#and why do people consider him attractive? he looks like a red stick

[tategaminu]

One is a scary deer demon character from a colorful musical 2D animated show

The other is a character from Hazbin Hotel

[slocumjoe]

PLeaLSE gage headcanons LITERALLY ANYTHING fluffy I BEG

*cracks knuckles*

Separated into normal, shippy, and miserable. Everything nasty is below the big red banner.

Will whistle at songbirds when he sees them, if its safe to do so/won't attract anything. Knows a lot of different calls/songs. One of the few times a random person will see him genuinely smile, is when he gets a back-and-forth with the little things.

Have said before, but enjoys whittling. Crotchety asshole, but he did it to make toys for his younger siblings (of which he had a lot) and friends. If a kid wanders up while he's doing it, curious, will offer to teach them how and gives them whatever it becomes. He doesn't need it, it's just wood. But it seems a waste to just chuck all that work in a bush or whatever.

Knows how to be helpful in a kitchen/campfire/general cooking affairs. Also said this before, was a mama's boy, and always helped her around the house. Very good knifework. Has a habit of going 'behind' whenever he's...well, behind someone while cooking. Their kitchen was small and god forbid you bump into Ma and she spills something.

Knows a lot about creepy-crawlies. Dislikes your standard wasteland bugs, but spiders, bees, ants, stick bugs, etc, from the Old World? Like snakes, very into them. Would be the type to approach arachnaphobes with his hands closed, telling them to guess what he had. It would be nothing. But you wouldn't know that from his grin.

Related, good with animals. He was raised on a farm, after all. Likes most of them. Out of all of the other companions, Dogmeat is the one he likes the most.

Also have said before, but will keep an eye on a buddy/associate/whatever if they're drunk. Like, Gage won't let you walk off with a stranger while you're pissed. And he certainly won't let a stranger walk off with you, if you catch my drift. He hates alcohol and alcohol drinkers, but fuck, he doesn't want that kind of shit happening. It's a remenent of being the eldest child, gotta look out for everyone even if they're pissing you off.

shippy stuff

Extremely physical, but reserved. Won't initiate anything, not even to hold hands. Rarely acts like he needs/enjoys it. It takes time for Gage to be open like that, visibly affectionate. Once he is, though, clingy. Cuddle-every-night kind of guy, doesn't understand why you'd sleep in the same bed if not touching.

Cat-like. Will kinda...nuzzle, bump their foreheads together, lean his head on theirs, etc. If this is brought up he will stop doing it forever.

Will fall asleep if given a massage. Gage would let someone touch him like that only if he trusts them more than himself. Its not a much bigger leap for him to fall asleep with his back to them.

Preferred sleeping position is laying on his partner in some capacity, either on their shoulder, chest, stomach...again, cat-like. Not often he initiates affection, but once he does, personal space is a foreign concept.

Hug-from-behinder

All of these have something to do with sleeping, you might notice. Gage does not let people see him sleep, know where he does it. The ultimate sign of trust from Gage is being unconscious around them. And if he wakes up unharmed, unfucked with? It would take a fucking lot for that person to lose his loyalty and love. They're basically married now.

Seriously, Gage doesn't do 'downtime'. He can't relax like that. It's his partner's presence that helps him feel safe enough to rest for the sake of resting. Doing nothing is more meaningful to Gage than doing anything. Gage is always going, or planning his 'going'. Getting him to stop is a triumph.

Will share food with them. Have half of this fruit, eat the rest of this stew, finish these eggs for him. Won't even realize he's doing it. Gage is kind of a control freak, always wants to make sure everything is running well, taken care of.

His partner helping him shave his hair. Just consider that. Consider them with their hand on his jaw, tilting his head. His stubble scratches their fingers. Their hand is so close to his throat, they could feel his slow pulse with one little movement. In their other palm is a razor. They stand behind him, diligently scraping. His eye is closed, his own hands idle in his lap. Maybe someone talks, maybe they don't. The bathroom is small and the door is closed, and Porter Gage gives them sharp metal and bares his throat.

^ this is the lewdest, vilest, indecent, most embarrassing thing I've ever written, and I once wrote a fic where character A was described as using character B's prostate as a "character V deserves better" button.

❗trigger warnings start here❗

S/A victim and will not recognize, acknowledge, process, or accept it

Part of the thing with Conner...Gage says how Conner made him feel, how closely they worked together. Even if you get that story out of him, he's not going to mention just how close they would get.

Same thing happened with Colter. Gage always wants to be close to the boss, the guy making the choices. He thinks its of his own volition with Colter—but either way, Conner and Colter got theirs. Regardless how Gage felt about it.

Had something of a drinking problem when he was younger. Did it mostly to feel mature, adult. This stopped when he joined his second raider gang, after the Conner incident.

Every so often, has an episode of some kind. Angry, manic, depressed, paranoid—its very rare but Gage gets into these spells that last about a month. They usually involve him looking over his shoulder, so to speak, looking at the path he took to get where he is. Looking at the shadow he has and the demons in it. Thats largely why Gage is a workaholic, always going. If he stops, he might glance at all of the shit he's been through, and he loses his mind for a while. No one knows, it's wholly private. Gets through his day normally. Its all in his head, no external expression. Nothing in his face, his tone, movement, behavior...you couldn't never see it. You'd only know if he told you. God knows he wouldn't.

Another thing he won't acknowledge—misses his family. Absolute fucking liar, he was really close to them before bailing out of the blue one night. He didn't think about it until he almost died to Conner, and had that one moment where he seriously regretted leaving, and wanted to go home. He rarely ever thinks about his family, and even more rare does he recognize the empty hole in his chest as homesickness. When he does, has one of those episodes.

These episodes end with Gage hardening even further. He shaves off a little more of his humanity each time, whatever he considers a weakness. Its just like whittling.

His emotional walls are a two-way street—it keeps everyone else out to protect himself, but it also cages him. Build up enough walls, you have a labyrinth. You'll lose your way around eventually. If not found by a Sole, or anyone else who befriends and gets close to him, Gage would end in a bad fucking place. Whether dead or alive, he would barely be a person. Just a husk with no rhyme or reason to what it did, running purely on autopilot. He's a raider, so he raids things. No thought of survival or anything like that anymore. Mechanically going through each day until he eventually died. He's about 3/4s of the way through this internal withering at the time of the Nuka World DLC.

[klbwriting]

The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 7: What Else Do You Need To Tell Me?

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: little violent, nothing too bad

Summary: Penguin is arrested and Y/N finds something interesting on the feather she received a few months ago

Y/N and Jason were awkwardly dancing around each other both in the gym and in the evenings.  Y/N was getting more calls telling her to not get involved, and Jason was doing his best to watch her back without her knowing.  Something was brewing in Gotham and he didn't want her to get killed trying to stop whatever storm was happening.  She, in turn, was trying to solve the mystery around the mysterious calls, sticking her nose where it really didn't belong.  She was getting better but was still sloppy enough that Jason spent more time cleaning up after her than actually doing his patrols.  The Robins were bitching about it to him constantly and it was grating on his nerves.  Finally, after a month of waiting, Y/N got a break in her case when the tech she had convinced to run tests on the feather from her apartment gave her the report.

"Wait, are you telling me that this isn't a real feather?" she asked, looking over the analysis.  The tech shrugged.  He looked frazzled.  The police had been able to catch Penguin the previous evening with the help of the Robins and they were swamped trying to round up his thugs in his territory and take it over.  She had been funneling calls all morning asking about the school and hotel and when people could start moving.   She was able to string lies together to stall for time but she hoped that by the next week she could start getting people settled.

"Its a high quality fake, not cheap, but you can tell because there's a poem on the inside of the calamus," he said, taking the file and showing her the second page.  She took the file back and frowned.  "No idea what it means but that's all I could get from it.  Now I have better things to do, bye."  He gave a tight smile and took off to get back to his real work.  Y/N sat at her desk reading the poem a few times in confusion, snapping a picture of it on her phone to search later.

