#and my friend said usually Queen goes along mother

[ramiesie]

Yellowjackets Theory: Shauna is the Antler Queen

Picking straws theory, bear with me

I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out, we know that Shauna is unhinged this season, almost all of the clips of her show us that, so what if the coup against Natalie it's against her power given by Lottie?

What if the "you're not in charge anymore" isn't a critique of Natalie's thoughts, but an order and the first scene of the rebellion/coup?

You may say "but that doesn't make sense, Taissa said that thanks to Natalie they're alive" and I say that that doesn't matter, we know thanks to Van's story, that they "feed the fire that destroyed their home" so maybe Natalie literally told them to keep the fire alive so they don't freeze to death, that happens before and goes along with that Taissa said.

Even tho this Shauna couldn't possibly be Antler Queen because of her nature, that regarding her anger she's very kind still (I'm saying kind because of how she got nervous about Javi and because the remorse she felt when Jackie died)

This Shauna could definitely be Antler Queen and organize the huntings for their survival, after all she's the one admitting that "even if rescue came, they can never go home again"

Even tho she's against the wilderness, her pessimism and growing hate for it, it's feeding the same thing (in the case that the wilderness is real and demands blood)

More "evidence" or my theory is how she's the only one in the trailers that looks like it's being blackmailed, we know it's probably all of them that are getting blackmailed, but only Shauna is being showed with tapes.

Another thing could be the nightmare that Jeff has, if she was just the butcher, I don't think Jeff would have such reaction, you know? there had to have been something more about Shauna.

It could also explain why she's so desperate to be the average housewife once they returned, she's desperately trying to clean off her crimes if being the Antler Queen in the wilderness.

"But Natalie said she lost her purpose when they went back" I know, and that doesn't disprove anything, because following my theory, Nat is still the one that saved them from freezing in the winter, and still is the main hunter alongside Travis and Gen.

Also, we have this pic from the trailer that shows Nat with an apron and tied hair, so I believe before the coup happened, Shauna taught her how to be a butcher because she didn't wanted to do it anymore (because of how angry she's in the trailer)

Going alongside with this theory, I have another two of what does the hair things mean on the Antler Queen garment

My first theory it's that when Shauna made the coup, the "loyalty fee" of begin on her side was a piece of hair, and considering the whole wilderness superstition, I think it's odd and personal enough to make sense

The second theory (and the one I like more) it's a little bit more dark, but plausible. Each (or every two) hair string is the hair of someone they have eaten, the bases of this it's that almost all of the characters have black or really dark brown hair with the exceptions of:

Misty (survivor)

Nat (dyed, survivor)

Van (survivor)

Jackie (dead)

Laura Lee (dead)

And Melissa, which we don't know if survived or not. Either way if she survived it would have made sense that her hair isn't there, and if she didn't, I may be on the back or they didn't show it to avoid spoilers.

And Melissa does have more relevance this season, so her being a survivor isn't really far fetched.

Following this, it could explain why ghost Jackie has brown hair now, not because Shauna it's forgetting her, but because the dark hair would represent the "sacrifices" and or they people they ate in the wilderness.

I know that my theory it's probably very wrong and that Antler Queen is either Lottie or Nat (or maybe the rotation theory) but I think it makes a little bit of sense, and either way it was really funny to make up this theory.

this was for fun don't get mad at me please

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

Writer Questionnaire ❦

Taking a break from writing to catch up on my tags writing 2 books at once is not for the weak 😭 so thank you @drchenquill for the tag as always!

- how long have you had your writing tumblr/writerblr? a fast and loose estimate is fine!

At least since April or early May!

- what lead you to create it?

I wanted to connect with other writers and creatives to make new friends!

- what's your favorite thing about the writer community?

My favorite part is the absolute powerhouse of creativity and innovation. You all have this incredible knack for coming up with unique ideas that never fail to inspire me. Plus, they're hilarious! Their sense of humor adds a delightful twist to everything we do, making even the wildest ideas feel approachable and fun. Honestly, being around such talent and laughter is a constant source of my motivation and joy!

- what’s one thing you'd like in mutual to know about you?

No notification I receive on this app goes unnoticed. I'll be at work, smiling because someone found my writing and enjoyed it! It means so much to me and only makes me want to write even more!

- is there anything you'd like to see more of on your dash?

I would love more collaboration and interaction in my messages. I am open to discussing and exchanging ideas with another writer. I’m particularly interested in co-creating a planetary system and bouncing creative ideas back and forth.

- which wips or writing projects are you noodling about lately

I'm currently working on fleshing out a novel titled Journals from The Whitmore Estate, which is a modern/historical fiction story. The novel explores the slave and civil war era, and also delves into our near future. It centers around the actions of a power-hungry ancestor who sought to shift power dynamics, and the resulting centuries of generational backlash.

- how long have you been working on them?

Its been about a few months, I had to take a break to give myself new perspectives and coming to a decision on who the main character was!

- do you remember what inspired them/what got you started

I was looking at writing prompts and came across one that said something along the lines of “Your character inherits a manor from a distant relative. Upon moving in, they discover what lies within its walls, answering why your family has been plagued by bad luck for as long as anyone can remember.”

- how much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Wayyy too much! Now rhat I've found the main character, I can't put it down!

- when someone ask the dreaded "what do you write about?" question what do you usually say?

“I write whatever comes to mind!” Or “You can read my writings to find out.” 😗

- name any characters you created. Side characters, protagonist, antagonist, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

Kirjani is my favorite oc to date! Her chosen family: Rick, Raelin, and Lena. The three sisters from the Isles of Aurorith! Imani, Jade and Jasmine, the first ocs I ever created, they deserve their story to be told. (I’m working on it!!) My scrapped character folder is at about 60 something, but the one I just couldn't figure out completely was their grandmother Queen Amara, those who've followed me for a while probably remember her! She was just a bit too sinister and I tried to work around certain motivations and rationality kept getting in the way 🤣 I might use her for another story of mine I've been thinking about

- who’s the most unhinged?

I think it would be between Amara or Kirjani for sure. One of them is justifiably so, the other… not so much LOL

- who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Jules a gay sophmore in high school who is grieving the sudden loss of his mother (I haven't introduced him yet!) He's the first character I've ever based on myself or someone like me rather.

- do you ever cringe at them?

Oh yeah, that’s when I'm writing his best romantic scenes. Love, especially teen romance is supposed to be cringy and awkward at times. That's what makes it so!

- how much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? to what degree? are some less cooperative than others?

They literally form their own lives that I just go with, its their world I’m just living in and writing it! I'm considerably outnumbered lmao

- do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

More than words can express, that's why I love sharing my characters and their personalities. I want to open discussions on humanity and how the human condition can create dynamically and perplexing people!

- what makes you want to follow another writeblr account? do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

I don't really have enough mutuals or followers, so I follow people based on their creativity and if they're on Writeblr. I don't have much discernment at the moment :)

- what makes you decide against following?

Just depends. I guess I haven't found a page I've ever said, “Oh no, can't follow that,” too.

- do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Not really, and if I follow you and you don't follow me back, I will give you 24 hours before I unfollow. We're all creatives here; no one is more creative than the next person, in my opinion.

This was so much fun to answer, I have so many more tags to do, but I’m not gonna stress ah finishing them all today 🥲 I have some short stories I wanna post as well from the weekend.

I tag @leahpardo-pa-potato, @slenders1ckn3ss, and @coffeewritesfiction. + open tag to any writer interested!

[lucius-morningstar]

Next Time Listen

Lucius decides to go to Cannibal Town with his mother, it goes about as well as you'd think. ----- Lilith: Lucius focus please. Lucius: Huh? Lilith: What did I just say? Lucius: Focus Please? Lilith: Before that. Lucius: You said my name. Lilith: .... Lucius: ..Sorry. Lilith: *Sighs* Look I get that cannibal town is piquing your interest but I need you to focus on why we're here. Lucius: Still don't know why I'm here, Rosie and you usually talk alone. What could I benefit from being here and why didn't Charlie come along. Lilith: ..The cannibals freak her out a little and I asked you to come along so you can learn more about your people. What I've been trying to do for a while but you've been insistent on staying close to home. Close to Charlie. Lucius: That bother you? Lilith: Not bother, more concerns me. You're allowed to make friends out here you know. Learn how people work. Lucius: Didn't dad say- Lilith: Your father speaks out of hurt, these are his people whether he likes it or not. Are you actually talking to him again. Lucius: Not as of late but on the times he tries to talk he's making sure we don't make deals. Like he thinks we're 40 or something. Lilith: ..He's just looking out for you in his own way. Lucius: Yeah well maybe if he made more of an effort to see us I'd believe that. Lilith: Lucius it's- Lucius: Complicated so you keep saying, so he keeps saying. Lilith: First of all, do not cut me off and second. It's more complicated then you think. There's a lot going on right now. Lucius: We're almost in our two hundreds and the most we get out of him is a text message, when he's not doing that he's asking for favors. Lilith: Yes, I know. Lucius: Just because he's choosing to be a shut in- Lilith: Lucius enough. I'm sorry I brought it up let's just.. Do what we need to do. Lucius: ... ------- Rosie: Why I can't believe my sore eyes. If it isn't the Queen herself coming to visit lil old me and did she bring herself a new man. I kid I know it's you, your highness. How are you doing Prince Lucius. Lucius: Fine Rosie, and you. Rosie: Oh you wouldn't believe it, a new overlord is rising the ranks and with two young girls no less. She's becoming quite the name for herself. Lilith: Is she now, do tell me more. Over tea perhaps. Rosie: You read my mind dearie. Lilith: Lucius, why don't you explore around town and please, do not cause any trouble. No flirting with any young debutants. Lucius: Oh mother I am hurt, do you know who I am. Lilith: Yes and that's exactly why I'm telling you to listen to me. No flirting. Lucius: Yeah yea, I'll see you in an hour. Rosie: ..He's not going to listen is he. Lilith: What do you think? ------ Lilith: Were you able to behave yourself. Lucius: Mhm.. Lilith: ..What did you do. Lucius: Nothing. Lilith: Then why are you sitting like that. Lucius: Promise not to get mad. Lilith: What'd you do.. Lucius: I-I met a girl. Lilith: What happened? ---- Lilith: Oh my satan, what were you thinking. Lucius: She was hot and when she offered to go down I didn't think she was gonna do that. Lilith: Oh for fucks sake-.. You're seeing Bel and you're telling her what happened. Lucius: Please don't make me do that, she'll tell Bee. Lilith: Good, then maybe next time you won't go shagging with a cannibal. I told you to listen! Lucius: I didn't think she'd turn my dick into a piccolo flute! Lilith: How did she even do that, you let her bite more then once?! Lucius: Well... Lilith: Lucius Morningstar, Next time listen to me!

[acridcandy]

* ❥ ⎯⎯ hi there, my name is selene ( she / her, 21+ ) and today i'm bringing you your queen s, na aera! she's 25, a business administration student at snu and fashion and lifestyle influencer, part of the s 'n u subplot trinity, and is currently headed on the path to self-destruction now that gossip girl has put a target on her back. fun! i have her dossier ready which has a profile and background on her, but i'll put the tl;dr version that was on her application down below, along with some plots that i can think of! please like this post to plot and i'll head your way, or you can add me on disc @ paraselene woman#8196 which is currently preferred more than tumblr ims. thank you for your time and i'm excited to play out some mess with you all! ♡

⏤ sparknotes bio ;

saw na aera in seoul. they were playing tennis. i think they’re an student and influencer now? a lot of people say they’re kinda deceptive but they seemed super charming to me, tbh. they really look like cho miyeon and remind me of park gulmi though wtf. thought you might want to know because i remember your post about them that said she blackmailed a professor who had an affair with a student. still can’t believe that happened 1 month ago.

oh, how the mighty fall. while aera's life hasn't always been cozy, especially with an egoistic mother, she always had her father to depend on and alleviate her pain. born with beautiful looks and pleasant singing tone to boot, she was scouted on the streets of seoul as a young tween and trained under the top entertainment industry in hopes of becoming an idol. while not making the opportunity of debuting in their next girl group, she left the company after 4 years only with a growing number of followers on her social media due to the rumors, and popularity that spilled from online into real life. this is where she cultivates her sweet persona, one that drastically differs from her actual personality that she keeps under tight wraps. after taking a couple of years off from university once her mother passes away after aera turns 21, it's only a few years later that she finds herself becoming one of seoul national's most well known current students, and well beloved. it feels like she doesn't get enough time to savor her status before life falls to collapse. she finds out that one of her friends is actually her step-sister by way of her father, and then gossip girl marking her return by spotlighting herself and her friends, which internally shakes her to her core ⏤ especially since she was able to evade her watchful eyes prior to her disappearance. after the post about the tumultuous relationship between her, her sister and prince charming goes viral she chooses to power through the fretfulness, pretending as if it were nothing even though others start to look at her at a different light. the cracks in her armor fully show once gossip girl ups the anti to expose her best kept secret about the professor, which brings her budding career to a screeching halt despite an attempt to still play the victim. aera has always adored attention, but with gossip girl wreaking havoc in her life she feels as if she's spiraling towards full destruction ⏤ she's lost her mother, feels like she lost her father, losing her sister and flame, and now an attempt on her career. however, aera would be damned to give up anything without a proper fight.

