#and then he rants to his wife about the wizards and then has to go drink an ale at the only inn in town

[a-lonely-dunedain]

I usually despise this type of character but there's just... something about Jarl Korir.

Sure he hates my favorite faction in Skyrim with a passion but he's just. He's like a cartoon character to me. He's so funny and non-threatening and over the top I can't actually be mad at him. He's literally the kind of guy who would spill his mead and then shake his fist in the direction of the college yelling "these damn mages! they won't keep getting away with this!". I burst out laughing just typing that scenario, he's too funny and pathetic to hate, he's like my little jester and I want to keep him in Winterhold forever just so I can keep scrying on his silliness. His entirely one-sided beef with the only thing bringing any sort of traffic and money into his hold is so so so entertaining to me. Do you think he ever throws rotten eggs at the college walls and they just harmlessly slide off the warding spells and then he just has to walk home in the cold pouting. I think he would do that. tries to kick a rock and stubs his toe. blames the wizards for it.

[steampoweredstrawberry]

I have this wild theory as to where the Enmrich romance is going that makes me especially excited for his romance since it's something they've been teasing us with for three games.

So based on everything we know about Emmrich and his route based on the dev's own words + what's been written about him in the short stories, I think he's going to be a being like DAOA Justice, Cole, and Audric from the short story he's in, which is to say a fade spirit possessing the body of the former Emmrich Volkarin. However! I think this is an outcome the former Emmrich Volkarin ultimately wanted and prepared for. In his youth, he said he found the concept of being possessed by a spirit who was so influenced by your life that it continues on as you would have (in this case, a man who wanted to be with his wife whom he loved very much) romantic. So I don't think it was an evil lich scenario, but like...Emmrich wanted to spend eternity doing his little hobbies and making friends and stuff. I say this because up until the trailer, all the concept art we've seen of the companions has lined up exactly the same except one place: Emmrich. Up until the reveal, we were under the impression that we were getting some sort of shambling fade skeleton wizard companion. And looking back at the silhouette of the fade skeleton concept art, it lines up perfectly with Emmrich's silhouette. On top of that, the writers are talking about how emotional his romance is, on top of them assuring us that our choices *can* kill our companions and we will be kissing skeletons (but not Manfred). So yeah. Emmrich is already a skeleton. The man face is for our convenience. But he's a chill dude who just wants to do his little hobbies and be in love with his partner for eternity so it's goth and sweet too and we love it. Soapbox rant over.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thinking about Gale Courting Gwen (Single Mom!Tav)

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

A/N: I will never stop having thoughts about them!

I keep coming back to that moment with Gale where he laments not having more time, that if he was at home he would have done things properly

He wants to take his time and court Tav and now that he has time, I can't see him passing up that opportunity

So, with Gwen, while they're undoubtedly together by the end of the game, Gwen would not accept his marriage proposal without them spending time as a family with Clara

She and Gale might love each other, but it's not just herself she has to consider

Gale understands this and sees this as an opportunity

He's going to court the hell out of his fiance

Granted, it's been a while, for both of them

Gale obviously was involved with Mystra for years and Gwen hasn't been properly courted since her husband

Still both are eager to try

I picture they're "first" date being some time after they've settled in together

Gale makes a reservation and tells Gwen to meet him at the resturant for dinner

Gwen arrives and Gale starts in pretending they're relative strangers; Gale claims they met in an isle of a book shop, he was so taken by her beauty and her selection he just had to see her again

Gwen, playing along, agrees that saucy romance novel would turn any well respecting wizard’s head

They just keep going like that, playing “yes, and” while asking all the first date questions. Most they know but there are a few they don’t.

It’s strange the things that come up while you’ve got a tadpole in your head and the ones you don’t. How did he go this long without knowing Gwen’s favorite color? (It’s yellow)

At the end of the night Gale "drops her off" at the front door, the two of them playing that little song and dance of if they should go in for a kiss or not.

Gale can’t help himself and pulls her into a proper kiss. Gwen teases him saying that’s at least a third date kiss. Gale smiles an apology before leaning in for another, this one a little more gentle, mirroring their first kiss in the field.

Gwen concedes that it’s better, but still clearly a little lightheaded.

She then claims she “never does this on the first date” and asks if he wants to go upstairs. Gale counters that she has technically done it at least once but gladly joins her. Who is he to refuse?

He doesn't stop at just dinner though

While Gale, Gwen and Clara take time to go out together as a family, it feels important to Gale for him and Gwen to still have time just the two of them

They go to plays and concerts

One of their favorites is going to museums

Gale is always fancinated whether it be covering history or art, and has a number of opinions on a variety of subjects

Gwen in turn loves listening to him ramble

More than once she's purposefully taken the opposite opinion on a painting; claiming it's pretty, but nothing of note stands out to her

Gale then goes into a lecture about the piece with a passion that Gwen can't help but indulge in

She then appeases him saying he makes an excellent point, she sees the piece in a new light now; it's hard not after all that

Of course, Gale is guilty of this too

Gwen has had an extensive education, and so has her own hard set opinions are characters in history and the art world

He's not as good at hiding it when he plays devil's advocate, but there is something enticing at seeing his soon to be wife go on a rant about how a certain kind or lord was completely overrated and begins listing all the things they did wrong

What I'm saying is nothing gets these two nerds more hot and bothered than watching the other express their passionate opinion about a subject they're knowledgable in

And I know I mentioned resturants, but I gotta talk about how Gale can be absolutely indecent

Imagine you're Gwen; you're finally home, no life and death scenarios and starting to settle into a routine with the man you love who also happens to be great with your kid

That's enough to be grateful for as is, but he also makes a point to take you out at least once a week

He then has the audacity to dress to the nines while doing with showing off just a bit of chest hair to tease you

He then proceeds to order wine and not drink it like a normal person; no, he indulges, truly taking his time to take in the scent and letting it linger on his tongue before letting out a borderline pornographic moan

He then looks at to you with the biggest expectant smile on his face, waiting for you to try it too

How is she possibly going to last the night under these conditions?! And with the candlelight on his stupidly handsome features jumping between erotic moaning and adorable enthusiasm? It's a miracle they make it back home with all their clothes on

And don't you dare think it stops after they're married

Yes, they have lives and jobs and daughters, but Gale isn't about to stop romancing his wife; it's just too fun to stop

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Draco Drabble

Thanks to the potions my mother handed me, I no longer feel like heaving my guts onto the kitchen floor, though food is a no-go. My headache is manageable, but now I’m sitting in front of a table with a weepy eyed Astoria who is refusing to have her hair or makeup done because she is embarrassed.

I’ve embarrassed her. How can she possible walk down that aisle when the entire world knows that the man she is to marry is actually in love with someone else.

What, exactly, did you expect to happen when you let your parents arrange a marriage, I ask her.

“I expected you to do your duty!” She shouts, throwing down her tissue and jumping to her feet. Her anger is nothing like Grangers. It’s more insidious. Grangers is all warmth and fire. Astoria is cold and her touch like a fish out of water when she reaches over and grabs my hand.

“It’s one thing to have an affair after we’ve been married but like this?”

I pull my hand back and shift to face my father, who is sitting at the head of the table, popping sausages into his mouth like he has his entire life to burn them off.

“Is that what you planned to do? Wait a couple of years? Get your fancy home, your posh little life, pop out a son and then what? Start up an affair with the first idiot who shows you some attention?”

Astoria’s lips press together, forming that thin little line, and before we can say another word, the door slams open and in steps Guy Greengrass.

Astoria’s father is burly. He’s big and hairy. His beard is trimmed but takes up the entirety of his lower face, his salt and pepper hair is slicked back. And he’s dressed like he’s about to give his daughter away.

To me. His wife, who is a carbon copy of Astoria, looks timid and meek as she follows him inside of the dining room.

“You,” Guy’s finger is pointing at me, his hand shaking, his eyes wide and dark. Cold lumps of coal stare at me, damning me to hell. I have to fight the yawn as I wait for him to continue get on with his rant. I’m not stranger to patriarchs ranting and raving but this is just getting boring.

“How dare you smear our name!” He goes on. “And all for a vile little mudblood.”

“Vile?”

My mother clears her throat, her passive aggressive way of telling me to shut the hell up.

“I should kill you.”

Yeah, yeah. “What, exactly, are you waiting for?”

“I want to renegotiate the terms.” Guy demands, turning to my father. My father, who is still shoving little greasy bits of meat down his throat. His mouth is stuffed with it, his eyes rolling, as he tries to swallow the massive bite.

“And change what?” I ask with a chuckle. “Demand more money?”

“She deserves it after what you’ve put her through.”

“I’d pay you a thousand galleons if it would buy me out of this marriage.” I admit.

Apparently, this was not helpful.

Guy’s wand was out, a renewed anger burning inside of his dark eyes. A wizard can only rely on instinct when someone draws a wand on him. Fight or flight, is it? I imagine muggles feel the same when a pistol is drawn on them.

My wand finds its way into my hand and then Guy and I are standing with our wands drawn, a large dining table between us.

