#becoming someone i like being? from taking up a new role that i actually enjoy? faking it till i make it?

[sp1resong]

yknow isat was really on to something with the concept of Changing

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[sundrop-writes]

The Way You Miss Me

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

I’m not trying to say I don’t wanna stay, I just know how this story ends.

Use my body against me - and all of our history.

I hate the way you miss me. 

Summary:

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn't need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled.

And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of crippling heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred's strength and determination.

So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he's the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 18,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full warnings list and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is equal parts angst fic and smut fic; the reader is a cis woman - uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; there is no mention of the reader's looks, race, hair colour, etc. in any way; this fic does use Y/N (and L/N as in Last Name); this takes place mostly during the beginning of Deathly Hallows, so there are mentions of dark topics, like death, and the cult-like following that Voldemort has developed; this is Exes to Lovers - Fred and the reader dated for a while during their time at Hogwarts and then broke up; (there is flashbacks in this fic to times during Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix); the reader is half-blood - she has one parent who is a muggle and lives in a muggle city and the other parent who is loyal to death eaters (and there is a later mention of the reader's mother being killed due to anti-muggle sentiment as Voldemort becomes more powerful); there is no mention of what Hogwarts house the reader is in; the reader has a crippling fear of heights (which is a large part of the plot for this fic); mentions of nausea and vomiting (as a fear response) (no one actually throws up during the course of the fic); the reader experiences actual life-threatening danger while on a broom - she nearly falls to her death, but Fred catches her; Fred does struggle to hold the reader's body weight, so it doesn't imply that he has super-human strength or that the reader is particularly petite (I wanted his reaction to be realistic for someone of any body weight); for part of the fic, Fred is disguised as Harry using Polyjuice Potion (but there's no confusion about his identity because the reader knows he took the potion); the reader experiences a panic attack due to the life threatening fall, and Fred helps her calm down; mentions of blood and semi-graphic descriptions of George's canon injury (his ear being blasted off); there is general emotional angst from the characters being in close proximity to danger, death, and life threatening situations; Fred calls the reader 'darling' and 'love' and 'sweets' and 'pretty girl' (in sexual and non-sexual contexts).

For the actual smut section: this is not their first time together as a couple and neither of the characters are meant to be virgins; there is undertones of sub/dom dynamics - Fred is a teasing soft dom and the reader is submissive to him (and there is mentions of the reader experiencing what could be considered subspace) (but there isn't any specifically laid out roles - it's more so one person enjoying taking care of the other, especially after experiencing the emotional turmoil of a near death experience together); there is Daddy kink in this (not until a bit later into the smut section, but it just came to me and I realized it suited Fred so well) Fred calls himself Daddy and the reader is way into it; praise kink - Fred calls the reader 'good girl' specifically because he knows she likes it; lots of dirty talk (Fred has a filthy mouth); oral sex - Fred receiving (she blows him as a thank you for saving her life) (also slight ball worship); mentions of the reader 'choking' on his cock (but there is no major breathplay or breath restriction); slight spit kink (it's a messy blowjob and he loves it); teasing and brief orgasm denial (toward both parties); hair pulling (toward both parties) - not with the intention of causing pain, but to direction someone's attention and to show appreciation and affection to the person; thigh riding - she humps herself on Fred's thigh while she is still wearing clothes; penis in vagina sex; creampie kink (I'm not gonna say breeding kink, because there's no mention of procreation or getting someone pregnant, even in theory, but they are both very turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her); this could be protected sex OR unprotected sex - he cums inside of her raw but we can all pretend that they used a magical pregnancy prevention method if you want even though it's not mentioned in the fic; cockwarming (reader doesn't let Fred pull out for a while after he cums); I think that is finally it for this fic.

A/N: This fic is titled after a song by All Time Low, which I highly recommend listening to paired with this fic. This is actually part of an idea I had for a much longer multi-chaptered Fred x Reader fic, but I kept thinking about this one moment in the fic and how much I wanted to write it - so I did. And I decided that it would make a good oneshot. And I am actually insanely proud of myself for managing to capture the same emotions in under 20k that I originally thought would take me like 50k or 100k to properly communicate. I think this is fantastic, and it's one of the best things I have written in a while - and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you like angsty, emotional, exes to lovers fics.

...

Very often, you wondered when life had become so complicated. 

It seemed that just yesterday, you were a bright-eyed young girl, dancing around a beautifully magical winter ball with the love of your life on your arm - and now, you were a confused woman who was terrified of how your life would end up because of a dark wizard and his cultist followers trying to overtake your world. 

These days you didn’t even have that lover to comfort you through all of the confusion and dread that clouded the world around you. 

You and Fred used to be perfect. That’s what a lot of people would have called the two of you - the ‘perfect’ couple. 

Your story was something straight from a romance novel - the two of you were best friends when you were young, and that friendship quickly blossomed into affection. That affection naturally led into a sweet romance. When you were with him, your life was full of moments where you felt like a beautiful, flowery, desirable protagonist because of how he treated you. Your life used to be full of laughter, full of smiles, full of romantic gestures. 

You and Fred were in the same year at Hogwarts, so naturally you knew each other. You weren’t really friends - at least not at first. You knew of each other, especially because you had some classes together. 

But you didn’t truly meet Fred Weasley until more than halfway into your first year of classes together. You had the misfortune of accidentally running into a prank that was meant for a Slytherin Prefect - someone who had taken one too many house points off Gryffindor for the twins’ liking. And after being doused with red and gold paint and tripping over a toy rubber snake that had been charmed to hiss realistically when you got near it - you were reasonably frightened and crying, and it left you the laughing stalk of the courtyard - someone to be pointed at and mocked by everyone. 

Fred hadn’t meant for it to be you. With the way he looked at you after the incident - full of guilt while everyone else pointed at you and laughed, imitating your frightening screams and attempts to jump away from the fake snake - it didn’t take you long to figure out the culprits behind it. And it didn’t take you much longer after that to plan your revenge. (Especially because, as much as Fred looked guilty, he didn’t simply come forward and apologise. Too afraid to look like a weak moron in the eyes of his brother and his other Gryffindor friends. So - on with your revenge, it was.) 

You figured that all good pranksters should be due to be a victim sometimes, too. If the twins couldn’t laugh when they were on the receiving end, then they should stop playing pranks. 

So you came up with something that you considered masterful. During your trip home for Christmas, back to Muggle London where your mother lived, you asked her to take you to a shop to buy a couple of greeting cards for your classmates. The ones that sing Christmas carols loudly when the hinge of the card is opened. Something clever, and not needing any magic at all. 

And when you returned to Hogwarts after the break, you found a moment where the twins were distracted, and you stole their book bags in order to pull off your epic, amazing prank. You taped those singing greeters into the back of their Potions textbooks - a class that you shared with them, of course, so that you could enjoy the show. And then you waited. 

You had trouble containing your laughter when Professor Snape escalated from annoyed to downright scalding angry as his class was filled with the quiet robotic hum of ‘Jingle Bells’, occasionally overlapped by ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. It was made even better by the fact that both of the twins clearly knew that the music was coming from somewhere in their surrounding area, but they had no clue what the exact source was or how to stop it. And with every snivelled demand of ‘just open your books and get to work’ - the music only started up again. 

By the time they had been sentenced to detention for disturbing the class, you were nearly breathless and your ribs were aching from trying to hold back your laughter. Which, of course, meant that Fred easily spotted you out of everyone else - who looked equally confused or annoyed with the low hum of the music. And as soon as the class ended, he brought his textbook to you, thanked you for the worthy prank, and asked you how to stop it. He looked entirely amused and impressed when you pulled the tiny device out of the back, and proceeded to ask you a million questions about it. 

You weren’t surprised when the next week, the annoying singing greeter ended up inside the teacher’s copy of the textbook on McGonagall’s desk. 

From that moment on, his crush on you steeped inside of him like a fine tea, developing from an innocent adolescent attraction to full-blown, ‘drive you crazy’, ‘I would do anything for you’, love. It was lucky for him that you easily felt the same way. 

Through the years of being by his side, becoming his best friend, pulling pranks together and trying desperately to get him to study - it was difficult not to fall for Fred Weasley. 

You had been overjoyed when Fred invited you to the Quidditch World Cup. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of Quidditch (and Fred knew that). The only reason you had started attending the games at Hogwarts was because he joined the team. And you only bothered to attend the games he played in, so your bias could be spotted from a mile away. But in his letter, with the ticket to the World Cup slotted into the envelope, he told you that it was ‘the game of the century’ and you ‘simply couldn’t miss it’. 

You wouldn’t miss out on spending time with him, so you eagerly agreed to go. 

This left you with only one glaring problem. 

You had a crippling fear of heights. 

It was one of the reasons that you never really gotten into Quidditch in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in playing, and even less interest in watching if Fred wasn’t involved. The idea of even flying on a broom being something that made you nauseated and shaky just from thinking about it. 

The mandatory first year flying lesson was the only class at Hogwarts that you ever failed, but Madame Hooch took pity on you when she saw you crying and fisting the grass after only getting your broom about five inches off the ground. So she passed you anyway - just barely. 

When you set out to watch Fred’s games at Hogwarts, you usually had to take some kind of anti-nausea tonic beforehand to make sure that you didn’t puke all over everyone else in the stands. And you usually couldn’t even make it up to your seat to watch unless one of your good friends held your hand. But you were alright once the actual game started, because watching Fred doing something he loved was a good distraction from just how high up you were. 

Telling Fred about your intense fear had been one of the most honest, vulnerable moments that you ever had with him. Your friendship was usually all pranks and laughter, which you loved. 