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head

"What the actual fuck?" she whispered.  She needed to talk to someone about this.  Dammit.  She would have to figure out a way to get in touch with Red Hood or the Robins.  She glanced over when the police were bringing in Penguin and frowned.  He was beaten badly, worse then she could imagine the cops around here doing.  There were few decent cops and these people were about it, so why did it look like someone had kicked the shit out of Penguin?  Another thing to ask the Robins, if one of them had done it that is, she couldn't imagine even Red Hood doing that, he would have just shot the bastard and been done with it.  Behind her someone called her name.  She stood and took a few steps, looking around for whoever needed her, but no one seemed to even noticed she was there.  Shrugging she turned back to her desk and saw that the report on the feather was gone.  Fuck.

Jason was very good at lying to people.  He could lie to anyone, just not himself.  Something about dying and coming back to life gave him time to reflect and in truth, lying to yourself was a waste of time and time wasn't a luxury he felt he had anymore.  He had died once, who knows when he would be killed again.  Joker was dead, but Harley might still want to take him out.  He did kill her boyfriend after all.  He wasn't going to tell himself that he didn't have some inkling of feelings for Y/N.  That her being Anomaly didn't make her more attractive to him.  That every time he met up with her he considered actually telling her who he was, seeing if they could work together, maybe take her to the diner with the intention of going on a date.  But he wasn't going to tell anyone else that, ever, especially not Y/N.  He wouldn't tell her who he was, he wouldn't tell her that he knew who she was, and he would never, ever, tell her that he had feelings for her.  That would complicate matters more than he could handle.  He could take this secret to the grave.  He definitely would never admit it or do anything about his feelings.  He was Jason Fucking Todd, been dead, brought back to life, shot, stabbed, poisoned, he could contain his emotions over one girl.  Totally.

He definitely wasn't outside Gotham PD waiting to see her leave so that he could make sure she got home safe before starting patrols, he wanted to make sure she stayed home that night instead of heading out on her own. He knew something was going on in Gotham and he didn't want anyone else to get involved, especially not someone so new to this life.  If she stayed home that night he could go out and patrol in peace, maybe even follow the lead about Penguin's arrest.  None of his family had brought him in, and he knew that Y/N wouldn't have been able to pull that off yet, but he had noticed at the scene of arrest that someone stood in the shadows, watching.  He had gotten a scan on the person's face and was having Alfred look into it for him.  If he found that person maybe he could start unraveling the mystery behind the 'war for Gotham'.  He groaned when Y/N went into her apartment and not even 10 minutes later, just as true dark was setting on the city, climbed out of her window and jumped to the roof next to her balcony.  Fuck.

He donned his helmet and took off after her.  She headed into his territory and found the diner, watching it.  Did she think he lived there or something?

"What are you doing?" he asked, coming over to where she perched.  She looked back at him, not startled.  At some point she must have realized he was following.

"I was waiting for you to show yourself," she said.   "I wanted to ask you and your friends about Penguin's arrest."  He folded his arms and tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.  "I saw when they brought him in, he looked like someone had been trying to kill him, or at least bring him as close to death as possible.  I know the Robins wouldn't be that vicious, and I don't feel like you would either, you would just put him down, so you have any ideas?"  Jason frowned, contemplating this news.  He hadn't actually seen Penguin, only knew of the arrest.  He was already in the back of the van when Jason had arrived on the scene.  Penguin beat to hell wasn't the MO for any of them, not even Damian, they all wanted him to go into Gotham PD and spill secrets about the other crime lords, not be so incapacitated he was useless.  He started pacing as Anomaly just watched.

"None of us are responsible for that," he said.  "Did you notice anything else when you saw him?"  She shook her head.  He could tell there was something else even with her mask.  Her body was still perched, too still, like she was worried about moving, about setting something off.  A bomb that she didn't know how to disengage.  "What else do you need to tell me?"

"I don't need to tell you anything, but I do need to ask your help," she said.  "You and your Robin friends."  She pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to him.  There was a poem on it.  "A couple months ago I got a call at my place, some voice telling me to not stick my nose where it doesn't belong, about a war for Gotham.  I thought it was you at first, trying to scare me off, but then I found this feather on my windowsill, my window open.  I took it to a friend I have in the GCPD and he found out the feather was fake, some kind of fancy costume piece I think.  And embedded on the stem was this poem.   Something about a Court of Owls.  You ever heard of them?"

"I have no idea what that is, but I've been getting message too, about a war, and about you keeping out of it," he said.  Her eyes bored into him.  "I don't know why they thought I could stop you, but they threatened you, me and the rest of the city, getting wrapped up in this war."  She stood finally, moving over to him, taking the poem.

"They say they rule Gotham from the shadows, and now Gotham is in pieces, must be pretty hard to rule when several other people are vying for the same crown.   Wonder if these bird people got sick of waiting for someone else to take out their competition," she said.  "They take out Penguin, give him to the GCPD, which we all know are easy to corrupt, get some good graces with the commissioner, try to start ruling again."

"I don't thin Gordon is the type to roll over and give up the city to these dramatic dickbags," Jason said.

"You haven't seen him recently have you?  Gordon isn't what he used to be, since Batman disappeared he's been despondent, he has an assistant handling more and more of the day to day duties, only handling big things when he can take it.  I worry he might be in the perfect position for someone to come in and tell him he can take a break, that Gotham can be run by those who care about it.  I mean, giving him Penguin?   That's a gift from these fuckers," she said.  Jason frowned.  He hadn't seen Gordon since he had told them that Bruce was missing, presumed dead, he might not be the same man he was then.  He might be getting beaten down by the constant shit that was thrown at him.  Jason turned to face Anomaly completely just as a creature appeared behind her, grabbing her from behind and disappearing her into the shadows.  He moved to give chase when he felt a surge of electricity in his whole body.  He collapsed, only seeing the feet of the same kind of creature before he passed out.  Fuck.

[briarborealisocs]

ASK BOX.

🧡Sunshine and Warmth!!! For the ask game!!!!

HEHEHE i have a feeeew to answer these two with so i'll add em in

sunshine: a snippet where your characters are having fun outdoors

silly whoopsverse folklore/small town au

It was a few weeks later that it happened. Vas was hanging out with Cris and Jay, skipping rocks over a stream and shoving each other near the water, when Jay brought it up. “Let’s sneak into the farmhouse,” he said, out of nowhere. Cris shot straight up from where she’d been leant over the water, sputtering. “Why the heck would we do that?” she scoffed, flicking ice-cold water at Jay. He ducked out of the way, sticking his tongue out at her. Vas reclined against the rock she was sitting on. “Everybody’s always telling us to stay out, but I want to see what the big deal is, myself!” Jay plopped down onto the muddy stream banks, kicking his feet out into the water. “It can’t be that scary.” Vas thought back to the way the woman’s gaze had almost pinned her in place, and shivered. “What would we get out of it, even?” Cris groaned, brushing her muddy hands off on her knees. Her knees were also muddy, so it didn’t do much.  “I dunno, curiosity?”  “It killed the cat,” Cris chimed. “Satisfaction brought it back,” Vas finished, shrugging. She shielded her eyes against the bright autumn sun. “Maybe if we go, we can finally put an end to our bet, yeah, Cris?” There was a pause. Cris blinked, but Vas could see her resolve crumbling just as much as hers was. “You can’t seriously be considering going.”  “Come on, Cris, don’t be a wimp,” Jay goaded. “Vas is in, I’m in, are you in?” Vas didn’t know why she wanted to go so badly. By all accounts, she should really have been frightened out of her mind like all the other people in Sunfell. It was just… There was something about the way the lady held herself. She seemed so…calm.  Cris looked between Jay and Vas, dismay clear on her face. Eventually she groaned, throwing her hands in the air in defeat. Jay cheered, and Vas smiled.  “Fine,” she grumbled, climbing out of the stream and shaking the excess water off her legs. “But I have to be home before dark, or Mum’s gonna kill me.”