⏤ currently ;

the cracks in her formerly impenetrable armor are clearly showing now. usually hard to anger, she's prone to emotional outbursts every now and then and is a little less friendly to the general public, not knowing who she can trust anymore. but her motto is to ignore it as if it never happened, despite the fact that isn't working out so hot for her.

just got off her one month "reflection" period on social media that was mandated by her management company. her following has taken an obvious hit, and it probably would have done her better to reflect for a longer period, but

girl is escapist central right now. drugs, drinking, sex, any vice you name it ⏤ anything to get away from this hellhole for at least a couple of hours or so. queen of also making bad decisions for temporary satisfaction.

⏤ plots and ideas ;

looking for the monet de haan to her julian calloway ⏤ moreso in the sense that someone who is close to her and she doesn't have to pretend with, but also fuels her bad decision making. a tight but vicious team to anything that could potentially stand between their goals.

in the same vein: party friends who also enable her hedonist ways and she returns the favor, her favorite group rn

someone who she really valued that now looks at her differently since the gossip girl's posts and has acted accordingly. she'd do anything to get them back on her side

former victims of her vindictive nature: maybe people who have tried to steal her thrown or blackmail her, others who have also tried to get prince charming's attention, rivals, people who just came across her on a bad day, whatever!

a specific friends w benefits / fuck buddy type of relationship that she loves to hit up to release stress. maybe things are starting to get complicated between them?

even though her mother is out of the picture, her mother's family is not. maybe they're trying to find a suitor for her to continue the family bloodline and are trying to marry her away to someone? maybe she doesn't like this dude because of that?

someone that's worried about her and is trying to help her get her act together?

and ofc the usual of general friends, ex lovers, cousins, enemies, etc.

tbh i think i'm a lot better at brainstorming but thank you for reading this far if you did!

[djtheabishai]

Best Friends or Master and Steward? Part: 1 (Kid)

There are gonna be two parts! This part shows how they met, the next part (though I don't know if it's gonna be as long) will show their fate Barbatos and Simeon bicker a bit but their arguments are really nothing to worry about, they'll get over it sooner or later. No couple is perfect. Princess Roslyn is 75% Dragon and 25% Demon, is 100% precent D.J. and Diavolo's daughter. How? Think back to "Like Father, Like Daughter". Diavolo was temperately a full blooded dragon. Mating season came along and out popped Roslyn soon after. Queen Starfrost is D.J. and Brook's dead mother. Queen of Dragons. Next: Best Friends or Master and Steward? Part: 2 (Preteen)

\/\/\_6_Years_Ago_/\/\/

"Barb! My mother's spellbook is gone! Dia, Lucifer and Brook are looking as well but I think more help will be better. The castle is pretty big we think you might have a better idea of where it might've gone." D.J. said frantically. "Ok, Diciria, calm down and breathe. There's pies in the oven and Simeon's in the shower, as soon as they get done, we'll be over to help look for your mother's spellbook. Luke can look after Willow while we're gone." 

Barbatos then felt a tug on his pants. "Father?" Said a small voice beside him. The steward looks down and sees Willow looking up at him with bright aqua eyes. "Why can't I got with you and Dad? I never go with you to The Demon Lord's Castle." The nephalem pointed out. "Because the castle is a dangerous place. No place for a child." Barbatos told his daughter. "But Luke gets to go and he's a child like me!" "He's older than you and can defend himself better than you can." Barbatos said, gently nudging his child aside from the oven door so he can take the pies out of the oven. "It's not fair! When do I get to go?!" She stomped her foot. "When you're older." The demon replied, not looking at the child beside him, closing the door and shutting the oven off. 

"I know it's not my place to say, but why don't you bring her along? Her and Roslyn can keep each other company. I'll have Dominic and Arial watch over them to make sure they don't get into anything while we're looking for the book." The half dragon suggested. 

Barbatos looks over at his phone, which is on speaker, to his daughter and back to his phone. "Please Father? I'm gonna have to be around them when I'm older. And aren't Roslyn and I the same age?" Barbatos inhails. "I need a friend, Father. Luke can't be my only friend. He can't be my friend, he's my brother. You can't be friends with your siblings. It's a different bond." The steward exhails. "Alright, fine. I'll get Simeon and we'll be on our way." He said. "Yay!" The half angel cheered and ran out the kitchen. "Dad! We're going to The Demon Lord's Castle!" She told the older angel. 

"Wait till your dad gets out of the shower! " He calls after the excited half angel. "We'll see you soon, Diciria." 

"Thanks for your help, Barb." The half dragon thanked. " No need for thanks. If the book gets in the wrong hands, it could cause serious trouble." Barbatos said, taking his apron off and hanging it up. "Last I knew, the book was locked in mine and Dia's room in my nightstand. You need a dragon claw to open it. Both boys have demon claws, Arial never goes in the room without me or Dia in there and Roslyn doesn't nose around the room and Brook doesn't go in there unless I'm in there. Scarlet only opens the drawer to see if it's still there when I don't. She told me it was gone." D.J. lists. "Are you sure she didn't use it?" Barbatos asks, taking the phone off speaker and held it to his ear. "No, she never does. She can't, she's not the magic type. Only those with magic abilities can use it." She explained.

 Barbatos walks out to see Willow has changed her outfit. She went from her usual navy blue stars and moon dress to a white shirt connected to a black and white checkered skirt that went halfway past her knees, a fleece black blazer and black flat shoes. She even changed her bag. It's a small white bag with a black heart on the zipper handle.

"That was quick." Her father commented. "Well, if we're going to see the royal family, I might as well look my best!" The kid commented, putting her hands behind her back and straightening up, standing on her toes with a big smile on her face. "Plus I have Scarlet to thank for the quick change." She added. "Oh?" "She showed me a trick! But it only works with the clothes you already own." She told him. "You don't have any cookies or anything in your bag, do you?" Barbatos then asked sternly. "No Father. Just a picture of our family and the pocket watch you gave me!" Willow answered and showed the two items to him. The steward nods, a smile forming on his face. 

Simeon walks out, fully dressed in his human world outfit, carding a hand through his damp hair. He does have his cape over his shoulders though, for whatever reason."You're not wearing your Celestial clothes, Simeon, but why the cape?" Barbatos pointed out, putting his phone in his pocket, forgetting D.J. was still on the phone. (She forgot Barbatos was on the phone too, busy looking for the spellbook.) "Well, I thought a change of clothes will be nice. Plus they need cleaned. Brook wants to borrow if for something, but didn't say what." The angel stated, lifting the corner of the cape. "When we get back, I'll start a load." Barbatos told him.

" 'We'? As in us, or 'we' as in you and someone else?" Simeon asked, looking at his husband. "Us. Diciria called and needs help finding Queen Starfrost's spellbook. Her, Brooklyn, Lucifer and the Young Master are already looking, but they need the extra help since the castle is huge. Willow be coming along as well. She can keep Princess Roslyn company. Besides, she was gonna meet the royal kids sooner or later." He pointed out.  

Simeon nodded. "Well, we better be on our way. The sooner we find the book, the better." The angel looks at his daughter. "You ready?" "Ready!" "Then let's get going." The demon said, checking to if the front and back doors are locked.

"Oh! I want to try a technique to take us there. D.J. and I have been practicing it for a while." Simeon spoke up." Oh? And who are you learning this from?" Willow asked. "D.J.'s aunt been teaching us." "It's not the feline, isn't it?" Barbatos asked, voice stern. " And what if it is?" The angel responded to his husband. "Simeon, you know I don't like it when you're around her." "She's not a threat!" The angel tried to defend. "Unintentionally." The demon responded, not convinced. "She doesn't go looking for trouble, trouble finds her.. most the time." Barbatos growled a warning

"Which is why I don't want you around her. I don't hate her, but she's a magnet for trouble and if something where to happen to you, Willow, Luke, or the twins, so help me, I will NOT show mercy." "Me nor the twins aren't helpless! And Luke can last a long while before one of comes to help!" "I am aware of that, but -" "Can we please go!" Willow cut her father off. "D.J. needs help and we're stalling because of her aunt!" " You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. Let's get going." The steward said and looks at Simeon. "You were gonna take us?" He asked. "Yes. I was." The angel replied sternly. 

Simeon held his cape open. His eyes flashed white and the the blue green inside turned to what looks D.J.'s old room at the castle. "You wanna step through first to see if it's ok to use?" He teased the demon. " As a matter of fact, I will." Barbatos said and lowers his head as he walks under the angel's arms and into cape. Barbatos looks around, eyes a bit wide to find that he's truly in the half dragon's old room. He looks back the other other two and smiles. He walksbacl to where the rooms are split and moves his upper half of his body through the portal and holds out a gloved hand to his daughter. 

Giggling, Willow takes her father's hand and he guides her into the room. Simon did one last sweep of the house before jumping and waving the cape over himself, moving to his family. He lands on one foot and quickly lowers the other to catch his balance. He then looks at Barbatos with a smile.

"Don't get cocky, angel, remember the last time you got cocky with me?" The steward playfully warned. "How could I forget?" The angel responded, grinning with a small blush on his face. 

Willow stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

Then, Diavolo walks in the room. "Ah! Barbatos! Simeon! It's good to see you both! D.J. told me you were coming! He then looks at Willow. "It's good to see you too, Willow." He said in a calmer time, to not scare the child. "Good to see you too, My Lord." She said shyly, looking away.

"I hear you came along too keep little Roslyn company. I'm sure she would be thrilled to have someone to play with that's not her brothers." Diavolo said, looking over his shoulder, but his eyes were on the half angel. 

Over his shoulder peeked a girl with tan skin, but purple scales of different shades dominated most of it. She has little nubs for horns and a little stubs along her jawbone. A clawed hand rested on her father's shoulder. Her eyes were purple with yellow around the pupils. She has brown hair with red bangs She looks to be a year younger than Willow herself. 

Diavolo reached behind him and pulled his daughter off his back and placed her in front of him. She squeaked and ran behind Diavolo's leg, peeking out from behind it. 

Willow caught a glance of folded wings and a tail, that she was holding with one arm. She was clutching her father's pants leg with her other hand. She has spikes on her neck and on her tail. She was wearing a outfit that matched her father's and mother's other form outfits. A black fur collar with a gold dragon charm in the center, connecting the ends, a purple shoulderless long sleeve shirt and black pants with blue on the sides. The back of her head was also brown that fades into red with brown ends. She also has the famous dragon ear cuff. 

D.J. comes in and sees her daughter behind her husband's leg. Looks up and smiles at the three guests and they smile back. She then bends down and mutters something to the quarter demon.

Roslyn eventually comes out from her father's leg and walks up and stops a couple feet from the older child. "I'm sorry for my nervousness, I haven't met too many people. The only person I see that doesn't live here is Barbatos, Aunt Brook, Uncle Lucifer and Inhailica." She explains. I'm Roslyn!" She introduced, holding out her hand. Willow smiled and took the royal's hand. "Willow!" "I like your hair." Roslyn commented. "Thank you! I love your appearance." Willow commented back. 

The four parents chuckled. "I'll find Dominic and Arial. I'll be back. D.J. said and walked away. 

"Do you have wings and a tail?" Roslyn asked, expanding her wings out and hold up her tail in her arms. "I do!" Willow responded, shifting to her other form. Ash grey feathered wings and a mint colored forked tail appeared. It got lighter the closer to the color for to the tips. "You're an Avian!" There's not many Avian demons here in the Devildom. My Aunt and Uncle being the only ones." Roslyn said excitedly. "And you're fascinating!" Willow responded. 

[caitsmith08-blog]

Today is hard, like most days I dwell on my past and try to make sense of it and what lesson I can take from it in moving forward. My sister, who recently lost a son, her baby, my nephew, tends to write meaningful words with every picture or video she posts of him. So much you can feel it, her pain, the love she had for him, the grief she is dealing with, and the regret mixed in with grieving she goes through every single day. My nephew unfortunately pass of an overdose, something that’s taking young lives away all too soon and common now.