My mother and Astoria’s mother cried out. Astoria descends into sharp wails of despair. My father, inhales sharply, just as a plain owl sweeps into the window.

It’s aiming for me. With a quick stupefy aimed at Guy, I accept the letter and pick up a blueberry from the dining table to feed the bird.

Guy is thrown into the wall, before he slumps and slides down, unconscious.

Astoria starts to scream at me and my mother is moving, hurrying over to my father while I open the letter.

The world around me goes quiet as I read it.

Please, come and clean up this mess. -H.G.

It’s from Granger. She’s asking me to come to her. Yesterday, she asked me to leave. Part of me can acknowledge the fact that she’s upset about what I’ve done. But there’s a part of me that might be delusional but, I believe she really wants to see me.

Because, undoubtedly, I am hers. And, now the entire world knows.

“You bastard!” Astoria’s shouting at me and it jolts me back into the present. When I look up from the letter, I find that chaos has evolved into madness. Astoria is stringing together a slew of curse words as her father still lays unconscious. But my mother, she’s hitting my father on the back, slamming her hand and her fist over and over, as if to give him the beating he’s always deserved.

Horrifyingly, though, she isn’t trying to punish him. She’s trying to save him.

I watch as my fathers face swells, his eyes bugging out. His skin is purple, and he’s clawing at his throat. His greasy lips are turning blue as the bits of sausage tumble from his mouth. He’s stuffed too many pieces in. He’s choking on the bite he couldn’t finish before he shoved more in.

My gods.

My father is dying.

My body is filling with something I can’t describe. A sense of fullness and lightness consumes me as I watch my fathers eyes lock onto mine. I don't know if he is seeing me or not. But together, our eyes remain, as he gasps, uselessly, for more air.

There’s warmth seeping into my face, my fingers feel tingly, and my feet are lighter than ever.

“Draco, do something!”

But, I can’t. I’m stuck. I’m frozen to the floor as my mother cries and panics. She’s running around the dining room, as if in search of something that may save him. But there is no saving this man. The world he built is imploding around him as he dies. Choked out, suffocated by his own greed.

It’s a fucking miracle.

When he finally slumps forward, his face falling into the greasy plate in front of him with a loud smack, I can’t help the choked laugh that escapes.

My mother is too upset to notice, but Astoria is frozen, staring at my fathers dead body before she finally blinks and looks at me.

I fold Granger’s letter back into the neat little envelope before tucking it into my coat pocket.

“Astoria, I think it’s safe to say that we shouldn’t get married.”

She says nothing, she just stares at me. Wide eyed and shocked.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, I am. You deserve more than that. You deserve to marry for love, not...” I hold a hand out toward my family. My mother running around, crying. My dead father, blue faced and covered in sausage grease. “This.”

Surprisingly, she just nods, agreeing.

[m--rtyr]

Small facts about each of the divine warriors:

Irene: She cannot cook in anyway shape or form and even when offered she refuses to learn. She will only eat food raw and all of the other Divine Warriors just serve her first before they start making their food, unless Menphia and Shad are dealing with a high bout of animalistic instincts. (being a meif'wa and hell hound respectively)

Irene was not a modest woman or had any form of personal boundaries. Like, she would walk around topless without a care in the world and if she was ever cold at night, she would never just put on more clothes but instead join a tent or sleeping bag with another warrior. Shortest of the Divine Warriors.

Shad: He is the warmest man ever, unfortunately he leans on the end of "Your skin is literally leaving first degree burns" than nice space heater. He also smells like wet dog whenever he gets wet, before his skin eventually evaporates it. Due to how water reacts to his skin, he does take dust baths like a chinchilla. Full on rolling around in sand and then claiming he is clean.

After turning full evil, he decided to continue his bloodline for the sole purpose of pissing Irene off. He met a woman one day and was like "Hey, I am not gonna be a parent to this kid, I just want to do this to piss off my ex." and the woman just looked at the large demon man and said bet. The woman then met her wife and they became the first matriarchs of Falconclaw. Tallest of the Divine Warriors.

Enki: While not necessarily having the most stable form, he is the lankiest and physically weakest of the Divine Warriors. He used bows and magic, he was never going to be the most muscular. The only times he was ever considered "strong" was when he choked a man out after stabbing them in the back. Certainly a wizard and not a fighter.

Enki was the most strategic of the Divine Warriors as well, mostly due to the fact that he hoards knowledge like a dragon hoard gold. He 100% info dumps in every conversation, like you see a cool bug, he knows everything about that bug. The kid that rants about dinosaurs at the playground. 3rd shortest of the Divine Warriors. Shorter than Shad, Esmund, and Menphia but taller than Kul'Zak and Irene.

Menphia: This woman will take a nap anywhere, the moment she is not fighting or training she is in the softest spot in the the sun. Imagine trying to talk diplomacy and one of the divine warriors is asleep on the table. It's not short napes either, full cat naps.

This womans is so cut, like one would imagine that a woman who is part cat is soft but noooo. This woman has abs and shoulders for daaaaaaaays and don't get me started on her thighs. Crushing a watermelon is the least she could do. The 3rd tallest of the divine warriors.

Esmund: Before being a Divine Warrior, he was a human lumberjack from a small farming village. A very large lumberjack but not a king or knight that some would present him as. He was a small farm boy who saw a hot latina goddess and decided to say follow her to the end of the earth.

While not being the tallest of the Divine Warriors, he is the biggest. Look up "bear" in a dictionary and it is this man, broad, hairy, and thick. He is also the perfect cuddling temp which created a lot of "Poor Farm Boy Panic" whenever Irene would share a tent with him. (I think he was like, 6'8-6'9, Shad being 7ft)

Kul'Zak: He had a peg leg after saving Esmund from a Leviathan but he made sure to never hold it against the man, he already suffered from survivors guilt. He rather enjoys the leg, it allows him to spin while playing the fiddle much easier. Losing the leg proved to be more beneficial because when sirens walk on land it feels like their feet are walking on hot coals and sharp glass but with one less foot it was less bad. (Think original my little mermaid.)

While being the 2nd shortest of the Divine Warriors, he was also the technical largest, not that it was really known. He was a creature of the ocean and chose to explore land. What he looked like in the ocean was much longer and larger, over twice the height of Shad with his tail being a beautiful mix of blue, cyan, green, and emerald. Goes full mermaid, though difficult to switch to this form after losing the leg.

I feel like his mermaid tail should be lacking a fin or something, or be otherwise impaired. Just to have the ‘lost a leg’ experience in the water too.

[celestialfantasiess]

you're your own assassin you don't need no help with that [regulus black x fem!reader] (one shot)

cw: arranged marriage, mentions of poisoning, mentions of murder and character death

pairing: fem!reader x regulus black

sum: You don't have any choice as to who you get to marry, so you make sure any one you don't approve of doesn't get to marry you. You might even gain a friend in the end.

wc: 0.9k

requests: closed <3

reblogs and interactions are appreciated!!

Imagine being a Slytherin pureblood girl, from the day you were born trained to be the perfect wife for your future husband. Trained in etiquette until you dream it because mistakes are not allowed in this household. Growing up in a household were you were taught that muggles were below you and that you were superior only made you curious. As we all heard once before strict parents create the sneakiest children. Sneaking out to wander around in muggle London to become obsessed with their books.

At 15 you get to hear that you are to be married to another pureblood heir as soon as you graduate and turn 17. You meet him multiple times, you overhear him say that a wife should be obedient to her husband and that they are just baby machines. It wasn't like you had expected any different but that didn't mean that you had to accept it.

Each time you had a meeting arranged by your parents, you always made sure to make his tea for him. Sucking up his sexist comments and just smiling and nodding. A few weeks later, after multiple meetings, he dies from a heart attack. Such a shame that they don't look for muggle poisons in the wizarding world.

The next one you get pushed on always makes sure to mention about how muggleborns and muggles are below him. But you know what he does on the days that he sneaks away and isn't found until morning. He gets disowned after his father caught him with a muggle because he wasn't on time for a family meeting. And his father might have received an anonymous tip but no one has to know that.

The next one you don't even have to try to get out of. Of course it was only a matter of time before Sirius Black was disowned. Everyone could have seen that coming. So that contract was also null and void so that meant that your parents had to go looking for another husband again. It wasn't like you hade any choice in the matter.

It was an obvious choice maybe you should have seen it coming, of course your parents would have managed to set you up with Regulus black, his brother. The new heir to the noble and most ancient house of Black. You had multiple meetings together arranged by both your parents. The both of you had some kind of unspoken agreement: suck it up because it could have been much worse then this.

You liked to think you weren't the worst person you could have been stuck with and Regulus wasn't the worst person you could have been paired with either. However he was definitely warry of you, never took anything you handed him, always setting it aside. You had to give him credits for that most people thought the death of your first betrothed was a mere fluke accident.

Only a few had the idea that you might have had something to do with after he had bragged multiple times about being your future husband and all the things he had to say about you.

Over time you became closer with Regulus, especially after you were there for him after he got the dark mark. No matter how bad your parents were at least they didn't force you to follow some dark lord. It was because of you that you both discovered that the dark lord might have made horcruxes.