and also

toh oc potion shenanigans

Sol crossed her arms smugly, waiting for the potion to take effect. Seriously, the potion was his idea. Sure, it had been an off-hand comment about beastkeeping magic and potions and wanting to pet a fox, but it was still his idea! He didn't have to be so skittish about it.  "Is it… working?" he asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She was about to reply when the bushes rustled nearby. Both of them froze, waiting with bated breath as a small nose poked out of the foliage.  From the red leaves emerged a beautiful little auburn fox. It trotted right up to Goldie and sniffed at his boots. He squeaked, then crouched down, cautiously extending a gloved hand.  "H-hey, buddy," he whispered. The fox sniffed at his fingertips, now. Apparently it deemed them worthy of affection, because it started licking them. Goldie giggled. Giggled! Oh, Solstice would hold this over him forever.  Another set of bushes rustled. Both of them nearly broke their necks with how fast they snapped their heads around to look at it. Out came another fox, who joined its brethren at Goldie's boots.  "Oh, hi," he cooed, clearly taken with the creatures. Sol's brow furrowed. She hadn't thought the potion was long-lasting enough to attract two animals… They must have been close by.  But then the bushes rustled again. This time, only Sol turned to look at it. Out crawled a…tortoise? It slowly shuffled through the grass to bump its face into Goldie's heel.  Okay. Weird. But surely there couldn't be that many animals hiding in this corner of the woods… right?  The bushes rustled. Solstice, you fool. Even GG looked up, this time. He looked nervous again.  "Sol? How many animals is this supposed to bring here?"  She didn't answer, staring in dread at the trees around them. She hadn't noticed it until just now, but about 50 birds had settled silently on the branches surrounding the clearing. One brave soul fluttered down to perch on GG's shoulder, and then another, and then another. Soon, he was swarmed by birds. And there were fiendcats and crawling boas and king deer entering the clearing, too. Before long she couldn't see or hear Goldie past the sheer mass of wildlife burying him. 

warmth: a snippet that gives you the warm fuzzies

keepska wingswap au

It doesn’t stop happening. Every time they’re in a room together, one of Kiska’s wings finds its way over to him, like a fleshy feathered blanket. Or an umbrella. Or-- Well, frankly, there’s just not a good metaphor for it. He’ll say it like it is: Kiska’s sheltering him under her wing like a fretting mother bird, and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. It’s not like it’s a bad thing. Honestly, Keeper finds it hilarious. Birdbrain, he thinks to himself, in a tone of voice he refuses to admit is unbearably fond. Beyond that, though, it’s…comforting. It really is, in a way he can’t quite put a name to. Even when the wing doesn’t physically rest on his shoulders, having it cupped around him, warming, protecting-- It’s nice. It’s better when it does drape over him, though. Take right now: Kiska has taken it upon herself to disturb his work, and that means she’s pressed up against his side while he sits and tries and fails to write an account of a farmer who invented a new species of wheat. He fails in large part because Kiska has her wings wrapped fully around him, and not only are they getting in the way of his movements, they’re also highly distracting. They’re warm, and they feel heavy and comforting, like the softest weighted blanket you could ever imagine. Mostly, though, they’re distracting because it’s Kiska, with her cheek smooshed onto his shoulder and her wings wrapped around him securely, like protection, like a claim. He puts his pen down and allows himself the indulgence of carding a hand through the feathers. She hums and burrows further against him, her wings flexing around his like a hug.  He ends up falling asleep there, nodding off until his temple is pressed against the crown of Kiska’s head, with the rest of him comfortably nestled in her wings.

[kimmimaru]

Ok, so I love horror. I'm obsessed with it. I honestly don't know why I don't actually write much of it though, I think its because I don't think I'm very good at it lol. One of my fave authors is Stephen King, the man is a genius but he churns out books so fast I can't keep up and only have so much shelf space, sadly lol. Has anyone else read Doctor Sleep? That shit was brilliant, my fave is IT but Doctor Sleep is defo a close second. Very long, nonsensical ramble under the cut about Hojo, Vincent and Lucrecia:

But anyways, I'm doing a couple of little horror fics for Halloween, they're doing alright I suppose. Not particularly ground breaking or anything but they're ok. The fics are, of course, FF7 fics and both revolve somewhat around Hojo. I don't know, I find him one of the scariest characters. He's terrifying, especially in the OG. Not exactly sure what it is about him specifically that scares me more than other characters, because like, Sephiroth is the main 'bad guy' in the story but Hojo's just creepy. Like if I met someone like him irl he would be giving off all the red flags. You know there's just some people who just give you the creeps, even if they're a total stranger? Like every cell in your body is just telling you RED ALERT? That's Hojo for me lol. Maybe its because Sephiroth's motivations are somewhat understandable, he loses his mind because he finds out he's not human and his entire life probably wasn't good. I can understand that, I too sometimes look at all the horrific shit humanity has done and wonder if its even worth keeping us around you know? But Hojo, at least as far as I'm aware, isn't really given any other motivations other than 'because I can' or 'I want to see what happens' and to me that's creepy. Not to mention that in the OG he does kind of try to make Aerith...do stuff...with Red 13...which uh...no. No absolutely not. Lol. Also...why the fuck is he considered so attractive in the OG? He doesn't just manage to lure Lucrecia away from Vincent 'my ass looks great in leather' (just trust me and pause AC at the moment Vincent crouches before jumping into the air to attack Bahamut SIN and try and tell me it doesn't lol) Valentine but also somehow manages to attract a whole gaggle of bikini-clad women on the beach in Costa Del Sol. HOW?? Ok, so I can sort of see how Lucrecia could have agreed to carry Hojo's baby, its probably because she's a scientist too and was also interested in the results or whatever...but still, lady...please wtf were you thinking? At least the beach-goers have the excuse of not knowing Hojo, Lucrecia does not have that lol. How can she spend god knows how long around Hojo and not think; this man is a creep? Honestly I would kind of be interested in seeing something about how all that happened, was he acting different around her? Was she just blinded by the curiosity of the experiment? Was it simply due to the fact that he was the only other man in the mansion when she freaked out about Vincent and her history with his father?

I think maybe that's why I don't write anything much about Lucrecia, I just can't get into her head. I don't understand her at all. To me, not a lot of her choices make any sense. Her actions feel weird and illogical and I'm not sure if its just me being autistic about it, or if I'm missing something in the story or what. But going from 'I love Vincent Valentine' to 'oh no I feel guilty because of Vincent's father's death therefore I must dump him and go with Mr Creeps over here'. Because that's not going to make him feel a billion times worse than just...I don't know, explaining why you're worried and talking shit out? And then sticking the monster that actively killed his father INSIDE him. Its fucking weird. (and then you have Vincent's own weird ass guilt, its non-sensical to blame himself for HER decisions. The whole story is just a giant shit show lol). Does this make any sense? I don't know. I had some Thoughts and needed to write them down. Ugh.

[unohanabbygirl]

since Halloween is approaching. in FMN, what is the top 10 costumes that are most worn on these dates???

1st off, can I just say thank you?? I made Lucy’s birthday on Halloween day for a reason and now I get to ramble on about it?? While every costume on this list is popular i’m still going to go from most popular being #1 to least popular being #10 within this small group.

There are many other popular costumes that I could get into but these are the most highly worn.

1. Dragon’s — Do I even have to explain? The Targs may have people’s interest but they’re the real stars of the show.

Dragon costumes can be done in a multitude of ways; you can dress as a sexy dragon, throw on one of those airy blow up costumes (you know what I’m talking about) or just put on a scaled body suit with some plastic wings + tail and call it a day. Not to mention that every parent with a newborn stuffs them into a dragon costume for their first Halloween and without fail everyone gushes over it each and every time.

2. Daenarys Targaryen/Jon Snow— I couldn’t decide which out of these two were more popular since it’s practically a tie, so I just decided to rank them together because why not? Plus they’re the #1 choice for couples costumes. Usually worn while carrying three stuffed dragon plushies and a direwolf plushie IF the person doesn’t own a husky.