I had just recently lost a friend two months before my nephews tragedy, due to the same circumstances. And, like my sister, I weigh a lot of that blame on myself. I carry it with me daily, running through several scenarios of how if I had just once more chance how I would’ve done things different. And how I would’ve easily had taken his place if given the chance. I replay it simultaneously everyday at least once if not several times throughout the day. When I hear a motorcycle, the sound of someone saying his name, songs we listened too in high school, nice days, gloomy days, you name it - I’ve had a reflection thought. But one quote my sister said, that stuck out to me was, “it’s hard to forgive other people, it’s nearly impossible to forgive yourself.” And man, is she right, she blames herself for not knowing the struggles of his addiction and why someone would chose to become an addict.

The reality is no one chooses this life, it’s a temporary escape from real world problems and thoughts. It hinders that little voice most of us have in our heads of how things should be; It’s masking the fact you don’t feel good enough, or you’ll never find love, you won’t be as successful as your peers or members of your family, you’ll never graduate from college, or in my case “you’ll wind up just like your mother”, which cuts like a hot blade through a stick of butter, because as much as I don’t want to be like her - I am. But not because she’s an avid alcoholic for which I carry traits of, but she had so much self love she never really learned how to love anyone else properly, almost as if she was too selfish, for her husband, for her kids, for her siblings, and even some friends along the way….. but that’s a whole other story.

The thing with addiction is the majority of us addicts use it as a crutch…. All the while usually digging us in a deeper hole of who we want to be and making it even harder to get out of and accomplish. Everything isn’t meant for everyone. And I say that lightly. I don’t believe there “is someone for everyone”, I think some people don’t deserve love bc of how they abuse it. I don’t think everyone’s meant to be as intelligent as the guy that cured cancer, or as strong as the guy with a full ride to OSU, or as hardworking as the single mom attending 14 credit hours and a job to survive. I think we all have our own little story here then that’s it, I’ve personally gotten blessed with the fact I found people to have loved me, no whether they love me for me or the front I put on most days I don’t think I would want to know. I’ve said with a smile on my face if the higher power takes me out right now I’ve lived a relatively decent life, I’ve traveled, I’ve tried new things, I partied, the lord knows I ate, and I laughed…. Man I miss really laughing. You see when you carry a burden like mine, it’s so much harder to laugh. You feel guilty for it, like “he’s not here to laugh, why are you having such a good time” and I catch myself purposely making sure I feel miserable. I am the queen of self sabotage. I’m the “if it sounds too good to be true, it’s probably is” glass half empty kind of gal. And since the passing of my good friend I have found sobriety is most areas, except alcohol. I cannot seem to let up on alcohol for the life of me. Bc it does, give me that “I’m normal” sense of feeling, it does ease me into a sleep for that which I cannot get when I am stone cold sober, it helps me talk about things I normally bury beneath my deepest darkest secrets, and yet it is still hell on two wheels. If I don’t get my way, if someone side eyes me, if I take what someone said personal, it takes me into a low state of depression and anxiety than what I began with. Now I’m contemplating suicide and telling myself no one would care or the world would be better off…. So how do I control this monster? How do I find forgiveness within myself? Will I ever have the chance at a normal life again? Will I allow someone to love me without thinking it’s temporary bc how can someone like me ever truly be loved? Hug your loved ones a little tighter today, tomorrow is surly never promised.

[mybeautifuldelirium]

I don’t know why I want this so bad but here we go!

So I had an idea for a reader x Aemond where reader is one of Rhaenrya’s kids and they have been secretly seeing each other since they know their siblings would make fun of both of them if they knew.

Anyway Aemond takes reader with him when he goes to claim Vhagar and she’s a nervous wreck the whole time and if she’s nervous about just sneaking out you can imagine how she’d be when the first flight happens and she’s with Aemond when the fight breaks out between all the kids. During the questioning she sides with Aemond without a second thought and after all the fighting she chooses to go with Aemond back to Kingslanding and eventually get married. Then like the show a few years pass and we have the day of the trial and dinner and she tries to stop Aemond from starting the fight and then just fluff.

I hope this all made sense I got excited and went on a tangent 🤣 whether you take this request or not just know you’re an amazing writer and I can’t wait to see what else you write! ���️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Always Meant to be Together || Aemond Targaryen x reader

A/N: so I did divert a bit from the request but as usual the overall premise is the same, hope u enjoy xx

Summary: Y/N is Rhaenyra’s first born daughter, Aemond’s closest friend, the one who was by his side during the incident and went against her own family to protect him. But after six years of being apart, has their relationship changed or could they be again, what they once were?

Warnings: angst, fluff, Targaryen incest

The true born Targaryen children of queen Alicent and the supposed bastards of princess Rhaenyra were never meant to get along, despite being of the same blood, they could never be of the same side. But as fate has it, rules always have their exceptions.

-

“Behold, The Pink Dread” the three boys laughed in unison as they presented the pig to the younger prince.

A cruel joke, this was, making the poor boy run out of the dragonpit.

“Very mature of you, Aegon” Y/N scolded him as she had just entered “And you two, is this what mother has taught you?”

“It was a mere jest, sister; why are you so concerned?” Jace giggled as he winked at the other boys, making them join in with laughter.

Y/N scoffed at his insinuation and went to follow after Aemond.

“Don’t listen to these fools, I know you’ll get a dragon very soon” the young girl said as she cautiously approached the prince.

“I don’t need your pity” he mumbled in annoyance, without looking at her.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m simply stating the truth” Y/N said, now with full confidence.

Aemond finally stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her “You truly believe so?” he asked, hints of hope in his voice.

“Of course! You’re a Targaryen prince after all” she smiled “And besides I believe you’re much braver than Aegon and my brothers” Y/N scrunched her nose, as they both giggled.

From that day, the two kids became quite inseparable, much to the displeasure of their mothers, they would often sneak out and spend time together.

-

It was way past her bedtime, yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, she was squeezing her eyes shut, tossing and turning in her bed, but to no avail. The images of Laena’s funeral from earlier that day still haunted her mind. Y/N didn’t know her aunt very well yet she couldn’t help but feel consumed by sorrow. Soon however, her eyelids at last grew heavy as she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

“Y/N, wake up” a hasty whisper suddenly brought her back. But as the girl was about to let out a startled scream, a cold palm was placed on top of her lips to shush her. “Hey, it’s me, it’s me, Aemond”

“Aemond?! What are you doing here”

“Shhh, come, follow me” he gestured towards the door.

“What?! Have you gone mad?! It’s the middle of the night!” the young girl whisper-yelled, confusion and exhaustion washed over her face.

“Please, just trust me, I need you”

Y/N sighed as she slowly got up, there was something about this violet gaze of his, when he was looking directly at her, that always managed to make her unable to refuse his pleas.

It was a clear night, the stars were glistening like thousands of diamonds as the chilling breeze was piercing through Y/N’s thin robe that she had loosely tied over her silk nightgown.

“Aemond, where are we going? I’m freezing”

“We’re almost there” the boy tried to reassure her.

The two kids continued their walk through the seemingly endless field and as Y/N was starting to consider running back inside her warm chambers, they were met with the magnificent silhouette of no other than Vhagar, the largest dragon alive, her late aunt’s dragon. And though asleep, the mere proximity to him made the little girl shiver with fear.

“We really shouldn’t be here; let’s go back to the castle” she ushered the young prince, her words, however were left unheard as he slowly approached the beast, enamored by its presence.

“Aemond, don’t!” she let out a scared squeal as Vhagar began to wake up.

“You said I was going to get a dragon and this is what I intend on doing” he smirked at her.

“This is not what I meant Aemond, please”

But the boy did not listen and by the time Y/N had comprehended the situation, he had already somehow managed to mount the dragon.

“Come” he finally spoke, reaching his hand down to her.

“No! There’s no way I’m doing this! And you shouldn’t be either. Please come down” she pleaded, her voice full of worry.

“Fine, suit yourself” Aemond mumbled as he commanded Vhagar to fly.

Y/N stood there, filled with dread as she watched the enormous beast take off with her best friend. Those few minutes of their flight were the most agonizing moments she had endured, they felt like an eternity and she couldn’t help but imagine the worst possible outcomes.

The poor girl almost burst into tears when she saw Vhagar landing right beside her with Aemond unharmed. The boy was beaming with pride and excitement as he had finally gotten his so deeply desired dragon.

“You fool” she wept with relief as she leapt to embrace him.

Their happiness however was short lived as on their way back they were met with enraged faces of Y/N’s two younger brothers and her cousins.

“There he is! Sister, what are you doing with this thief?” Jace spat at her, a mixture of disgust and disbelief lingering in his voice.

“He stole my mother’s dragon, she was mine to claim!” Rhaena screamed through tears as she charged towards Aemond.

It wasn’t long before a vicious fight broke out between the children.

“Jacaerys, Lucerys stop! Aemond, don’t!” Y/N was screaming at them trying to stop the fight, but to no avail. Suddenly a blood curdling scream of agony pierced through the halls. Before she could realize what had happened, Y/N saw the other kids run out. Then she saw, she saw him, her Aemond, laying on the ground, with arm on his left eye, waterfalls of blood pouring between his pale fingers.

Y/N let out a frightened scream as she rushed to him, gently moving his head to her lap.

“Aemond, Aemond, can you hear me? Listen, it’s all going to be alright, I promise” she choked on her tears, weaving her fingertips through his messy silver locks.

-

The following moments went in a blur, next thing she knew, she was standing behind her mother as the kids were throwing accusations at each other in front of the king. Alicent was inconsolable, going from caressing her wounded son to screaming at Rhaenyra and her children, it was like hell broke loose.

“Silence” Viserys at last stood up, making the whole room grow quiet. “Now, may I hear what exactly happened. Y/N, you were the one with Aemond when the guards found you, I want you to tell me the whole truth” he sent a stern look towards his granddaughter.

The little girl slowly stepped out from behind her mother’s skirts. Her face was pale as a ghost, dried up tears covering her cheeks, stains of the prince’s blood still fresh on her white nightgown. Everyone was now looking directly at Y/N, Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with concern, the two frightened boys clutching at her hands, Alicent hardly containing her rage, it almost felt like time had stopped. Then her eyes caught the gaze of Aemond’s remaining one, making her own well up at the sight.

“It was Jace and Lucerys, my brothers. They started it along with my cousins” the girl spat through tears, pointing at the kids “Aemond didn’t say anything to provoke them, they’re lying”

“Liar, she’s a liar” Jace started screaming at his sister “Mother, this is not true, he did call us bastards”

Rhaenyra looked with utter disbelief at her daughter’s face, but before she was able to say anything, Alicent had gotten up, grabbing a dagger.

“What more proof do you need?” she cried, running towards Luke with the weapon in her hand, but was quickly caught by Rhaenyra who leapt in front of her son.

Eventually the fight was put to an end and all were ordered back to their chambers.

Y/N was now sitting on her bed clutching at her blankets trying to erase her memories of the horrendous ordeal that had occurred. The girl was so consumed by those thoughts that she had just noticed that her mother had entered the room. She had an unreadable expression as she slowly approached the bed, holding her bandaged arm.

“How could you? How could you go against your own brothers in front of the king?” she asked, her voice full of disappointment.

“It was their fault. Luke took Aemond’s eye” Y/N sniffed trying not to burst into tears again.

Rhaenyra grabbed at her daughter’s chin, making her meet her gaze. “You siding with that boy almost cost your brother his eye” she hissed “We are a family. Your brothers are your family. Never forget this” she then stood up and left without another word.

-

Y/N had spent the following six years at Dragonstone after her mother’s marriage to Daemon. The girl couldn’t deny that she had rather enjoyed the peace of those years however she so deeply longed to go back to the capital.

-

Her prayers were at last answered as she finally stepped foot in her homelands. Y/N was now a woman grown yet she could still vividly recall her time spent on the castle grounds throughout her childhood. The princess was eagerly following behind her younger brothers as they explored the courtyard that they once used to play in.

However, the sounds of clashing steel immediately had caught the attention of the siblings as they quickly went to follow it.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t have been him. But it was, it was him. Her prince, her Aemond. There was something about the way he was so mercilessly fighting against ser Criston that made her feel intimidated, a dangerous swordsman he had become.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” he at last spoke, pointing his sword at the two boys, no emotion in his words.

“Bōsa jēda daor ūndegon, kēpus” (long time no see, uncle) Y/N smiled confidently as she finally walked out from her spot behind the gate.

Her words made Aemond drop his sword in disbelief and he slowly approached her. There were now mere inches between them as she looked up meeting his gaze. He had changed, yet still possessing this otherworldly beauty she had grown to admire. His face was now chiseled as if carved by the hands of the gods, his silver locks, much longer, reaching the middle of his back and the deep scar still visible under the black leather eyepatch that was covering his left eye, a reminder of the vicious incident. The prince took his time slowly examining her features as if trying to confirm it was really her. He gently picked a lock of her hair, slowly twirling it between his fingers, a devious smirk now playing on his lips. Aemond then suddenly turned around and headed back without saying a word.