But one summer day, when you were hanging out with the Weasleys, they wouldn’t stop nagging you to join one of their family Quidditch matches because they needed an extra player to make the teams even. And after the twins’ endless teasing, saying that you were ‘afraid to lose’ or that you would be ‘too distracted by their daring good looks’ in order to play properly, you broke down crying and stormed off into the woods, because you were too anxious to admit the real reason that you couldn’t play.  

Fred was the one who found you off in the trees behind the Burrow, tears still streaming down your face, and asked you what he had done to so greatly upset you. He had been terrified at the idea of making you upset, so hurt that he had been the one to make you cry. And after he found out about your fear, he didn’t laugh or mock you for it or play it off as something stupid like you thought would be so typical of him. No - instead, he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and he told you that he was genuinely sorry. And he promised that he would never invite you to play Quidditch again. 

When you had accepted the invitation to The World Cup, you had forgotten how much your fear of heights played into watching Quidditch as well. The giant, impossibly tall temporary Quidditch stadium that had been set up for the event had been looming over you all day, but you didn’t want to quit and go home because of some silly little fear. 

You wanted to spend the time with your friends. You wanted to enjoy the event because the people you loved most were having fun there. So you pressed on, ignoring the inevitable, letting yourself get caught up in the pregame revelry. You walked around the seemingly endless campgrounds with Fred and George, in awe of all the decorations and the different wizards from all over the world, showing off things from their homes. You chatted and charmed along with them as they collected bets before the game. You let Fred paint your face with large, ugly shamrocks because even though you didn’t entirely care about the teams or fully know them, you were rooting for Ireland to win simply because he was. 

But the unavoidable nature of your problem became very apparent as Arthur guided everyone to your seats, and you climbed up more stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs - and the higher up you got, the more you found yourself shaking, especially when you looked down to the ground and saw that the people down there looked like little more than bugs. You hated it when your mind, naturally, went to what would happen to you if you stumbled over the railing and fell down all that way. You would splat on the ground, squashed like a bug. You would die within seconds. 

You held on tighter to Fred’s hand - he would have said that he had grabbed your hand in the first place so that he wouldn’t lose you among the bustling crowd, and not simply as an excuse to be closer to you. You didn’t even realise how badly you were trembling in his touch as you looked over the railing (still a few flights down from your final seats) with intense apprehension. 

“You alright?” Fred asked you simply. 

“‘m fine.” You mumbled out the lie, giving him a large, forced smile - hoping that he would believe it. 

You knew that if you told him how you were feeling, he would insist on escorting you back to the tent. Perhaps he would even insist on staying with you so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. So he might miss out on a once in a lifetime Quidditch game all because you had a bit of petty anxiety from being so high up. 

So you tried your best to push down all your feelings and ignore them, even if it was making you shake and making your stomach churn. When you got to the top, peering over the edge of the railing of the very, very high up seats that Arthur had gotten as a thanks for his work on helping to organise the whole thing (apparently, the higher up the better to actually see the game), you felt an incredible sense of dizziness, and began swaying on your feet. 

This was so much higher up than the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. 

Naturally, Fred noticed. It wasn’t something he would easily admit, or even something he did consciously, but he always kept an eye on you. Partially due to a knack for admiring your beauty, that adolescent love-struck feeling always making him more prone to staring at you. But it was also partially due to the fact that he felt a need to watch over you. Whether it be as a friend or as something else, he always wanted you to be safe, and happy. 

And right now, your sickly, terrified face stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of excited, cheering fans.  

“Y/N,” 

He called out your name in a serious tone that was so uncharacteristic of Fred, something that snapped your attention from staring anxiously at the ground toward him immediately. He cemented your attention on him when he put a hand on top of your tight, tense knuckles on the railing. His touch was warm, as always, and oddly grounding, removing even just a slight bit of that dizzying anxiety that you were feeling. 

“Do you wanna go back down? I can bring you back to the tent,” 

Of course. Just as you had predicted. 

“No.” You easily answered, shaking your head furiously, biting your lip. “I-” 

You didn’t want him missing out on such an important event because of you, but more importantly: 

“I - I don’t want to be afraid.” You heaved out, your chest tight with anxiety. “It’s stupid - people do stuff like this all the time, right? I shouldn’t be afraid-” 

“It’s not stupid.” He said firmly, quickly squashing down any self-belittling that you might be tempted to do. “You can’t control how you feel.” 

Coming from him, it sounded like the most firm truth ever. 

“If you want to stay, I’ll be right here with you.” Fred added on, giving you a warm, reassuring grin. “But just let me know if you want to go back down, and I’ll walk with you, alright?” 

You nodded, hating that even though his words gave you that nip of courage you needed, you were still pulsing with a dull panic. The undeniable reaction that fear caused in your body. 

Fred hated seeing you shaking, hated the deep frown that cut through your beautiful features - so what he did next was instinctive. He took his hand off yours and reached that arm, the one closest to you, around your back, planting his hand firmly on the railing at the other side of your waist. This trapped you in a close-knit hold beside him, something that made you feel instantly more secure - even if it was just from the warmth of him at your side. 

“I’m not gonna let you fall, yeah?” He said quietly, leaning closer into your ear to be heard - the warmth of the reassurance causing gentle tingles down your spine. “I would never let anything happen to you, darling.” 

Between the intense loving safety that he words wrapped you in with the sweet nickname he added on, and the firm cradle of his arm around your back, you knew that you would have no problem sticking it out for the game. But your brain was still trying to cope, your anxiety so incredibly nagging, and you couldn’t help it when your eyes drifted back to focus on the ant-like people on the ground, becoming shaking and nauseous all too soon from staring downward. 

“Down look down.” Fred scolded you gently, using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing your gaze back up - it ended with your eyes locked with his, admiring the way the breeze blew his too-long ginger hair into his eyes. “Just look at me, alright? It’s gonna be far worse if you keep starin’ down there. Just look at me, love.” 

“Just look at you.” You repeated in a quiet mumble, already so utterly locked in the powerful orbit of his gaze, feeling like it was near impossible to look away from him. 

You felt his forehead brush against yours before you realised just how close he had gotten. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. 

And ultimately, feeling the stands shaking beneath your feet as a particularly hard gust of wind came through and having another swell of anxiety rush through you was what drove you to closing the gap, sealing your lips on his in your first kiss. Fred made you brave, almost stupidly so, and you hoped that you had finally used that bravery for something good in capturing his lips. (Rather than the stupid mischief that the two of you usually got up to.) 

Fred smiled into the kiss and George cheered loudly behind him - you thought it was due to the game starting, and when you pulled back sharply to look around for the players, you were met with nearly all eyes in the group on you, clearly gawking at the fact that you and Fred had kissed. 

This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said: 

“Finally. I thought the two of you were never gonna get on with it.” 

This left you squirming with a mild embarrassment, and definitely not thinking about how high up you were anymore. 

Looking back, the memory was painful - not sweet or fond as it had once been to you. 

But it wasn’t nearly as painful as the memory of the day you and Fred had broken up. 

He had asked you to be his girlfriend officially only a few days after the World Cup. He wanted you to know what that kiss meant to him, and he wanted the privilege of more kisses from you, on top of the ‘honour’ (his exact wording) of going back to Hogwarts with you on his arm as his girlfriend, making all the other boys in your year ‘pathetically jealous’. Of course, it was everything you wanted, he was everything you wanted, so you said yes. 

The two of you dated for nearly two full happy years - right through your sixth year and into your seventh, until in April of your seventh year, shortly after Fred’s birthday, when everything came crashing down around you. 

It wasn’t unusual of Fred to pull you away after a class - his hand in yours, igniting fluttery giggles from your lungs as he pulled you down the corridors to whatever secret little spot he had picked out. Even with Umbridge at Hogwarts, implementing more rules and cracking down on ‘fraternisation’ between students, you and Fred still found ways to sneak off to have your private little moments together. 

So when Fred took you off to one of those private corners on chilly spring afternoon, you assumed that this was no different. You fell into the natural rhythm of pinning him against a wall, sealing your lips firmly to his in a kiss and waiting for his hand to sneak up your skirt while his tongue ventured into your mouth. You were shocked when this time, he didn’t kiss you back. He was limp and unreceptive against you, and that was when you realised that you had read the tone of the interaction very wrong - even if him dragging you away by the hand always led to making out in a quiet corner, and more than a bit of groping. 

You pulled back, looking at him with confusion and disappointment plainly across your face. 

“What’s wrong, Freddie?” You asked, well in the habit of using the nickname for him. 

Fred’s expression was filled with sullen dread, and it made your stomach twist. It truly made you fearful of whatever he was going to say next, and you took a step back from him, widening the gap between the two of you in the dusty, draughty old stairwell. You suddenly felt too cold, even with your uniform sweater and thick robes on, and wrapped your arms around yourself to compensate. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He announced quietly, continuing to lean on the wall that you had pressed him up against, staring at the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet you. 

What? Had he cheated on you? Did he want to break up? 

What terrible thing could possibly make this bright, funny joker so damn sad and serious? 

“What is it?” You asked, filling with dread, your throat tightening up more by the second. 

“George and I have decided that it’s about time we take our leave.” Fred announced, his eyes only flickering to you for a moment, looking for some kind of reaction. You were only further confused, and waited for him to explain. “The lease for the shop in Diagon Alley finally came through, and-” 

“Well that’s great news, Fred.” You said, trying to sound happy and upbeat beyond the tension that was still tight in your chest. You had no clue why he was so downtrodden - the joke shop was his dream, and now that they had secured a location for it, that dream was coming true. 

He heaved a sigh, his eyes turning to gaze out a nearby window for a moment before he turned back to you. 

“It means we have to leave, darling.” He said sharply. 

Your insides became heavy. 

