off by him just because he didn’t traditionally approach me.  I was just minding my business when I heard a cheery feminine voice call out to me.

“Hey! You’re Yasmin, right?” A cheery voice called.

I turned around to see who was calling me. It was a short blonde girl wearing a dark hoodie and sneakers. I could feel an invisible pair of eyes staring at my dark skin from the shadows. A small chill ran down my back.

“Yes, who’s asking?” I balked at her question.

“So my friend over there likes you and would like to get to know you,” she stated while turning behind to point at a shadowy figure trying to conceal himself by a nearby tree.

The figure in question was a tall lanky man dressed in a dark hoodie and dark sweatpants. Blazing ruby red eyes with deep bags under his eyes, chapped lips, and the aura of an enraged Discord mod*.

“Why does he look like that?” I inquired while physically taking a step back. The man wasn’t even in my personal space and I felt like I was gonna get stabbed.

“He’s just shy,” she tried to assure me.

She was not doing a good job, plus with his intense staring, he was also shooting himself in the foot.

“Naw, I’m cool.”

Afterward, I got hounded by other people in his friend's circle. The blond girl introduced herself as Himiko Toga. We hung out more just because she was approachable and not stalking me from the shadows. A week after the informal meeting, I was approached by another man with tall dark spiky hair, turquoise, blue eyes, and a bad attitude: Dabi.

Dabi’s method of persuasion was terrible. He was more annoyed than anything as he tried listing off the non-redeemable qualities of his friend.

“Stop please,” I begged. As I would come to find out, Tomura truly has some odd friends. Dabi didn’t do a good job of painting Tomura in a good light. The heavily tattooed stranger emphasized the other was a hardcore gamer with mommy issues.

With friends like these, who needs enemies? I collected myself and turned away from Dabi.

“Listen here, if your friend wants to talk to me we can sit down at the campus coffee house and talk.” Dabi could feel my frustration as I spoke.

I turned on my heels and went in the opposite direction of the campus coffeehouse. “Otherwise I’m going to the campus police and reporting him for stalking!”

The scent of freshly ground espresso was a welcomed scent inside the coffee house. The campus coffee house was a nice and quaint place; pastries, coffees, and teas were their game, and serving espresso and other caffeinated delights was their cash cow.

The jingling of the bell alerted the barista to my presence. They greeted me warmly as I made my way to the counter to order. I ordered my usual – a London fog tea latte and a vanilla bean scone. After paying for my goods, I went to find a nice and secluded area for me and hopefully my stalker.

After my items were done, I quickly took them and sat at the very back of the cafe with a window seat. The coffee house doorbell jingled harshly as the perpetrator entered. Lo behold, it was my skrunkly stalker. Tomura was dressed in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. His hair at the time was blue-tinged. His striking red beady eyes stared straight at me. I waved him over, and he ran towards me like his life depended on it.

"So you want to tell me why you have been stalking me from the shadows?" I asked, cutting to the chase while sipping my latte.

The silence was deafening as I sipped on my latte loudly. The poor boy was sweating bullets while trying to concoct an answer.

"Because you smell nice," His answer stunned me as he continued to explain. 

"We have some connecting classes so when I sit behind or near you…I sniff your perfume." He admitted as his cheeks blushed a furious shade of red.

"That is so creepy."

The smell of cooked bacon pulls me from my daydream as I go to collect my bounty of cooked bacon. Swiftly picking the bacon strips out of the Dutch oven with my tongs, I put the bacon on a paper towel-clad plate and then turn the heat to low.

With the bacon secured, I quickly move on to building the soup base. Next, I add two tablespoons of butter, diced onions, and minced garlic. With those ingredients, the kitchen quickly becomes more fragrant and delicious. My onions cook down and are thoroughly translucent, and the garlic is browning in color: not burnt, but beige. 

I measure my liquids: chicken broth and heavy whipping cream. Then once the vegetables look nice and golden brown, I add half a cup of flour.

As much as Tomura’s friends would tease him about our initial courting, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for the world. After our impromptu date at the campus coffee house, Tomura went out of his way to talk to me. He still stalked me from the shadows but that kept the real creeps away from me. So a win is a win…I guess.

With the veg and flour mixture fully turned into liquid goodness via the six cups of chicken stock, I quickly add my chopped potatoes and herb mixture: rosemary, thyme, salt/pepper, and a couple of dashes of Montreal steak seasoning.

Keys jingling and the lock turning makes a smile spread across my face.

“Babe, I’m home,” Tomura calls as he waltzes into our shared apartment.

“I’m in the kitchen!” I yell.

“Smells good in here, what are we having for dinner?”

“Loaded potato soup.”

Slender arms wrap themselves around my waist and I feel slightly chapped lips kiss the side of my cheek. I giggle at the affection my boyfriend dotes on me in private. I tell him to go wash up and that dinner will be ready in a minute. I took the time to crumble up the cooked bacon for garnish. Along with shredded cheddar cheese, chopped green onions, and the crumbled bacon on top of the piping hot soup dinner is complete.

Once back, the table is already set, and the man of the hour is wearing his at-home sweater. Dressed in a white t-shirt with a black sweater with cream lining, it gives off an academic vibe.

“Someone looks fancy,” I tease.

“I can’t help it, it's comfortable,” he playfully pouts while taking his seat across from me.

I hand him his bowl of loaded potato soup. My gremlin doesn’t even set the steaming bowl on the table before he begins chowing down on the cheesy and bacony goodness. I laugh at his antics; the man is acting like this is the first time he'd ever had my cooking.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, acting like a starving kitten.”

He blushes furiously at my taunt and looks away from me before going back to eating his soup, this time less comically.

“I’m glad you like it though,” I beam at the praise. “I thought about you while making it.”

Tomura stops eating for a moment and looks at me. Carnelian eyes glow with amusement as he reaches out for my hand on the table.

“Yaz, I don’t care if you served me those abominations from the 50’s,” I giggle at his words. “I will treasure anything you make.”

He quickly stands the both of us up, and I point to his sweater.

“I didn’t make that, but I bought it for you.”

“Doesn't matter, this was bought with the intention of making me happy.”

“And warm,” I mock him.

“And warm,” he repeats.

[xiv-amphis-apartments]

[Apartment] Mountain Rain Aether / Gilgamesh / Lavender Beds / Ward 23 / Lily Hills Main / Room 64 twt: link

A cozy little room overlooking a spring torrential downpour.