-

The king had called for a small feast in honor of his family as they were at last together. Y/N could hardly recognize her grandfather, the magnificent man she remembered from her childhood was now deteriorating before her, half of his stern face, covered by a gold mask, perhaps concealing the damage. He was leaning in his chair, unable to sit properly yet his presence was just as powerful as it once was.

The tension in the room was so present, almost as if you could cut through it with a sword. Y/N’s gaze traveled across the familiar faces around the table, they were her family yet they felt so distant. Then her eyes fell on Aemond, her childhood best friend. She couldn’t catch any hint of emotions in his eye, he was simply sitting with a blank expression, occasionally sipping from his wine. Their last encounter had left the young princess bewildered as he had left without speaking a single word to her. ‘What an arrogant prick has he become’ she thought to herself, angrily bringing the wine cup to her lips.

“Care for a dance, dear niece” she was suddenly brought back from her thoughts by Aegon who was now standing behind her. Seeing that his wife was dancing with Jace, Y/N reluctantly took the older prince’s hand and followed him across the hall.

The girl closed her eyes as she swayed, trying to forget who her partner was as she indulged in the music. A few moments later however, their dance was interrupted by a tap on Aegon’s shoulder and when she looked up before her was standing no other than Aemond, her Aemond. There was a wild look lingering in his eye, could that have been jealousy? She wondered for a second before moving towards his hands, continuing the dance. What she didn’t know however was that throughout her time with Aegon, the one eyed prince hadn’t left her from his sight, feelings he thought he had long forgotten, rushing back.

They didn’t speak the entire time yet they kept their eyes locked at each other’s and for a second Y/N could swear that she had caught a glimpse of the Aemond she remembered and so deeply cared for.

“I missed you” she whispered, almost to herself. His stern expression softened, serving as a proof that he had heard her. This intimate moment however was cut short as the king was being escorted back to his chambers and before she knew it, they were again sitting at the table. Much to her mother and brothers’ displeasure, Y/N was now seated beside Aemond.

Despite Viserys’ departure the feast continued, servants bringing dish after dish.

Luke couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as a large roasted pig was placed in front of his uncle, earning him a warning look from his sister. Y/N then grabbed at Aemond’s hand trying to calm him down but alas, the prince stood up giving a toast to his ‘strong’ nephews. It didn’t take long for a quarrel to erupt, after his insinuations, with Jace punching the prince across his face but before the fight could further escalate, Y/N quickly leapt between her brother and uncle.

“Aemond, don’t, please,that’s enough”

Just as she could never refuse anything to him, so couldn’t he, the prince scoffed and headed out.

Y/N tried to follow after him but was stopped by her mother. “Don’t even consider it” Rhaenyra pulled at her arm “Don’t betray your family once again”

-

It must’ve been past midnight yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, so instead of forcing it, the young maiden decided to take a stroll across the castle hallways.

Suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around her mouth, pushing her against the nearest wall.

“I missed you too, dear niece” a deep voice whispered in her ear. The only light coming from the moon, shining through the nearby window, illuminating the so familiar smirk spread across the man’s face.

“Aemond?!” the girl exhaled, looking closer at the handsome face of her ‘attacker’. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You never came to visit me after the incident, never even said goodbye” he hissed, hints of sadness in his voice.

“Oh Aemond, you have no idea how hard I tried to, but mother wouldn’t let me, she put guards in front of my chambers” Y/N softened her features, moving her hand to his cheek.

“Don’t go back to Dragonstone, stay” he placed his hand on top of hers.

“Why would I, am I not a bastard too, like my brothers?” she suddenly snapped, reminding him of the prior events.

“Ohh, the fuck with this” he grunted, smashing his lips on top of hers. This action caught Y/N completely by surprise yet it didn’t take long for her to eagerly kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his soft silver locks. This was her Aemond she was kissing, the young boy she had unknowingly fallen for way back when they were kids.

“We were always meant to be together, Y/N” he smirked as they pulled away from the kiss.

-

“Mother, I won’t go back to Dragonstone” she had gone to the godswood to announce her decision to Rhaenyra.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to go, I want to stay here” Y/N repeated, trying not to show the trembling in her voice.

“You, you are responsible for this, aren’t you?” Rhaenyra pointed at Aemond who had just approached them. “Haven’t you done enough harm to her!?”

“I simply wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, princess, to strengthen our houses” his infamous smirk, still lingering.

“What makes you think I’ll sacrifice my only daughter to you?” She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Mother, you tried to separate us years ago yet the gods once again brought us together, we were meant to be together” Y/N repeated Aemond’s words from the prior night.

“If that’s your decision, then so be it, I’ll give you my blessing, but remember, once you’ve chosen which side you’re on, there is no going back” Rhaenyra sighed as she left the young couple.

Those words pierced at Y/N’s heart, but she knew she had made the right decision, choosing to marry the one she loved and she was determined to go against anything that would try to separate them.

Tag list:

@ellathefriendlyalpacaaa

@believeinthefireflies95

@caspianobsessed

@hayoooos-blog

@kitkat-writes-stuff

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Popular/Successful Fics (6) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

2009x2015 (ao3) - jayryro

Summary: Dan wakes up to find himself back in 2009 without any explanation or solution. He doesn't know how to get back, so he figures he should spend his time with Phil, like usual. What isn't usual is the sudden lack in age gap and extreme flirtiness of his best friend.

Meanwhile, the Dan that comes from 2009 has to deal with this crush on this older, even hotter Phil.

A Map of My Heart and Mind (ao3) - Cadensaurus

Summary: Dan and Phil get drunk and wake up married in Vegas, the day after Dan's 25th birthday. Dan thinks they could just get it annulled but Dan knows what marriage means to Phil, how important it is, and he wonders if they can just fake it for a year so it's not a total waste and then divorce. Of course, a year is a long time to pretend to be married and things can always change...

All That You Are is All That I'll Ever Need (ao3) - ficslesters (sohmaskyos), starrywrite

Summary: Dan Howell is just ordinary, but his boyfriend Phil is Amazing(Phil from YouTube). Or, AU in which Dan isn’t a YouTuber.

And if anyone asks, you're my best friend. (ao3) - lovekilla

Summary: Dan Howell suppressed how he felt for years. In a drunken stupor, he lets his feelings act before his mind and finds himself in an agreement that he wasn't sure if he completely liked. If it made Phil happy, though, he'd continue on. It got him kissed, got him off, but it didn't get him loved. It stung, but in the heat of the moment, when their lips parted, Dan could only nod as Phil said, "And if anyone asks, you're just my best friend."

or

In which Phil gets a girlfriend, Dan is jealous, then Phil is sexually frustrated, so Dan gets him off.

Back to Normal (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: When Dan joins Phil on a family vacation to Florida, Phil's mother thinks they've finally gotten together, Dan panics and goes along with it...

Birthday Sex (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: The rules are pretty simple.

Whoever's birthday it is gets whatever they want, no questions asked.

A bi-annual sex treaty.

It's the perfect answer to getting rid of all of that pent up angst, leftover desire and sexual frustration they feel for each other. And seriously, it'll be fine. There's no way anyone can be manipulated or end up with their feelings hurt or anything like that. Granted, friends-with-benefits has a bad rep, but how could this possibly go wrong?

They've got it all planned out.

bruising the sun (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: the bedsharing friends to lovers roommates au i was always destined to write

But It Takes Someone To Come Around To Show You How (ao3) - Cutaehyung

Summary: Dan is born mute into a world where once in everyone's life your soulmate will say the specific words that are tattooed onto your body, and bring you together. These words will save your life in more ways than imaginable. Whilst Dan resigns himself to the fact he will never have a soulmate, fate has different ideas...

coffee at midnight (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: A recent trauma has lead Phil to embrace a ‘try new things’ approach to his life. One of those new things is learning how to swim, and Dan is the lifeguard who’s going to teach him.

Daddy Kink (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: Dan thinks it's hilarious that the phandom thinks he has a Daddy kink. Until he doesn't.

Disturb the Universe (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: Dan and Phil are a successful YouTube duo, best friends and next door neighbors. Phil's married with two kids and Dan's long term boyfriend is like the queen's cousin or something. Their lives are fine--perfectly acceptable--but when two unrelated emergencies land Dan and Phil living together for the first time since 2012, they're forced to examine the choices they've made and confront the feelings they've kept quiet for nearly a decade.

Hearing You (ao3) - centroid

Summary: They were laying on Phil’s couch, watching a movie. Maybe watching was a bad choice of words.

#IPreferDan (ao3) - ellisonavenue

Summary: He never planned on keeping the pill a secret from Phil because he never planned on Phil and him living together so comfortably for over 3 years. He'd banked on a year maybe a year and a half before they went their separate ways. He'd only banked on 2 months max before Phil found out what the pills were for. Dan couldn’t believe it was 2015 and Phil didn’t know yet.

Or the one where Dan was born female and refuses to tell anyone.

If You Don't Love Me, Pretend (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: All his life, Dan has wanted to have the chance to be a parent someday. He would be the best parent that ever existed, he was sure of it. Fostering might not be the most traditional way on the road to parenting, but Dan's dead set on doing it anyway. But, well, it would be easier with a co-parent, right?

the bed-sharing, fake relationship, friends-to-lovers, parent fic i was desperate to read; when i shouted into the void and was met with silence, i decided i'd do it myself

Just A Toy (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: He takes whatever Phil gives him, because he loves being treated like nothing more than a toy to be used. And above all, he loves Phil. He’d do anything for Phil.

L'Histoire Française (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: Since he can remember, Dan has had a bad experience with teachers. When desperate times call for him to take a job as a TA at his local secondary school, he is dreading the experience. Cue Phil Lester: eclectic, vivacious History teacher whom the students and teachers adore for his fantastical, unique methods and sincere passion for his job. Dan was expecting all sorts of drama in his new job, but falling for a member of the faculty was not part of it.

Let Me Be Your Call Boy (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrosepetals), embarrassing_myself

Summary: After coming out as gay to his friends on his birthday, the last thing Dan is expecting is to be gifted a call boy as a present, let alone one that’s been paid for for the entire night. Allowing Phil to show him the ropes is his first mistake, paying him to come back every week is his second, and using him to convince his parents he really is gay is his third. As a successful lawyer, the money isn’t the problem - falling in love is.

linger on (ao3) - dizzy, waveydnp

Summary: A recent loss has ground Phil's life to a halt. At 33, he's static in his grief and living in the house he grew up in - until his mother kicks him out.

In a fit of indignation and with nothing to lose, he answers the first listing he finds for a room to rent in London... a listing posted by a guy named Dan.

Love Yourself (ao3) - imnotinclinedtomaturity

Summary: A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut.

Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista.

meet me at red dragon (ao3) - watergator

Summary: phil lester is a single 31 year old with a wild eight year old, ethan. dan howell is single 27 year old with a quiet five year old, noah.

when they meet at their son's swim lessons, for some reason phil can't get the pretty brown eyed stranger out of his head.

Missing Pieces (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: When an accident occurs in the middle of filming a new video for the gaming channel, Dan finds himself becoming more reliant on Phil than he was comfortable with. Unfortunately, Dan needs the help and can't push Phil away, but he can feel the situation beginning to dredge up feelings that Dan had pushed away years ago and buried deep within himself.

Monochrome (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: When you build your life out of fear that your mental illness could worsen, it leaves little room for excitement. Luckily, Dan has found a space online where he feels comfortable.

Nothing Burns Like the Cold (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Phil Lester is ‘special’, having the power to manipulate water with just a flick of his hand. Because of this, he was transferred into the special school, Dahlia Academy, which was built to harbor students with magical abilities. Here, he meets Dan Howell, a cold and distant pyromaniac who doesn’t get close to anyone.

Sacrilegious (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: Dan Howell was a good kid. A Catholic, growing up in Mass and youth group. But, after meeting Phil Lester, his life drastically changed, turning the quiet and meek boy into a wild child.

-or-

The one where Phil fucks Dan like five different times over the course of several days.

Stuck in a Rut (ao3) - phan_anon

Summary: Alpha!Phil is a young member of a noble family, and Omega!Dan is his slave. When the Alpha experiences his first rut, their relationship undergoes a drastic change.

Terrifying Truths And Drunken Dares (ao3) - thejigsawtimess

Summary: It's late, they're both drunk, but there's vodka and each other, and hey - you know what sounds great? Truth or frickin dare.

Testosterone Boys and Harlequin Girls (ao3) - Furud

Summary: So Dan wondered.

It was a slow build, it started like simple curiosity, a random passing thought but it had stacked long enough that sometimes when he couldn’t sleep at night it was almost like he couldn’t think of anything else.