You knew it was a very Fred and George thing - so intent on not doing their exams, desperate to escape any further academics. You wanted to ask why they wouldn’t stay until the end of the school year, but you knew that you would get answers about how they didn’t need marks from exams that they were likely going to fail anyway to run a shop that they now owned. 

It was something founded on their own talents and ideas, and they didn’t need the approval of professors marking them wrong or right in order to do it. 

It was the life they had always dreamed of. And you were intensely proud of them for it. 

So why did you still have that overwhelming feeling of dread? 

“So - when are we leaving?” You asked, trying to sound confident and firm in your words even though you knew what was likely coming next. 

You felt intensely disappointed when the all too predictable outcome smashed you in the face. 

“You’re not coming with us.” Fred said quietly. 

“Why not?” You argued gently. 

You would drop everything and go with them - you felt far more emotional attachment to being with Fred than you did to finishing your year at Hogwarts. You knew that you could be a useful hand around the shop. Any venture helping Fred would be a worthy one to you. But staring you down were the calculating eyes of someone who had been telling you over the past years how much he didn’t want to disrupt your studies with his antics, because he thought you had a ‘brilliant mind’, and you were ‘so much smarter’ than him and George. 

He thought that you could actually pull some decent - no, brilliant grades on your NEWTs and truly make something of yourself. The shop was a big dream of his and George’s, but Fred knew that you were destined for something so much greater that truly challenged and fully utilised your brilliance. So he wasn’t going to let you be dragged down to mediocrity by him. 

Realising this, part of you still ached. Why was he so intent on leaving if it meant leaving you behind? 

“Please don’t be stupid-” Fred sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, so I’m stupid now?” You scoffed. 

He hadn’t meant to let the harsh word leave his lips - at least, he hadn’t meant it in such a harsh way. 

“Y/N-” Fred used your actual name, something he rarely did, but you barreled right over whatever he was going to say with your next words. 

You were hurting now, and you didn’t entirely care what he had to say. 

“If I’m so stupid, then why should I even bother to stay here and take my NEWTs?” You hissed, twisting around his accidental slip into something he had never meant. “Or am I too stupid to even work at a silly little joke shop with you?” 

Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him. 

“Y/N, this ‘silly little joke shop’ has been my dream since I was five years old!” He barked, now taking your heat of the moment words and running away with them. “You don’t-” 

“I guess I was stupid enough to believe that I was part of that dream!” You cried out in return, cutting off his words once again. 

‘You are.’ He choked down the words. ‘But I can’t bear to bring you down just because I want to be with you. I could never be so selfish.’ 

“I-” He choked on whatever he was going to say, swallowing it down. “I can’t do this right now.” 

He moved to storm off completely, hoping to speak with you later when you both had calmed down, hoping to have a proper, happy goodbye with you before he and George actually left. 

But your next words made him freeze on the spot, and wiped away all of those hopes within him. 

“Fred Weasley, if you walk away, we’re done.” You said, now choking on tears. 

You were utterly insulted that he wouldn’t even fight for you - that he wouldn’t even promise that his heart would be waiting for you after you graduated. To you, it was a sure sign that he was saying that his shop was more important to him than you were. That you were just some stupid schoolgirl fling to him; that along with the shop, he wanted to move on to other women, to find someone that he actually wanted to marry. 

You had never been a part of the dream he had for his life - you had just been a passing fancy in his eye. 

For Fred, it was all too painful. This was the conversation he had been utterly dreading since he and George had decided to take their leave, and it was going far worse than he had planned in his head. He couldn’t face the pain - he couldn’t face hurting you. He couldn’t face missing you, even during a few short months apart before you did graduate. 

So he then did something so terribly stupid, looking to bomb the relationship wide open - hoping to end all of the pain before it even started. 

“Good.” He said, barely turning his head to even look over his shoulder at you. “Would’ve been a waste of parchment writing to you, anyway.” 

With those final, painful words, he stomped off down the stairs, leaving you to collapse against one of the nearby walls in a puddle of tears - for the first time in a long time, without Fred to muffle your sobs in a comforting hug. 

You hadn’t been there to watch him and George ride off on their brooms when they finally gave Umbridge everything she deserved - you had been locked in your dorm, sobbing into your pillow because of that horrible, relationship ending fight. You had only heard from other people later that they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and you were the only person who knew for certain where they had gone and what their plans were now. 

You hated to admit it - but you missed Fred Weasley. 

You tried your hardest to get over him. You threw yourself into your studies, and you did pass your NEWTs with some of the highest marks in your class. But then, any thought of what potential career you might take on was tossed aside when the world went into upheaval at the hands of Death Eaters. And unintentionally, you were right back at Fred’s side again. 

It was a dreadful thing - being forced to see your ex on such a frequent basis. 

The last time being just a few short days ago when he had come into the Apothecary that you worked at in Diagon Alley, looking for some ingredients for a new WWW product that he wanted to make a test batch of. You had still spent last Christmas with his family, at the nagging insistence of Molly. After your mother had turned up dead and your father was missing, and you had to face the fact that he had likely defected to the Death Eaters out of fear (and the stupidity of his ingrained ‘old ways’), you didn’t really have any other family to turn to, aside from the Weasleys. 

You saw Fred a lot more often than you should - more often than you wanted to, in fact. Because the more often you had to see him walk into your shop with a grin on his face and bear the small talk he would force you into before he finally put in his order, the more you ached. You wanted nothing more than to be able to get away - to go someplace far away that Fred would never find you, so that you could finally heal, could finally get over the way he had broken your heart. 

But the country, and likely the state of all Wizardkind, was in upheaval. So many lives were at risk, and you had your part to play. You had signed on to become a member of the Order the minute you turned seventeen, and you weren’t prepared to shirk that commitment now, just because of a bit of girlish heartbreak. 

It was the reason that you were standing in the now empty residence of Number Four, Privet Drive. You had been called upon last minute to replace Tonks on this particular mission, for reasons that everyone seemed tight lipped about. But you weren’t going to question it - you were just going to step up and do your duty so that Harry could be transported safely, and hopefully go on to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. 

According to Mad-Eye Moody, it was all very straight forward. Six of the fourteen members of the group would take Polyjuice Potion to turn themselves into decoy versions of Harry, making for seven Harrys in total, and the other half of the group would pair off with a Harry each to be their escort. 

You weren’t a huge fan of the idea of Fred disguising himself as Harry, essentially putting a huge target on his back - but the plan had already been set in place. He had already agreed to it. There was no room for you to protest now. 

“We’re not a big fan of the idea either, mate.” George spoke up when Harry protested against the idea of people risking their lives by being disguised as him. 

“Yeah, imagine something went wrong, then we’d be stuck as a scrawny, specky git forever.” Fred added on with his usual humorous tone. 

You held back a laugh at this comment, and everyone in the room eyed you harshly as you choked on your own breath. Fred smirked, proud that after all this time, he could still draw a laugh out of you. 

Your sense of humour about the whole situation was soon stamped out when Mad-Eye mentioned brooms. The group would have to be flying because Harry couldn’t apparate or use any other common form of transport without the Ministry knowing. 

“Brooms?” You questioned, knowing that your tone sounded far too panicked. “We - we’re flying?” 

“Yes.” Mad-Eye snipped curtly in return. “What exactly about my explanation was unclear, Ms. L/N?” 

His sharp tone and his glare in your direction, along with his use of your surname, instantly transported you back you Defense Against the Darks Arts classes in your sixth year, when you had been intimidated by the man - even if, strangely enough, you hadn’t been taught by the same man who now stood before you. 

You swallowed tightly, a large lump forming in your throat already - an involuntary, wicked reaction overtaking your body because of your fear of heights. Fred looked at you with sad knowing in his eyes, and you didn’t notice when he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, resisting the urge to swaddle you in a comforting hold. 

“Nothing was unclear, just-” You stuttered, breathing in deeply, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t have much experience with flying, and-” 

“Weasley - er - Fred, has already informed me of that.” Mad-Eye said, correcting himself when he realised just how many ‘Weasleys’ were on this mission and how utterly confusing that would get. “He’s insisted on taking you due to your lack of experience. Is that all?” 

Obviously, you didn’t want to publicly admit to your fear. You couldn’t reveal it as the terrible weakness that it was, especially not when there were so many other worries at play. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” You said, nodding, trying to keep the conversation short and keep the attention off you. 

“Good. Now if we’re all done dawdling, we need to get to work.” 

It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry. 

Even complete with the dorky clothes and the glasses, you still easily spotted him out of the crowd of ‘specky gits’. Maybe it was the years of practice that you had telling him apart from George that made it so easy for you, but he was still so irritably Fred. The fact that he slid his wand into his back pocket - something you had warned him dozens of times would likely result in the wand crunching in half and breaking when he sat down (and annoyed you to the point of you snatching it out of his back pocket to save it, especially before he sat down). The way he reached up to scratch his nose, the smirk on his face when he kept glancing over at the other Harry you were sure had to be George. Especially with the way they were steadily side-eyeing each other, speaking volumes with their looks and having a silent conversation that nobody else knew of. 

The fact that his eyes kept flickering to you every few moments definitely helped you to pick him out of the crowd. Even though you were used to a gentle hazel gazing at you rather than that piercing blue, there was still a unique concern behind his eyes when he looked at you from beyond those spectacles - the same kind of gentle seriousness that you hadn’t really seen from him since he had held your shaking hand on the stairs of the stands on the day of The World Cup. 

Stupidly, it only really occurred to you how close you would have to be with Fred, tightly riding behind him on the back of his broom, when you went outside and he ushered you to climb onto the back of his broom behind him. It had been a little over a year since you had broken up with Fred, and since then, you had not touched him. 