This room was sitting empty for like a year and it was driving me MAD. I kept being so wishy washy about what I wanted in here and finally I decided to just mess with the mountain views that I saw people doing on twitter with the nursery canopy. Mountains!! Real, big, proper mountains!!! FINALLY

I don't know really why I went with rain, other than just the inherent gradient light. The way the nursery canopies sit, you can't really have a "light" rain unless it's behind the mountains and MUH IMMERSION. The new GC trophies with the cherry blossoms were actually the perfect height to slap on the floor, and the last little bit of base was hidden with the pine bonsai. I added the ixion trophy for lighting bc i had through the fire and the flames stuck in my head while building this and i regret nothing

I really like the woodstove, though initially it was much simpler. It might be better with less stuff, but it's just a cathedral lecturn turned around, log rack, a couple iron torches, and the pipe is part of the hingan ovens. The masonwork stove stone backing wasn't originally there but I felt like the place would burn down without it. muh immersion

I wanted to use all the stupid shower stands I had in my storage, so I actually tried to make an okay ceiling (overly okay, one might say). You can see some of the rain coming through so hopefully it looks like a glass window with rain on the roof? (I cannot remember where I first saw this done, but I know Peach did it in a build a while ago!) The "wet spots" are the bane of my existence but if I squint, it kind of looks like storm clouds. There's two starry sky phasmas above it for some collision+godray action and some other ambient lighting with crystal ornamental arrays. I still feel kind of iffy on it but... I think it looks okay?

I did have to make this veeeery small as far as my apartments usually go, and there wasn't a lot of slot space left for furnishings/clutter either. So in that regard, I'm a little sad that it's so bare, but I focused a little more on architectural stuff, so that's an inevitable tradeoff. At the very least, I really liked trying out new stuff!

also green+brown god tier color palette no i am not taking criticism at this time

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.”  he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[peakywitch]

Tommy X reader with Prompt no.24 please❤️❤️❤️

Charlie, Mommy and Daddy - Tommy Shelby

Hi beautiful! sorry for keeping you waiting, life is crazy. 

words: 3.5k WOW

warnings: usual, bad language, mentions of dead people and war, angst and fights. 

PART TWO COMING SOON DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE GOT!!

masterlist

prompt: 24 “Pack your shit and leave. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

As the last days of October approached, Y/N already knew that Tommy's birthday was near. He had never revealed the date, so a few years ago Y/N started celebrating it one of the many days that were after the twentieth. First, it was the 21st, the next year the 22nd, and so on.

He always smiled at the vanilla and chocolate cake that she baked especially for him.

"Did I guess right?" she always asked, with a tired smile, her hair with a little flour and Charlie in her arms.

"Flavor? Yes. The date? Maybe." He answered, with a mischievous and funny smile.

That October 25, 1925, was like any other. While Tommy was in Watery Lane dealing with legal problems, Y/N and Charlie were trying to finish baking a cake.

"Why do we cook?" Charlie asked, as he walked and stumbled through the kitchen.

"Because today... might be daddy's birthday, Charlie." Y/N smiled, as she finished transferring the yellow mixture to a baking dish.

"How many years is daddy turning?" The woman could hear the question even over the creaking noise of the oven door opening.

"Five hundred." Y/N joked, leaving the tray in the oven and closing the door.

Charlie exploded into euphoric laughter.

After a few minutes, the boy asked a question:

“Is mummy going to congratulate daddy for his birthday? Is she coming back?”

The question left his lips so careless, he never understood. But what could someone expect from a four-year-old? But, although he didn´t understand the subject, Tommy actually never told him. “She went away.” He said whenever Charlie asked. He also never answered the “when is she coming back” question.

 “I think you should ask that to your father, Charles.” She answered slightly, he then bolted out into the garden to kick off wilted autumn leaves and on the ground.

While cleaning everything they used to cook, Y/N doubted that Thomas’s birthday was today, but she was sure he was turning 35. The age difference tormented them a bit, but for only seven years. Although in the past it had been the subject of discussion and disagreements, both were clear that one knew more than the other about certain things. Y/N didn't understand anything about politics or horses, and Tommy had no idea how he should act in situations of extreme emotional sensitivity. But they tried, Y/N tried to pet the horses and Tommy wiped her tears with a white handkerchief that had her name embroidered on it but was always in his pocket.

The half-hour of baking went by quickly, Y/N could only think about whether or not today was Tommy's birthday, she was hoping she could find out.

“Is this how it will be? Will I come to my house and watch you cook while my son plays outside?" asked a smile at the door.

The voice took her by surprise, forcing the girl to drop a spoon mixing chocolate. It fell to the floor, staining the white marble brown. It could have been worse, Tommy thought seeing the mess he caused in an instant, it could have been blood.

"Tommy!" she smiled, then hugged him tightly. "Happy possible birthday, possible birthday boy." She said in his ear, as she stroked his nape with her flour-stained hand.

He thanked her and kissed her forehead.

"So… I guessed right?" she laughed, Tommy could only keep his smile on his face, looking into her eyes “Oh come on. Tell me yes once, or at least tell me that I did well one of these last times. "

"Maybe." He said softly, after clearing his throat. He pulled away from her, leaned against the wall, and stroked his lip with a cigarette that he pulled from a metal box once his back was against the wall.

"I'll put salt in your coffee." She laughed as she cleaned up the mess.

"I don't drink coffee, Y/N." he smoked.

"Then... I'll move all the whiskey bottles around for you and hide them." She backed off, rinsing off the dropped spoon.

"I have them locked up and you know it." He reminded her.

Both looks smiled.

…

When the clock struck midnight, Charlie had been asleep for four hours. Tommy and Y/N had been talking about life in his office. Thomas had a glass of Irish in his hand and Y/N had a cup of tea.

The fire was loud, but the photo of Grace kept in Thomas's left desk drawer screamed in Y/N's mind. Charlie's questions echoed too, and that made the poor woman bite her lip with fervor.

"Y/N" Tommy clarified his voice "would you be so kind as to explain to me that you are so stressed out?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Charlie should know."

Without warning or a proper introduction, Y/N spat out what was so killing her. Although she told her husband a lot, she did not tell him about those times he murmured her name in his dreams. Neither of her constant demand to be like her. Because she felt like he was never going to love her the way he loved Grace. She wasn't asking him to love her more than Charlie, she would never ask that. But she felt like she could never fill Grace's place.

"The what?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and settling into the single chair.

“About Grace, Tom. Don't play games with me." She replied, setting the cup of tea on the small glass table that was holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I already told him, a month ago." He said as if nothing.