It was after on of Regulus rants about how the dark lord thinks that he is invincible and unkillable that he might be saying some form of the truth. In the ways that the black family knew almost every branch of dark magic to exist your family mostly focused on necromancy and death. You remembered you had read a passage about something called horcruxes. It split your soul and the only way to truly die was for for the whole soul to die so the dark lord was technically unkillable.

Regulus discovered the first horcrux on his own, he went alone because he didn't want to endanger you He died you knew it when he didn't come back after he had left a letter for you saying what he had done. Hoping the dark lord was now killable, hoping that Regulus had indeed destroyed his horcrux you went on a killing spree.

Motivated by the death of what was probably the only actual friend you had had in your life, someone who you might have even loved you were killing death eaters one by one. It wasn't hard to find them at all Regulus had told you most of their names, you were picking them off by one hoping to lure out the dark lord himself.

It was almost too easy to assassinate his death eaters, you weren't dumb enough to get into a duel with them it was just follow them until you are in a secluded area with less people and whisper the killing curse before disappearing. No use in screaming it if you didn't want to be found.

After getting through around maybe 15 death eaters to be honest you had lost count was when you finally encountered the dark lord himself. You remembered throwing the first killing curse it hit him straight in the chest. Your remembered how shocked you were, him laughing in your face, green light and then black. The last thought you had was. "I'll finally see Regulus again."

[tomjamesavery]

Dress up nicely! Written for the Ginnyvary challenge day 5 with the prompt: "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress!” Read on: AO3 “Come on Daddy, I want to see the parade.” Lily Luna was eagerly pulling on her father's shirt.

Harry was starting to panic, he still had no outfit for the annual wizarding costume parade. He opened the ornate oak chest in which they kept all their costumes, but between an old pirate outfit and something that seemed to resemble the king's cape he had been wearing for a ministry function mask ball over ten years ago, he wasn’t successful in locating something he could wear.

“Daddyyy! I bet Rose and Hugo are already there, they have probably already started." His six-year-old daughter called out from behind him again, and Harry was about to say fuck it and just go without a costume. When suddenly Ginny stepped into the living room, she was dressed as fluffy pink Pigmy Puff, wearing a huge puffy onesie.

“Harry?” She stopped in her tracks to look at him for a short second. “You still haven’t found something to wear? The kids are all waiting for you.”

Harry closed the chest and sat down on top of it, putting his head into his hands. “I have found nothing. Well, a few loose pieces that are probably older than Jamie.” Ginny snorted from the other side of the room and he continued his rant.

“But it’s nothing I can use. Wearing that old rotting pirate shirt in there, I could pass as a caveman I guess.” “Daddy’s a caveman.” He looked up to see Lily leaving the room madly giggling, a spring in her step, the urgency from before seemingly vanished, and he only shook his head. Ginny shot him an understating smile as she stepped closer until she was before him gently brushing her right hand through his hair. “As much as I would like to see you in nothing but a way too small pirate shirt-” She shot him a mischievous grin and he felt his cheeks redden. “-We will find you something more… covering.” Her left hand landed on his chest and slowly wandered up, as Harry swallowed visibly. But suddenly she grabbed his shirt tightly and simply pulled him to his legs, off the chest he had still been sitting on, and he shot her an annoyed look. “You could’ve just told me to get up, you know?” Ginny only giggled “Well where would’ve been the fun in that?” With a swift move, she pulled open the chest again and began to rummage through the messy clump of outfits in there. Harry looked visibly annoyed as he watched his wife search through the mess of clothing-, he had scanned through earlier already, -again. “Gin I’ve looked for 10 minutes, I tell you, there is nothing in there. You’re wasting your time… argh… I guess I will just go like…” “HA!” He was cut off by Ginny’s victorious voice. “I’ve found something! You’re going to love it.” Harry’s eyes were wide, what could she have found in there, he had looked extensively just 5 minutes ago. He leaned in to get a better look and as he made out what she had discovered he only let out a loud groan. “Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress!”

Ginny didn’t reply as she pulled the long red princess dress from the box. She held it up putting it to Harry’s chest before she finally spoke. “You’d look fabulous in that!” She couldn’t do anything but laugh at the look Harry shot her. “A gorgeous princess, I love it!” Before could say anything she closed the chest again and simply threw Harry the dress who quickly caught it out of reflex. “So it is decided, I will look for the kids, we will leave in five minutes, be quick!” And with that she swiftly left the room, leaving Harry staring behind her, a long red dress in his hands.

[bigsnaff]

o/ Hihi. This is my Guild Wars 2 blog. I've been playing since launch and still have no clue what the hell I'm doing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Essentially just here to rant about my characters (as one does) and reblog cool art and memes (as one does).

Only tagging spoilers relevant to the most recent expac.

CHARACTER TAG • MY EDITS • MY WRITING

CYNA CRYSTALCLAW. Commander of Dragon's Watch and the Crystal Guardian. Former Blood Legion soldier, now Ash. Wielder of the Vestige of Glint. Has an unmatched temper, and her bite is just as fierce as her bark. She is no stranger to the horrors of war, dragons, and even death - but through these endless struggles and strife that she's endured as one of Tyria's heroes, she is reminded of one thing above all -- that she's still standing. Tag.

DOKKS. Mechanics and engineering expert for Dragon's Watch, and a steady hand that Cyna has greatly needed. Universal father figure for the guild. Dokks is an old, kind-hearted, and well-traveled individual. Often regarded atypical as far as asura go for his interest in blending asuran tech with that of other races', resulting in contraptions that come across as outlandish and bizarre to many an asura, and often completely incomprehensible to anyone else. Loves his grandson more than life itself. Tag.

KOORN. Bio-tech expert for Dragon's Watch. Dokks' grandson. A young asura filled with potential and promise that had been conducted in the wrong direction - particularly by his mother, who is a high-ranking member of the Inquest. Because of this, Koorn is not unlike many of the other members of the Inquest, being snobbish, rude, and self-absorbed. However, it's likely that this persona is simply a front, and on the inside the young asura simply is hiding a core of insecurity and lack of confidence in himself. Tag.

MERLISH CENDIGG. A ghost of Ascalon that's rather unique to the others. Merlish used his expertise in magic to spare himself from the curse of the Foefire - to an extent. But then the spear he bound his soul to lay forgotten for centuries amongst the rubble, before eventually being plucked from the city ruins by one of the Astral Ward and brought to the Wizard's Tower. Suddenly, Isgarren was reminded of a forgotten member of the Ward, lost centuries ago. Tag.

NOVA WARHORNS. Bounty hunter in Elona and partner to an eyeless little freak. Possessor of multiple brain-eating parasites. Almost certainly a cannibal. Never engage this woman. Hide and pray she does not find you. Tag.

DESIGNATION V. Real name Vext. Former Synergetics professor hired by a Mists research krewe decades ago that has since gone missing. Shoved into the Mists and declared dead by the Arcane Council, Vext now pops in and out of Tyria seemingly at random. Regarded by the Arcane Eye as an "anomaly" and is being unsuccessfully sought after by them. Also Dokks' brother. Tag.

EX-COUNCILLOR PHLUNK. Twin brother of Councillor Phlunt. Held a chair as a councillor for a week. Kept "Ex-Councillor" as his official title after this for some reason. Moved to Divinity's Reach not long after, adopting a quintessential, stereotypical wizard persona wherein he opened a business to shuffle out his "wizarding services" for a high fee. Eventually kicked off his own trading enterprise to rival the Black Lion Trading Company, though something seems off about it. Tag.

ENN(DRIS). A grandmotherly asura with a keen eye and a healthy sense of humor. Dokks' wife and Koorn's grandmother. Is long deceased in the original Tyria, but still lives on in Dokks' place in her own, alternate Tyria. Tag.

ORDEN. Challenger of the Sons of Svanir. Unwilling in both his revenancy and the spirit he channels. Slayer of the icebrood remnant of his brother, whose spirit and corruption has gripped Orden through the Mists. Good-natured and rather friendly despite his appearance. Tag.

[j2zara]

DEVIL WEARS PRADA AU OMG OMG OMG. god. when j2 basically becomes jace's work-wife. taking care of his six terrifying kids. comforting him through his messy acrimonious divorce from porter. dressing up and doing his makeup to make jace happy. when jace keeps testing j2, throwing so much at him that should be impossible just to see if j2 will snap and leave him, and not only does j2 not leave, he actually succeeds. which jace finds so so so incredibly hot.

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT listen this is so self indulgent but i got caught up in the fantasy of Jace being a fashion editor and being a little bossy (a lot bossy) to j2 im so so so so normal and the dual fantasy of j2 getting to wear all the awesome clothes and get Jace's approval. He deserves pretty clothes. He deserves that scene except its Jace calling J2 in like ("J2..." and j2 has to do a double take b/c he's so used to being referred to as fuckin. J3 or Ivy or Lucy or whoever i fuckin settle on being Emily. Probably j3). And he has everything handled and Jace is like oh and J2? Yes? And he just glances over J2's outfit with this strange look of approval b/c there is NOTHING to criticize (he's not the kid in the frumpy blue cerulean sweaters!!!!) and Jace just dismisses him like that's all...