Every greeting had been friendly, but from a distance. Even when he came into the Apothecary and laid his hand on the counter, you snaked out of the way in time to avoid his fingers so much as brushing by yours. You always laid his order on the counter for him to pick it up himself, so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush against yours. You made sure never to have contact with him. And now, you were being forced to climb onto the back of his broom, to hold him tight. 

But you couldn’t protest. You couldn’t demand to switch partners now because of some petty angst you were harbouring about a break-up that had happened so long ago. (Would you call it angst, or stupid, longing, painful heartbreak?) You couldn’t complain - not when this was about transporting Harry safely. This was about something so much bigger. 

Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as holding onto your Fred (not that he was yours anymore - you had to remember that). He was Harry-Fred right now, so he was much shorter and thinner, and you could easily pretend that he wasn’t Fred at all. Which is what you forced yourself to think about as you swung a shaking leg over the broom and climbed on, wrapping your arms around his waist, preparing for take-off. 

It was a bit harder to pretend that this wasn’t Fred when you caught the faintest whiff of his expensive cologne (something he had only started wearing once the shop took off, something you noticed on him for the first time when he came to visit you at the Apothecary). It was definitely still lingering on his skin, something that was so painfully Fred even while you stared at the back of Harry’s wild black hair. 

It pierced your heart a little bit more when he peered over his shoulder at you, striking you as so Fred with those somehow warm, caring blue eyes and gently asking: 

“Good?” 

To which you replied: 

“m fine.” 

The most terrible lie you had ever conjured - something that was soon covered up by Mad-Eye shouting some last minute instructions and waving everyone off. 

When Fred kicked off the ground, you were immediately met with the most sickening wave of nausea that you had ever experienced in your life. You got way too high up for your liking within seconds, the houses on the ground growing far too small in your view, and you couldn’t fight the urge to shut your eyes. 

Unfortunately, it only made you dizzier, but it calmed your nerves a slight bit. You didn’t even realise how tightly you were clutching onto Fred, an utter death grip around his waist, until you heard him let out a grunt of pain from his stomach muscles being strangled by your arms with your fingers digging into him like claws, holding on for dear life. 

“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, shivering from the pure fear of it all, rather than the cool breeze that was whipping at your face. “Sorry, sorry!” 

“I’m sorry!” Fred replied - it was still strange hearing him speak in Harry’s voice, and you were glad that it was temporary. “I should have told them you weren’t up to this mission, I-” 

“I’m fine!” You barked back, hating the idea that your fear would make you unfit for a mission. But in a sense, you knew it was true. You would have spit in the face of any Death Eater, but your fear of heights was so utterly crippling. “Fred, don’t you dare for a moment suggest-” 

“We’ve been breached!” You heard someone - Arthur’s voice, shouting from up ahead. 

Your eyes whipped open and suddenly, you were filled with an entirely different kind of fear. Smoky black clouds of Death Eaters whipped through the sky around you - somehow, they had discovered the plan. And now, they were targeting all of the fake Harrys, firing off curses in every direction, looking for the real one. 

They were targeting Fred. 

That was the only thing at the forefront of your mind - they were going to hurt Fred. 

“Y/N-?” 

“Just get us out of here!” You told him. “I’ll cover you!” 

You knew that you couldn’t close your eyes now. Of course you would step up to protect him. No matter if the two of you were lovers, friends, or something estranged - you still loved him in your heart, and you would protect him no matter what. 

You grabbed your wand out of your jacket and gripped it stiffly, firing a stunning curse at the first silver mask you saw, still tightly gripping onto Fred’s jacket with your other hand. He used both his hands on the broom, gripping tighter with his legs to steer better, years of Quidditch honed skill coming in handy. His ability to be calm and fly mindfully while Bludgers were flying at his head made him a lot calmer with multiple Death Eaters firing potentially deadly curses all around him. In the back of his mind, he thought that Wood would be proud. 

You were still shaking horribly, and a few of your spells didn’t land on the first try, but you kept trying. You centred yourself, remembering what you were doing, who you were here for. In your mind, it wasn’t about Harry, it was never about Harry - it was about Fred. It was because Fred had approached you about the last minute replacement, it was because Fred was the one on the broom in front of you, the one you would have died to protect. 

You didn’t see when someone Apparated in a thick cloud of black smoke behind you, and raised their wand in your direction, hitting you squarely in the back with a heavy jinx. It was the force of a brick wall smacking you, something that sent you and Fred tumbling end over end through the sky and sent you flying cleanly off the broom because you didn’t have the instinct to grip the wood with your thighs like he did. 

You let out a shrill scream as you felt yourself falling, your worst fear coming to life. 

Thankfully, Fred was quicker than gravity - quicker than death. 

He laser focused on you, and suddenly, everyone else was gone. All the supposed danger, all the Death Eaters - even other members of the Order who might have needed his help - they all vanished in his eyes. 

It was only you. 

He turned the broom into a deadly nose dive, racing down toward you, reaching with his hand out, and in seconds, while you were still hundreds of feet off the ground - he snatched you. He had your wrist gripped so tightly in his hand - slightly sweaty, already slipping. But he wouldn’t have let go of you if Lord Voldemort himself commanded it.  

He likely would have died with that tight grip still around your wrist in those moments if someone had hit him with the killing curse. 

He slowed the broom down, turning up out of the dive, intent to get you away from the fight, driving forward. Scarily, his arm muscles were already shaking from holding up all of your body weight. 

You stared up at him with tears of pure terror dancing in your eyes, and though he was wearing the mask of The Chosen One - in those moments, the terrified, caring, loving eyes of your Fred were staring right back at you. 

As much as you trusted him, you felt yourself slipping out of his grip, and more fear swelled inside of you. 

“Freddie, help me!” You screamed, shaking, flailing under his grip, trying to reach your other arm up to help as he struggled to hold onto you. “Freddie, please, I don’t wanna die!” 

“I’m not gonna let you die!” He replied, desperation gripping his throat. “Just - look at me. Don’t look down.” 

Of course, you were distinctly reminded of that day at The World Cup. And somehow, you felt the same sense of safety with him now that you did then - even if you didn’t have the railing or even the gravity of something under your feet. 

His muscles shook harder, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto you for much longer. 

He had to pull you up. 

“I’ve got you.” Fred huffed, straining with the effort. “I’ve got you-” 

He tried pulling you up, but his muscles shook harder in protest, and he let out a harsh, murderous scream of frustration. And then he did the only thing that he could think to do. He gripped onto you tighter, and he used his legs and his other hand to do a sickeningly sharp barrel roll, twisting the broom completely around by leaning with his right shoulder. He flipped the entire broom with the hopes that you would get the chance to be flipped back onto it safely. 

Luckily, even though you let out another terrified scream, you got the hint and hooked your leg around the wood mid-air, holstering your shaking body back behind him. You gripped onto Fred even tighter then, and one glance around told you that luckily, or unluckily, the fight had cleared off from around the two of you. 

Perhaps they had heard you call this imposter Harry by the name ‘Fred’, perhaps you had given the real Harry away and ruined the whole plan. As you squeezed your eyes shut again and shoved your now tearful face into Fred’s back, selfishly, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care. 

The rest of the trip went on too long for your liking - you were still crawling with anxiety and eager to have your feet back on the ground. 

Toward the end of it, you felt Harry-Fred’s body shift back into the tall, more muscular form that you were familiar with (somehow a bit more muscular than you remembered, but you tried not to get caught up on that detail). You were more than relieved when you felt your feet brushing against the ground with the landing. Distantly, you heard the familiar, comfortingly worried baulking of Molly’s voice, and you opened your eyes to see that Fred’s head was much higher up than it had been before, and his hair was thankfully returned back to its bright red state. 

Molly rushed over to Fred, and there was some conversation, but you couldn’t make it out - blood was thumping in your ears, your body still overtaken by all the horrible symptoms of your fear. The moment that Fred dropped the broom in order to step away from it, you stumbled off into the grass on weak legs. 

You hardly realised that you were hyperventilating - you simply felt dizzy, felt your chest aching from the lack of breath; you noticed that your vision was blurred with tears, and you knew that you weren’t getting enough oxygen. You pressed now muddy hands to your face in desperation, trying to usher more air past your lips, and it was then that a streak of orange fell into your view as Fred dropped to his knees in front of you. He had heard you gasping, and of course, rushed to you with nothing more than concern flooding his system once again. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He murmured, trying his best not to panic himself at seeing you like this - he gently took a hold of your face, guiding your vision toward him. “Look at me. You’re alright now. You’re safe.” 

Of course you knew that. You knew that you would always be safe with Fred. 

But your body hadn’t even registered the fact that you had landed yet - the panic only now fully setting in, bringing with it the most cruel, shocking symptoms you had ever experienced. You did the only thing you could think of - the only thing that would truly make you feel safe. Something you knew would truly ground you after experiencing such chaos so high up in the air. 

You launched yourself toward Fred, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist in a firm hug as you tried to stifle down sobs. He easily accepted this, his thick arms coming to cradle your back, selfishly thankful to have you back in his arms. He gently rocked you back and forth as he peppered more soothing words beside your ear. 

“You’re alright now, darling.” He said, letting the pet name slip so easily that it frightened him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, feeling your gasping panic all too quickly soothe away under the firm warmth of his touch. “You’re alright.” 

Almost instinctively, he laid a kiss on your temple, not entirely realising that this wasn’t necessarily something an ex-boyfriend would do - he was so ripe with the urge to comfort you, the need to make your pain go away. He couldn’t help but take a little something selfish as the empathetic waves of your panic echoed over to him. 

“I was never gonna let you fall.” He whispered, almost speaking these words to himself - a sacred promise. 