She’s the mother of dragons who took back Westeros, he’s her pretty boy bastard sidekick/ nephew-husband, what’s not to love here?

3. Night walkers— Since night walkers are basically a cooler (less bloody) version of zombies for the people of Westeros, this is the most common costume you’ll see on Halloween day. Some people go above and beyond to dress and act the part while others just spray fake snow onto party city armor and stick those little beads that look like ice on their face with some spirit gum and voilà! You have a night walker/the night king 😌

It’s a costume that everyone does sooner or later; even brands like fashion nova have their own “sexy night king” costumes.

4. Margaery Tyrell— Margaery is for the pretty girls and that’s just a fact. Dressing up as her is basically the real world equivalent of dressing up as a fairy or fae because she’s simply that pretty. The woman had Joffrey locked down and moved right onto Tommen after he croaked so she’s pretty much twitters favorite girl boss cause she was going to be be queen no matter what she had to do.

Every year as soon as September 1st hits every shop owner on Etsy starts making a small supply of crowns that mimic her iconic flower/wooden antler crown because it’s a sure fire way to make a nice amount of cash around the holidays. Very lucrative.

5. Joffrey Baratheon— Okay, I wouldn’t exactly coin this an official type of costume because practically no one actually likes the guy, let alone likes him enough to put in effort to dress up as him. However, its common occurrence for people who don’t dress up to get wasted at parties and when they eventually throw up all over themselves say something along the lines of “see, i’m Prince Joffrey.” Before passing out in all their gross nature.

6. Red priestess— All the goth/alternative girls dress as a red priestess’s every single year without fail. They’re beautiful, mysterious, and slightly unnerving which only attracts people.

7. Khal Drogo— This one is more popular than it should be considering Drogo married Dany when she was only 12 and assaulted her multiple times. But because of the sexualization of Dothraki women and the general disrespect of their culture, Drogo is plenty of men’s first choice when it comes to dressing up

Think of those ridiculous and plain disrespectful “Indian giver” or Pocahontas costumes that are still frequently brought because…ignorance.

8. Ned Stark— I feel like you knew this was coming lol.

Honestly, while there are people who do think Ned was an interesting guy, a majority of people who dress as him are doing it just so they can carry around a dummy head and freak people out with it for the sake of pranks.

There are about 100,000 tutorials on YouTube about how to make your dummy head look real with fake blood, clay, and synthetic hair for this one reason alon

9. The mountain— This one is popular amongst gymbro’s all around the globe regardless of whether or not they’re tall. Every dude who’s about lifting has dressed up as the mountain at least twice in their lives and everyone knows it. Especially for those who have no personality outside of being a meathead that lives on unseasoned chicken breast and chugs protein powder like its water.

Most who take on this costume look ridiculous but some actually manage to pull it off and are genuinely terrifying when wearing the full getup.

10. Jesters/Mushroom— He’s one of those historical figures people like to dress up as for the simple fact that they can go around saying the most out of pocket shit and everyone thinks it’s funny.

The guy is known for not only being a liar but his lies being so ridiculous that they’re actually kind of iconic??? I mean, he confidently alluded to sleeping with Rhaenyra and more than likely made up Sara Snow just to give her no personality outside of being “unwashed” so it’s no surprise people like to buy a jester costume and go buck wild. People also go as normal jesters, but mushroom is just so much more fun to do.

[pseudowar-archived]

Molly's upbringing hadn't just been horses and speeding trucks, stick-and-poke needs and groundings that had lasted forever - but it had been a fair amount of teaching of observing people. Not in the way, she imagined, Spencer or his coworkers did, but in a way that usually kept her one step ahead of people around her. She'd grown up small, the youngest and only girl, and try as her mother had, Moe hadn't been destined for pageants or playing hostess, piano lessons often skipped in favor of stealing a car to race down dirt roads and hit potholes as hard as she could - enjoying that flip in her stomach as the vehicle went airborne before it all came crashing down.

People-watching, to her, was an artform. It helped her with her day job, with separating out the people who really wanted ink etched into their skin, and the people that were still unsure and afraid. And now, as she watches the agent's gaze flounder for not the first time in her presence, now there comes a brief sting of something unfamiliar to her. Sharp and like acid in her mouth as he looks from the floor, to her face, with an expression that proposes nothing good.

Oh, and it is nothing good. But nothing awfully terrible either. A deal made, proposed into the little space between them, that felt an awful lot like a form of arm twisting.

Moe knows he doesn't intend it that way - or if he does, it's not meant to be as harsh as she could take it, so she doesn't. She takes it for what it is, and sighs and rolls her eyes almost dramatically. Lips curving, even as she pretends to be put out by it all. "Spencer Reid, you have not just opened a can of worms, but have spilled it all over my damn floor. But fine. You write your mother and tell her that you're doing good. I'll call mine and inform her that I tattooed blaspheme on my tits and see how long she plays at wanting me home for."

And she would - eventually. Once she dealt with... this. All that play disappearing from her features as he... Goes off, replaced with something that can only be described as 'fond fascination.'

"It's not really that shocking of a thing when you consider it. Sex has always been a taboo thing, it's not hard to see the jump of how an additional attraction to - to rough play could fuck shit up. Combine that with a lack of sympathy for your fellow man and, oops," A careless shrug. "Everyone becomes prey as they look for something to satisfy that itch. And once it's satisfied once, there's addiction, and with addiction comes always the need to reach another high. So, next step, Murder."

It's... a lot more complicated than that, Moe was well aware, but talking about detailed nuances of why people became sexual sadists / murderers was - a fucking buzz kill. And she's still touching him. Still too close. Rolling her tongue across red lips and laughing at his easy subject change.

His lack of participation in BDSM or any kind of play was hardly a surprise to her, considering his actual job, but his curiosity is what hooks her - or maybe that's what hooks him. Seeing only one horrific side of it and never knowing the real satisfaction of what it should be, or why it still appealed to so many despite the negative links to it.

Her hand travels, from his elbow to his shoulder, from his shoulder to his collarbone. Fingers tucking themselves up against his tie like she's about to adjust it but instead just, tugging. Tugging him down enough so that their noses brush, so that he can practically taste her near permanent taste of ink and paint. "Why? You wanna see?" And then? She lets him go. Patting his chest with a grin, her eyes half lidded as she bounces back onto her heels. "Honestly? Restraints, silk ropes, nothing too exciting. I lost a lot in my move, it's back to square one."

------HE NEVER HAD a hard time with eye contact. it was something some people noted about geniuses: they all had little quirks that made them stand out in a room full of people. not in the obvious ways like someone wearing a clown suit ... but the sort of personal tells that were just the slightest bit off. some of them had a hard time looking people in the eye. some of them had a hard time speaking. some of them had a language entirely different from words and all of those were alright. spencer made eye contact. spencer talked too much.

but with the brush of her fingers against his elbow the words vacated his mouth in a sudden exhale and there was nothing more to say. in that moment his gaze shifted away from the hue of her eyes and fell to the floor where he watched the purple slowly dry against itself and other splashes. purple was his favorite color.

lips pressed into a thin line and he nodded, something slight. just enough to make the wayward curls of dark blond shift against his shoulders and the frame of his face. when he inhaled he made himself look up once more, but he never flinched from her touch. " i'll make you a deal. call your mom and i'll write mine. you don't have to go home and be saddled with responsibility if you don't want to. and i won't feel guilty for living my life. "

once more he cleared his throat. this time when he smiled it was soft, like the fist rush of spring breaking winter. " and going home doesn't mean being stuck there. "

and that was enough of that.

" and anyway, i know what bdsm is. a shocking amount of cases circle around killers who have fetishes that they take too far, those that are sexual in nature often border a twisted version of bdsm in some sense. in fact, the btk strangler had a warped perception of bdsm, and the toybox killers as well. sexual sadism in and of itself has a lot to do with a twisted version of that particular fetish, which is part of the reason why people are more closed about it, outside of those involved in the community. " he barely took a second to breathe. " i've just never ... participated. why, what else is in your bedroom? aside from, you know ... an armoire and an actual bed. "

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Hi,

Can I request bsd males with a female reader who is shy around boys and sometimes even awkward, but because she hasn't had much interactions with boys before, so she doesn't know how to talk to them. Thanks, and have a great day/night!