Tommy had that talent. He spoke of love, death, and war as if they were as simple as numbers. Two plus two is four, you love, you die and people kill. There was never a sugar coating with others. But with Grace's death, it was never like that. Maybe it never would be, but he had to be an adult and explain the truth to his child in a simple way.

“You told him she's gone, he thinks he's in America, Tommy. I think you should…” she continued, insisting softly in her voice.

"Are you telling me how to raise my son, Y/N?" he asked, after taking the cigarette from his lips and pointing at her.

Y/N didn't speak, but pressed her lips tighter, trying not to blurt out a mention about all those times Charlie called her Mom when he was really tired.

She looked at the gold band on her ring finger, her chest sank. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe and starting to breathe rapidly.

"Because if there's one of the two of us who can give a talk about parenting…" Tommy started, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it into the fire. "It's me."

"It's me." Y/N laughed, mimicking him. The comments, the stories, the complaints, and the sadness would not be tolerated anymore. "You never..." she began, trying to be as cordial as possible, it was late.

"Here we fuckin' go," Tommy complained, blinking slowly but not moving. He remained static, imposingly static.

“Yes, here we fuckin’ go, you bloody idiot. I know Charlie more than you do; I saw him more than you in these last four years. " Y/N got up from the comfortable sofa, starting to walk through her husband's private office. "Besides…!" the words hurt when leaving, everything she wanted to talk to him and never could, was coming out in the worst way, between screams and tears “Besides, I don't know what the hell to say when he asks me if I'm his mother! Because...!" the words suddenly stopped, they just didn't come out anymore.

Tommy was staring at her frowning; anger ran through his body.

“If you know him better than I do, why don't you tell him in a way that doesn't hurt, eh? Tell him about your bloody God and the angels, why don't you bring her flowers with him too?!"

The questions shot out of him after he jumped up like a bullet from his chair.

"Take him and tell him, tell him the story because I can't! Because I don't want to be the one to tell him that Grace is dead and that she won't be back!” she screamed back at him.

Both faces were transformed, Tommy had never looked so helpless and Y/N at first couldn't understand why Tommy couldn't do it until she had an epiphany.

"Oh my god..." Y/N whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose was turning red "You still... you still love her."

Thomas's face remained the same as before, did not change with the passing of seconds.

Everything was starting to make sense.

She suspected it, but now she was sure that that woman was still in his heart. She denied every thought and sent it to the back of her mind, ignoring the pain and anger. But she didn't realize it, until today.

“That's why you don't want to have any more children…” she whispered “You are not afraid to die and leave your children alone, Shelby. You don't want anything that isn't hers…” The realization broke her heart, her tears had a life of their own, they all went at different rates falling down her face “My God, what an idiot I was! At what point did I think you loved me!?" she screamed.

Then nothing.

There was only silence. On both sides. One could only hear the fire, like a few minutes ago.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, her heart ready to break again “Do I have her eyes? Do I have the same perfume?" she began to question, as she tapped him lightly on the shoulders and tried to keep her gaze on his blue eyes.

"Do I have her hands? Or what the fuck is it? I kiss just like her, huh? What the hell of her do you see in me?" she asked even more hysterical, her heart wouldn't stop beating and breaking every second, with every word.

Then, with only a few words everything went to hell:

“Mommy? Why are you hitting Daddy?”

Both adults looked at the little boy, standing on the door on his sleeping clothes. His hair was messy and had the cutest sleepy face ever. It melted Y/N’s heart, but Tommy didn’t care about no one else.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Charlie, go to bed.” She murmured while getting closer to the kid “Everything is fine, don’t worry…” she kissed his forehead and he disappeared, so she closed the door.

Y/N turned around and saw Tommy making a phone call, balancing the tube between his ear and shoulder while he served more Irish on his glass.

“Yes, yes please…okay, right now. Carnaby Street, the second house on your left. Yes… thank you.” He hung up and drank more.

“Tommy…” Y/N mumbled while trying to get closer to him.

He ignored her, walking towards a bookshelf across the room. He opened a book while being watched over by his wife.

“Please, I’m sorry. I…” she was about to burst down into tears, she was feeling helpless.

Tommy took a couple of papers from inside the book and left them on the black desk.

“Twenty pounds. Grab ‘em, pack your shit, and go.” He coldly commanded.

“Wha…what?”

Suddenly there was no more air in the room, it was also getting tinnier and tinnier. Her feelings were strangling her soul, she would fall defenseless on the floor at any given time.

“We need to be alone.” He said, and there it was again. He was being artistically careless as always.

“I don’t need to be away from you, I want to be with you and…”

“A car will be here in ten minutes, pack your things.”

He lit a cigar and sat on his black chair, then proceeded to do some paperwork.

“Tommy…” she cried softly, he was breaking her heart into a million pieces. “You are breaking my heart, please…”

“Nine minutes.” He muttered, without even looking at her.

How could he not care about here? The question was on her mind when she left him alone in his office, the doubt and the pain only grew bigger and bigger as she walked up the stairs to their room.

She opened the door, and everything came back to her.

The feelings she had ten years ago, seeing him date other women while she waited patiently for him to notice her, comforting him all those long nights after the war where he would just cry silently, him exchanging her arms for Grace’s and replacing her in every aspect with the Irish woman… Every single moment washed over her. Like an abnormal gigantic wave, it shook her. She suddenly became lost, she forgot where her dresses were, where her shoes were, and where the man she always loved was. But most importantly, she wondered if there ever was any love in him for her.

“Mommy?” a soft voice asked, and she came back to reality.

There, in the massive bed, was a little body wearing white pyjamas, hugging a stuffed bunny.

He looked sad and tired, just as she did.

“Hey” she susurrated while getting closer to him. She sited on the bed by his side and hugged him. “Charlie…” she whispered while caressing his hair “I have to leave, but we’ll see each other, alright?” Y/N tried to contain her tears, but they were being obedient to her heart.

“No!” he cried, hugging her as tightly as he could “Don’t leave me!”

The little boy was a mess, he was hugging her desperately while crying. She wrapped her arms around him, and another wave washed over her, but this time it was guilt and sorrow.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…” she started to repeat his name quickly, trying to get the kid to look at her “Charlie…look…look at me, Charlie.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were trembling, there was no way Y/N would leave the kid alone here. Charlie was her son, either Tommy liked it or not.

“Grab your coat, you are coming with me. We are going a few days with Auntie Esme, okay?” she cleaned his tears with her thumb and the little kid did the same with hers.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” She smiled with an expression of sadness, then kissed his forehead.