He had regretted every day since the break-up, and even if he couldn’t be your lover, he was never going to let you get hurt. 

You gripped him tighter, your breathing almost back to normal now, and you pushed your face tighter into his chest, relishing in the firm warmth of his body against you. This was something you hadn’t felt in far too long. Fred placed another kiss on the top of your head. He was about to say something entirely dangerous when another bit of chaos came tumbling through the garden, distracting him away from you and causing the words to die off in his throat. 

Remus, hauling George across the grass - and George, slumped over, a massive amount of blood dripping down the side of his head. 

“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly. 

Your head whipped around at this, and in sync, you and Fred scrambled to your feet, rushing to see what had happened to him. Fred lifted George’s other arm to help get him inside and safely rested him on the couch. 

It was a horror show. 

The flesh of George’s ear had been blown to bits, blood smearing down across his face and spilling down the side of his neck; he was sickly pale and barely conscious. His eyes only flickered, giving you some sense of life in him when Fred called out his name after making sure he was resting comfortably on the couch. 

“Georgie?” 

There was a rare quiver in Fred’s voice that made your stomach quake. Fear. You were not accustomed to hearing Fred fearful, not of anything. Even when he had abandoned Hogwarts and dove into a career as a shop owner without a single clue if he would find success, he did so without a single bit of fear in his heart. 

But of course - seeing his dear brother like this, knowing that someone he loved had been so close to danger - it made him terrified. 

“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly. 

At least he was conscious enough to speak. That gave you quite a bit of relief. 

“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked. 

“Saint-like.” George replied, a tired smirk gracing his lips that told you he was forming a joke - something that was utterly hilarious in his mind that would only make sense to others when he delivered the punch line. 

You wanted to sob, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. Of course he would be making jokes only moments after nearly being killed. 

“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively. 

Perhaps it sounded partially dangerous to him like it did to you. Perhaps George felt Saint-like because he was too close to death. 

Both of you and Fred held your breath as you waited for the reply. 

“Saint-like.” George grinned. And then he lifted a tired hand and gestured toward the bloody hole on the side of his head before he delivered his glowing punchline. “I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Get it?” 

Fred grinned, and you let out a gasping chuckle that you knew was mostly tears. Behind you, Molly inhaled sharply through her teeth, running a hand over her forehead with the stress, and Ginny shook her head as she exhaled an exhausted sigh. 

“The whole wide world of ear related humour, and you go for ‘I’m holy’?” Fred replied, unable to resist humouring George. “That’s pathetic.” 

You knew that if either of them knew anything about the story of the Muggle painter Van Gogh, then they would have been making jokes in that lane. 

“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George added on tiredly. 

“You were always better looking than him.” You said, your voice throttled by tears, unable to resist. 

When you turned around to retreat, you saw Ginny clutching onto Molly, clearly hiding tears in her mother’s shoulder, Molly’s face dancing with a kind of sadness you had never seen before. You knew you couldn’t run from your pain. You had known the Weasleys for so long, loved them too much. You had a distinct kind of duty here. 

“Molly, do you have a cauldron around?” You asked, hating how choked with tears your voice was. “I can whip-up something for his pain. I do it at the shop all the time. And a Sleeping Draught, so he can get some rest.” 

It was true - one of your many duties working at the Apothecary was making and bottling simple, common potions to sell (pregnancy test potions, simple multi-use pain potions, Dreamless Sleep Draughts, cures for warts and other common rashes) - many people liked the convenience of coming in and buying a potion for everyday uses rather than having to make it themselves. 

“There’s no need-” George began to protest, but Fred easily cut him off. 

“Come off it.” Fred hissed toward his brother, not taking kindly to ‘selfless’ idea of George not accepting something for the pain he was clearly in. Then, Fred rose up from his place beside George and turned to you with a look of intense concern on his features. “Whatever you need.” 

… 

You had barely begun to set up everything you needed for the brewing when the others finally came in, bringing more chaos with them. Remus accused Harry of being an imposter, which was quickly proven false. Apparently the Order had been betrayed, which explained the presence of Death Eaters on the mission so easily. They had used inside information to know when Harry was being transported - it was only luck that they had been thrown off by the Polyjuice Potion, having to chase down multiple Harrys and not knowing which one was real (even if George got gravely injured in the process). 

Mad-Eye had been killed. 

You weren’t sure if what you felt was mourning for the man. You hadn’t known him all that well. Not the true version of him, anyway. You continued to weep quietly as you worked on the potions, but you knew it wasn’t specifically for him. His death only served to remind you how truly dangerous the mission had been - how close you, Fred, and George, and the others had all come to death. How lucky it was that nobody else had been killed. 

You tried not to let the suffocating gloom that had overtaken the Burrow due to the near failure of the entire mission disrupt the process of making the potions needed for George. When Molly didn’t have some of the ingredients that you needed, you gave Fred your spare key to the Apothecary and he popped over to get them for you. Mr. Michaelchuk, who ran the place, had always told you to ‘take what you needed’, and this was the one time you had actually taken him up on the offer. 

When Fred returned, he fussed at George’s side, helping him change into pyjamas (when everyone else had cleared out) and tucking him in comfortably to a makeshift bed on the couch, with lots of pillows and extra cosy blankets, to the point where he got annoyed with Fred coddling him. You always knew that the two were good friends in addition to being brothers, as close as two people can be, but you had never seen so much abundant affection between them. It was sweet. 

Molly came back downstairs wearing a plaid dressing gown, with a pair of tiny reading glasses balanced on her nose, her slippers scuffing along the floor. She mentioned that Arthur was already ‘snoring away’ - but of course, she had no intentions of going to bed herself. Because of course, if George was down here on the couch, it was so that she could watch over him while she busied herself with knitting - much like she had when Arthur had been on the ward at St. Mungo’s after he had been attacked by the snake. You had gotten a particularly nice jumper for Christmas that year, one that you still wore often when it got particularly cold outside. 

Fred had settled to sit on the couch by George’s feet, and the two had fallen into a hushed conversation, though you didn’t hear most of it. And of course, it wasn’t long before Molly rushed Fred off to bed, just like she had done with everyone else, wanting to give George the space to rest without distractions from visitors. 

“-just get her back, you idiot.” You hear George hiss in a whisper before Molly pushed Fred toward the stairs. 

He couldn’t possibly be talking about…? 

No. 

No, he wasn’t. 

You didn’t think about it. Instead, you let yourself get lost in the meditative process of brewing, making sure that the potions were perfect. You made sure that George was pain-free and lost to a deep, restful, healing sleep (with a few pre-brewed bottles of the potions to spare that would keep his pain at bay for the next few days) before you finally went upstairs, ready to collapse with exhaustion. 

You passed by Fred and George’s room on your way to your final destination, Ginny’s room, where you would be staying with her and Hermione, from now up until Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After which, you would return to your apartment above the Apothecary and try to resume your best sense of ‘normal’ life. All of your things were already unpacked in Ginny’s room, and you had a sleeping bag set up on the floor there. 

But of course, you naturally came to a stop at the mouth of Fred’s open bedroom doorway, letting an instinctive caring overtake you and participating in the need to check on him. 

The sight you saw made your heart ache. 

Fred was sitting on the edge of his twin bed, his posture slumped with pure exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed out of the now ill-fitting Harry clothes that he had to wear for the mission: jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sport jacket that were now coated in dirt and traces of George’s blood, all oddly short in the limbs and emphasising his tallness, his hands still stained bright red in a way that couldn’t be washed off. 

His face was marked with tear tracks, and his tired, dead gaze was fixated on George’s still neatly made matching twin bed. A space that was hauntingly empty across from his - a sign that his brother was missing. A sign of just how easily someone precious could have been taken from him that night. 

“Freddie?” 

You croaked out, the nickname slipping out in a way you couldn’t control once again, causing him to snap out of whatever distant, depressing thoughts he was caught in. His head jolted toward you, only now realising that you had been standing in the doorway for so long. 

“Y/N,” He responded, his voice choked by tiredness, sadness. 

It was so alarmingly strange to see someone who was usually the pinnacle of laughter reduced down to this. You had never seen Fred Weasley so sad before. 

You had seen him angry, on occasion - like when someone insulted you, or when he had been banned from Quidditch for getting into a fistfight with Malfoy. You had seen him annoyed - like when he found out that the age to enter the TriWizard Tournament was seventeen, and he was only a few months away from being eligible. (You were thankful for that one, and secretly thankful when his Ageing Potion had failed). 

You had seen Fred go through a lot - but you genuinely believed that was the first time you had seen him so deflated in the face of the world. 

He rose to his feet, turned his back to you, almost as if trying to hide. He raised a hand to his face, and your heart ached more when you realised that he was trying to wipe away tears. 

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.” You said, moving forward, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, moving up to peel the sport jacket off him. 

You knew that the sadness, something he so rarely felt, had paralyzed him. You knew that sleep was what all of you needed right now - some rest to get your heads on straight. And you wanted to help him in any way that you could. 

“I can’t-” Fred huffed, stepping away from you, putting some distance between the two of you in the small room. “I can’t do this right now.” 

Your stomach curled into a horrible knot as he echoed the words he had spoken to you on that horrible day, when he had broken up with you and relinquished himself from your presence without a second thought. 

It truly hit you then - he didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to be near you now. He had only held you close a few hours ago because it had been a matter of life and death. He had helped to calm you down because it was the friendly thing to do. He didn’t want you here now. 

“Okay.” You choked out, nodding, taking a step toward the door. “O-okay.” 

A hot tear rolled down your face, and you moved to make your way toward Ginny’s room. You were harshly whipped across the emotional spectrum again when Fred stopped you. 