(Or the fic where Phil is a kinky shit and Dan is too nosy for his own good)

What Happened Last Night? (ao3) - duskomybloom

Summary: Things get complicated when Dan wakes up in Phil's bed after a party and he has no idea how he got there.

You can sleep in my bed. (ao3) - clokkerfoot

Summary: Three times Dan and Phil sleep together, and one time they really sleep together.

[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.”

[yesokaythatsfine69]

Pretty Boys (Levi Ackerman X Eren Yaegar x Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Description: Why want one when you could have them all? The boys fight over you, so in your frustration you give them an ultimatum, one they really can't refuse.

Character(s): y/n, Eren, Jean, Levi, Mikasa, Armin, Hanje

POV: 2nd person

Warning(s): fluff, angst, cursing, you're a sexy queen

A/n: hello! New year's is coming up so as a new year's gift I give you this. I couldn't decide if I wanted to do smut for this or if I wanted to do a sequel of some sort but I think unless it's requested this'll do. This will be my last work for Attack on Titan. Again, feel free to request anything abt it though.

Word count:

Song: nowhere to run by stegosaurus rex

*none of the gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker.

You tugged your hair back, fingers nimbly working to tie the strands of your hair back into a proper pony tail. Sweat dripped from your neck, the summer weather taking a toll on your body and your work. You fanned yourself, huffing out a sigh.

"Taking a break?" You turned, coming face to face with Jean. He had the reigns of his horse in his right hand, leading the animal to where you stood, by the training area. He smiled, seemingly unfazed by the sweltering heat.

"I should ask you the same thing. Where have you been?" You crossed your arms, getting yourself prepared for whatever lackluster answer Jean was about to provide. Jean simply handed you the reigns, gently taking your hand and pressing the reigns into your palms.

"I've been taking care of the horses, believe it or not they like to bathe too." You huffed at his answer, but looked up at him and raised the reigns questionably. "What is this?" The brown eyed boy smiled again, crossing his arms. He leaned against the animal causally, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "This is Ren. She's new and needs a rider. So, I was thinking..."

You broke out into a wide smile. During the last mission, a particularly brutal one, you'd lost your horse. You loved that animal- he'd gotten you out of serious trouble in the past. Always faithful until the end...that had nearly torn you apart, as nothing was more villainess to you than to kill an innocent animal.

Before you could stop yourself you practically tackled the blonde, pulling him into a tight hug.

You and Jean had been close since the battle for trost, the two of you working side by side after being assigned the same squad. After giving pleasantries neither of you seemed focused on maintaining a friendship beyond just surviving- that was until you'd lost him.

Jean had gone missing in the chaos, you searching roof tops and buildings until finally you found his figure, hunched over.

You remember how badly he shook, tears streaming from his brown eyes. "Jean?" He hadn't spoken a word to you, but he hadn't needed to. You took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you.

You delivered a breathing technique that you'd taught yourself when you got nightmares after the wall fell. You waited until his breathing evened out and he seemed to be in a better headspace before you hugged him, gently.

Your kindness caught him off guard- especially for someone going the scouts- but he never forgot it.

Your grip tightened around him, practically squeezing the life out of him. "Oh Jean! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You couldn't see it but his cheeks were as red as cherries and his eyes were as wide as saucers. "Uh, yeah. No- no problem."

"Oi, what the hell are you two doing?" The sound of your captains voice rang through the field and you gently let go of your comrade. "Jean got me a new horse!" You squealed at your stone faced commander, who's eyes were narrowed at a still blushing Jean.

"That's very kind of him. Especially since I wasn't aware he was able to give away our horses." Jean straightened, his eyes still wide. "Well, no not technically, I just- the horse needed- needed an owner and since...ya know, I figured." Levi just stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "Tch, you are an bumbling idiot, but as long as y/n's happy with it?" You nodded empathically.

"Uh, thank you, sir." Jean stuttered again, and Levi rolled his eyes. "Shut up." "Right, right. I better go...clean something." Jean cast one last glance in your direction before he left, leaving the horse in your care.

Levi watched him go as you turned to Ren, softly petting her snout.

Gently a hand reached out beside you, joining in in stroking the horse. "She is very lovely, I'll give him that." You smiled at Levi's words.

"Maybe someday I'll let you ride her." You laughed, turning suddenly. You hadn't realized though how close the two of you had gotten when he reached over your shoulder to pet Ren, and suddenly the two of you were mere inches from one another's faces.

Your eyes widened at the degree of closeness, until Levi's own gaze flickered to meet yours. You smiled at him and his lips upturned the slightest. You opened your mouth to speak but once more you were interrupted with the arrival of a cadet. "Captain Levi, sir! Commander Erwin requested your presence for a meeting about-"

Levi waved him off. "Tch, save it, I'm coming." Levi turned back to you but jumped a little when the cadet spoke again, obviously having figured he'd be leaving. "Captain Levi, I was told to escort you." Levi's expression was tense, but his voice remained eerily calm. "Do you want a gold star, brat? I said I was coming." Levi began his way to the cadet, who seemed much less sure of himself.

"Oh, captain Levi!" You yelled after him, waving your right arm in the air. The two paused both turning in your direction. "Don't forget I'll see you tonight to help you finish the paperwork over the last scouting mission." Levi nodded, his face less tense.

At their leave you also turned, bringing your new horse with you and heading to the stables.

--------------------------------------------------

Your clutched your tray, dodging around the people who stood and talked in the lunchroom. You searched for Eren, and found him, the boy waving his hand into the air to catch your attention in the crowded room. You smiled, making your way over and putting your tray down directly beside him.

Armin and Mikasa were already there, talking about something that happened on a recent mission. Eren grinned at you when you say down, his green eyes brightly shining in the lunchroom a light.

"How was training today, y/n?" Eren asked as he handed you his piece of bread. The two of you often shared food, and by now it had become second nature to do so.

You met when you were especially young, living only a few houses down from each other. You'd play, daydream, and defend Armin together. Although you were much more mild mannered- something Eren teased you about- you got along quite well. The two of you brought out an especially different side of one another.

But there was something the two of you shared deeply to your core and it was the need to protect. You'd both do whatever you could to protect those you cared about. It showed, but just in different ways. Armin often joked that you were the mother figure of the group and Eren the father.

You never noticed how bright Eren's cheeks turned.

"It went really well. Jean got me a new horse." You took a bite of bred, missing the way something dark passed over Eren's eyes.

Damn him.

Eren kept his smile as he leaned into you a bit, remaining his usual self. "Oh? Then you'll be back to riding with us soon." You shared his smile. "Yeah, as long as Levi approves. I'll be ready to kill some Titan's." Your enthusiasm caused Eren to blush, and he looked down at his watery soup. "Good, good."

He brought his spoon to his mouth, about to eat when Jean's voice thundered behind him. Immediately he straightened, but kept his body still for the main part. "Y/n, how are you liking Ren?"

Jean arrived behind you, tray in hand, and a sly smile on his face. Instantly you tapped the empty seat on the other side of you, wordlessly inviting him to sit down. He did so, and you turned away from Eren who noticably tensed.

"Yes! She's so lovely. I really can't thank you enough, Jean." As you spoke you placed your hand on his knee, Jean watching your movements intensely. His cheeks blushed as he met your kind eyes, an aw shucks expression on his blushing face. Meanwhile, Eren rolled his eyes on the other side of you, clearly finding this act overdone.

"Y/n," Eren caught your attention again, and you shifted from Jean back to your green eyes friend. "Since tomorrow's our day off, I was wondering if you'd like to practice some new techniques before you start going on missions again."

You opened your mouth to respond but before you could do so, Jean interjected. "You really think y/n would want to spend her day off training? Especially with a titan?" Eren answered him, but kept his eyes on you. "Spending the day training together is a great use of time, especially since she hasn't been in the field for a bit. Regardless of whether or not I'm a titan- the two of us still share the same goal-"

Jean laughed bitterly. "Oh can it, Titan boy. You just wanna spend the day alone with y/n." Now it was your turn to blush. "Uhh...guys."

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well at least I'm man enough to ask her to spend the day with me, unlike you, who'll just follow her around like a dog on a leash." Immediately the two stood up, bringing their faces inches apart. "Did you just call me a dog, Yaeger?" "You called me Titan boy."

You stood, turning to Mikasa and Armin who were watching with confusion as Jean and Eren engaged in a heated argument, in which neither were completely sure what it was about. "I'm gonna go, but if they calm down please tell them I'm open to spending my day off with both of them." "Sure thing, y/n." "Yeah, of course."

You side stepped the two boys and left the lunchroom, deciding that now was as good of a time as ever to go work with Levi to finish paperwork.

You left the lunchroom, making your way to Levi's office. You cast one last glance at Eren and Jean's figures. Biting your lip you hummed, and moved on, a dangerous new gleam in your eye.

--------------------------------------------------

"Why you little-" "Hey, where did y/n go?" The two boys pulled apart, casting wide glances around them. Eren found Mikasa. "She left a little bit ago, Ereh." Jean spun around. "You scared her off!" Eren glared at the blonde. "I scared her off? You're the one who-" Mikasa continued, "She did say that she wanted the spend her day off with both you, though."

Jean frowned and Eren's brow furrowed. The two shared a new type of look- one of confusion. Then they separated, still carrying the same tense jealousy as before but now it was dulled by confusion and a strange satisfaction. "Fine by me." "Sure, whatever."

--------------------------------------------------

You stopped in front of Levi's office door. Calmly, you knocked and waited for the captain to call out to you.

"tch, come in brat."

You opened the door, smiling gently at Levi's tired expression. He had stacks in front of him and it reminded you fo the first time you started helping him finish paperwork.

One night you were sent by Hanje to deliver some files to the scout leader, and you had knocked several times, none gave you an answer. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you and you let yourself in.

Levi was asleep over his desk, hair covering his face. He had to have been out cold, and it had absolutely surprised you, since you knew Levi barely ever slept let alone in the middle of doing something important. But there he was, dead asleep in front of you.

You first smiled, noticing how pretty he looked when he wasn't stressed or tense. Peaceful had been a good look on him.

You wouldn't dare wake him up as any other "brat" would've, instead your slipped some papers out from under him and began working.

You were driven by efficiency, and often if you wanted something done you wanted it done now, so it was easy to get through the paperwork- each answer meticulous and to Levi's liking.

After he woke up several hours later to you working quietly beside him, the two of you enjoyed quiet nights of paperwork, working side by side and talking in between.

Today, Levi was awake, but looked exhausted as he sat at his desk. He was illuminated by a single candle, and two cups of tea placed side by side claimed the edge of the table.

Your captain nodded to them. "Don't worry, I made the tea this time. I'm never trusting Hanje with the pot ever again." You snorted, carefully picking up a cup and sitting in front of Levi. "It wasn't that bad."

"tch, it wasn't even black." You hummed, taking a sip. He handed you stack, making sure you had enough room to work. "you, know, there's this bakery in town I think you'll really like. They have the best bread. It'd go so well with your tea."

You spoke while you worked, filling in each blank efficiently. "In town?" You nodded. Levi didn't like going out often, the thought was quite unappealing, unless... "Tomorrow's a day off, isn't it?" You hummed.

"tch, take me there tomorrow then." You looked up. "I don't know if I'll be able to, I have plans with Jean and Eren." Levi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "They'll be busy tomorrow." You frowned. "What? But tomorrow-" "They have stable duty all day tomorrow."

You stopped working and Levi looked up to meet your gaze. "What? What for?" Levi's face remained expressionless as he explained, giving you a long shpeal about them needing to learn to work together better and that the best way to do that was for them to spend that day cleaning.

Satisfied with himself Levi moved on, going back to work. You were still stunned. "Where in town is this bakery?" When you didn't reply he looked up, gently tapping your forehead. "Oi, pay attention, brat." You blinked away your confusion before rejoining in conversation with Levi.

Before long you two had switched to several different subjects and when you finally finished working the tea pot had become completely empty.

You stretched out your arms as Levi rubbed his eyes. "Well, that's all of it." Your breathed, crossing your arms over your chest. "tch," Levi laughed without humor. "For tonight." You smiled and lifted yourself up. "For tonight." You got to the door, before turning back to Levi.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" In the darkness of the room you could've sworn you saw Levi smile. "Tomorrow."

The door opened and closed softly and Levi waited until he could no longer hear the soft padding of your feet before he lifted himself up from his desk and carried his tired body to his room.

--------------------------------------------------

Eren was practically stomping when he left his room. Another cadet had delivered the news of his punishment, and each step Eren took seemed angrier than the last.

Eren loved you- loved you since you two had met outside of your home, just a few doors down from his own. You seemed less edgy than he- less angry and more gentle. It shocked him, but it also lured him into your caress.