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers, he has to come with us so he doesn’t feel lonely without you.”

“Okay…” he whispered and then left.

She started to pack everything she could, which in five minutes it means: two blouses, one pair of pants, a few undergarments, and three dresses. She also took a few things for Charlie. Everything was in the brown leather handbag that had her initials.

“I’m ready.” Said Charlie, while appearing on the doorway with Mr. Whiskers on his left hand and his book Y/N read for him every night.

“Alright, are you ready to have a fun week with your cousins?” she asked while closing her bag, trying to cheer the little boy.

“Yes!” he said, with a smile.

She took her bag and walked to the door, she was now by his side. She saw the room one last time, she knew that was the last time she would leave it with it being “their” room. Because she knew this was the end, it was now Tommy’s room, as it always was.

Tommy’s room. Tommy’s house. Tommy’s kitchen. Everything belonged to him, even she did.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Ms. Shelby.” Said Frances, with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Frances…” she said, and turned around, closing the door. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

She lifted the kid and left him on her hip, while he gripped into her trying not to fall.

“We are going to Auntie Esme’s, we will have lots of fun and…”

She said a lot of things trying to cheer him up, but she was trying to convince herself she wouldn’t cry more that one night for that man.

She walked down the stairs lost in the sorrow, trying to hold everything in place. The kid, the bag, the feelings. She tried to get to the door before Thomas acknowledgement, but he was there, looking at her as if she was just a stranger. But Y/N knew that look on his face. That’s the way he looked at Sabini, that was the way he looked at Kimber before he shot him dead. He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, one who he had to erase.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going with Charlie, eh?” he asked, abruptly and aggressively.

“He´s coming with me.” She said, trying to sound secure and big.

“He’s staying here, this is his house.” He fired back “And I’m his father.”

“But I’m his home.” She fought, Charlie’s face was buried on her neck, he was so confused. “And you are never there for him at night when he cries, neither in the morning when he wants to have breakfast. You are only there to punish him, or to tell him to fuck off because you are working. And he needs time and someone, not a shit tone of money and a massive castle.”

“He’s not your son.”

“Yes, I am.” He cried on her ear, wetting her neck. “You are my mommy.” He kept on crying, he was nervous and scared. He was never in their fights.

“Move countries, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Get the fuck out of my sight, Y/N. Both of you.” He sounded like a mad dog, but at the same time like a lost one. He began to walk away, but froze when he heard:

“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn’t move, he stood right there. Y/N shut the door slightly and walked straight into the car. She saluted the chauffer and gave him John and Esme’s address.

Ten minutes into the drive, Charlie began to miss Tommy.

“We will have fun, okay? We will play with their dogs, and we will eat freshly picked eggs. We can also go to the lake and do picnics with auntie Esme, how does that sound?” he nodded.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: open

@a-golden-sunflower-vol-6

@fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby 

@stydia-4-ever

[coexiising]

Good Neighbors - Chapter Two

SUMMARY ✦ Your parents host a dinner party for the new neighbors. 

WARNING(S) ✦ Nothing

MASTERLIST ✦ Here. 

It had been three days since your last encounter with Anakin Skywalker. Three days since you could’ve sworn he winked at you. Not that you were counting . . . No, you were most definitely not doing that.

Since then you had been doing, well, essentially nothing but thinking back to that moment of the two of you talking. And it was probably stupid, since it was just two neighbors talking to each other. He was just being nice to you and that was all, there was nothing to think more of. There were way better things to keep your mind on, like going to your part time job and focusing on finishing up your classes to get your degree. You were busy, but that didn’t stop you from stopping whatever you were doing and glancing through your window to see if you could catch a glimpse at your new neighbor.

You blamed it on stupid infatuation. He was incredibly attractive and you were bored, and you weren’t the only one to think so, since your mother the other day said something about inviting your new ‘attractive neighbors’ to dinner one night. You hated how quick you were to say it was a good idea.

One thing that you learned was that your window was right across from your neighbor's master bedroom, which meant that when the curtains were drawn back, you could see right into their room. Which really wasn’t often, since it was only a side window and they had a much bigger window in the front of the house that was open way more often. But sometimes, if you looked at the right time, you could see Anakin or his wife walking around or talking with one another.

You wondered what she was like. She was very beautiful, with coffee brown hair that stayed in natural curls. She also had a good sense of style, always looking classy and elegant that made you feel out of place every time you and her were outside at the same time for whatever reason. It was wrong to be comparing yourself to her, you shouldn’t, and again blamed it on some stupid fantasy you had made up in your head. It was childish, sure, but it wasn’t like anything was ever going to happen.

You could hear him now, downstairs in the open hallway leading to your kitchen and dining room, talking to your mother about something you couldn’t quite make out. It was later in the evening, almost seven, and your family decided to give the courtesy of inviting the Skywalkers to dinner tonight, something you had been looking forward to since your mother informed you a day prior. Splaying your hands on the front of your black dress, you made sure that there were no creases, looking in the mirror to do one final once over of your appearance. You looked nice, maybe nicer than your family were going for, but no one would comment on it anyways. There was a golden necklace around your neck that had been given to you for your birthday a few years ago, which accented right off of your chest. Once you were satisfied, you opened the door to your room and walked down the steps, getting closer to the voices of your parents and your guests.

The second you got to the ground level of your home and saw the backs of both Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, you made a beeline for the other direction, deciding to make a detour to the kitchen, stumbling over your feet. You didn’t see all of him, but you could see that Anakin was wearing a dark navy blue dress shirt and those black pants that he was always in, the ones that you always ended up looking at for more than the normal amount of time. Pressing your palms into the countertop, you took deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. This shouldn’t be so hard, you were making a big deal out of this . . . Right? You once again had to repeat to yourself that he was married and there was no way that anything could happen, even though deep down you wished that something would.

“There you are, why didn’t you come down earlier?” Your mother asked, walking into the room and heading for the oven, the smell of something cooking taking over your senses and taking you away from your thoughts. “Anakin was asking about you.”

You almost choked on the air you breathed in. “He was asking about me?” Your tone was a little too questionable and she turned to look at you behind her shoulder, her eyebrow raised and a tiny smile on her face. “I mean, why was he asking about me?” You asked, attempting to save yourself.

“I don’t know, something about a ball and his kids, did they almost hit you or something?”

Oh, right. The incident at the barbeque. Of course that’s why he was asking, that’s probably the only time he had thought about you.