The rat grinders are being little. terrors to him. But he's gonna get them their copy of an unreleased bestseller that was definitely widely anticipated at the time yet in my opinion should be considered a series failure embarrassment on the same level of game of thrones season 8 (I swore i would not bring it up by name but god. one thing you guys have not discovered about me is that i cannot shut up about how truly awful i think deathly hallows is as a book and a series finale. I could probably rant about it for weeks on end. I swore i would not bring up the books by name but dunking on how fucking embarrassing and awful deathly hallows is is sadly one of my favorite passtimes. WHAT IF WE SPENT SEVERAL CHAPTERS NORMAL CAMPING IN THE NORMAL WOODS BEING AT EACH OTHERS THROATS ABOUT HOW HARD IT IS TO TAKE CARE OF BASIC NECESSITIES IN A WIZARD BOOK WERE RULES ARE MADE UP. WHAT IF EVERY CHARACTER WAS A MEANSPIRITED EVIL CARICATURE OF THEIR OLD SELF IN ORDER TO FIT IN A CRINGE CHRISTIAN ALLEGORY THAT THE STORY HAS TO CONTORT ITSELF AROUND TO MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL)

I got off topic.

Anyway. I love Devil wears prada bc its a flawed yet like evergreen in how compelling it is and how much you route for andy to do well at the job despite knowing its bad for her. Anyway. That's J2 to me. Going from hating jace to DEFENDING Jace. Seeing jace's vulnerability during jaceporter divorcegate. (is there anything else you need from me, jace? your job. I need you to do your job) (in my heart, things go farther than that. Im practicing restraint here) It feels GOOD to get his approval after all. Jace thought. Well. I saw your impressive resume. Take a chance. Hire the smart, plain, frumpy kid. Anyway... you ended up disappointing me more than any of those other silly girls. J2 becoming IMPORTANT, superseding even J3.

J2 dropping EVERYTHING at the end to protect Jace. This job is everything! Losing it would destroy him! Jace knows everything. But he was very impressed with how intently J2 tried to warn him. He sees a lot of himself in J2 after all...

I'm being extremely normal about this. I literally rewatched the devil wears prada a few days ago when i was on my road trip and was like. I probably shouldn't say this in front of my family but like. The ending scene where Miranda smiles thinking about Andrea literally had me going like. Ok am i crazy but is this movie... kinda dykey....

[dwestfieldblog]

VERIFYING YOU ARE HUMAN...

…this may take a few seconds…

I started this blog in 2004, with several pages entitled ‘God Save us From Religions’. Not much changed outside in twenty years, but it does seem worse, so my stupidity must be increasing. Realism? ‘The end move in politics is always to pick up a gun’. Buckminster Fuller. Palestine, now over 35,000 dead. Over thirty thousand of whom were civilians, Benny still appears to be going all out to avoid his and his wife’s corruption charges by proving what a patriotic hero he is. The Holy wasteland, crater land.

Blind faith tested under ‘laboratory’ conditions fails beneath the beautiful remorselessness of doubt and actual experience. Christ, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi et al, appear to lean to the left with ideas the ‘God-fearing’ right wing describe as liberal/socialist/Marxist. Love and respect each all others. The most unchristian Christians are the evil angelicals. Being good humoured, reasonable or intelligent seems ungodly weakness to them. The greatest fraud (out of an unholy host of them) perpetrated by the Church is that the devil exists. ‘Satan’ is the scapegoat for the genuine evil of the wrongly far righteous.

‘The forest was shrinking but the trees kept voting for the Axe, for the Axe was clever and convinced the trees that because his handle was made of wood, he was one of them’.

Which brings me onto The Heritage Foundation and their foul masterplan of Project 2025… a manifesto to be used as a bible for ‘the next Republican president’. This is a policy document for an eviscerating pogrom against the federal government, the judiciary and mass media, to replace all the left leaning Deep State shills with moral decent right wingers to reset education and laws. With an expected side effect of exporting total Nationalism globally. So, all in a democracy would be ultimately controlled by politicians returning favours to policy setting dark money donors who are the actual ‘deep state’. Brilliant.

Trying to avoid the overuse of ‘is’ and ‘are’, as I am aware (or seem to think so) that I am only a very amateur writer of op-ed pieces, but having spent several years researching, must say this; Anyone who believes in the right-wing idea of a ‘deep state IS a moron. There are business intrigues, bureaucracy to the ninth circle of Hell, pseudo religious groups, criminal organisations, greedy bankers, state secrets all seeking control…but no Deep State. This is a lie to focus attention as usual away from reality, to accumulate power in the hands of those propagating the lie. There is no invisible sky wizard either. Hallelujah!

Of course, Boris Johnson and Liz Truss, (Steve Bannonites that they are) want identical things in the UK, replacing troublesome judges, police chiefs, parliament, civil service and the ‘biased’ BBC with political appointees. Anyway, another English rant coming…14 bloody years of Tories… ‘Ministers are to broaden the government’s definition of extremism as part of a clampdown on people and groups undermining Britain’s institutions and values.’

So, would that include various former and current cabinet members and prime ministers? Or is breaking the law, accepting large ‘donations’ (bribes) and then giving the donor an honour, sending dick pics, accepting cash for lobbyist’s questions to be asked, fast tracking friend’s dodgy business deals without checks on tendering, marginalising the poor to a truly inhuman standard and systematically ruining the NHS not counted as undermining in any way? Sunak the supercilious has asked useless ‘levelling up’ bug eyed disco dancer Gove to lead a crack team to thwart radicals at every turn. Including harder controls of extremism on campus.  Nice that MI5 have finally got round to hauling in bosses of 24 leading universities to warn them about ongoing enemy states infiltrating their seats of learning. So to speak.

Whereas most fine law-abiding citizens could see a benefit in having stricter dealings with idiots who stop trains, traffic (blocking those trying to get to work or in need of hospitals) and gaily throw paint and powder in galleries, sports events and flower shows, it is not too hard to see a time when quiet protesters holding a blank piece of paper are arrested, as in the far East. This green and septic isle where patriotic hedge fund managers linked to the government short the pound and Britannia waives the rules again. Politicians are the ones doing the undermining of this country’s’ values.

A recent (April) social media post by the Conservative Party trumpeted ‘BRITAIN IS THE SECOND MOST POWERFUL COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.’  Which it promptly withdrew within 48 hours, as ridicule over its utter inaccuracy and the pictures used exposed it for the four flush turd it was. Turning a blind eye to government lies is not patriotic whichever country you were born in. Many here are having to perform do it yourself dentistry and fewer and fewer people other than the criminally rich can afford to live healthily or safely. Cuando merda tiva valer pobre nasce sem cu. Enjoy the translation.

Britain has screwed itself. We have so few genuine friends abroad these days that the country can only rely on ever dodgier characters and shadier deals just to get some money, which in turn only props up the wealthy. The rich do not bring money into the country, they bank it offshore or in Switzerland. But at least Russia and China like to buy lots of properties here, eh? ‘Levelling up’ is just as bigger sham of rancid bowels as was Reagan’s ‘Trickle down’ economy in the eighties where yuppies spunked it all. Scraps for the workers, threats to the passive middle classes. Cold hearted arrogance to the poor and any unlike us. This island chose to be more isolated…be careful what you wish for. Very simple to sabotage our underwater cables, the Net, electricity, gas…we are extremely dependant on subsea infrastructure for essential living.  Very little cost or risk to the enemy to cut us off. Everything we do politically (and a lot socially) has been playing into Putin’s hands for the last 14 years.

In all democratic counties, the main and minority wings of society are encouraged to flap on about National pride, fighting the other religion, the woke, the racist, the multi genders, the outsiders and it doesn’t matter one whit which side ‘wins’ because they don’t hold the actual power. But they do get very tied up wasting time and energy having their emotions manipulated against them, which is the point…weaken and undermine to the Rubicon of internal collapse. Europe, the UK and America all have politicians spouting bile and bilge about ‘the deep state’ as if they are rebels against the mainstream… and every one of these mouth breathing bottom feeding swine is only doing it to gain power for themselves. But ‘the people’ still believe it. They love venal leaders, especially those who mention restoring ‘order’ with faith, pride and a cleansing of subversive aliens. Meanwhile, the UK is still using security systems and nuclear companies with backdoors to Beijing. How clever of us.

Hope things are going well in Tiblisi, good luck with the Georgian Dream. Seems strange Bidzina would want the Kremlin’s ‘foreign agent’ law to pass after having spent a long time speaking in favour of joining NATO and the EU. Bread buttered on both sides. Goddess bless the Cz Republic for shutting down ‘Voice of Europe’, a Russian disinformation campaign via an online site and YT channel. Journalists with very western names who don’t exist writing fake news and others doing interviews with various anti-western politicians (several of whom are actually European, traitors within) propagating Russian pig manure to sew discord among the Union. The Voice of the Orcs lead by a president who could be Gollum’s bald ugly grandmother. The gremlin in the Kremlin. But let’s not stoop to childishly denigrate such a fine diminutively upstanding murderer, eh? Blue eyes are not enough, as Czechs say.