For a long time you were his best secret, and it was definitely selfish of him- but...the thought of losing you caused his fists to clench.

Losing you to titans was one thing- and losing you to Jean Kirstein was a completely different thing. Improbable, impossible, and definitely not happening.

Eren entered the stable and saw that he had beat Jean there. He grabbed a broom and immediately began sweeping, hoping to burn off some steam before the arrival of Jean and Levi.

Jean was slow in every single movement. It was his day off, goddamnit and instead of spending it with you, he was spending it with Eren. He scoffed in disgust. Captain Levi's plan to somehow teach them team work was definitely going to give someone a black eye- and Jean just knew it was going to be him.

He just wanted to spend some time with you- and maybe Eren was right- he did follow you around like a puppy, but that was because he really really really liked you. Okay he kind of loved you.

You've always been there for him, especially when Marco died. You've even met his mother before. Jean doesn't allow many people into his private life let alone share the parts of him he's buried deep under a shell of heat and anger.

But somehow you were able to worm your way in.

Jean sighed at the door of the stable. He opened it and directly in his eyeline stood Eren, who had already begun sweeping.

They stared at each other.

"Where's the mop at?"

Levi had been having a pretty fair day- which was saying a lot. He was going to met you at the front part of building but before then he'd figure he'd check up on the two brats he'd put on stable duty.

Sure, maybe the reason he sent them on stable duty was for more selfish reasons then helpful ones. But Eren and Jean's apprehension to one another annoyed the hell out of him, not to mention he enjoyed causing a little innocent chaos where his cadets were concerned.

At the root though was you. Those brats saw you day and night, 24/7. He had noticed they way they looked at you, the way Eren refused to be with any other squad or person unless you were there, the way Jean seemed to follow you around.

That also annoyed the hell out of him. Of course boys in love was something he'd seen many times before.

However he'd never experienced it himself- that was until you came.

He quickly understood that it was your nature to be caring, gentle, and protective. That wasn't what caught his attention, actually.

What caught his attention was the way you worked- your focus, attention, drive. It was all surpremely attractive to him. He'd seen gentle and caring people die too often. Their nature being the reason for it.

But you held yourself differently. You had something more calculated driving you, and you weren't just another person Levi had to worry about.

That combination of skill and personality made Levi comfortable and much less tense.

He walked into the stable, seeing the two men begrudgingly work to clean the floor.

"Oi, brats, you missed a spot."

At the sound of his voice they turned, jumping to salute him.

"I'll be back around five, so that should be enough time for this shithole to be spotless."

"Yes, sir."

"No problem, Captain Levi."

He turned.

"Wait, captain!" Eren's voice caused him to turn back around albeit a bit threateningly. "What, brat?"

"Where are you going?" Eren was well aware that Levi rarely left- if ever during a day off so the Captain's sudden departure worried him- was there a titan problem he should know about?

Levi smiled to the shock of his cadets.

"Oh, I'm going on a date."

He turned.

"With y/n."

He left, the door swinging close behind him.

Jean and Eren watched him go, frozen in place at his words.

"You've got to be kidding me."

--------------------------------------------------

A/n: thanks for reading! Remember requests are open and criticism is always welcome.

--------------------------------------------------

[lovetorn]

nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

OR

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle. 

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here. 

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing. 

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene. 

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one. 

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber. 

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.” 

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target. 

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?” 

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods. 

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.” 

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?” 

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.” 

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.” 

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.” 

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude. 

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer. 

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head. 

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?” 

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.” 

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.” 

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance. 

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?” 

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie. 

“Y/n.” 

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly. 

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body. 

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust. 

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home. 

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.” 

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?” 

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.” 

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?” 

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.” 

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust. 

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?” 

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?” 

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?” 

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body. 

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.” 

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths. 

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n. 

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago. 

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water. 

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!” 

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!” 

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive. 

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.” 

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…” 

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.” 

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?” 

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.” 

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him. 

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.” 

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.” 

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too. 

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush. 

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts. 

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.” 

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.” 

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?” 

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter. 

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it. 

“Clay!” 

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.” 

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it. 

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance. 

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face. 

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before. 

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes. 

They’re probably just friends. 

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm. 

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it. 

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing. 

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical. 

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing. 

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know. 

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?” 

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact. 

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap. 

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.” 

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.” 

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man. 

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.” 

“Clay—” 

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.” 

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents. 

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him. 

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.” 

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods. 

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.” 

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.” 

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?” 

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late. 

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge. 

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed. 

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself. 

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard. 

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night. 

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly. 

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!” 

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze. 

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?” 

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!” 

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.” 

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing. 

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.” 

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.” 

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much? 

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people. 

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is. 

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.” 

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway. 

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise. 

“Dream.” A voice says. 

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.” 

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it. 

“I know.” 

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.” 

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running. 

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds. 

“Leave me alone!” 

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her. 

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely. 

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them. 

“I’ve got you now, Dream,” 

“It seems you do.” 

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him. 

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar? 

“But I’ll spare you.” 

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?” 

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them. 

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind? 

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty. 

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n. 

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey. 

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son. 

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.” 

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night. 

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?” 

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast. 

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.” 

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.” 

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything. 

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!” 

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around. 

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?” 

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?” 

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles. 

“Ha, ha. SO funny.” 

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is. 

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs. 

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—” 

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?” 

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.” 

“What? Really?” 

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.” 

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.” 

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.” 

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.” 

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck. 

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it. 

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon. 

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens. 

“Clay?” 

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them. 

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!” 

“Well, you have to go.” 

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” 

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered. 

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that. 

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking? 

“Kill you?” 

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten. 

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.” 

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs. 

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?” 

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!” 

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance. 

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her. 

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.” 

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.” 

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder. 

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her. 

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.” 

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon. 

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking. 

“Woah,” He breathes. 

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake. 

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her. 

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.” 

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart. 

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless… 

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.” 

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks. 

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.” 

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth. 

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!” 

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens. 

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes. 

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers. 

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.” 

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night. 

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself. 

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that? 

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.” 

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.” 

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.” 

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created. 

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same. 

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.” 

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues. 

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns. 

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever. 

—

“Dre—Clay.” 

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue. 

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks. 

“He gave me a straight answer; business.” 

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?” 

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.” 

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes. 

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. 

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it. 

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted. 

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!” 

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it. 

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,” 

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.” 

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them. 

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks. 

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her. 

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim. 

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical. 

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long. 

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up. 

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature. 

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water. 

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes. 

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice. 

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in. 

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.” 

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!” 

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face. 

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you. 

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?” 

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.” 

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!” 

“Y/n?” 

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies. 

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl. 

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.” 

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle. 

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself. 

What is going on?

— 

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed. 

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought. 

“You,” 

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?” 

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides. 

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!” 

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.” 

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!” 

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.” 

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.” 

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face. 

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering. 

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment. 

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.” 

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more. 

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?” 

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats. 

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit. 

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe. 

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am. 

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream. 

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away. 

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?” 

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.” 

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles. 

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room. 

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs. 

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries. 

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down. 

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love. 

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing. 

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden. 

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk. 

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird. 

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden. 

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed. 

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper. 

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not. 

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots. 

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh. 

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks. 

“I can’t kill you, Clay!” 

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.” 

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,” 

“Y/n,” 

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.” 

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.” 

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” 

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder. 

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.” 

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.” 

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too. 

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger. 

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n. 

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices. 

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips. 

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches. 

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity. 

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.” 

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.” 

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence. 

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway. 

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[godsofhumanity]

⚝───⭒─ 30 DAY HC’S | HERA ─⭒───⚝

HERA | her skin is fair. her hair is a dark chocolate, always tied up into a bun that sits on the crown of her head, with two neat strands resting on her shoulders. her eyes are a turquoise colour. she is always seen wearing her crown. she is an average height, leaning towards the taller side. she has a slender build.

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i've always imagined Hera to be the epitome of regality. she is elegance personified, a magisterial beauty.

yet, i hc her to have another side; though it is true that Hera is always dignified and cool, i think she can also be fun, and even crazy.

i like the idea that Hera is always wearing fashionable outfits, looking incredibly sophisticated, but at the same time, she's also prepared to eat cake off the floor and swear with language you didn't even realise existed.

she's a party girl, she's insane. but she's also beautiful, and she's powerful.

i think this idea is enforced by Hera's usual role in myths, where she plays the part of the vengeful, jealous wife, the pursuer who makes the hero go through all forms of hell. and yet, Hera herself always remains the Queen of Olympus, and few are bold enough to tell her off.

something else which i don't think people talk enough about, is how Hera is a skilled warrior. during Dionysus' Indian War, and during the Trojan War, Hera shows off her skill when she beats Artemis without breaking so much as a sweat.

i love the idea that archery is one of Hera's skills, and i love the idea that she shared her skills with her war children; Ares, Enyo and Eris.

as we all know, as a child, Hera was swallowed by Cronus along with her other siblings, so she didn't have much of a childhood, nor did Rhea have much of a chance at parenting.

i have this hc that Hera is the most similar to Rhea from all of Rhea's children. and i think that because they're so similar, Rhea has the hardest time bonding with her.

this explains, for me at least, why it is said in the myths that Hera spent time in Oceanus and Tethys' house, and why Hera often calls the two her "parents".

relating to the idea of Hera spending much of her youth in Oceanus' house, i like the idea that Hera was close friends with many of Oceanus' daughters. in particular, i like the idea that Metis and Hera, while not close, were at least decent towards each other.

some might say that Hera would have never liked Metis because of her relationship with Zeus, but Metis was Zeus' first wife, so i've always seen it that when Zeus was with Metis, it was before he had loved Hera, and before Hera had loved Zeus. thus, there was no reason for Hera to feel jealous or malicious towards Zeus.

and if Hera and Metis were friends, then it explains why Hera inevitably forms a rather good relationship with Metis' daughter, Athena, despite Hera usually being quite cold to her step-children: they become allies during the Trojan War, they both support Jason in his quest for the Golden Fleece, they team up to overthrow Zeus when they get sick of his arrogance, etc. (Hera's anger at Athena's birth wasn't so much directed at Athena herself, but rather Zeus for having performed the role of "mother" and "father" by giving birth to Athena on his own; an offensive act to Hera, being the goddess of women, family, and childbirth.)

going back to Rhea and Hera; something that has always stuck out to me about Hera is that she always takes Zeus back even though he cheats on her so many times. part of this is, of course, that Hera doesn't want to lose her status as Queen, but i definitely think that part of it is because she loves Zeus.

so yes, Hera does go pretty insane sometimes, and she does some terribly cruel things to the unfortunate lovers of Zeus, but why would she reduce Semele to mere ash, or torment Io with a gadfly, or force Leto to run from island to island unable to give birth, why would Hera do such malicious and evil things if she didn't feel genuinely hurt and betrayed by Zeus? if she didn't love Zeus?

Amphitrite is the wife of Poseidon, another notorious cheater in the Greek pantheon. yet, the retribution of Amphitrite against Poseidon's lovers are significantly less known than the antics of Hera. i personally think that this is because Hera's love for Zeus is real. it's not simply out of duty. she really, willingly loves him, and i think he returns that love, though i won't go into Zeus' perspective here.

now back to Rhea; Rhea goes through unimaginable pain at the hands of Cronus. in my Rhea hc's (scroll down to Rhea's section) i wrote that i imagine Rhea to have a forgiving nature. i like the idea that in spite of what Cronus does to her, she still forgives him. and i think that Rhea's forgiving nature is mirrored in Hera.

time and time again, Hera continues to forgive Zeus and welcome him back. Hera is devious at times of course, i think this cunningness comes from Cronus. but she is also forgiving. in a sense, she is stubborn and determined. and i think this headstrong characteristic is what she gets from Rhea.

related to the previous discussion, i've seen a lot of people say that by having so many affairs, Zeus disrespects Hera's domain as the patron of marriages. that it's ironic that the goddess of marriage herself is the one most in need of a divorce. but honestly, i disagree.

in fact, there is no one more suited to the role of marriage than Hera. she is the model of loyalty, steadfastness, and purity. no marriage is perfect, Hera's least of all. but still, she somehow finds the strength to continue. she remains loyal to Zeus. there is no one who understands the meaning of marriage more than her. and i think that's what makes her so perfect as the goddess of marriage.

now, on a semi-related note; i've heard of the take that Hera would be close siblings with Poseidon. personally, i disagree. as i said earlier, after Zeus, Poseidon is probably the next most infamous cheater. i can't imagine that Hera condones his actions, and as such, i just can't see Hera being extremely buddy-buddy with Poseidon.

of course, i think that Hera loves all her siblings, and they all get along somehow or the other, but if i was to name her closest siblings, i feel that Hades and Demeter would be the most viable candidates.

even though Demeter has a child with Zeus, i don't think that Hera has ever been malicious towards Demeter because of it. i say this because i can't recall any myths where Hera is cruel to Persephone, the lovechild of Demeter and Zeus. in fact, Persephone ends up joing the ranks of Hera and Amphitrite as a fellow queen, so i don't think that Hera hates her terribly.

one last final thing; related to Hera's step-children. i read somewhere that Hera only ever attacked the lovers of Zeus whom she feared Zeus loved more than her or who could threaten her status as Queen. so, Hera didn't attack all of Zeus' lovers (actually, i think this explains why Hera doesn't attack Demeter- i don't think that Zeus was ever in love with her).

furthermore, Hera is the goddess of motherhood and family. she has a strong maternal nature. i think Hera is undoubtedly peeved about the fact that she has so many step-children, but i don't think that she hates them.

there are many instances in the myths where Hera works well her step-children. she forms an alliance with Athena during the Trojan War, when Hera and Artemis are fancied by the giant sons of Poseidon, Artemis slays them both (and one could argue that she defends Hera's honour in doing so), Apollo became her ally when she tried to overthrow Zeus, Dionysus was the one who summoned Hephaestus to free her from the golden chair which imprisoned her, and i can't think of a specific example relating to Hermes, but it is generally said that Hermes was so charming and well-spoken, that all the gods loved him, including Hera.