BSD boys with a shy Fem!Reader

Fandom:Bungou Stray Dogs Pairings:Atsushi, Dazai, Chuuya X Fem!reader Genre:Fluff, Humour Format:Headcanons Warnings:None Word Count:0.8K A/n:ofc baby! sorry for keeping you waiting all this time :)

I only did some of them since you didnt specify the characters you wanted. did them separately, and reader is their colleague.Not proofread as always hehe.

Atsushi Nakajime

Totally understands you.

Like, its ok! Youre shy, hes shy, you have something in common at least!

His shyness does not stop him from trying to make conversation with you tho. Its true that you were kinda avoiding him and turned red whenever you ran into him, but you seem like a really nice person! He wants to be friends with you (maybe he wants something more, but is too shy to consider it)

you seemed really comfortable around Yosano and Naomi, but why were you so awkward around him? was he the problem? as always?

Well he obviously wasnt, but he wont find out unless you tell him. he'll try to get close to you again, and will blame himself even more when you continue shying away from him. it'll be more like an emotional damage, since you became one of the persons he admires.

but he does feel better when you open up a bit around him. not making up a lame axcuse and leave the room the minute he entered it like you usually did, and actually talk to him while gently smiling at him, he suddenly gets it.

He might not be the problem. you were just a normal person, and were acting like one. you werent the type of person who would immediately hit it off with other people, and unfortunately he was surrounded with so many peope like this (Dazai) that he didnt even bother to consider that theory.

so yeah. hes relieved that he isnt the problem, but he has something else to worry about now; which is how stunning and beautiful you are now that you became a bit closer with him and has made a few attemps to touch him (in a normal way). His poor heart might not be able to handle it <3

Osamu Dazai

this bitch

realises the reason at a first glance

you know that he LOVES teasing people, right? so basically, whenever youre focusing on something, he just shows up out of the blue and scares surprises you by hitting tapping on your shoulder, which makes you jump in the spot. "Hey Y/n-Chan! how are you doing today! looking stunning as ever, i see!"

he wasnt able to finish his sentence once because you accidentally punched him lol. it was really embarrassing given that he was your superior and stuff.

LOVES making physical contact. claims that hes not doing them unpurpose, but when your body completely sticks to his as he reaches over to grab something from the shelf, you know its not an accident.

hitting on you literally all the time. uses every chance he gets to send multiple pick up lines at you, and often gets scolded by Kunikida cause its not really appropriate to do this with a newbie.

when you finally get used to him and even start flirting back at some point, hes over the edge. like, he didnt know anyone could be this hot while saying stuff like that! hes even more attracted to you now.

will start other stuff as well. buying stuff for you when hes supposed to be focusing on the mission, picking out flowers because theyre pretty, he bets they look better on you hair.

Chuuya Nakahara

I dont think hes the smooth type of guy when it comes to woman. i mean hes not shy (not until you unexpectedly make a move on him lol) but hes not like Dazai either, So its a lot easier with him. he doesnt try to fluster you, or make unnecessary conversations.

but it is a bit odd to him. how you turn into a tomato whenever he talks to you. he doesnt even say something embarrassing or uncomfortable, then why are you like this?

"great. another weird person"

or maybe its not that weird.

anyway, this guy is gold, so he wont try to tease you about it, but like Atsushi, when he sees you being smooth around other people and actually make conversation with them, he gets pissed.

like what? hes not good enough or something? or perhaps he somehow managedto harm you and doesnt know about it?

and he gets so pissed (since he kinda likes you) that he comes to you and asks you straight up.

"Hey! do you have a problem with me?" Y/n: panics* "W-What? N-No! " "then why am i the only one youre avoiding? did i do something to you?" "no...its just that..."

when you manage to tell him that what the real problem is, hes surprised. all the people around him were different from you, acting like they know each other and their weaknesses for ages on their first meeting, so he never even considered this possibility.

he quickly apologises and leaves you alone, but that makes you feel bad. like, maybe youre making other people uncomfortable too, by acting like this.

so the next day when you actually go to him and start a normal conversation, hes happy. at first he thinks youre doing it out of pitty, embarrassment or something like that, but he gets even happier when you tell him youre not.

hopefully these normal conversations turn into something more :)

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[elvisabutler]

can you do headcannons on pa reader and austin being in a secret relationship bc he has to be in a pr relationship (they don’t want austin and reader to be pr bc it would be to obvious it’s for the movie)

okay so quick disclaimer, this is a pa! reader but not the pa! reader y'all are used to seeing from me. mostly because my brain couldn't quite wrap my head around that one. ( give me a good night's sleep tonight and low key i'll probably do it anyway. ) but tw: jealousy. so much jealousy. cheating but it's a pr relationship so confusing on that front.

consider. you both hate this. with a fiery passion you two only usually show each other.

you both can't argue against it because while everyone and their mother on set know that you two are dating and have been since filming started after the covid shutdown the wb higher ups have no idea.

and you and austin want to keep it that way because you know what the paparazzi does to couples who meet and fall in love on set. you're not about to deal with that.

it will also hurt anyone's chances to get an oscar. it shouldn't but baz, catherine, and the two of you kind of come to the agreement that it will.

consider. you do not get to pick who austin dates nor do you get to pick who you are dating. this leads to both of you ending up with people who are charming and attractive. this is a problem because on a good day you are jealous person by nature when it came to austin. and on a bad day austin is a jealous person when it came to you.

basically both of you are obscenely jealous and fight at least once a week in your shared apartment when you can both get to it without any paparazzi following you. on more than one occasion

you have accused him of cheating. he has done the same thing. you both make up before the night is over but by the middle of the press tour for elvis you're both at your limit.

you ask baz and the rest of the producers if it is possible to stop the pr relationships. they respectfully tell you not until at least the end of the press tour. preferably after oscar nominations are done.

you cannot wait and break things off with your pr relationship before being talked back into joining it again when reminded maybe you have a chance at an oscar too.

consider there's a break in the press tour that you use to have your pr relationships near you while you go to your shared apartment. you agree to try and have fun with this. it then becomes a game of who can make the other more jealous kissing and doing whatever with the other person in the pr relationships.

you win. every single time.

and your prize is getting- well, austin likes to show you who you belong to and it certainly isn't the attractive eyecandy you have to drag along on events that isn't him.

when the press tour is over you find that they only shove the two of you with your "significant others" when they really need to. a red carpet but other than that, they let you and austin live your life. still mildly separate but you aren't stuck watching him stick his tongue down someone's throat and vice versa almost every single night.

consider! austin gets caught leaving the apartment when he's supposed to be with his pr relationship. this is about two weeks before oscar noms.

damage control one hundred percent happens the second it hits deux moi or tmz.

there is talk about just introducing you two as a couple.

you are both here for this.

they decide that well austin's already fucked it up so might as well.

he still gets the oscar nom, you don't but that's okay because there will be other times for you and he deserves it.

he wins. and thanks his best girl. his beautiful girlfriend, y/n.

"you didn't have to make out with him like that?" "like what?" "like he was an oasis in the desert."

"how come you never wear jeans that make your ass look like that with me?" "you see me naked! why do i need to?" "because like seeing your ass look good in pants? that's like asking me why i need to wear those jeans you like." "that's different." "oh my god, i will call her up and make her take you for an outing today."

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Seven minutes of truth and dare

Summary>  You and Pietro have been friends since elementary school. On his 18th birthday, you try to socialize with his twin sister, Wanda Maximoff, who never seemed to like you very much.