“So, anyways, go out there and be a charmer. Your brother is terrible at it and you know your father is probably boring them with business stuff,” She said, going back to the meal she was preparing. You nodded, deciding it was finally time to face them and get your own awkwardness out of the way.  The walk to the dining room was brisk and you saw that your father was, in fact, talking about something business related. Padmé seemed somewhat interested, but Anakin was definitely not listening by the way he stared down at the table. You almost laughed, before realizing that your father was talking to you now and you had no idea what he was saying. You were too busy looking at Anakin, seeing his blue eyes dart to your own the moment you walked in the room.

You faltered for a moment. “What’d you say?” You glanced at your dad.

“I was just saying that you finally joined us!” He said, giving you one of his kind dad smiles. You flashed one back, meekly sitting in the only seat that was open at the table, conveniently right next to the person you were trying to keep your distance from. As you pulled your seat out and sat down next to Anakin, your father started talking to Padmé again. You were glad that the attention had seemingly been taken off of you and you could try to keep yourself together for the rest of this dinner.

Though that didn’t seem to be in your favor.

“Luke wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about kicking that ball again, he seems to be really broken up about it, not sure why,” Anakin said to you, turning his head to look right at you again.

You laughed, looking down at your hands in your lap and shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, you may be hearing from my lawyers soon,” You joked, facing him and seeing a grin on his face. “But you’re one, right? So you should be good.”

“I’m not sure, you have a good case,” He joked, taking a sip of his wine. “I haven’t seen you around in a while, still picking up shifts for your friend?” He remembered.

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’m all done now. We get off for the Fourth tomorrow anyways.” The summer holiday had come quickly this year, but it was still something to look forward to. You loved all the fireworks and the food that came with the celebration. In addition to that, it was your family’s favorite holiday as well, meaning that everyone would go out to celebrate like you always did with the traditional block party that the Skywalker’s would now be invited to. It was as if Anakin would never get out of your life no matter how much you wished to avoid him.

Perhaps it was silly, this whole idea that you could have some type of romance with him. He was married, and it seemed like they were happy together. They had two beautiful children together, nothing could ever change that fact.

“That’s good, your mother was telling us all a while ago about the party. You guys sure love to throw them,” Anakin teased, taking a sip of his glass of wine. You watched his lips meet the glass, noting how pink they looked in the correct light. It took you a moment to compose yourself, looking down at the table and taking the biggest breath you could take without him noticing.

You gave a nod, opening your mouth to say something but being greeted by your mother walking in the room with different pots in hand. Finally, a good distraction that could get your mind off of the hunk of the man beside you. Padmé said something about the food that you couldn’t quite make out, reaching to grab one of the serving spoons while you grabbed for the other. Right as your hand hit the wood handle, Anakin’s own hand came down on yours, him not knowing that you were going to reach for the same one.

“Sorry,” You said, hoping that he would mistake your blush from the contact for embarrassment. Luckily, he only gave you a glance and pulled his hand away.

“You first.”

You took some of the food onto your plate, looking down at it until you were sure that the blush had diminished. The room was so hot at this point that you thought that it was possibly on fire. But it wasn’t, it was all because of how close you were to your neighbor, so close that you could feel his presence right next to you and you could smell the cologne that you had smelled the first day that you met him, bringing you back to the moment you looked into his eyes for the first time. You were sure that if you thought about him any more that you would combust right then and there. So you focused on eating, staying silent while the others made small talk.

Minutes passed by and you felt somewhat comfortable again, reaching beside you to grab your phone to check it under the table. Messages blinked up at you, almost illuminating your face as you read: Y/N! Please pick up. I left my computer at work and my brother has my car. I need it tomorrow so that I can work on my thesis, please, please, please can you get it? It was your best friend. Your heart practically thumped out of your chest at the opportunity to get out of this whole ordeal, where you could take your time to get the computer as long as the Skywalker’s would stay over. And then you would have an excuse for your mom instead of just sneaking off to your room.

“Mom, it’s Julia,” You said, holding up your phone so that she could read the text. “I’m sorry, I really need to stop by work and get her computer. It’s important.” You knew that she wouldn’t be happy about you leaving, but nonetheless she said you could go and you were already halfway out the door when you heard your father shouting your name.

Turning around, you saw that he was standing up with Anakin, a firm hand on your neighbor’s shoulder. “Anakin has offered to drive you. It’s late, you know how bad those roads get at night and I would feel more comfortable if you went with him,” Your dad said. You didn’t really have much room to object, since Anakin was already walking into the entrance area and putting on his coat, a black one that matched the same ‘put together’ style that he always seemed to have.

“Okay,” You said, feeling your nerves turn you almost inside out.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Anakin said to everyone, walking behind you out the door and closing it.

You walked to the car alone with Anakin, basically jumping out of your seat in joy the moment you sat down.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Overheard - Chapter 2 (also on 9L)   (Chapter 1 here)

Daryl ignored the overheard conversation for two whole days. At least that's what he told himself. It wasn't the cause of him offering to keep night watch again to avoid spending the evening alone with Carol after the kids went to bed, it wasn't why he snapped at the crew when they didn't get as much of the walls secured as they'd planned to that day, it wasn't why he'd smashed his own finger with the hammer as he fixed one of the garden planters, and it most certainly wasn't why he now traipsed around the compound late into the night when by all rights he should be sleeping. No, he'd forgotten all about that little tête-à-tête. He glanced down the block to the house where he knew Carol, Lydia, Judith, and RJ slept and an empty room awaited his presence. It looked closed up tight and secure, windows darkened just like every other house on his block. You're the only dumbass too afraid to walk into his own home, that sneering voice mocked. Dammit, he needed sleep, especially since he expected yet another grueling day of fence-mending and trap-checking tomorrow and he knew the kids would be up bright and early as per usual. Sighing deeply, he bee lined for home, sure he could slip in unannounced and settle in for yet another restless night of thinking about the woman sharing his home and owning his heart but still eons away from where he wanted her. It wasn't until he opened the front door that he saw the oven light on. Carol stood at the island, busy when she should be sleeping.

He turned away quickly. Damn this... What had she called it? An open-concept house? No way he could sneak to his room now. He closed the door behind him, set his crossbow down, kicked off his shoes, and shrugged out of his jacket and vest, hanging them on the peg on the wall. He started to move in the direction of the stairs, sure she’d stop him to chat, but made the mistake of actually looking over at Carol and found himself arrested mid-step.