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[mrsalwayswrite]

A Ship’s Arrival (Ivar x reader)

Here is my (second) contribution to @ofmanderley 300 followers celebration challege! Thanks again for doing this challenge! 

My prompt was a gif set you can find here. Check it out! 

Fun Fact: Hnefatafl (‘King’s Table’ in English) is the board game most commonly associated with the Viking Age, I’m guessing this is what Ivar and Aslaug were playing in Season 4 when he was a child.  

Warnings: fluff, Ivar being a prickly boy who is really a softie. 

Words: 2600

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

(Note- this gif is not mine. It is apart of the gif set I chose, so all the credit goes to @ofmanderley​)

  Earnest blue eyes stared out over the water with all the intensity of one seeking answers from the gods themselves. Those who worked the docks bustled around him, making sure to stay out of his way and his reach. The youngest Ragnarsson ignored them, too focused on watching the water between the fjords and leading to Kattegat. His piercing gaze eagerly sought for the ship's promised arrival. He knew it made more sense for him to watch and wait on the overlooking hills; from there he could see farther and be out of the way. But he did not care. He wanted to be here when the ship docked. If he was above Kattegat, it would take too long to crawl down and be at the docks in time. 

 He looked up at the bright sky. Sol drove her chariot upwards; the sunrise having faded hours ago. Now the azure sky matched the glistening water below. Tonight was a full moon. The thought released a torrent of emotions through him, threatening to overwhelm his otherwise shrewd mind. The feeling he chose to focus on, that he hoped would drown out the fear and insecurity within him, was a giddy excitement. 

 Tonight, you were supposed to return. 

 *****

 The festivities raged around him, filling the Great Hall to the brim with useless noise of laughter, conversation and drunken singing. Ivar sat at one of the long tables near the thrones, only one filled with his beautiful mother. Alone, he watched the revelry around him in his usual aloof manner, shooting glares of disdain frequently. Sipping on his horn of ale, he wondered how soon he could leave, or how much trouble he would get in if he stabbed one of the drunken men that kept knocking into his table and bumping his crippled legs. 

 He considered crawling over to sit on the empty throne next to his mother, but seeing her glassy gaze as she stared into her horn, he knew he would be just as alone beside her as he currently was. 

 Used to being ignored, surprise filled him when someone slid across the table from him. Expecting one of his brothers, a sharp barb laid on the tip of his tongue, only for it to dissipate when he realized who it was. 

 You relaxed on the bench across from him, elbows on the table and leaning slightly forward. What startled him the most was the way you were obviously studying him with your head slanted to the side, eyes intent upon his face. Without a word, he matched your scrutiny, unwilling to lose this silent battle to some maiden. He had seen you before around the Great Hall, although you two had never spoken, let alone made eye contact. This was the first time either of you acknowledged the other's presence. 

 Your father was an accomplished tradesman, recently expanding his route to include Kattegat. The first time he came to inquire about trading here, he spoke with the Queen. With her approval, he left with promises to return soon. This time he arrived with goods from foreign lands that caused many to marvel. What most caught Ivar's attention- this time your father brought you along. 

 After several minutes of the silent staring, each moment further making Ivar grit his teeth and his fingers itch for an axe to bash into your head. What upset him the most, you looked so serene staring at him; like his furious gaze, that sent many before you cowering in fear, had no hold over you. He refused to break the silence, to break the stalemate you two were obviously locked in. He could read the stubbornness in the curve of your lips, the slow blinking of your eyes that remained solely focused on him. Clearly you forgot he was Ivar the Boneless, being obstinate was a specialty of his. 

 Finally, you broke the silence. "I heard you are one of the best players of Hnefatafl."

 "It is a game of skill, cunning, and strategy. Things I excel in, unlike most." He scoffed, trying to determine what you hoped to get out of your statement. There were none that could beat him in the game, only Floki ever came close. He wondered not for the first time if his father was around, if he would actually provide adequate competition for his youngest son. 

 "I bet I can beat you."

 His jaw threatened to drop at your blasé statement, said so easily, so casually, like it was a fact. His blood boiled. How dare you think yourself better than him? Leaning forward, he snarled at you. "No."

 A smirk caused your lips to turn upward, infuriating him even more. 

 His fury spilled forth with vitriol coating each word as he sneered at you. "You are just some tradesman's daughter. Just like any other useless, pathetic girl. I am the son of Ragnar Lothbrok. You have no chance of ever beating me."

 You leaned forward, your posture reflecting his. Though your demeanor was serene, like a still lake; while his body trembled like a wildfire, threatening to burn everything within reach. 

 "Prove it."

 His mind froze for a brief moment, unable to believe what you just said. "Are you…. challenging me?"

 "It's only a challenge if there is any hope of you actually beating me."

 His rage resurfaced, clearing his mind of the surprise. A dangerous excitement coursed through his blood. This would give him an opportunity to teach you your place, to remind you of those who will always be above you; and he planned to destroy you in both the game and in tormenting afterwards. Oh, this could be the most fun he had in a while. "Tomorrow."

 Your smirk widened. "Tomorrow." You confirmed with a single nod. Without another word, you rose gracefully to your feet and walked out of the Great Hall.  

 *****

 The dagger spun easily in his hand, twisting, turning, an extension of his hand. The sun had risen to its zenith, the light making the water sparkle and shine. Still, Ivar refused to move from his spot on the dock. 

 His mind drifted to the new axe he was working on at the blacksmith's. It was supposed to be done by now but his impatience had gotten the better of him one day. After that, he was forced to start over completely. He wondered if you would want to come watch him work. Would that interest you? 

 Suddenly, his attention was diverted to a ship heading towards the docks. He straightened up, eagerly watching its arrival. As it drew closer, his excitement dissipated like smoke, replaced by annoyance. The ship was one he recognized as a larger fishing ship. Not a tradesman's ship. Not your ship. 

 Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. He should return to the Great Hall, either to spar with his brothers in the training yard or help his mother. Do anything but sit here pointlessly. Waiting around for some girl sounded like something he would cruelly tease his brothers for doing. Yet here he sat, unmoving. His gaze focused once more on the horizon, as if his will alone could summon you to appear faster. 

 *****

 Over the next fortnight, countless games of Hnefatafl were played between Ivar and you. To his immense pleasure and frustration, you were good. Not just good enough to barely entertain him but good enough that Ivar had to actually work for each win. The only other person who came close was Floki. But here you were winning, just as many times as he won. He internally debated if he loved or hated that.

 Soon your competition expanded to other activities, making even mundane activities into fierce battles. He was slightly better than you when it came to archery, which brought him immense pleasure. You were better at fishing, which all the brothers found humorous. Even at meals, you two would compete who could chug your ale the fastest. Something Queen Aslaug disliked immensely but kept silent about for her joy of her youngest son finding a friend overshadowed her displeasure at some of your antics. 

 During this time, the two of you were hardly apart. Though on numerous occasions, Ivar still considered splitting your head with his axe. He found that each day the violent feeling lessened and his excitement to see you increased. His brothers tried to tease him but his mother quickly silenced them with a sharp look. It did not matter what those fools thought, none of them ever held his interest, his attention, his respect like you did. 

 When the fortnight drew to an end and your father began preparations to leave, Ivar found himself trying to create excuses to delay the impending departure, no matter how ridiculous they sounded. 

 That last night found you and him sitting alone on the dock, looking up at the starry sky above. All the dock workers were either at the meal in the Great Hall or in their own homes. 

 "Father says we'll be back on the next full moon. Trade here has been good." You said, tracing a knot in the wood below you. 

 "Why do I care?" He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "You are an annoying person to have around. I plan on feasting and celebrating once your ship leaves tomorrow."

 "Good, you waste your time, so when I return, I will beat you in archery since I plan on practicing every day."

 "You could practice until Ragnarök and still never beat me."

 You shrugged, his mockery amusing you more than anything. You had learned over the past two weeks that taunts and ridicule flowed from his mouth easier than any kind word. "We shall see."

 A comfortable silence settled around you two once again. The gentle crashing of waves and the call of seagulls filled the air, lulling you both into contentment. You shifted to lay down on the dock, raising a hand to trace the constellations in the sky above you. After a couple of minutes, Ivar laid down next to you, your shoulders touching, as he watched your hand. 

 "Next full moon?" He confirmed quietly, his raspy voice just above a whisper. 

 "Try not to miss me too much." You quipped. 

 He chuckled, turning his head to look at you beside him. "I won't."

 "Good. I won't miss you either." 

 Smiling, you mirrored his action. Time froze as you two stared at one another, realizing how close you actually were. As if on its own accord, Ivar's gaze drifted down to your lips, so close to his own. Suddenly, your tongue darted out to wet them causing Ivar to jerk his eyes back up to meet yours. Insecurity and doubt prevented him from moving, from kissing your lips like he had dreamt about so many times. At first, he had rejected the dream, convincing himself it was pure foolishness, that he could never be interested in someone like you. Yet over the passing days, the dream never abated. When alone with his thoughts, sometimes he would retrieve the dream from his mind and turn it over like a treasured item to admire before putting it back on its shelf. 

 With widening eyes, he laid there stunned as your gaze dropped to his lips and that hand that had been tracing the stars now gently caressed his bottom lip. His mouth opened in a gasp, beyond astounded by your action, but more surprised by the feelings it invoked in him. 

 A shout from the end of the dock shattered the intimate moment. You rapidly sat up, your attention fully on the person who yelled your name. Moving slowly, Ivar pushed himself up and looked down to the end of the dock to see your father standing there. You waved in acknowledgement, a nervous giggle slipping from your mouth.  

 "I have to go."

 Even as disappointment tainted his world, he refused to let it show, making sure to keep his tone harsh and mocking. "Finally, I was starting to doubt I could get rid of you."

 You laughed, starting to rise to your feet but froze for a moment. In the next moment, you scooted closer, grabbed his face and kissed him. It was only a gentle press of your mouths, full of innocence and familiarity, yet it felt like a promise. Before he could respond, you pulled back and practically sprinted down the dock. He watched you disappear amongst the buildings of Kattegat at your father's side. Once gone from view, he turned back to look at the stars. Though his focus remained solely on the tingling sensation on his lips and the memory of your first shared kiss. In the moment, Ivar wondered if the gods were finally smiling down on him. 

 *****

 Footfalls approached him from behind. The steady steps slapping against the wooden boards of the dock let Ivar know who it was without him even having to look. The ruffling of his hair confirmed the person's identity. Only one person was allowed to do that to him. 

 "Still waiting I see." Ubbe asked, looking out over the sparkling water. "Mother is getting worried. You've been here most of the day."

 "Let her worry. As you can see, I am fine."

 "Mmmm…. you sure it is just friendship between you and y/n? I have never seen you wait for anyone else so relentlessly to return from a trip."

 "Say another word and I'll gut you." Ivar narrowed his eyes at his brother, a growl clawing at his throat to erupt at the teasing. 

 Ubbe just chuckled at the threat. He reached over to ruffle Ivar's hair once again but Ivar smacked his hand away with annoyance. 

 "I'll come back for you for the evening meal." Ubbe started to turn when something caught his eye. "Ivar…. a ship."