Warnings> (implied) Enemies to Lovers/ Fluff and Smut/ Vaginal Fingering/ Boys Kissing/ Girls Kissing/ Underage Drinking/ 18+/ implicit sex/ swearing

Words>  3734k (Oneshot)

Read on AO3 

It took little time to get to Maximoff's house, considering that you had to walk to the residence, since your ride - Natasha Romanoff, best friend, currently on the run together with her boyfriend Bruce Banner - just stood up to you. You were lucky to live only a few blocks away.

The noise of the party could already be heard from around the corner, and you wondered how long it would take for one of the neighbors to call the police. At least it was the weekend, and you remembered that Pietro had commented that the Parkers would be traveling on their honeymoon, being the only neighbors of the house. Pietro was always lucky for things like this.

When you finally arrived at the house, the sound of some electronic music was much louder. You greeted a few people with a nod, the vast majority classmates, who were actually more Pietro's friends than yours, and then you went inside. 

The Maximoff residence was very nice, but at this moment it was full of teenagers drinking and dancing, many glasses and bottles lying on the floor. 

 Looking for Pietro, you found him upside down, drinking directly from a beer tank that was set up in the outside yard past the kitchen. You frowned slightly, hoping your friend didn't have an alcoholic coma, as you walked up to the group of teenagers who cheered and encouraged the challenge.

When he finished, the two boys holding him by the ankles helped him to balance again, laughing and patting Pietro on the back. Your friend staggered a bit, but then he saw you, flashing a smile before hugging you.

- You stink, birthday boy. - You teased, and Pietro just rolled his eyes humorously.

- You took your time. - He remarks as you release from your embrace. You shrug.

- You know this isn't my thing. - You remark, referring to the party. Pietro smiles.

- Yes, yes. But I'm glad you're here. - He replies and then takes your hands, lifting them a little and looking down your entire body. - And look at you, you even dressed up to come! Are you trying to have sex with someone?

You laughed, letting go of Pietro's hands to push him gently, which made Pietro laugh too. Soon you were surrounded by other friends, but not being very good with crowds, you said you were going to get something to drink before you left.

In the kitchen, you tried to find something that didn't have alcohol in it. You ended up grabbing one of the bottles of soda from the refrigerator, hoping that none of the Maximoffs would mind.

Someone changed the music and turned up the sound, so you heard the excited shouts of several people, who began to move into the room and dance around each other. You laughed at the image, walking upstairs.

A few people were scattered on this floor, mostly trying to smoke pot in hiding, or to have some privacy from the noise. A few others were just making out in the corners. You walked to Pietro's room, checking his present in your pocket.

He would be too busy being the popular extrovert he was tonight, so you thought it best to leave the small gift you bought for him on his bedside table, he could appreciate the gift when the party was over. 

You closed the door on your way out, and frowned as you looked down the hall, a couple of strangers kissed passionately while one of the boys groped the walls for somewhere to go, you watched as he found one of the unlocked doors and went inside. You sighed, hesitating to make a move. You knew very well that this was Wanda's room. You figured that no one would want to know that strangers were screwing in their bed.

Hurrying inside, you opened the door.

- Sorry, boys, this one's off limits. - You warned them as you entered, noting that they were already almost naked. Grabbing the fallen clothes from around the room, they looked at you angrily, but then left the room.

You shifted the weight of your feet, realizing where you were at last. Looking around, you bit your lower lip as you observed how everything was just so Wanda. 

The color of the walls, the sheets, even the way she organized the books and records. You ran your finger between the shelves on the wall, smiling at the collection of music she had in vinyl record format. And then you looked at the collection of dvds, compilations of old American sitcoms.

You walked over to the study table, a picture of Wanda and Pietro as children caught your eye. It was Halloween, and they were dressed up adorably, Wanda as a witch, with horns and a red cape, and Pietro as a superhero. You put the photo back, running your fingers through Wanda's notes displayed in the notebooks she left open on the table. On the few occasions you saw her at school during the past year, she was studying. Pietro had commented that she was going to apply to the best colleges in the country. 

- What are you doing here? - A female voice sounded behind you, and you stumbled with fright, turning around quickly.

- God, Wanda, you scared the hell out of me. - You grumbled, but she continued with a look of mixed annoyance and curiosity. You looked away before speaking. - Sorry for snooping. I just came here to keep some boys from having sex in your bed.

Wanda blinked with confusion, but her expression softened. You noticed how beautiful she looked, and scolded yourself for thinking that the next second.

- Oh right. Thanks, I guess.

You nodded slightly, not being used to being alone with her. 

- I didn't know you liked sitcons. - The words escape your anxious brain, and Wanda blinks in confusion. You thought she would throw you out of the room right away, but she just smiles, shrugging.

- You never asked. - She says, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

- Yeah, I didn't know you wanted me to ask. - You retort, your voice coming out almost in a whisper. Wanda looks away, twiddling her fingers.

You were silent for a moment, and Wanda looked like she was about to say something, but then the door opened again, and you raised your eyebrows as you watched two girls snuggled up to each other and stumbled into the room, unaware of your presence. Wanda made an impatient expression.

- Get out, now! - she warns, and the girls part in shock. You raise your eyebrows as you realize that you knew them.

- Damn, we didn't know it was taken. - Carol grumbled, and when she looked at you her expression changed from embarrassment to happiness. - Y/N! I didn't know you were coming.

You nodded at her clumsily, and she just smiled, apologizing again as she dragged Maria out of the room, closing the door. You didn't even want to think about what you two were going to do.

- Maybe you should lock the door. - You said, and Wanda looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a tone of surprise and malice in her gaze. You blushed as you realized what your speech implied. - I-I mean when we get out of here.

Wanda laughed, and you tried to cope with the butterflies in your stomach that seeing her laugh gave you.

- I think I will stick around here anyway. - She comments after a moment, sitting up in bed. - Parties aren't really my thing.

- Yeah, I know how it is. - You add, a little awkwardly. - I only agreed to come because Pietro really wanted me to.

- You stopped coming here at home. - Wanda says with an expression you don't understand, it was as if she wanted to read you. - Are you two all right?

You look at her with mild surprise, not really expecting her to have noticed you anyway. 

- Me and Pietro? Yes, we're fine! - you affirm, putting your hands in your pockets. - I guess the exams have been keeping me busy. And well, Pietro has lots of friends now, it's not like I'm missed that much.

You looked at the floor, not noticing Wanda's frown. You didn't want to think too much about Pietro replacing you, not today.

- I don't think that's true. - Wanda says after a moment. - Pietro likes you very much.

Wanda's tone is almost hurt. At first you thought that maybe she was thinking that Pietro enjoyed your company more than hers, which was absolutely ridiculous, but then you understood the tone of the insinuation, and laughed lightly, attracting the other girl's attention.

- You know we're just friends, right? - You start to explain, the idea of dating Pietro is so absurd that your voice comes out in a tone of debauchery and humor. - He has never looked at me like that! And I always thought he was like a little brother.

You laugh at the possibility, but Wanda looks at you intently.

- Would I be like your little sister too? - She replies in a low tone, and you feel your smile drop and look away, completely embarrassed.

- No. - You deny it, a little breathlessly. - I don't see you as a sister.

- And how do you see me?

Feeling your heart race, you force yourself to look up, looking at Wanda. She has a glint in her eyes that makes you want to kiss her.

Before you can answer, the door opens again, and Pietro stumbles inside.

- Great, I found you two! - He looked drunk. - We're going to play seven minutes in heaven, come on, come on!

Giving you two absolutely no chance to respond, he pushed you through the house, leading you to the basement, where your group of friends were waiting for you.

- Hey guys. - You greeted awkwardly seeing everyone standing there. 

- No fucking way you two are at a party together! - joked Tony Stark, smiling at you. Despite the teasing, the others were genuinely happy with your company. - And they're still going to play with us? This is legendary.

- Why don't you just fuck off, Stark? - retorted Wanda as she entered. You knew they didn't get along very well, but Tony just shrugged, laughing at the other girl's aggressiveness. 

- Come on, guys, do the circle! - asked Steve, who was already sitting in one of the armchairs. He put a bottle in the middle of the group. - Are you sure you want seven minutes?