A spread of foodstuff lay on the island, and her hands deftly went about their work, but it was the way she looked in the soft light, her hair on one side pushed behind her, long gray locks cascading down the other, that left him frozen in place. She wore a fitted red tank top with spaghetti straps, and he knew if he could see the bottom half of her she'd be sporting those ugly, careworn pajama pants she loved so much. Her skin looked invitingly soft, and when she peered up to find him there, a smile broke over her face. He could barely breathe. "Hey." "Hey. Whaddya doing?" "Making lunch for tomorrow. Lydia and Judith are going to teach RJ how to feed the chickens and gather the eggs before school and weapons training, so they'll be up extra early." He barely heard what she said, his thoughts a million different places, and about half of those in places they shouldn't be. All he could see was her in the home they shared, mothering kids that weren't theirs, distracting as any minx, and stealing his breath and his thoughts like a perfect thief. Maggie and Aaron's refrain, a broken record in his brain, played again. “…times I thought Carol was about to make a move. Been thinking the same thing about Daryl lately.”

He couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, the words had already come out of his mouth. "Do you like living here?" Carol looked at him quizzically, then glanced around the darkened house. "It's better than most of the other places I've lived," she stated as she wrapped up the kids’ lunches. He took a few steps closer. "Do you like it here with—" He nearly said 'me,' but recovered before the singular word slipped out of his mouth. "—the kids and me?" She kept glancing up at him as she finished putting the food away. "Yeah. I think it's good for Lydia. No one else could understand what she's been through better than you and me," she admitted quietly. "Being around Jude and RJ has helped her open up and allowed her to be a kid—when she lets herself. And you know how much I love Judith and RJ. I wouldn't want them with anyone else." He kept moving slowly towards her, unsure what compelled his feet to close the distance between them even as he felt mystified by the direction of his questions. What was he doing? "And me?" he heard himself ask quietly as he rounded the island. A teasing glint entered her eyes. "You have to ask after all this time? You know I liked you first." Her words took him back to another lifetime, another home they'd shared. A time when his mind had first begun thinking about her constantly, when he’d started wanting to care and protect and provide for her, wanting her near. Wanting her. Nothing had changed since then, unless he counted how strong those feelings had become over the years. She expected him to bashfully retreat—he saw it on her face—maybe give her his usual 'stahp' so she could chuff a laugh and they’d go on as they had been for yet another decade. But that overheard conversation had played like a broken record in his head for days. He’d envisioned all the ways he could find out the truth of their words, and laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Carol," he said lowly. His eyes dropped to her shoulder, and of its own volition his hand rose until his fingers trailed over her soft, cool skin, a slow back-and-forth graze across her shoulder. The air around them sizzled, and the voices of his friends, which had accompanied him for days and somehow compelled him into this moment, suddenly dissipated until only the internal drumming of his own heartbeat remained.

He lifted his eyes back to hers, and she peered up at him with desire. "Daryl." He heard his name ghost from her lips, and though he barely knew what he was doing, the sound drew him closer, closer, until his lips finally met hers.

He'd imagined this moment in myriad ways, most of them flushed and frantic and fast. Now that he was here, he wanted to make it last forever in case this, the greatest risk of his life, ended in spectacular shambles.

He moved his lips slowly, deliberately taking his time, and Carol let him. She turned towards him more fully, and his hand cupped her shoulder before sliding down her back, holding her in place, though she seemed content enough on her own to match him, her hands against his chest sending fire spiraling through him.

He eased away just enough to look at her, to make sure this was real. The heat in her eyes and the wonder on her face told him everything he'd ever wanted to know.

He kissed her again, gently, languidly, until it wasn't enough. She slid her arms around his neck, feverishly pressing into him and his hands roamed from her shoulder blades to her hips. Instinctively, he lifted her as her legs wound around him, and he started to move towards the bedroom.

"Too far," she mumbled against his lips, the hum of her voice and the friction of her body against him causing his blood to rage within him.

It was only a few steps to the living room, but they barely made it before she started removing his clothes, and he was more than happy to help. Somehow they missed the couch and ended up on the floor, but he couldn't care when her lips and hands and skin were touching him all over and she urged his own roaming hands to continue mapping her body. And moments later when he stared into her eyes, he knew he'd never be the same.

*****

Daryl took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, before he opened his eyes and looked to his left. His arm was falling asleep where it pillowed Carol's head, but he didn't dare move. Her eyes were closed, cheeks tinged pink, a look of contentment on her face.

He couldn't believe what had just happened.

For the first time in his life, he didn't care that he'd completely lost control, let loose every emotion he felt, every word that formed on his lips, every thought about Carol that came to him. Didn't care that he lay completely exposed, both physically and emotionally. Because she had done the same, and it was glorious.

He took a final deep breath, his heart rate finally returning to normal, when, in one smooth move, Carol rolled towards him onto her side and tucked herself against him, slinging one leg over his. His arm curled around her, and he trailed his fingertips across her hip as she placed a kiss over his heart.

"So that was fun," she purred playfully, eliciting an amused huff from him.

"Best thing that's happened to me all day," he admitted.

"Daryl Dixon, are you

flirting

me with?" she asked coyly, clearly pleased.

He raised an eyebrow in response, one side of his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile, and she kissed his chest again.

"Why now?" she asked softly. "I mean, what made you...?"

He flushed a little, embarrassed to admit the truth. "I overheard Aaron and Maggie talkin'. Seems they've been waitin’ for us to get together for a long while and think we've been taking our time."

Her eyes smiled at him. "They're not wrong. We should stop waiting."

"I think we just did," he reminded her.

She moved over him, straddling his hips, seduction written all over her face.

He wanted to. Hell, he'd been waiting 10 years. He could spend the next 10 years making up for it. Still... "Carol, I don't think I can--"

She set a finger over his lips. "Shhh....we'll take our time," she promised as she leaned down to kiss him.

And they did just that.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

[plus-size-reader]

Perfect

12 days of Christmas Special 9

Dandy Mott x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1240 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Dandy’’s willing to do whatever it takes to give the reader the perfect Christmas

——————————————————————————————————

When Dandy promised you a perfect Christmas, you believed him but in all honesty, you were just expecting the same Christmas as the last few years. Gloria always made sure that everything looked absolutely perfect, which meant not being able to touch the decorations or the lights. 

You weren’t even allowed to eat the little candies in the dish above the fireplace. 

A Christmas with the Mott’s had a lot of rules and you knew that no matter what Dandy promised, it would always be the same way. 

In all honesty, you just wanted to be able to have a nice time with your best guy, cuddled up by the fire. A fire that you weren’t allowed to light due to Gloria's fear that it would make all of her best holiday dresses smell like smoke. 