Funny how many far-right politicians in Europe describe the Russian invasion as ‘just’, because Ukraine is a country run by ‘Nazis’. Missing the point that Nazi countries don’t vote for a Jewish president and Prime Minister and that their own politics have a great deal of similarity with National Socialist ideas, behaviour and rhetoric. Also amuses me in midnight jet black humour that so many right wingers are willing to do the dirty work of a bald ex left wing communist. Greed for power for the otherwise impotent is a deeply alluring thing, eh? Masochists who would be sadists.

16 members of the European Parliament engaged with ‘Voice of Europe’ to spout Moscow’s propaganda. Any country with Russian inhabitants can (with prompting) request ‘help’ from Uncle Vlad who will be happy to step in and support his citizens from imaginary threats and spread his avowed anti-imperialist empire via force and colonisation. So, no hypocrisy there. Just reclaiming former territories who wanted independence. What if Britain decided to do this? Oh wait, we can’t because the Tories defunded our armed forces.

As I repeatedly write (for some kind of balance) the two-faced double standard West is maybe not the best, but at least we don’t mass slaughter our own citizens, forcibly transfer thousands of children from their homes to another country and indoctrinate them in the name of ‘protection’. Nor do we deliberately fire missiles at civilian blocks of flats or torture and rape noncombatants in the streets. Or pretend to ‘rehabilitate’ any who speak out by interning them in camps to be beaten to death or poison them in other countries. Or hold ‘elections’ where there are no viable alternative candidates for whom to vote. (If I said you had a corrupt election, would you hold it against me?) Arf.

Elon Musk the pyromaniac fireman welcoming Martin Sellner’s (far) right to free speech…how long before the twitter symbol morphs into a swastika? ‘The relentless pursuit of the truth’ is the stated goal of ‘X’. Saying your opinions and feelings out loud or writing them down does not imply Truth unless provable.

Speaking of liars, Trump the reptile continues to work as Moscow’s ultimate Useful Idiot. If convicted of his many (alleged, HA) crimes, he could still run and serve as President, should he win. THAT is how bollocks America is. Imagine having a criminal as a leader of a democratic country! He sits in court, glowering at the jury and the cameras like a mafia boss, a spoiled clinically deranged child who could once again be in charge of nuclear weapons. Majorie Taylor Greene, the Liz Truss of US politics (‘Jewish space lasers’?) wants to be his running mate. Just perfect. Swamping the drain. Trump’s lawyer says he ‘is cloaked in innocence.’ Drenched in excrement seems to be a better phrase.

Luckily, The Earth is intelligent…think about that for a few seconds with logic and instinct. She will certainly be aware from tuning in, how close we are to a third world war and the damage already done. Irreversible for humans but not her. Harm none and do what you Will, springtime is rising…so, Love😊

[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.”

[someonetookmyawesomename]

It must be painful to sail a dead ship 🥀

Tell me something about it, since I haven’t the slightest who they are? 😅💐

(Warning, this is gonna be long as heck because I'm sad my ship is dead, so I'm sorry in advance if I talk too much)

YES SAILING A DEAD SHIP IS PAINFUL (My chosen ship is Liir/Trism from the wicked books)

Here's just a summary of things that you can expect to experience:

you have nobody to talk about it with (yes, even on tumblr. So far, I've only met 3 people who are interested, and they're all pretty busy, so I'm alone on this 99% of the time

There is very little art (I've seen less than 20 works most of which were commissioned by @lillifaba so I have her to thank for what little I can find)

Even posts such as headcanons and rants are nonexsitent

Next to zero fanfiction (there is less than 30 works on AO3 that have my favored characters tagged. They don't even appear as minor characters in most works about wicked)

Most of the fanfiction that do feature them usually only use them as minor characters

As for those that use them as major characters, most are abandoned and are about a decade old if not older

Unless you have the skills to make your own content, you're stuck licking crumbs off the floor

Now that that's out of the way, here's some basic information about Liir and Trism:

They're both characters from the wicked book series which provides a fairly adult backstory to the wicked witch of the west from The Wizard of Oz

Neither of them appear in the wicked musical, because their story happens after the events of the musical

They're part of the next generation of characters from the books

Liir is the son of Elphaba (the lead heroine in the musical AKA wicked witch of the west) with her definitely murdered (in the books) lover Fiyero

Unlike his mom, Liir does not have any sort of happy memories from his childhood

Elphaba gave birth to him while in a coma, so she refuses to acknowledge him as her son

he was heavily bullied throughout his childhood for his weight (he was on the chubby side as a child) and was almost drowned by his bully

Unlike his extremely motivated and go-getter mother, his terrible upbringing made him more weary and passive

He achieves greater things compared to his mother, but only because he was forced to do so, not because he wanted to

He kind of just stumbles through life, winging it as he goes

Despite that, he is extremely mentally strong and is able to withstand torture and threats to his family

Liir has a wife named Candle

She kind of accidentally forces him into a relationship with her because she r*pE$ him and gets pregnant while he's in a coma in an attempt to warm his body to keep him from dying (I know, shit got messy real fast)

Trism is a soldier Liir meets when he enlists in the army (Liir enlists after Elphaba is killed because he was a literal teenager at the time with nowhere to go)

Trism is described as being VERY hottt (Kinda reminds me of America/Alfred from Hetalia when it comes to looks, blonde, handsome, and VERY muscular) which appeals to my gay senses

He and Liir initially don't get along that well, but in true enemies to lovers fashion, they get together later on

Trism becomes a dragon trainer working for the current ruler of Oz

Unfortunately, the ruler is corrupt and uses the dragons to oppress the masses, murdering countless innocents

Trism grows tired of working to oppress the people and Liir convinces him to kill the dragons

They become fugitives and in the process become lovers and start fricking (yes I enjoyed this part and I'm not ashamed)

Trism delivers my favorite line from the books "Are you slow, or are you just falling in love with me?" I love me a cheeky man

This all happens while Candle is pregnant

In order to reunite with candle and keep her safe, Liir sends Trism to pick her up (He literally sends his lover to pick up his wife my goodness)

She refuses to come with Trism

Trism leaves alone and gets captured and tortured by the government for killing the dragons and to get info out of him

Liir reunites with Candle, but she refuses to tell him what she did when Trism came to pick her up

Trism and Liir don't meet for many years (I think like a decade or 2)

When they do meet again, they're on opposite sides of a war

Trism is training dragons again, but this time he plans on participating in a revolution that destroys the emerald city, Oz's capital in an attempt to depose its corrupt ruler

Liir on the other hand wants to avoid the attack because it would kill many innocent lives

I'm not explaining it very well, but both of their choices are honestly quite valid

Liir gets kidnapped and tortured in order to force him to work for Trism's side

Liir still refuses to work with Trism

They both acknowledge that after many years of separation they still love each other

But don't get back together because they're on opposite ends of a war

It turns out Trism never needed Liir's help because he manages to help conquer the emerald city just from his experience with dragon taming alone

The political issues get resolved after the war but Liir and Trism never get back together

To add insult to injury, Liir and Candle have a major fight that ends in divorce

By the end of the books, Liir is left all alone waiting for either Trism, Candle, or both to return to him

It's left open-ended whether either of the two decide to come back for Liir

Why I ship Liir and Trism:

There's this comfort and openness in their relationship that isn't there with Liir and His wife

Liir and his wife were simply forced into a relationship because of a sudden pregnancy that honestly did not make sense to me how it happened

Liir and Candle are also just terrible for each other

Their relationship becomes icy and toxic near the end of the books

Trism is highly protective and supportive of Liir, loving him even after he gest captured and tortured

Throughout the story, Trism is often mistaken as Liir's husband because of how close they are

Liir and Trism both worked for the military and share plenty of experiences together

I imagine that after the events of the books, Liir and Trism reunite and they apologize for causing each other so much pain as well as help each other get through the traumas they experienced

LIIR AND TRISM HAVE SO MUCH ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, AND ENEMIES TO LOVERS POTENTIAL

It's a shame people don't really know about them

Here's some extra things I just wanted to express:

I'm so invested in their relationship that I can't even read fanfiction about other ships right now because I keep fixating on them

I'm lowkey salty that most people in the wicked fandom only seem to care about Elphaba, Fiyero, and Glinda (I'm NOT an anti, this is just me being an envious, bitter, unreasonable bitch who can't accept that my ship is dead. I understand why people like Elphaba, Glinda and Fiyero, I'm just jealous that these characters seem to be the only ones getting attention, but it's understandable because they're the main characters in the musical)

I'm hoping that one day, Liir and Trism follow the steps of Achilles and Patroclus and go viral so I can finally get some friends who also ship Liir/Trism

I think the wicked movie will be shit, but if there is the chance that it might convince people to read the books and maybe increase the number of Liir/Trism supporters, then I'm willing to support it

I'm incredibly starved for Liir/Trism content and will jump at any opportunity to talk about them

So yeah, thank you for coming to my TED-Talk. I'm sorry I ran my mouth so much! I just got excited that somebody asked me about Liir and Trism

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Twenty things I noted about CR2E111 “New Homes and Old Friends” and the associated Talks Machina :

As a French woman, I am OFFENDED by Travis' accent and Sam's homage. As an enjoyer of all things Critical Role, I am DELIGHTED.