“Y/N, no.” He said, reaching out and grabbing onto your elbow. “Wait.” 

“What, Fred?” You wheezed, your body breathless and exhausted from the horrible roller coaster that you had been on that night. You knew that you glared at him horribly, but you couldn’t help it. “What is it that you want from me?” 

Fred took a step back, as though you had burned him, running stiff hands through his hair. You could have easily run off, turned your back on him and never spoken to him again. Just like he had done to you on that day so long ago. But you waited with your chest tight, waiting for him to finally give you an answer. Did he want to be friends? Did he want you to disappear from his life completely? Did he want-? 

“I can’t-” He choked out, clearly struggling for breath. “I can’t…” 

He swallowed around a fat tongue, and after a heavy moment, he finally got the words out. 

“I can’t lose you.” 

The words spooked you more than the sight of George’s bloodied, blown-apart ear. 

You stared Fred down with a ghost in your eyes, somehow more terrified than you had been when you had been dangling hundreds of feet above London. He was frantic, rapidly searching for more words to explain himself. 

“I - I almost…” He gasped, his throat tightly constricting again. “You almost slipped out of my hands.” 

He spoke the words as though they were a horrible curse, raising his hands in front of him as if to demonstrate the point, as if to demonise his own limbs for not having enough strength to hold you up. His hands shook with undistilled anxiety, with anger towards himself. 

His declaration gave you that sickly sense of nausea, as though you were back up in the air again. You realised that maybe he hadn’t been sitting on the edge of the bed, mourning about potentially losing George - but instead, he had been thinking about you. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t slip.” You replied, the words choked off in your throat, rushing to assure him of the good he had done. 

You were unable to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in yours, steadying his grip with a firm anger of your own. You were unsure how he could be so cruel toward himself when he had saved your life only hours before. 

“You held me up, Fred. You didn’t let me fall.” 

He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively. 

You knew there was something more troubling him - something deeper that he had yet to speak of, or perhaps wouldn’t tell you at all. He grinded his jaw tightly and slipped his hands away from yours. You stood there, looking at him tensely, wondering if he was going to clue you in, or if he would simply say goodnight and let himself stew with whatever horrible emotions he was feeling. 

“I can’t live like this.” He declared harshly, his throat raw. “I can’t live with you at arm’s length.” 

So what? Was he saying that… he was upset about the break-up? 

Was he saying that he hadn’t actually wanted to be apart from you? 

A look of pure confusion knit across your features, and in the murky silence, Fred moved on to explaining. 

“I let you go once before.” 

He whispered, the words so quiet on his lips, a crazed type of regret dancing in his eyes - in an instant, you knew he wasn’t talking about the mission or flying. He was talking about how easily he let you go from his life - the break-up. 

“I let you slip away from me far too easily. And it was the stupidest thing I have ever done.” 

“Freddie-?” You choked out, more chaotic emotions rocketing through your body now. Anticipation, anxiety - that love for him that you had bottled away slowly creeping back in. But you couldn’t bear to let it flow through you, not yet, not until you knew. 

“If one of us were to die tomorrow, I couldn’t live my last day knowing that I wasted it not being yours.” He declared, the pure passion in his words causing every small hair on your body to stand up on end, making you dizzy. “I know that I’m the biggest git on earth for what I did to you, and for not apologising sooner, but please, please, please, darling-” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You grabbed both sides of the sport jacket and used it to haul him down toward you, planting your mouth firmly onto his, moaning into a kiss that you had longed for, having so sorely missed the touch of his lips on yours. 

You had missed him so damn much. 

Fred was quick to keep up, letting out a delighted sigh of his own, his stomach doing flips in delight, almost in disbelief of just how lucky he was that you hadn’t slapped him across the face and stormed out. 

When your hands ventured down, smoothing across his body - he became even more delighted that you seemed to want more than a kiss out of him. And he was quick to prepare. 

He reached to his back pocket for his wand and pointed it at the still open bedroom door, performing a quick spell that slammed it shut and locked it. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that his bedroom had some silencing wards around it from the days when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been in its infancy, operating their prototype experiments out of this room in the darkest hours of the morning. (Percy got sick of being woken up by the twins’ excited voices and the sound of sputtering cauldrons, and put the silencing wards around their room for his own sake, not knowing how much more it let the twins get away with.) 

Fred was surprised when you took another fitful grip on the front of his shirt, using it to direct him back toward his bed and shoving him down onto it with a strength that he barely knew you had. He fell sideways across the small twin bed, his knees crumbling along the side of the mattress, leaving him sitting with his feet on the floor and his body half collapsed against the tightly tucked-in covers that his mother had prepared before everyone’s arrival. 

He was utterly weak to your whims, anyway, and would have gone wherever you put him. 

He was expecting you to climb on top of him, something needy inside of him yearning for the feeling of your body on top of his after missing it for so long. And he found himself further surprised when you dropped to your knees in front of him, settling your shoulders between his spread thighs, forcing him to spread his legs wider apart to accommodate you. The action spiking a sharp breath out of his lips when you shoved up the hem of the shirt that technically wasn’t his and reached for the button on the jeans that fit him even worse as his cock grew to life underneath them. 

“Y/N, darling-” He choked out, breathy and sharp through his teeth, an intense wave of lust hitting him all at once. 

All night, both of you had been through the emotional ringer - calm determination, fear, possessiveness, mild relief, grief. All while trying to hold back your emotions for each other, balancing right on the edge. Trying desperately to hold each other at arm’s length. 

And now he had you right where he wanted you, where he had been dreaming of you being for months since the break-up; and for some stupid reason, some part of him still felt that it was wrong. That part of him screaming that he should be the one on his knees serving you, that he needed to better apologise-

He reached for your shoulder, clearly trying to coax you back up onto the bed with him, and you swatted the touch away. 

“Don’t-” You choked in return, continuing on your determined path, ripping his zipper down and tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Freddie, please. Let me do this.” 

You looked up at him with a glassy heat in your eyes that he had never seen before. All the times he had pinned you against walls in quiet corners at Hogwarts, with his hand up your skirt - he had never seen you so wild, so desperate. 

Something utterly possessive rippled through you - something that screamed that you needed to have him weak and moaning for you, that you needed to worship him, to thank him for doing the impossible and saving your life. He was a strong, wonderful man and you needed to taste that strength. You needed to know that you were the only thing that could have him weak, quivering, begging. 

“Fuck-” Fred hissed out when you reached past the band of his underwear and grabbed his cock - your warm touch wrapped around his shaft felt like a deadly awakening, especially when it had been so long since anything but his own had had touched his cock. 

All too soon, he surrendered to you entirely and lifted his hips, slipping the fabric of his jeans and his underwear down completely past his thighs, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. He supposed that’s how it always went with the two of you - he would let you have whatever you wanted, even before you asked. (That’s why the break-up had gone down the way it had - it had been the one time he had been stubborn on something, not simply letting you have your own way.) 

You took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length as you admired him, gently re-familiarising yourself with his body, feeling like it had been far too long. 

“Did you miss it, darling?” He asked, looking down the length of his body at you with a cocky smile stretched across his soft lips. 

You rolled your eyes, hating the possibility of making his ego any larger. 

“Oh yes, your wonderful big cock was the thing I missed most about you,” You griped in return, hoping that your sarcastic tone was more than apparent. 

“I knew you only wanted me for my body.” Fred chuckled. 

As much as you wanted to deny it - Fred Weasley’s cock was a marvel that you couldn’t have forgotten if you had tried. 

During your time apart, it haunted your heated dreams, turning them into nightmares of pure want, your mind dangling something in front of you that you couldn’t have. It made things even worse when he would come into the Apothecary, flirting with you and flashing you a smile, showing off his broad shoulders in those fine tailored suit jackets and making your eyes flicker to his zipper in an utterly whorish way. 

Now, you felt spoiled to have it in front of you again - the perfect beastly eight inches, lean and tall just like he was, curved off slightly to the side, sticking off from a sparse patch of ginger hair. 

Your pussy clenched as you thought about having him inside of you again for the first time in so long, giving you that perfectly full feeling that your fingers never could - but you craved his taste first. You wanted him under your control - you knew part of it was driven by all the fear you had experienced that night, all the chaos that had made you feel so powerless. You needed to feel alive, needed to wield power over someone, something. 

You got your mouth on his cock with a downright feral hunger. 

Fred let out a deep moan and threw his head back, collapsing onto his elbows as the heat and wetness of your mouth enveloped the heat of his cock - it sent another wave of lust zipping through him, reminding him just how throbbing hard he was, just how much he needed you. This was made even worse when you moaned around him - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your mouth, perfectly full, making you choke in such a beautiful way when you dropped down to take more of him. 

“Fuck, darling, shite-” 

You quickly became drunk on the feeling. 

Your eyes fell closed and you simply let yourself enjoy it, loving the fullness of his big, beautiful cock filling up your mouth. With a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, your jaw wide as you began bobbing your head. Your tongue flat against the base, tasting as much of him as you could while you enjoyed the feeling of him so fat and thick in your mouth, gagging you slightly whenever the round tip hit against the back of your throat. It was a perfect, slow rhythm that agonised him and delighted you, and soon had spit pooling around your knuckles. 

The wetness drove him even more insane, especially when it allowed for your soft lips to move slicker against his shaft. 

“Goddammit, please, please, oh-” 

You could feel his thighs begin to quake and quiver beside you, and you wondered if he was close already. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to pull off - wanting to tease him a little. Part of you wanted that bit of revenge, wanting to get him back for the pain he had caused you when he had turned his back on you that day. Though you weren’t entirely cruel, and you didn’t leave him hanging out to dry completely. 