- We start with truth and dare, Rogers. - said Tony as he sat down next to Thor, one of Pietro's soccer teammates.

- All right, all right, let's just play this game once and for all, - said Pietro impatiently. When everyone was sitting in a circle, Steve touched the bottle, smiling at the group.

Turning the bottle, everyone looked forward in anticipation. The tip stopped at Sam, one of his closest friends, who seemed confident to respond to anything.

- Truth or dare, Wilson? - Steve asked.

- I'll go for truth.

- Boring. - Grumbled Tony, but Steve just laughed, and assumed a thoughtful expression.

- Who was the last person you kissed?

Sam bowed his head, a smile on his lips. You frowned, he was not the type to be shy. Tony noticed as well and assumed a curious posture, looking at Sam intently.

- The last person I kissed... - Sam began, pausing, as if wondering if he was really going to say it - Was Bucky.

The whole group exclaimed in surprise, and Tony burst out laughing. You looked at Bucky, who just seemed too embarrassed to respond to the jokes.

- Okay, let's pretend this isn't the biggest sex scandal in school, and move on. - Pietro said in an amused tone. Sam laughed at his comments, and turned the bottle, which stopped at Thor.

- Dare. - Said the blond man without even waiting for Sam to ask. Sam laughed and thought for a few seconds before saying:

- Okay, everyone will need to put their cell phones on speaker for this one. - Sam said and nodded, waiting for everyone to obey. The group laughed, but followed his lead. - Well, my challenge is very simple. Send a message to the person you want to make out with from here. Everyone will know who.

- You are terrible, Wilson. - Thor commented, ignoring the sighs of excitement that the group shared.

It took a moment for Thor to pick up his cell phone, and type something. He took a sip of his beer before pressing enter, and the next second, Valkyrie's cell phone rang. 

- This is not at all surprising, actually. - Steve joked, making everyone laugh.

Valkyrie gave Thor a surprised and mischievous look, but said nothing. Thor looked slightly flushed.

- If you guys are lucky, you can win seven minutes. - Sam teased.

Thor laughed but said nothing. He stepped forward to spin the bottle. Tony let out a pleased exclamation when he saw the bottle stop on him.

- Fuck, finally! - He said, and raised his hand to interrupt Thor, who was probably about to ask the choice. - No need, darling. Of course I want a dare, this game is no fun without it.

- Fine, Stark. - Thor laughed. - Since you love to show off, I dare you to give Rogers a lap dance.

The group burst into laughter, but Steve seemed considerably anxious. Tony laughed, a little awkwardly, and then stood up. 

Thor was quick to get some music playing, and everyone was quiet in anticipation. When Tony started to perform, you blinked awkwardly. You had no desire to see Anthony Stark do a lap dance on someone's lap. You pulled your cell phone out of your pocket checking for messages, and smiled when you saw that there was a message from Nat, just a picture of her and Bruce, smoking together in what you thought looked like the Skateboard Court near the school.

The group laughed again, and you lifted your head to see that Tony was riding on Steve's lap, with his shirt off. Steve was very red. 

- Okay guys, I think that's good enough! - Thor laughed, and Tony stood up. The group laughed at the visible erections on both of them, before continuing the game. 

- Can you keep up, Stark? - Thor sneered, pointing at Tony's pants. He gave a lopsided smile, and pointed a middle finger at Thor before picking up the bottle.

You felt your stomach flip with nervousness when the bottle stopped on you. 

- Well, well, this should be interesting. - said Tony looking at you mischievously. - Tell me, kitten, truth or dare?

You considered your options for a few seconds. If you asked for truth, Tony would not only tease you, but also find a way to make you confess something embarrassing. At least with dare, it would be quick and without much impact on your post-party life.

- Dare. - You say simply, and Tony looks surprised.

- It's been a night of surprises. - he scoffed. - And I think it's time for us to start the seven minutes in heaven.

- Damn it, Tony. - You mumble clumsily. Tony laughs and then flashes you a smile of fake kindness.

- I'll be nice to you. The bottle will choose your partner.  - He says, and you cover your face with both hands for a moment before grabbing the bottle.

- I hate you, - you mutter to Tony before swirling the bottle around. With luck it would stop at one of your friends, and you would spend seven minutes talking.

- No fucking way! - shouted Tony excitedly as the bottle stopped at Wanda. You felt your stomach drop. - I always knew you'd end up with a Maximoff, I never thought it would be with the most gothic of them.

The group laughed, but you were feeling extremely anxious. You felt your legs tremble slightly when Tony pulled you off the couch, seeing your lack of reaction. You tried to smile, but it must have come out as a grimace, since Tony laughed. 

- Remember girls, no cheating. - he warned, opening the closet door. You went in first, and then Tony closed the door when Wanda came in.

The closet was completely dark, and you could only distinguish Wanda's silhouette by squinting your eyes. You leaned your body against the wall, your breaths were the only sounds in the room, since the noise of the party was muffled.

- That's awkward. - You said trying to ease your nerves. 

- Why is it awkward? - Wanda replied. The closet was small, and looking at the floor, you noticed that your shoes were only inches from touching.

- I don't know, I guess I never thought I'd be in a closet with you. - you confess humorously. But with Wanda's lack of response, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

- Who did you think you would be stuck with? - She says after a moment, sounding as if she is trying to prolong the subject.

- I don't know. - You say, looking at your shoes again. You think you're imagining that the distance between you has decreased. - I don't really think about being stuck in closets.

Wanda laughs at your statement, and you feel your heart race at the sound. You count twelve seconds in silence before she speaks again.

- I never understood why we didn't become friends. - Wanda confesses, and you look up at her silhouette. 

Because I've been a gay disaster in your presence since I met you. You think, but think it best to just shrug. Then you remember that she can't see the gesture, and try to think of something to say.

- Different political views. - You joke, and Wanda giggles. 

- I like your humor. - She says next, and you feel your cheeks heat up, and look down, only to see Wanda's shoes signaling that she has taken a step toward you. You press your back against the wall, watching her move closer in the dark. - And honestly, I've always liked you a lot.

- W-what? - You ask breathlessly, feeling Wanda's presence right in front of you, your noses touching.

- I always noticed you, you know. - She says, drawing her face closer to your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair. You were thankful that there was a wall behind you, serving as a support. - I would see you around the house. Playing in my yard. And the jokes at the dinner table. Always so quiet and shy at school, so behaved and obedient. - Wanda whispered, and then she brought her mouth close to his ear. - Tell me, did you notice me too?

- Yes. - You confess breathlessly. And ignoring the uneven beating of your own heart, you continue. - I have always noticed you. Ever since middle school, when you started wearing leather boots, and painting your fingernails. Or when I was at your swimming pool and you sat quietly with a book. I noticed you.

Wanda lets out a sigh, bringing your foreheads together.

- Tell me to stop if you don't want this. - She whispered against your lips. You would have laughed if you weren't so anxious. 

You didn't answer, and wanting her to know how much you wanted her, you moved forward, pressing your lips together in a tender kiss.

Wanda took a step back in surprise, separating your mouths. You were about to apologize, thinking that maybe you had got it all wrong, but the next second she moved against you, her hands on your neck as your mouths joined in a firm, passionate kiss.

Bringing your hands to her waist, you pressed her against your body, and you gasped against each other's mouths. Wanda asked for passage with her tongue running over your lower lip, and you opened your mouth, gasping as you felt your tongues come together.

Kissing like this for a moment was enough to warm your whole body, a familiar discomfort forming below your belly. Having Wanda moaning against your mouth was not helping.

You slowed the kiss, stroking her tongue with yours slowly. Wanda pressed herself against you, one knee coming up between your legs. With the new friction, you felt your body tremble in anticipation, delighting in pleasure.

You were startled when you heard a noise, someone must have knocked something over outside the closet. And then you remembered that you were in a closet, with your best friend's sister, who was in the next room with six other people, with no idea that you were about to fuck Wanda.