MAGIC MANSION HERE WE GO BABYYYYYYY. My god. No notes. I love Liam's mind so much. The man has thought about this for A YEAR a boy did he show it !!

did he... he did... he put the mirror on the ceiling of Beau's bed... did he implied what I think he implied. "That's going to be useful." OH MY GOD YASHA. Meanwhile, Beau just blue-screened for 5 minutes :

CATS SERVANTS of course there are cat servants. Sam : "Do the cats have buttholes ?" Amazing 2020 reference to the disaster that was the trailer for the Cats movie.

Widogast's Nascent Nine-Sided Tower. Oh Caleb, the hubris of a wizard is shown through your long-ass names for your spells. (Bonus : Travis's reaction : "Yeaaaaah ! Spell 'nascent', bitch !!")

Matt, after one hour of just listening to Liam : "Well, that's the easiest hour I ever had as a dungeon master" HAHAHA as a DM I feel that relaxation. Liam was a gift.

Whaaaaaat is this secret room ? Is it the chamber where Caleb was tortured and Trent put crystals in his arms ??? And Caleb sleeps here. Oh, Liam. Also "Fort, doch nicht vergessen" is "Gone, but not forgotten", aka the thing you put on tombstones...

We learn that Taliesin was put on the TSA list for bringing a replica of of one of Percy's gun on a plane after Critical Role did a live show. Travis, taking the role of the TSA agent that arrested him, who also was a Critter apparently : "Need to confiscate that. Love the show, though !"

PUMAT !!!! The Cloak of Billowing sounds amazing. I'm gonna integrate it in my game.

Fjord has been "saving his money", big time, for a tatoo, or another important purchase, and he proudly announces it. Jester : "I've been spending mine on diamonds to help save people's lives." WOW

Got to say, since I know Molly/Lucien came back at some point, all of the Mighty Nein's talk about visiting Molly's grave or possibly resurrecting him feels like deep deep irony.

Oh yeah. The minute Matt described heavy snow around Cree from Jester's Scry, I was like Marisha, who was rage-snapping her crayon in half and mouthing "THAT BITCH IS IN THE NORTH".

Marisha/Beau's rant on her theories about what happened to Lucien, Molly, Cree and Vess DeRogna, and how everything is connected to Aeor is EVERYTHING. Matt, with so much love in his eyes for his wife : *pulls out the Charlie Day meme* YES !! They also referenced the end of Clue, which, you know, excellent reference, excellent taste.

The ending, my god. Never before I have wanted to jump into my TV and scream at Matt too that he could not end it there.

Henri the dog is back !!!

Dani, on Astrid : "IIIII... don't trust Astrid farther that I can THROOOW THAT BIIIIITCH !!!"

Liam loves his friends so much, I'm half crying as he describes the mansion as a love letter not only from Caleb to the Mighty Nein, but from Liam to his friends

Liam did, indeed, like Laura said, totally forgot that Vokodo had a reflection ability when he cast Disintegrate. He described really well how he felt insane afterwards, and I CANNOT imagine how that must have been in his head.

The revelation that Taliesin did those faces, as Beau explained her theories, just to fuck with Travis, whom he's directly in front of, is AMAZING, and so on point.

I nearly cried when I heard Marisha talking about how the emotions were high the night they recorded the episode where Vilya goes home to Keyleth, and how Laura said "Now Kiki has a happy ending too !". My heart.

[capillaryspice]

Ok so ive been seeing a lot of Harry Potter bashing lately (deservedly) and while it's at the forefront of my brain I've got a bit of a rant to go on that I haven't really ever voiced before. Like it ain't transphobia related or anything, literally just how it's a badly written series

Like listen, as a kid I read them and enjoyed them like every other 90s-born child, but JKR is, among other things, a shit writer that just does NOT think things through. I don't even fully know how to adequately explain how much her crap worldbuilding affected the way I consider the weight of everything I create in my own writing (and dnd campaigns) because I learned in my formative years how much things can affect a world by simply existing, and the Harry Potter universe is a prime example of that done horrendously wrong

This is not me tooting my own anti-bandwagon horn here, but legitimately I stopped enjoying the books waaaaaaayyyyy before there was even a whisper of the gay-dumbledore drama on the winds. Why? Because even as a very young adult I was SO fucking aggravated by the amount of shit that just. Happens. Or simply Exists. With no consequences. Everybody has the argument of "what if they just had guns?" but I'd like to present an opposite argument: the fact that SO MUCH UNIVERSE ALTERING SHIT just EXISTS in this universe that's way more powerful than guns that just really has no effect on the world at large (even the "secret wizarding world") that it was always enormously baffling to me that the main antagonist is even an issue at all.

Time turner? Hello???? Fucking time travel and get this shit over with. Liquid luck? How far does that extend? It's difficult to make, but a highschool professor can make it, so it's clearly not an unobtainable commodity for anyone relatively intelligent or wealthy. How does its existence affect the world? Is it illegal? Restricted? If so, why or why not? Does it really guarantee a success in ANYTHING? If so, why waste it on getting some fucking memories instead of, oh I dunno, using it to permanently kill ol slit-nose? Making an item that could just locate all his horcruxes? Make a magic homing-nuke for him?????

How about the creation of sentient creatures? Y'all give paintings personality, made a car that clearly has opinions, and a fucking mini-dragon just for drama. What are the ethics of that shit? Speaking of dragons, how the absolute FUCK do you keep regular people from discovering absolutely massive magical creatures?

Book one- philosophers stone. Rock that gives you immortality. Was it fought over? Are elixirs of life rare? I'd fucking assume so since it's never talked about after the first book, but also after the first book it's nEVER FUCKING TALKED ABOUT??! THIS IS AN IMMORTALITY AND GOLD CREATING SUBSTANCE, AND YOURE JUST. KEEPING IT IN A SCHOOL. OR SHIPPING IT OFF TO WHEREVER THEY KEPT IT AFTER THAT (don't remember, which is quite frankly a bad sign lmao), regardless, there's just a dude who can MAKE THEM, and no doctors have tried to get him to talk? Corrupt politicians? Monarchs?? Joe from accounting whose wife is terminally ill?? This is a KNOWN OF THING and it's just never fucking addressed beyond "oh, well the crazy bad guy wants it in this book so I guess he's the ONLY issue with the existence of this world-breaking thing, let's create a puzzle in front of it that even a few 11 year olds can solve, that'll stop him!"

How about the random Super Important Characters And Plot Points that just fucking. Appear when they're suddenly needed even if we've never heard them before (even if we absolutely should have)

I'm absolutely missing more things, I literally haven't touched the series in over a decade to remember, but these are just a FEW of the things that drive me crazy to this day. Like, obviously I know the answer to these questions are just "JKR didnt plan for where the series was going and just randomly went "oh this would be cool" and didnt think about the ramifications of any of the aforementioned cool things" to the point where even a fucking child could go "this is flawed, full of holes, and doesn't make sense"

Do y'all have anything I missed that drive u crazy about a magic thing that should have had serious ramifications existing? I can't be the only one

Anyway that's my little rant. But yeah, they should've just used a gun

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part I

So I got a wonderful anon today telling me this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it in 4  parts here. I hope you enjoy it (Lily is very BAMF here but tbh so is James). Set during First Wizarding War...

James slammed the palms of his hands down on Dumbledore’s desk.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he said, his eyes a hot mess of emotions.

“Get your oafish hands off my desk, now!” Lily said, recovering from the initial shock almost immediately with a flash of anger.

“Your desk?” James said, taking his hands off the desk, nevertheless.

“I’m using it now, yes, I need to get these mission forms finished and signed before bringing them for filing in the Room of Requirement,” Lily said, looking back at James angrily. “What the hell is your problem, Potter?”

“My problem?” James was furious. “I’ll tell you what my problem is, Evans. My problem is that my bloody wife thought it sensible to visit Walburga Black, the same woman who thinks nothing of throwing a Crucio at her children, whose husband tried to kill Sirius, who detests muggleborns, who tried to – oh fucking hell, Lily! What the absolute, ever-living fuck possessed you?”

She had never seen him so angry. She folded her arms defensively and glared back, wondering how he had found out.

“I’ll tell you exactly what possessed me, Potter,” she said coldly. “My problem is my dickhead of a husband who nearly got himself thrown into Azkaban by the Blacks, but then thought it sensible to attend a Black family funeral, and to top it all, decided to call over to chat to Orion’s heir, as you do! Do I need to explain it further? What exactly was I meant to do? Let you read the letter and let you waltz back in there so that bitch could finish you off, once and for all?”

She was standing up now, and he couldn’t quite understand how someone so slender and uncommonly kind could look so intimidating and fierce within the space of a few seconds.

“That letter was addressed to me, damn it!” James said, his voice rising with irritation. “You had no right opening my post!”