You kept your hand pumping on his now spit-slicked cock (it was that slow, agonising rhythm that caused him to pant like a needy dog), and you moved your mouth downward, giving in to the personal urge to lick and suck on his heavy balls. You did want to drive him a bit more insane, and give into your personal curiosity about what the heavy sac would feel like against your tongue. 

“Fucking - oh - darling, what are you doing to me-? That fucking mouth-” 

Fred wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell. 

It left him stuck in some sick purgatory where the woman he loved had turned into a sex-crazed vixen, but wouldn’t let him touch you everywhere he wanted to most. Instead, he was sentenced to stare at you as your gorgeous mouth teased his aching cock, making him harder, driving him madder with every stroke of your little devilish tongue. He couldn’t take it anymore - not when your pretty fingers gripped around the base of his cock just right and your lips suctioned so perfectly around one of his bullocks. 

He wouldn’t waste the night cumming over your fist without getting his hands on you properly first. 

He weaved his fingers into your hair and yanked you back, caused you to let out a small yelp - not one of pain, but a bitter sound of complaint as you were pulled off his cock too early for your liking. The sharp tingle of him pulling on your hair caused your tongue to lull out, trailing a filthy bit of spit back to his balls that had him growling. 

Before any words could form, he leaned down and used this grip on your hair to guide you to his lips, shoving his tongue into your open, waiting mouth - something that had you moaning once again, and easily following his lead as he guided you up to sit on his thigh. 

“Don’t expect that I’m gonna waste it all over your hand, darling.” He murmured against your lips between heated kisses. “When I cum tonight, it’s gonna be deep inside your sweet cunt, yeah?” 

You moaned loudly at this. 

You had devolved past the point of words now - having his cock so thick and heavy in your mouth only making you fuzzy-headed and more needy for him. You unconsciously canted your hips against his thigh, grinding your pussy against him through the fabric of your jeans, needing more. You panted against his cheek as he moved deft fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants while he continued to speak. 

“I need you, pretty girl.” 

He growled lowly in your ear, the pure passion of the declaration causing such intense waves of lust through you that you would have collapsed - if not for the brick wall of his muscled body holding you up. (Hold you up for the dozenth time that night, only for a drastically different reason this time). 

“I need to see you cum on my cock. Missed this pretty cunt so much, can’t wait-” 

He trailed off in his crazed lustful ramblings when he shoved his fingers past the now open fly of your jeans and into your underwear, quickly finding a distinct wetness and landing on your clit with a firm touch like a magnet. 

“Freddie!” You wept into his neck, bucking into the touch as you tumbled into a madness of your own. 

He began circling quickly on your clit, enjoying your gasps and other sounds, enjoying the feeling of you bucking so wildly on his thigh. All too soon, he was overtaken by a little pinch of mischief that always crept up on him. The urge to get you back for your earlier teasing. He quickly removed his hand and felt a smirk spread across his lips at the deflated little whimper you made, your eyes snapping open just in time to catch him licking your wetness off his fingers. 

“Fred-” You began to protest, sharp demanding in your tone. 

“Come on, get these clothes off,” He said, giving you a firm pat on the ass that made you far too weak to his whims. 

“Freddie-” You whined this time - and rather than giving into you, he brought up a fantastic point. 

“The faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can get my cock in you.” He whispered hotly against your ear, making you shiver. 

You hated that he was right. 

You stood up, moving to strip your shirt off over your head, glaring at him the whole time while he also began to strip himself. 

“Go on, good girl.” 

You hated how those words made you even wetter. You hated how easily he manipulated you based on weaknesses he knew so well. 

“I hate you.” You mumbled quietly, absolutely no heat in the words as you reached to unclip your bra. 

“Oh darling, if only that were true.” 

He said pointedly, mourning peeking through that bit of mischief in his eyes. Something you didn’t have too much time to decode as stood to his full height to untangle his jeans from his legs, knowing that you would quake in his shadow and become even more turned on from this. 

Once you were both naked, he ushered you down onto the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with your head on the pillow as he captured your mouth in another needy kiss. You moaned against his lips, easily sucking his tongue in as you tangled your fingers into that fiery red hair and gave an appreciative tug. You then tucked your knee up over his hip, opening yourself up to him - this caused his heavy cock to brush against your wetness, making you gasp into his mouth as the two of you made contact for the first time in far too long. 

“Freddie-” You gasped, unconsciously bucking your hips up, causing your pussy to wetly slide against his cock in a way that forced a deep groan out of him. “Oh, fuck, oh-” 

“Shh, darling, Daddy’s got you,” Fred replied, palming across your forehead and your hair in an almost gentle way while he further parted your thighs with a firm knee. 

His words caused you to choke on another moan. 

You had heard Fred refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ before - but much like everything else in his life, it was always a joke. He would be buying his favourite sweets and mumble ‘come to Daddy’ before tearing open the package and devouring them. He would say that his codename was ‘Big Daddy’ when setting up a particularly epic prank. (George was ‘Big Red’ and you were usually ‘Darling’ or ‘Garden Flower’. They were not the most useful or top secret codenames.) You had heard him jokingly shout ‘Daddy’s home’ when returning to the Gryffindor common room, only to have the expected laughs and jokes in return. 

You had never expected that the name would turn you on so much. But you had never, ever expected to hear it in this context. You had also never expected that it would sound so natural in this context. But it suited him so well. It seemed to only compliment the gentle kind of caring he gave you - how protective he was over you, how safe he made you feel. 

“Daddy,” You moaned in return - Fred gripped your hip with a deadly, bruising grip and looked at you with a fierce heat in his eyes. 

Hearing that word from your lips turned him on in a way he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, it took every bit of his personal will not to slam his cock into you and hammer his hips forward until you said it again, and again, and again. Until you screamed it. 

He took a hold of his cock with the other hand, and you expected him to slide into you, finally giving you both what you truly needed - but instead, he began rubbing the round head of his cock against your clit, further teasing you. You let out a gasp and looked at him with pleading in your eyes. 

“Freddie,” You whined, attempting to angle your hips up, fruitlessly trying to trick him to slip his cock inside of you. You knew him too well, knowing that once he got the tip in, he wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you senseless. But he held you down with the hand on your hip, making you barely able to move at all against his muscular hold and the awkward angle he had you pinned with. 

“Come on, sweets,” He purred, laying a kiss on your forehead, and then your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck as he murmured against your skin. “Tell Daddy what you need. Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

He began roughly smacking his cockhead against your clit, making you jolt and gasp sharper, making your pussy leak furiously against the bed. You cried out and gripped his hair tightly, almost meanly, desperate for the teasing to end. You didn’t see the way he was staring at your cunt, mesmerised by the sight of your swollen pearl kissing against his cock, glistening, wet and needy. Something that he would burn into his brain forever and most definitely revisit on lonely nights. 

“Please, Daddy!” You moaned, hoping the name alone would goad him into giving in. But you knew what he truly wanted, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Please - fuck - I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, I need-” 

Perhaps he was truly satisfied by this, or perhaps he couldn’t take the teasing anymore himself - either way, he finally guided his cock down to your pulsing entrance and pushed in, swearing hotly under his breath when the tight, wet, perfect heat of your cunt began sucking him in for the first time in over a year. 

“Oh, oh fuck, Freddie,” You moaned, tugging on his hair. “Oh-” 

“Fucking perfect,” He swore into your ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed this pussy so much.” He choked on a groan as he continued slowly inching his hips forward, splitting you open with his massive length, making your pussy ache and burn in the most perfect way. “Good girl. So good for me. So good for Daddy,” 

You both moaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you - you, feeling that deep satisfaction of feeling so perfectly full once again, and Fred so deeply enjoying the wet warmth of your pussy around him that was so irreplaceable because it was you. 

Sensing your need, especially after all his teasing, and after spending so long without him - he didn’t make you wait any longer. 

Fred began rocking his hips into yours at a gentle, even pace, not wanting to hurt you. From the sound of your gentle whines and the feeling of you squirming beneath him, he could tell that you needed more. He could tell that now wasn’t the time for holding back. 

He let out a gentle grunt and you became even more heated and curious as he began shifting around, some clear intent on his mind. You let out a sharp gasp when he raised himself up on his knees, poising himself in the perfect position to fuck you hard, deep, and powerful. Then, he made it even more deadly when he grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, making more air hiss out through your lips when he pressed your body practically in half, pressing your knees up toward your chest before he hooked his arms under your legs to keep them there and planted his hands firmly on either side of your chest. 

The two of you were even closer, even more intimate, and you felt him so much deeper inside of you. 

“Freddie,” 

You croaked out darkly, already feeling him so much deeper as he settled in above you. Your pussy was leaking furiously around him now, clenching tightly and waiting for him to move as a ghost of dark mischief danced through his eyes that promised you were in for the sweetest kind of hell. 

“Good?” He asked, smirking at you. 

“Yes, but what about-?” 

You wanted to warn him not to make too much noise, not to break the bed, which was already creaking in protest underneath the two of you - but he didn’t entirely care. Fred never truly cared about the consequences of his actions once he got an idea in his head - to him, the thrill was more than worth whatever pain may befall him. 

The only time that hadn’t been true was when he had made the foolish, heat-of-the-moment mistake of breaking up with you. And now, he had to make up for it. 

He put all the power into his muscled thighs (the same muscled thighs that had saved you just a few hours ago by gripping onto his broom and steadying the flight) - and ploughed forward with intense power. This began an unforgiving, hard rhythm of pounding into your cunt in hard, deep, fast strokes. 

In seconds, you were putty beneath him - he had you perfectly pinned in place so that you couldn’t have moved an inch if you wanted to, all you could do was lay there and take it. You were weak against the savage movements of his long cock fucking into your swollen pussy over and over again, filling you up in the best way you could have imagined, becoming everything you needed in the world. 