You began to slow the kiss until you separated the two of you. Your chests were rising out of rhythm as you were breathing heavily

- We only have seven minutes. - You whispered out of breath, feeling Wanda nod her head slightly as you stood there with your foreheads pressed together.

- We can go to my room. - She spoke in the same tone. You nodded in agreement, beginning to miss the taste of Wanda in your mouth.

- Should we wait until the party is over?

Wanda let out a breathless giggle.

- Tell me. - She whispered, and removed her hands from your neck. With one hand she lifted her skirt, while with the other she took your hand from her waist and guided it down between her legs. You trembled as you touched her, pushing the fabric of her panties aside to feel her wet pussy. - Do you think I can wait?

- Fuck, Wanda. - You spoke breathlessly, and felt her moan as your finger moved against her clitoris. She squeezed your shoulder, closing her eyes. - You're so wet. So fucking wet for me.

You began to move your finger, penetrating her shallowly. Wanda buried her head in your neck, moaning against your skin.

It takes all your mental and physical control, but you withdraw your finger from inside her, while with the hand that was still on her waist you move up and down her back, stroking to calm her down.

- I want to feel you in my mouth. - You whisper to her. - I want you to come for me with your legs spread wide open on your bed. 

Wanda nods against your neck, trembling slightly. And then the door opens. You barely catch Tony's joke, feeling disconnected from everything that isn't Wanda. 

And before you can say anything, Wanda grabs your hand, pulling you out. 

- Where do you think you're going? - You hear someone shout, but neither of you even bother to answer. 

You can't help but smile when you reach the second floor, and Wanda pushes you into the room, locking the door as she brings your mouths together.

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!

Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....

W/C: 3.5k

“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”

“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.

“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.

Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.

He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”

*****

“He said WHAT?!”

Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”

You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”

Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -

“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.

Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.

“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.

“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.

“Alright, don’t stay too late.”

You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.

*****

As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.

Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.

You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.

“Hey! How- how's it goin?”

You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”

“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.

You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.

“Where is he?”

Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”

The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.

“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”

You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.

Keep it in your pants idiot

“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”

He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.

“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.

“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?

He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”

“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”

“Why should I?”

Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!

“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.

“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”

“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.

“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.

“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”

“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.

“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.

Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.

“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.

Cheeky bastard.

“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..

“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”

A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.

“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.

“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”

He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”

“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”

You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.

“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”

The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”

“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”

Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.

He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.

You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.

“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.

“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”

With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”

You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”

Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”

He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”

Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.

“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.

“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”

Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.

“One more.”

Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”

“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”

“NO”

“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

“Come on, cum for me.”

You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.

You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”

By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”

You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.

“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.

“I assume you're finished with the lab?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.

Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”

The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”

And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”

@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[sergeantsporks]

Aroace Hunter Week Day 7: Coming Out

AN: Set in “Camila is Hunter’s Mom Now.” It runs more parallel to the main series, doesn’t really happen at a set point in the timeline.

xxx

Aroace: Experiences neither romantic nor sexual attraction.

Wait, what?

Hunter blinked at the website, scrolling through variations and grey-spectrum definitions. He’d gone down a rabbit hole on the LGBTQ wiki looking for a present for Luz (which he still hadn’t decided on), and this one was…

He’d assumed he’d just never had the time, he’d assumed he’d just made work his life until he didn’t really care, he’d assumed that he was so unlovable that it didn’t matter.

But then, here in the human realm, with Camila and Vee and Luz, it wasn’t the same, was it? He wasn’t so busy, he didn’t make some job his life. And Camila had made it VERY clear that he was lovable.

And yet.

And yet.

“Hey, Luz?”

“Mhm?”

Hunter rolled off of his bed, showing her the phone screen. “What do you know about this?”

“What, you think I know every label to exist?” she teased, but peered at the phone, mouthing words quietly to herself. “Uhhhhh yeah, pretty much what it says on the can, lack of romantic or sexual attraction. Obviously it’s a little different for everyone, but… yeah. Why?”

Click.

Pieces were starting to fall into place.

“Just wondering.”

There’s a word.

It’s a thing.

There are other people out there.

Hunter scrolled further down, clicking a link. It took him to a forum where other people were discussing their own experiences.

I never go to a bar to get picked up, I make it very clear I’m just there to drink myself silly, but STILL these idiots think I’m there for a hook up.

Hunter’s ears burned, and he hit the back button. Nope, nope, nope, no thank you.

A different one, maybe.

Hate it when kids try to claim they’re aro or ace, just to end up dating a year later. You’re just a late bloomer, not a real aro/ace, god.

How old did you have to be before you could be considered Aroace? Was there actually a limit? Hunter wanted to ask Luz again, but… he shook himself.

It doesn’t matter. I like this. I think… I don’t know, it just feels right.

One more link. This time, to an information webpage.

Feel free to drop us a message in the chat if you’re questioning, or if you just want to know more!

Hunter tapped on the chat.

How do you know if you’re aroace?

His fingers hovered over the send button, then he deleted the letters.

I just found this and I was wondering—

Delete.

Hunter tapped the phone against his leg.

I think I might be aroace.

Before he could stop himself, he hit send, then turned the phone off, tossing it to the bed and tugging his hood over his head, watching the phone like it was a wild animal that might bite him.

“Uh-oh, I know that look,” Luz said with a grin, giving his hood a tug, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Hunter swatted at her hand, sticking out his tongue at her. “Lots of stuff. Most of which I bet you wouldn’t even be able to understand.”

Luz sat cross-legged on his bed. “Try me.”

Hunter rolled a hand. “How did you know that you… liked Amity?”

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know. I just started realizing that I wanted to impress her, and that I thought she was really cool, and my face started getting all red whenever I was near her, and I thought ‘oh, hey, wait, I think I’m in love!’.”

“And… if you’d never felt that way?”

“Then I guess I wouldn’t be dating her.”

“But you’ve… felt that way before? Even though you didn’t ever date before her?”

“Uh-huh, yeah.”

“Okay, so what if you’d never felt that way?”

Luz squinted at him. “Is this about that aroace thing?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, “Ever since I decided to stay here, ever since we ran from Belos, it’s just felt so… right. I love it here, I love being here, with Camila and Vee and even you—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. Things here are just… so much more different. I have friends—well—a friend—and a family, and… I really, really like it. Even though it’s confusing, and I’m not always sure what I’m doing, I feel like pieces of who I am are clicking into places where before they were just a big jumble on a table and sometimes Belos would put two edge pieces together.”

“Nice metaphor.”

Hunter wrapped the string of his hoodie around his finger. “And this just… feels like another chunk of everything just got put where it was supposed to go. I like it—it feels right.”

“Okay,” Luz said simply, “That’s great—do you want to tell Mom?”

“Do you think she’d get it?”

“I mean, I think we’d probably have to explain it to her, but if you’re asking if I think she’d be upset or weirded out, the answer is no. She already had me, I don’t think it’ll be hard for her to accept. Unless you’re not ready.”

“No. Sure. This is cool, I guess. Yeah. Why not?”

“Great!” Luz grabbed his hand, tugging him downstairs. “Hey, Mom?!”

“Yeah, mija?”

“You know how you like guys?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know how Amity likes girls?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“And then I like both.”

“Yes…?”

“Hunter likes… NONE OF IT!” She grinned, making jazz hands and wiggling her fingers. “Ta-da!”

Well, that’s a simple, easy way to put it.

“Yeah? Okay, awesome!” Camila leaned over and kissed the top of Hunter’s head. “Thanks for telling me, mijo, I know it can be hard to do that. I’m proud of you.”

Hunter felt a warm glow in his chest, and he shifted back and forth on his feet. “Thanks. So… uh… what now?”

“How about ice cream after dinner, and you can tell Vee and I everything about it?”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

Hunter drifted back up the stairs, dazed and giddy.

Click.

He picked his phone back up, taking a deep breath and unlocking it. New speech bubbles had appeared under his.

Amazing! Welcome to the community! Whether you stay for just a little bit, or you’re with us your whole life, we’re happy to have you.

Is there anything you’d like to know?