 Ivar tried to straighten up further in a futile attempt to see farther. It was a few more minutes before he was able to see what caught his brother's eye. There slipping through the water was a ship, one he recognized. A smile lit up his face without him even realizing, diminishing his usual severe expression into a boyish glee. Though he made no comment, Ubbe certainly took notice.

 The ship slowly approached, the men at the oars bringing the ship closer to Kattegat's docks. Ivar found himself tapping his hand on the boards beneath him as if that could somehow speed up the ship's arrival. 

 As the ship prepared to dock, your face popped up over the side, eyes scanning the dock furiously. When your gaze landed on him, a smile split your face that rivaled the warmth of the sun. Soon as the ship was tied off, you scrambled awkwardly over the side and ran straight at him. Ivar barely had time to brace himself before you dropped to your knees beside him and cupped his face, bringing your lips to his. This time, he was ready. He grabbed your head, keeping your mouth on his. What was meant as a sweet kiss quickly turned greedy with the way you both demanded attention using teeth and tongues. 

 When the two of you separated, lungs screaming for air, you stared at each other, your lips swollen and eyes alight.

 "Did you miss me?" You asked breathlessly. 

 "Not at all." He quipped, though you both knew it was a lie. Especially when he pulled you back in for another searing kiss that left no doubts of his true feelings towards you. 

[harmonyvarnes]

The Prince's Charm | The School For Good And Evil. ( Chapter 1 )

" Why are they staring at us?" Hailey ask. Her sister Sophie turned to look at her. " Because my dear. They are looking at you. You are their queen" she replied. Both girls turn to look out at the crowded room full of people. One man held the plate full of requirements and dropped the plate on the floor. Both girls stared at him, and their mother's voice rang out.

" Haeleign,  Sophie get your asses up now!" Their mother growled.  both girls opened their eyes and groaned. So much for dreaming. Hailey sits up and looks around the room and gets dressed. Today was a magical day, she could feel it.

When they both arrived downstairs, their stepmother, father, and two twin brothers were doing their usual morning routine. Hailey shook her head and walks in and sits at the table.

" good morning, dear family," Sophie said. Tomato sauce was thrown at her and she gasped in disgust.

~

* Time skips to you by the three getting kidnapped by the giant bird *

The bird throws Agatha and Hailey into the school for good, and Sophie into the school for evil. Both were shocked at the house. As they stood up, they were surrounded by a group of girls.

" Oh, you must be lost".

Hailey look up and moved her long blond hair from her face. It swung all over the body and the ground. It was as long as a train. She and Agatha steps closer to the girls and they gasp and move away from the in fear

" I'm not lost. I just need to get over there!" She pointed towards the dark school.

" Oh, I knew it. I can smell it from afar. A never".

Hailey rolled her eyes and was escorted inside along with her friend. She ended up wearing a lavender-blue dress.

When it was time for them to sit down in the auditorium.  She sat a seat down from a girl named,  Beatrice. She rolled her eyes at the girl.

They watched as the nevers and Evers danced fights and do other things.

Tedros then tossed his flowers in front of them. But Hailey caught it. She held the rose close to her heart and looked at the beautiful boy in front of her.

" Beautiful you two," Tedros says, walking close. Beatrice snatched the rose from the girl and looked at the blonde girl.

" It's mine. New girl" The blonde sneered. Hailey scrunched up her nose and snatched it back. The other girls gasped, while Beatrice looked shocked.

" Wrong. It's mine, bitch. He intends it for me. You saw it fall in my lap. Back off!" The Honey blonde teen says and pressed her lips to the rose.

" Oh, great boy trouble" Agatha commented, jealousy clearly in her voice.

Hailey looked at her girlfriend and placed a kiss on her hand. " Oh, thank you Tedros," Hailey said sweetly, mocking the Evers's cheerful tone of voice.

The girls laughed but only Beatrice kept a straight face. Mostly an ugly scowl.

" You can sit next to me, Tedros," Beatrice says, trying to cover her embarrassment.

He goes to sit next to her, but Hailey grabs his hand and stops him. " No!  You can sit next to me. It's up to you. Hon" she said.

Tedros stops to think for a moment, and finally, he sits with the honey blonde.

She sent Beatrice an evil smile and a wink.

Oh, let's get this over with.

~

So far the two girls have been chased by a giant Cupid man and ended up flying two stories inside a glass window. They landed harshly on the floor and Hailey helped her girlfriend up and looked around the room.

" What is this room?" She asks. Agatha walks close and holds her hand, and pulls her close.

It wasn't before long that a man with a red coat pops up telling them both to stay away from Sophie because she was his.

Whatever that means.

Hailey looked at her girlfriend.  " We need to warn Sophie".

" that we do".

Both girls ended up walking alone and getting Sophie to come with them.

Right now they were about to go up to the headmaster's office. Agatha steps onto the edge and sets her foot down. But instead of falling, steps showed up.

" No, no no.  It's not worth it".

Hailey smiled at her friend and followed her Girlfriend. They ended up finding a giant book and floating pen writing stories down.

" Beautiful isn't it? That's Storian. It writes down all the fairy tales".

Sophie, Agatha, and Hailey turned to see the headmaster coming towards them. Agatha did all the talking.

In the end, it was pointless, the headmaster only confused them.

They were put in their rooms like nothing ever happened. Hailey woke up on top of her girlfriend.

They used to do this at the beginning of their relationship. But cool it down. But now, they missed this.

" Hello, beautiful" Hailey cooed, nuzzling her girlfriend's nose. Agatha giggled and replied back.

" Good morning,  love".

" Good morning,  Agatha and Hailey," The other girls said in Unison.

' Oh, boy this will be a rough day ' both girls thought as they got ready for their day.

~

12, 18, 2022.

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[sailorshadzter]

coronation day.

The morning of her coronation, she wakes alone.

Shae is there, of course, the only one there so early in the morning, her silent presence offering Sansa comfort and peace. "My lady," she greets as she approaches the bedside, dressing robe in hand; in this moment of privacy, Shae addresses her as she always has for what certainly will be the last time. When she's risen from the bed and her robe in place, Shae ushers her towards over to the table, which has a plate of warm bread and smoked meat, something quick and simple for her to eat before the long process of her day begins.

By the time she's finished eating, two additional maids have joined the room, only after the large copper tub has been brought into the room. Brienne appeared for a single moment, to stoke the fire to ensure her lady's warmth, before returning down to the main hall to keep watch over the preparations alongside Lord Royce. Bucket after bucket of hot, steaming water is poured into the tub until it's nearly overflowing and only then does Shae stop the maids from coming. She drips lavender and rosewater into the bath until the room smells heavenly and that is when all others are sent away, leaving Sansa and Shae alone once more. "It is like it was back then," Sansa says as she rises up from where she sits, a faint smile gracing her features. "Back in King's Landing."

Since the day Shae had arrived in Winterfell, they had not really spoken of those days so long ago. It seemed easier, in truth. Instead, they talked about everything else- Sansa telling her of her horrors as Ramsay Bolton's wife, opening up to the only other person about it besides Jon. Shae tells her about the beauty of Essos and her glimpse of the fallen Targaryen queen before she sailed for Westeros. They talk about the retaking of Winterfell and slowly, but surely, finding the pieces of her family. By the end, Shae smiles, knowing that despite everything that has happened to her young lady, she has found happiness.

"It is... So in the tub with you," Shae responds with a chuckle, reaching out so she can slide the robe from her shoulders. Sansa herself tugs her nightgown over her head and she climbs into the tub. The water, warm and delicious, sloshes over the sides, and she can't help but to sink low and enjoy the sweet scented water.

However in no time, Shae has washed her hair and every inch of her body, and the water has begun to grow cold despite the roaring fire. And so a warm sheet is brought by another maid and Shae wraps her in it as soon as she climbs from the tub, guiding her to the chair before her vanity. Across the room a maid is laying out the gown she's sewn herself, a dress which holds a piece of everyone she's ever loved. The dress is a soft gray, the fabric she was given years ago now, fabric which once was that of Margaery's gown for her wedding to Joffrey. Though Sansa has had the fabric dyed, it is a piece of her one and only friend (besides Shae that is) from her time in King's Landing. The gray of the gown reminds her of her father, for it is the very same shade of his favorite shirt, one which her mother had sewn for him years before when Sansa herself was still clinging to her skirts. The sweeping sleeves are patterned with fish scales, a nod to her mother and Tully roots, and the underside is falling weirwood leaves, a stark red against the gray, those are for Bran of course. Black armor fits comfortably over the bodice, wrought in metal, it represents the both the growing branches of the weirwood trees and for her, symbols what has yet to come. There will be a cloak too- one shouldered, for Arya who wears one every day, though the color is for Jon, black as the clothes he wears, and the tufts of fur its made from for little Rickon, lost to them but not ever forgotten. Even her needle, once worn faithfully around her neck, hangs from a chain around her waist- a piece of herself among all those for her family. And finally comes the crown that she will wear, one of direwolves, not just her family's sigil, but a representation of the wolf king that never came to be. But of course, her crown should be that which reminds her of Robb, the King in the North who came before both her and Jon.

"It's time, your grace," Shae speaks softly, gently, pulling Sansa from her swirling thoughts. All this time that she's been lost within her own mind, Shae has brushed out her hair and dabbed rosewater behind her ears and against her neck. It's true, she can see now the sunlight that pours in from between her curtains, telling her the sun has risen high into the sky. If she doesn't dress soon, she will be late to her own coronation. Suddenly her stomach twists in knots and she finds that she can't find the strength to rise up from where she sits. "Come now, let's get you dressed." Shae gently rises her up from where she sits and steers her into the center of the room, where another maid patiently waits to assist in the process that will be dressing Sansa in her elaborate gown.

And then, when she's fully dressed, there comes a knock to the door.

Shae opens it and steps aside a moment later, offering a quick curtsy to the guest before stepping aside so they may enter. Jon approaches where she stands and for a moment, he's mesmerized by the sight of her; she stands tall in her gray gown, her long red hair worn loose from it's usual braids, instead it falls straight down her back and even from there he can smell her familiar scent of rosewater. He's so lost in this moment of seeing her he's forgotten to bow or even speak, let alone the real reason he's come to her rooms so last minute. "How do I look?" She's asking, bringing him back, reminding him that he's come for a reason that was simply not to stare.

"Beautiful." It's the first word that comes to mind and she's blushing beneath his gaze, her rosy lips curving with a smile. Somewhere behind them, Shae ducks from the room. "I have something for you." He goes on and her smiles vanishes, replaced instead with a look of surprise. From within his doublet he pulls a small box, placed there that morning after he'd dressed in his new clothes, ones which of course Sansa had prepared for him. I'd have sewn them myself, she had said that day when she'd given them to him, but my gown took far longer than I anticipated... He had laughed, but was silenced when he unwrapped the package, his shock at the finery before him bringing a laugh from her instead. "Go on, open it," he encourages her softly and she reaches out, taking the box from him.

When she opens it, she finds she cannot breathe.

Nestled in a soft bed of silk is a shining silver pendant, made from the finest of metals, in the design of a direwolf. It's delicate, made so beautifully that as she runs a finger across it, she can feel the texture of the fur that's carved into it. And the eye... It's a beautiful gem of amber and gold, a color so unlike anything she's ever seen except for.... "Lady...." She's murmuring, tears brimming in her eyes as she realizes the gem is the very same color as her beloved wolf's eyes. "Oh, Jon." When she looks up, Jon is grinning sheepishly, though he reaches out and with a gentle swipe from his thumb, catches the tears that cling to her lashes.

"You have a piece of everyone except for her... I wanted you to have her with you, too." He's sobered now, Stark gray eyes solemn as they stare back at her. "Here," he's reaching for the necklace now, gesturing for her to turn around, which when she does he clasps it around her neck, lingering for a moment longer just so he can feel the brushing of her hair against his hands as she lets it fall back into place. She turns back around then and the pendant sits against her chest, the silver sharp and bright against the black armor, but perfectly fitting for her gown.

"Thank you," she's whispering, tearing up again, but Jon laughs as he shakes his head, urging her not to cry. "I'll treasure it forever." She goes on, hand reaching up to gingerly touch it, as if it were the most precious of things. And in truth, it was.

"Come on then, or else you'll be late," Jon says, offering her his arm, which she takes with a single nod. Together they step out of the room and he leads her along the hall, down the stairs and to the main hallway, which has been lit with torches all the way down to the double doors of the great hall. "I must leave you here," Jon says and she nods, though she can't help but to cling to his arm, keeping him there. "I'll be watching," he says softly, leaning in so his lips capture hers in a fleeting kiss that she feels long after he's gone.

And then, with the strength Jon has given her, she walks down the hall and pushes open the doors that lead her to her destiny.