Little did you know that that wouldn’t be a problem this year, Dandy had made sure of it. 

“Y/N, will you come here for a second?” The all too familiar tone of Dandy’s voice called through the house. It was just the two of you today, as Dandy had informed you that Gloria had a book club meeting this morning. 

You weren’t even sure that she was in a book club but when Dandy told you where she was, you believed him. After all, what reason would he have to lie to you? He never had before and the two of you had been together for almost two years. 

Besides, you were always glad to have time to yourselves. 

“Coming Dandy” you hummed, your heels clicking on the floor as you made your way up to the playroom. You were sure that was where you would find him, especially at this time of the day. 

However, when you actually got to the playroom doors, they were shut, with Dandy standing guard in front of them. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting forever” He huffed, clearly expecting you to have sprinted up the stairs like a crazy person from the kitchen. Nevertheless, you ignored his pouting and instead chose to focus on what he needed from you. 

He had to have called you up here for a reason, but he was hiding something.

That much was obvious. 

“What is all this about Dandy? I have apple tarts in the oven” you asked, genuinely worrying about burning them. Usually Dora would make them for you but since she was out of commission this Christmas, you had to make due with what you had. 

And if they weren’t out of the oven by the time Gloria got home, you were going to get another lecture about using the oven. 

It wasn’t proper for the lady of the house, she would remind, even though you weren’t the lady of the house quite yet

...Which she also wouldn’t let you forget. 

Dandy only answered you with a wide smile, his hands behind his back as if keeping the world's biggest secret hidden there. 

Whatever he’d done, he was clearly proud of it. 

“You remember when I promised you the best Christmas ever?” he smiled, acting theatrically as he always did. He could be so dramatic sometimes but you loved him enough that it didn’t matter to you. 

You didn’t mind playing along. 

“Of course I do Dandy” You allowed, your heel tapping on the floor lightly as you grew increasingly more worried about your tarts in the oven. If this went on for much longer, they would be ruined for sure. 

However, as soon as Dandy opened the doors to the playroom, all thoughts of those tarts were forgotten. 

It was absolutely beautiful. 

The whole room was decorated with tinsel and glitter, with a huge sparkling tree in the middle of the room. It had bright red string lights and white ball ornaments that looked incredible. You couldn’t believe he’d done this all himself. 

You just couldn’t believe it. 

“Did you do this all yourself Dandy? This is beautiful” you gasped, checking out each and every detail. It was absolutely perfect, with every single piece in place. There were even stuffed animals under the tree, holding the place where the presents would go. 

You were in awe of it. 

Of course, all Dandy could do was smile, watching your reaction to the whole thing. It had taken him days but to see you so excited over it made the whole thing worth it. 

He would do anything to see that smile, anything that it took. 

Even, apparently, murder, not that he was planning on telling you about that. 

He just hoped that you didn’t look behind the closed curtain of the stage. That was, of course, where he’d chosen to keep both of the bodies that he’d strung up like puppets. Tonight just didn’t seem like the right time to bring that all to the surface. 

For now, he just wanted to have a nice night. 

This was the first year that he’d actually be able to give you the perfect Christmas that you’d always wanted. 

“I’m so glad you like it, because this is just the beginning” he smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his own. 

You had no idea what he could have on top of this but you were excited to find out. Dandy could be a tad bit selfish on occasion but when he fell in love or decided that someone was worth it-there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. 

...and you were no exception. 

In fact, Dandy was more caring than he’d ever been with you. Spoiling you was one of his favorite things in all the world. What better time to do so then Christmas? 

Without missing a beat, Dandy sat down on the couch, beside a large teddy bear. You knew that it was also brand new but you hardly paid attention to it. Instead, you focused on the large pile of delicately wrapped gift boxes, sparkling in the red lights of the Christmas tree. 

You knew that there was no way Dandy had wrapped them himself but you didn’t care. 

The point was enough for you, and you were practically vibrating with excitement as you looked at them. You hadn’t expected this from Dandy, who usually only did things that he wanted to do for himself. 

It was nice. 

“What is all that Dandy? Are those for me?” you wondered, genuinely unsure if he had done all this for you. 

...Though you should have assumed. 

“Of course they are, I picked them all out myself” he grinned, leaving your side for a moment to retrieve a single box from beneath the tree. “You can open one tonight?” he reminded, enforcing the one rule Gloria had about Christmas eve. 

Each member of the Mott family was allowed to open one present on Christmas eve before bed.

You momentarily felt the need to remind him that it was only two in the evening but didn’t bother. If Dandy wanted you to open a present right now, you weren’t going to argue. 

Besides, as excited as he was right now, you didn’t want to ruin the mood. 

“This one is extra special” he grinned, watching you lift the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring that sparkled in the light of the Christmas tree. It was incredible, but all you could focus on what it meant. 

Maybe you would be the lady of the house after all. 

[yellowsuitcase]

Autumn // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Hey guys! I was writing a request but then I put on soft jazz and lit a fall candle and I just felt the need to write a little drabble about the fall season. Enjoy!

Summary: Y/N, who is pregnant, and her husband Draco spend a fall day together.

Waring(s): None!

Word Count: 1.7k

Y/N sighed in content as she watched the orange flames flicker in the fireplace. She took a small sip of her hot apple cider and dug her feet further into her fuzzy brown socks. The sweet jazz her husband had put on their record player soothed her soul. She felt at peace, she felt cozy, she felt safe. After all, autumn was her favorite time of year. The soft sweaters and pumpkin carving and the beautiful changing of the leaves never failed to fill her with joy. The fall season was special to Y/N for many reasons, but perhaps the biggest one was that she had met her husband, Draco, in the fall. They’d also gotten married in the fall. She remembered that day, vividly. The smell of the crisp autumn air, the orange and brown leaves scattered on the ground. Her long-sleeved wedding gown to shield her from the cold. Oh, how she missed that day.

However, she had bigger things to look forward to. Much bigger than her wedding day. See, Y/N was pregnant with her first child. In late March, she found out.  Since it was November, her baby was due any day now. Draco was over the moon when she told him. He hasn’t stopped fussing over here since that day. And now, with the day growing ever closer, he hardly ever left Y/N’s side. 

Y/N took another sip of her cider, nearly dropping it as she did since her daughter decided to give her a little kick, successfully catching her off guard. She chuckled to herself and rested her hand on her bulging belly, rubbing softly. “Is she bothering you, love?” Draco asked, amused. Y/N looked away from the fireplace. She stared at her husband, who was cozied up on their couch with a book, and smiled softly. “She wants out,” she replied. Draco looked at his wife’s belly. He felt an overwhelming wave of love every time he did. His daughter was inside there, his first daughter. Draco set down his book and stood up. He walked over to his wife, gently got to his knees, and placed his head against her stomach. He said nothing for a while, solely seeping into that precious moment. Soon, his child would be here. The thought of it brought tears to his eyes. He looked up.