“I don’t care!” Lily said, looking more agitated and feeling guilty. “If you think I would have let you just go there, you’re even more stupid than I gave you credit for!”

“You’re a muggleborn, Evans, fucking bloody fucking…” James’ words ran out as he waved his arm about with rage. “You could have been killed, do you understand me? Killed, damn it!”

“Yes, well, so could you, at least I have more sense! Remus and I knew what we were doing!” Lily shot back, feeling angrier by the second.

“You clearly didn’t, Evans! What you did was grossly irresponsible and wilfully sly! I don’t care what you say, you could have been killed, Evans, for fuck’s sake! When I see Moony, I’m going to kill him!”

James made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and slammed his fist against the wall. Damn it, he was furious and livid and scared out of his wits and fucking sick of this shit.

“Remus didn’t have any choice, I told him I was going, and he decided to come with me, surely a safer bet! Don’t you dare drag Remus into this!” Lily said.

“Don’t you dare, ever, ever go behind my back like that again, ever, do you hear me?” he shouted.

“You can scream all you like, Potter, you don’t get to tell me what to do!” Lily said, her voice rising angrily.

“Don’t you dare act like you’re the innocent one in this Evans, for fuck’s sake!” James said.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me, Potter!” Lily said. “Get out!”

Her voice was starting to wobble which made her even madder.

“You know what? Fine!” James said, gripping his wand tightly and watching as furious sparks flew from his wand tip. “If you want to tell yourself that this is my fault, if you want to lie to yourself so you can  – ugh! Lily, don’t you dare defend this!”

“I’m not listening to your ranting any longer!” Lily said, slamming the book shut and flinging her quills and parchment into her well-worn bag.

She marched past him, livid and upset and boiling with rage. They hadn’t spoken since. James had slept at his parents’ house for a while and now, with Sirius and Remus gone, James had taken to sleeping in his friends’ bedroom. He didn’t like leaving her with only Wormy for protection. They avoided each other at mealtimes. Peter had cringed and disappeared into the relative safety of his bedroom. There was simply no way he could win if he took sides. They were both still furious.

                                                        ***

“Looks like you swapped into an easy shift,” said Edgar Bones, loosening his collar and placing his cloak over his arm. “Nothing much happening, no handover.”

“Thanks,” said James curtly.

“Lily, James,” Edgar said, tipping his hat at them, sensing something was amiss but too polite to bring it up in conversation.

“Edgar,” said James.

“Bye, Edgar, see you soon,” Lily said, smiling at him half-heartedly.

“If it stays this quiet, I’m going to try going for a kip,” said Frank Longbottom, looking at the fireplace one last time and throwing a blanket over himself.

James nodded absent-mindedly, his left hand restlessly tapping on his thigh, shooting Lily fleeting glances when he knew she wasn’t watching. He hated whenever they fought, and this had been their worst row ever. The night stayed quiet, Lily dozed off on the armchair and James watched her. He was worried about her too, she looked pale and she seemed off her food for weeks now. It added to the leaden feeling of guilt he was carrying. It was his fault. He was right, he was damned well right, and he had nothing to apologise for, but he probably would. Because he knew what he was getting himself into when he married her, didn’t he? And wouldn’t he have done the exact same thing in her place, he told himself for the umpteenth time? He transfigured his jumper into a warm, thick blanket and placed it over her gently, doubling it up and kissing the top of her head tenderly. He watched the magical fairy lights on the tree twinkling merrily. He couldn’t have felt less Christmassy. He fell asleep eventually, having transfigured the rug into a scratchy blanket.

He was woken up by a loud shout emanating from the fireplace.

“You better get your sorry arses down here immediately! I’ve just intercepted intel that a couple of Death Eaters are planning an attack on a muggle school bus in the vicinity of Newcastleton!” Dedalus Diggle’s voice crackled.

“Where’s that?” said James, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Border between England and Scotland. Dumbledore has left a special portkey in his room that means you should be able to get anywhere, immediately. Hurry! There’s nobody else around.”

“Great!” grumbled Frank, sitting up reluctantly, but shoving his feet into his shoes without hesitation. “Typical Dumbledore, never around when you need him!”

“Get some water and rations and let’s go,” Lily said, standing up and sitting back down rather suddenly.

“Alright, Evans?” James said, with a concerned frown.

“Fine, just feeling a bit sick, probably need to eat something,” she said.

“Maybe you should stay behind?” James said.

“No!” Lily said, forcing herself to stand. “It’s fine. We can’t risk it. It’s children, James!”

James nodded immediately. He wanted to apologise, but not in front of Frank.

“Dedalus, can you try and contact a few of the others in case anyone is available to join us? We’ll be with you in a jiffy,” he said.

“No can do, I’ve also had word of another attack planned in Wales, I’m trying to get in touch with Moody as we speak!”

“Got it,” said Lily, looking at Frank and James. “Don’t worry, we’re on it!”

                                                         ***

“This place gives me the creeps,” said James, peering up at the tall trees.

The air felt thick and heavy, the branches seemed to vie with each other to block out the sunlight, suffocating. Thick moss, grey and faded, clung to everything, dried twigs and branches snapped loudly beneath their feet, disturbing the numerous birds whose harsh cries filled the air, as though spying on them, he thought, watching their acrobatic flight.

“Jackdaws,” he said quietly, moving closer to Lily.

Lily gave him a quizzical look.

“That’s their call - a short, loud, ‘kya’ sound, and they have distinctive, beady white eyes,” he added.

“Is there anything you guys don’t know?” grumbled Frank, shooting James a friendly grin.

“Nope,” James grinned back.

He moved closer to Lily, protectively, feeling a threat in the fabric of the forest, ancient memories, secret and forbidding. He had transfigured the portkey into a muggle leather bracelet, insignificant and worthless to any potential Death-Eaters, which he had placed on Lily’s wrist despite her protestations.

“They must be here somewhere,” Frank whispered, holding his wand aloft. “If we just keep walking, we’ll increase the chances of them seeing us.”

“Let’s split up, I’ll hide in there,” Lily said, pointing to a decrepit, large pine, whose gnarly trunk was rotting and held space for one person. “You two get on higher ground. We can all see the road from here. If you spot anything dangerous, send your signal.”

James’ was an owl hooting, Lily’s was the snort of a frightened deer, Frank’s was the harsh screech of a magpie.

“Alright,” James said, turning to look at Lily, feeling awkward and unsure. “Take care, please.”

“You too,” Lily said, her face unreadable.

“I’m glad Alice isn’t on call today,” Frank whispered after a pause, as they moved on carefully. “We just found out she’s pregnant. Bit of a shock really. Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!”

He looked excited and pleased.

“Frank!” said James. “Wow, that’s… that’s brave of you, and rather wonderful news.”

He didn’t know what to say.

He stopped short.

Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!

The night of Sirius’ twentieth Birthday. They had both forgotten to cast a contraceptive charm. Could that explain…?

“Frank, I forgot something, I need to run back to Lily, go ahead!” James said.

“You okay?” Frank said, seeing James’ face turn grey.

But he was already gone.

                                                       ***

“Lily!” James said, catching his breath.

“What is it?” Lily said, wand ready to shoot.

“Lily, have you done a pregnancy charm?”

“A what?”

“To see if you’re pregnant?”

“No, why?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Understanding dawned on her.

“James,” said Lily, her green eyes searching his anxiously.

“Let me,” James whispered, taking hold of his wife’s slender wrist and turning her palm upwards, he pointed his wand tip at her pulse point. “Gravidam!”

They both watched as James’ wand tip glowed green.

“Fuck,” he said hoarsely, staring at her.

“What does that mean, James?” Lily said.

“It means… it means you’re pregnant,” James said, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Fucking bloody fucking…”

Lily’s eyes were wide as his words sank in. As his reaction sank in. She turned away from him and swiped hastily at the tears that fell down her cheeks silently.

“We need to…” James said urgently. “Fucking Merlin… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Lily’s voice broke as she spoke, her lower lip trembling. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean this to happen now, God I really didn’t mean this to… I understand if that’s how you feel, James, but I-“

“What?” James said, turning her around to face him and taking her face in his hands tenderly. “Lily, Merlin, I don’t mean –“

The screech of a magpie rent the air and they both jumped.

“Incarcerous!” numerous voices shouted, as thick ropes coiled themselves swiftly around them, James’ wand dropping to the floor.

“Expelliarmus!” a recognisable voice added, James’ wand flying through the air. “Where’s the other one’s wand?”

“Mulciber,” James said, the blood draining from his face.

“I said, where’s your wand, bitch?” Mulciber said, grabbing Lily by the throat.

“I dropped it earlier on,” Lily rasped, staring back at him defiantly. “I can’t find it.”

“Accio Lily Evans’ wand!” Mulciber ordered, pointing his wand at Lily.

Lily’s wand flew out of the thicket behind them. Mulciber leered at Lily.

“Grab hold of them and set anti-apparition wards around them! And get them to de Soulis Castle, now!” Mulciber said to the other Death-Eaters who surrounded them. “The Dark Lord will be very disappointed to find that it isn’t Sirius Black we have captured, just a useless blood-traitor and a vile mudblood. The information we received must have been incorrect.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mulciber!” James sprang forwards in fury.