Y/N was smiling down at him fondly. She reached out her hand and caressed her lover’s face. How lucky was she to be with a man like him? He’d been her rock throughout the entire pregnancy, dropping everything to come to her aid. There had been a few times when Y/N was sure she was going into labor, and Draco had left work and apparated to their home without a moment’s hesitation. If he ever faced repercussions at the Ministry, he never let Y/N know about it. “Don’t worry about me; you and our baby are the only things that matter to me,” he’d always say whenever she asked. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, “I love you,” from Draco as he stood up again. Y/N smiled and pursed her lips, signaling she wanted a kiss; Draco delivered. The smell of snickerdoodles filled the air as he sat back down on the couch and wrapped a green blanket around him. His wife looked at him. She could tell by his face he had something on his mind. The fire crackled as she studied him. “What’s troubling you?” she asked. 

Draco shrugged. “I’m just a bit stressed, is all,” he replied. He rested his head on the arm of the leather couch, slowly letting his muscles relax. “About?” Y/N prompted. Draco waited for a beat before responding. “What are we going to name her, Y/N? I know we’ve talked about it, but we still haven’t made a decision. It could be any day now that she decides to pop out, and I-I guess I’m a bit worried, is all.”

Y/N gazed at him with adoration in her eyes. She didn’t think it could be possible to love him any more than she already did, but here she was, feeling her heart swell. “I think we’ll know when we see her. We’ll look at her and just...know.”

Draco stared into the fire. He knew she was right; he was just so anxious for her to come. What if he laid his eyes on his daughter for the first time and couldn’t think of a name? It’s something other parents have had happen to them. What if it happened to him and Y/N? Would they just bring home an unnamed baby girl? The thought didn’t sit right with Draco.

“I know you want everything to be perfect, but you don’t have to stress so much about it. If you put too much pressure on yourself, we’ll never be able to make a decision. Let’s just see how the next few days play out, okay? Let’s enjoy the time we have together. Soon it won’t be just you and me, you know?” Y/N reminded him. It suddenly hit him that in a few weeks, there would be another human in his house. No longer would it be Draco and Y/N. The realization gave him a sudden burst of energy. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the entryway closet. “What’re you doing?” his wife called out to him. 

He turned around and smiled. “Getting my shoes on, we’re going on a little trip.” Y/N stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Draco Malfoy, if you haven’t noticed, I’m nine months pregnant. There’s no way I’m going anywhere, not unless we use muggle transportation,” she informed him. Draco had a mischievous grin plastered to his face; he was up to something. He stood in front of her with her shoes and jacket in his hands. She looked at him incredulously, unsure about whether or not she trusted him. But he paid her no mind. Kneeling to the floor, he slipped her shoes onto her swollen feet, making sure they weren’t too tight. Then he stood up and helped her off of the rocking chair she was in. She reluctantly put her arms in the jacket he held out for her. It was a beige color and big enough to wrap around her pregnant belly. Y/N busied herself with her hat while Draco rushed to the kitchen. She thought nothing of it, simply assuming he wanted to grab his keys should they run into a muggle.

Draco held out his arm for her. Once she took it, he led her to the front door. “Where are we going? You still haven’t told me,” she complained. Draco responded with a kiss on her temple, successfully silencing her. They walked out the door and down the sidewalk. Y/N took her mind off of what Draco was planning and instead admired the scenery around her. Her hand felt heavy in Draco’s as she began to relax. They walked in silence for quite some time. 

Soon the sidewalk came to a dead end. In front of them stood a large tree. It looked familiar to Y/N. She turned to Draco to see he was smiling. “Why are we here?” she asked. He turned to her. “Well, I came across this tree when I was coming home from work one day. It’s an oak tree, like the one in the Hogwarts courtyard.”

“You mean the one people used to carve their initials into?” Y/N asked. Draco nodded. “That’s the one. When I saw this one, in particular, it reminded me of our school days, and even though we didn’t sit at this tree very often, we spent a lot of time in the courtyard,” he said. Y/N chuckled. “We did. Lots of picnics out there,” she said happily as she stroked her stomach. 

“Exactly. You mentioned these being our last few days of it being just the two of us, so I thought it might be fun to have a little picnic, for old time’s sake.” Draco stared at his wife expectantly. He looked pleased with himself. Y/N laughed and let her head fall onto his shoulder. “You’re a dork. But I am starving, whatchu got Malfoy?” she asked. Draco winked and let go over her arm. He looked around before taking out his wand and wordlessly making a red and orange blanket appear on the autumn dirt. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a towel. He placed it on the blanket and gently unwrapped it to reveal the snickerdoodles Y/N had put in the oven earlier that afternoon. 

Draco made sure the cookies weren’t going to move, and then he walked over to his wife and helped her down onto the blanket. She sat down and got herself as comfortable as she could, and Draco followed suit. They wasted no time digging into the sweet snickerdoodles. Draco looked up in between bites to see Y/N stuffing her face. He smiled to himself; he remembered her doing the same thing when they’d share lunch together on a Sunday afternoon. Y/N had a tendency to eat as if someone was going to appear out of thin air and snatch her food. Draco found it adorable, often jesting and calling her his little chipmunk. She sensed his eyes on her and glanced up. 

“Not a word from you, I am a pregnant witch, and I can eat however many I please,” she declared, causing her husband to chuckle. He continued to watch as she munched on the cookies. She looked as beautiful as the day he first saw her. Perhaps even more beautiful now, as she had that glow about her. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he said suddenly, yet gently. Her eyes flickered to his. “I love you too, sweetheart. Thank you for dragging me out of the house to eat cookies,” she said sweetly. “Your daughter is enjoying them just as much as I am.” Draco scooted closer to his wife and placed a hand on her belly. Almost instantly, he felt a kick. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her bulge. And then it hit him. 

“Autumn,” he whispered with a gasp. He sat up to look at his wife. “Autumn,” he repeated. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Draco, that’s the season we’re in.” He shook his head. “No, no. Autumn. We should name her autumn,” he said, his eyes wide. Y/N looked down at her stomach. She saw it stretch as her daughter kicked again. She lifted her head to look back at Draco. 

“She likes it,” she said with a smile.