“Quiet!” Mulciber said, coming right up in front of Lily and grabbing hold of her Jacket collar. “Or she gets hurt.”

James swallowed.

I tried to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I tried to laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'Cause boys don't cry

                                                     ***

The weathered remains of the castle loomed, malevolent, as they crossed the bridge over the moat. Fragments of a tower emerged, the holes in its walls reminiscent of a skull. While the forest around it was dry and parched, wilting and unseasonably warm, as they neared the castle gates mist descended on them. The inside of the castle felt damp and cold. Much colder. Mulciber’s breath condensed in front of him as he spoke, frost clung to the corners of the walls, there were no windows in the great hall.

He had seen this room before… where?

The heavy double doors leading into the main banqueting hall swung open, and four men entered, none of their faces were masked.

“Villiers, Wilkes, Rosier, Snape,” said Mulciber, with a cold laugh. “Your very closest allies, I believe? I failed to retrieve the disowned Black heir, but I found these.”

Villiers and Wilkes giggled. Silence descended as another figure entered the room, the five men bowing immediately. Muciber pushed James and Lily forcefully and they fell forwards onto their knees. James watched as Voldemort approached slowly, with a gleeful expression. He zoned in on Snape, Snape who was watching Lily with terror on his face, before carefully schooling it into neutral.

The room.

McGonagall’s grim tones echoed in his mind.

“So, a group of Death Eaters, who appear to have captured Lily Evans, in an unidentified location?”

Divination class. His vision. He had forseen this.

“Lily,” he said quietly, speaking through his teeth. “Do you trust me to get us out?”

He was sure Voldemort could hear his heart pounding.

“If you have an idea, I’m all in,” Lily murmured, watching Voldemort as he drew nearer.

“Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and locked eyes with Severus Snape.

“Fuck you, Severus Snape! You absolute bastard! Stay the fuck away from my wife, do you hear? Don’t you dare go near her, you fucking piece of shit! I despise you, Snivellus! You fucking coward! Bastard cursed Death Eater! Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” James screamed.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Opinions on Molly Weasley????

You know, I actually don’t think I’m too far out in left field for her. Well, I might be strange in that we tend to see very polarized opinions on Molly: either she’s the greatest mother who ever mothered and the Weasleys are a perfect family or she’s an overbearing manipulative matriarch who’s secretly poisoning Harry with love potions into marrying her daughter.

Sort of like Ron, I wouldn’t say Molly’s a saint, but she’s also not one of the truly nasty characters (she’s not eating babies or feeding Harry love potions or anything). That said, she is far from the warm, generous, matriarch JKR presented her as.

First, she is overbearing . There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just how her and Arthur’s dynamic works, but at the same time if Arthur ever did have a spine it’s been completely conditioned out of him. It’s also very telling that Ron marries the overbearing equivalent of his mother in Hermione Granger. I suspect Ron’s spine has also completely disappeared by the time we hit that delightful epilogue from canon. 

As for the Weasleys, JKR sets them up to be the perfect family we can possibly (realistically) imagine. It’s huge, they all love each other and are fiercely loyal (except for Percy, the swine, we’ll get into this), they give Harry a sweater, it’s the family he wants so desperately that he marries the only available and socially acceptable option: Ginny (I could go on a rant about this for days, but guys, Harry shows way more interest in men than in women and I think 90% or Ginny’s attraction to him is that she’s a Weasley). 

That said the Weasleys, and Molly herself, have major issues. 

One, the money. I think JKR makes them poor to give contrast to the Malfoys. The Weasleys are nobly impoverished, they’re a wizarding family but understand more important things than money. The snobby Malfoys on the other hand have peacocks in their yard because rich people are inherently evil.  

That said, most of this is because Arthur and Molly completely mismanage finances. There’s nothing wrong with having seven children, but the Weasleys clearly cannot afford to have seven children. More, we see them spend money instantly when they have it. Ron is left without a wand for a year but the second Arthur wins the lottery, rather than save the money, WE’RE GOING TO EGYPT. Even the year before, money that might have gone towards emergency situations such as: my son’s wand broke is used to take Molly, Arthur, and Ginny to Egypt. They buy tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. The Weasleys don’t have that kind of money and then they go and are extremely bitter that Lucius Malfoy does have that kind of money. Yes, I’m sure the Malfoys were always wealthier than the Weasleys, but at the same time the Weasleys are the type to buy iphones for their kids when they’re on food stamps.

I’m getting a little distracted though, back to Molly.

I’d say Molly is far more traditional than JKR ever intended for her to be. She’s progressive enough that she supports muggleborns (they should get to go to Hogwarts and be very appreciative) but she also doesn’t think they should get too far ahead of themselves (we’ll get into this). She’s a raging misogynist (we’ll get into this). She is extremely judgmental and can flip on you at the drop of a hat with the barest of evidence. She never really does anything about Harry’s situation despite having very good evidence of its realities. And despite her family’s extreme poverty, even when all the kids are in boarding school, we don’t see her try to take up a job or even take up some etsy equivalent where she can enchant shit and sell it. There’s nothing wrong with staying home to raise the kids, but at the same time, I think for Molly it’s because “this is what the wife does”. 

Right, well, that actually was a lot.

Let’s start with Harry. Molly is witness to seven years of Harry’s childhood abuse and seems to take no action regarding it. Now, Fred and George are dubious sources, so them telling Molly that “hey Harry’s house had bars on his window” might not be taken seriously. Harry also is generally very private and embarrassed about his home life. That said, there are many many signs, and while Hermione practically lives at the Burrow ever since third or fourth year Harry has to spend every single summer with the Dursleys even before Voldemort’s return.

Granted, I have gone over that I don’t think child protection or even a good understanding of abuse exists in the Wizarding World. I think to wizards you’re stuck with the family you’ve got, and if your pureblood grandfather is raping you then it sucks to be you. That said, the Weasleys are such a central part of Harry’s life that I would expected them to do *something*. Instead it’s like Harry’s situation is... vaguely acknowledged but mostly ignored. 

Now, the Weasleys don’t have the money for an eighth kid (though Harry’s so absurdly wealthy he could help lighten the load were he to live with them) so I don’t hold this too much against them but... I would hope that a truly good family would have noticed Harry’s situation and tried to do something about it.

Right, the judgement part. The Weasley family’s unofficial disowning of Percy was horrible. This is going to be controversial, but Percy actually made some excellent points. Dumbledore and Harry’s story about Voldemort’s resurrection does sound nuts, the guy’s been dead ten years, he isn’t Jesus. More, it comes from Harry Potter who is young, traumatized, and has generally been erratic throughout the time Percy’s known him. And parts of what he says aren’t wrong. Why do the Weasley’s worship Dumbledore and listen to everything this man says? Dumbledore does do things like recruit child soldiers from the boarding school he runs. Dumbledore’s a shady guy. 

Mostly though, while Percy not believing Harry and Dumbledore is bad, I always got the feeling that a lot of the resentment and disowning was that Percy dared to do better than his father. Percy rises through the ranks quickly in the ministry, he’s extremely competent, where his father has been stuck in the same dead end joke of a job for years. Arthur even accuses Percy of having his position because Fudge is spying on Arthur. Which... no, Arthur, no. And the family just loathes him for it. They loathe him and it’s terrible. 

And I’m sure Dumbledore meanwhile is just dying that they’ve forced Percy out when Percy was in the perfect position to be a spy in the Ministry. I can just picture him drinking with Snape after Molly’s told him, tears in her eyes, that Percy is cut off because he betrayed the family, wondering what kind of morons are in the Order. 

Beyond Percy there’s what Molly does to Hermione in 4th year. And good god, this is also where the misogyny comes in. Rita Skeeter writes that Hermione, a fourteen-year-old girl, is a harlot and Molly not only a) believes it but b) becomes extremely judgmental of Hermione and essentially calls her a jezebel to her face. Molly, what the hell? Hermione’s life has been ruined by the tabloids for something that didn’t happen, and even if it did is nothing she should be slandered for, and Molly’s going “THAT WHORE”.

This is after Skeeter had slandered Arthur just that summer over the Quidditch World Cup incident and Molly hadn’t believed any of it for a second. So, either Hermione’s being a girl or her being an uppity muggleborn or both somehow makes this believable...

Molly’s very similar with Fleur. She doesn’t approve and I always got the feeling it was in part because Fleur is not the traditional sort of woman she’d want Bill to marry (Fleur is a working woman at Gringotts and more is elegant refined beauty rather than a girl next door who’d make a great housewife) but also because Fleur’s foreign. Bill should marry a nice, English, woman and instead he ends up with this French quarter-veela. 

Had Harry done anything to offend Molly, or even if Dumbledore had simply gone “You know what, Harry’s awful, we hate him”, then I would expect he too would have been completely cut off and thrown back into the gutter where he belongs.

So, Molly sucks and is not nearly as progressive as JKR intended, but is she feeding Harry love potions to marry Ginny and make the family wealthy? No.