As the room filled with the harsh, wet slaps of his skin against yours and your weak moans, followed by his increasingly animalistic grunts - all there was in the world was you and Fred, the space where the two of you met, the place where he had your thighs pinned open so that his cock could absolutely ruin your pussy.  

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” He growled against your lips - you moaned pathetically in return, flooding even more wetness around his cock, making the sound of him fucking into you embarrassingly slicker. “Never should have let you go. Should have kept you right here, right where you belong,” 

You wanted to tell him that perhaps the fight was both of your faults, that you should have reached out to him sooner and told him that you wanted him back. That the time apart had been so dreadfully tender for you too. 

But your brain was soup, only further stirred up by the tip of his cock poking around in your guts. So any words you could have said chased out of your lungs with every passionate thrust of his hips up into your wet pussy, and all you managed in return was: 

“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!” 

“Shh, darling, I know.” Fred mumbled into your neck, taking a sloppy, greedy lick of your skin. “I know, sweets. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. Gonna keep you fucked n’ full. Never gonna let you go again. Never gonna let anyone else touch you-” 

Fred’s hips stuttered and you tightly squeezed around his cock at the words. 

Perhaps it was a wink of his personal insecurity peeking through. The horrifying idea that because he had broken up with you, you might find somebody else. When in fact, you had been so caught up on him, only thinking about him, waiting for him. (The whole time, thinking that he had broken up with you because he no longer had any favour in his heart for you.) 

“Just you, Freddie.” You breathed out, desperately trying to get air past your now very chapped lips. “Always yours-” 

“Yes, mine.” He replied, that crazed desperation returning to his voice. “Mine, my girl.” 

He sealed his lips against yours, grinding his hips tightly against your pelvis rather than fucking you with any kind of rhythm now - showing you just how deep he was inside of you, just how much he owned you, truly, from the inside out. It was something that made your stomach clench, made your body buzz with electricity, and made you whine around his tongue. 

You were close. 

Fred knew this - he knew you too well. He moved a hand down to your clit, letting one of your legs drop slightly, and had two determined fingers on your throbbing clit while he picked up the pace again, pulling his lips back from yours. 

“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for Daddy like a good girl?” 

His words, his velvet voice speaking to you so commanding yet so sweet, were what truly brought your orgasm to life in your belly. His voice made the fullness of his cock and the sharpness of his fingers on your clit all the more electric. You likely could have cum just from his words alone if he kept speaking to you that way. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response. 

“Good girl. Come on,” 

He breathed hotly against your chin, his eyes now eagerly dancing from your face to the space where your cunt hugged his dick, leaking around him in such a wonderfully filthy way. Clearly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to look, what part of the show he was more eager to witness after missing out on you for too long. 

“Come on, cum on my cock. Cum for me, love, good girl-” 

His heated words trailed off as your head snapped back and your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers digging sharply into his bicep as your orgasm rocked your body. Fred grunted as he continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to you, taking in every single inch of the sexy beauty that was you, the love of his life, as you thrashed and moaned and came on his cock. It was the most perfect sight he could have imagined, and he easily ingrained into his mind forever, praying that he would never have to miss out on it - to miss out on you - ever again. 

“Yes, yes darling, so good for me, so good-” He practically choked on his own words, his voice so thick with lust that it barbed the insides of his throat. 

As he felt the last weak spasms of your pussy around his cock, he stopped rubbing your sore clit and became possessed with a new need, becoming slightly selfish now. He fucked his hips forward even harder, determined to find his own pleasure inside the sweet, soft walls of your cunt. 

“Fucking hell-” He choked out a groan, dropping his head into your neck again as you petted through his hair, encouraging him through it while he unintentionally sent sharp zaps of overstimulation through your pussy with every needy, sharp push of his hips. 

“Freddie,” You breathed out. “Come on, Daddy, cum for me. You’ve been so good to me, come on-” 

He let you another loud growl and pounded into you harder, dropping his hold on your other knee and letting your legs rest to cradle around his waist as he blindly chased his own end inside your soft, wet cunt. 

“Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” He whispered into your neck, chanting like a man possessed, sending another unexpected wave of heat through you that made you moan weakly. “All mine, all mine, darling, all mine, gonna give you what you need, fuck-” 

He tried to silence his moans into your neck as he stiffened his back and finally came - his own orgasm hitting him like a firework. He shoved his hips forward stiffly one last time, seating his cock deeply inside of you, stuffing you full, just like he had promised. He gentled grinded his hips against yours in mindless, stuttering strokes while he pumped spurts of hot cum deep inside of you - something that made your body buzz with even more heat and made you moan in return, clutching onto him tightly with your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh darling, oh-” He muttered quietly against your neck as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

It was so perfect, and made you feel so utterly connected to him. It was a distinct reminder of everything you had missed - his warmth, his caring, the thrill he gave you while at the same time making you feel so damn safe. 

When Fred moved to pull away from you, moving to break that connection, every instinct in your body screamed that it was wrong. You clenched your legs around him, digging a heel into his lower back to keep him close, and he let out a grunt - still dizzy from his orgasm and unsure what you were doing. But he settled back into place, creating a filthy ‘squish’ between the two of you. 

“Just hold me.” You said, having no clue when the tears had returned to your eyes, making your voice so clearly wet. “I missed you. I can’t lose you.” 

“Hey, hey shh.” He said, leaning up to kiss along your cheek, rushing to kiss away those tears. “I’m right here with you, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, wiggling his grip between your back and the mattress to do so. This created the most stunning cocoon, forcing your two bodies even closer together - it wasn’t long before he became soft inside of you, but he stayed there for as long as he reasonably could, kissing along your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, uttering quiet reassurances that you weren’t going to lose him, that you wouldn’t have to miss him any longer. 

It made you incredibly content and warm. At least while it lasted. 

When Fred finally pulled out of you, you felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction and loneliness, which you tried to ignore. Especially because you weren’t sure if he would want you to sleep in his bed - which was something that you wanted very much, especially after the long day you had. But you weren’t sure if he wanted to be left alone to contemplate all of it, to be sure of his decision to take you back. 

You jumped to get out of the bed as though it were on fire, and when you looked to your rumpled clothes on the floor - your jeans still stained with dirt from when you had collapsed in the garden, your shirt likely reeking of sweat from the nerves of everything that had happened - the idea of putting those clothes back on wasn’t exactly appealing. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“My things are in Ginny’s room…” 

You sighed, realising that if you wanted a pair of pyjamas for the night, or even a fresh pair of underwear, then you would have to waltz in and wake her up - and likely be interrogated about where you had been. She was all too knowing anyway, and any excuses you gave about spending the time caring for George or simply having a ‘talk’ with Fred would be seen right through by her. 

Fred hummed, and stood, and you were surprised when he comfortably went over to the chest of drawers against the wall at the end of his bed, going right to the top drawer. The drawer where you used to keep some of your things when you stayed with the Weasleys on holidays - and surely enough, a small collection of your things were still in there. 

Things that he had never returned to you after the break-up that you had never thought to ask for. You had no idea that he often came to this drawer, sneaking mournful whiffs of your scent - even used your shirts as a pillow case if he was feeling particularly lonely. 

He pulled out a pair of your comfortable sleep shorts and a large, soft, worn green tee shirt with a large shamrock on the front and a ‘94 on the back that he had bought for you as a souvenir from The World Cup. It had been your all time favourite sleep shirt, and you had wondered where it had disappeared to when you moved into your apartment above the Apothecary once you started the job. 

“I hope these still fit.” He said, handing you the clothes. 

“They should.” You said - quiet, careful not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that he had kept your things all this time. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have any panties for you, so…” He trailed off, a filthy grin plucking up over his cheeks once again when the implication hit the air - the fact that you would be commando underneath your clothing. 

“Yeah, very unfortunate in your eyes, I’m sure, Fred.” You huffed, turning toward the door. “I should go get cleaned up.” 

You let out a small squeak when two strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you sharply back, causing you to collide with the wonderful, bare, muscled, now slightly sweaty body. You couldn’t help but to melt into the touch, and you let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your neck - not in a particularly lustful way, but in a way that was purely loving and affectionate. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easy, darling.” He whispered in your ear. “Please, do come back afterwards. You know I like to cuddle,” 

You didn’t think that you had ever heard Fred Weasley say ‘please’ for anything so plainly in his life. But, as usual when it came to him, you wanted exactly what he wanted. 

“Only if you insist.” You joked lightly, smoothing a hand over his arm that was still tightly encircled around your middle. “I suppose I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for cuddling,” 

Fred quietly let out a ‘yes’ in celebration, and hesitantly let you go. He then collapsed back onto the bed, relaxing spread eagle, still confidently naked against the covers with his hands behind his head against the pillow. You couldn’t help it when your eyes did a once-over of his body, admiring the soft planes of his muscles that had come from hard work rather than a distinct workout routine and the beautiful bit of fat on his lower belly that made him so warm and nice to cuddle. Of course, when your eyes met his, he was smirking at you. 

“I’ll be waiting, love.” He told you with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at this, biting your lip to suppress a smile at his somewhat deserved cockiness. 

You moved to leave the room with your newly acquired clothes, wanting to freshen up in the bathroom a bit before going to sleep (the bathroom was right across the hall, so you would have to sneak across the way naked and hope that nobody would catch you, but it should be fine at this time of night). But when your hand twisted the knob and it didn’t budge, you remembered that Fred had locked it earlier. 

He moved to grab his wand from the pocket of his pants, splayed out in the middle of the floor, but you reached for the jeans first. Your wand was still downstairs beside the cauldron that had brewed the potions for George, but often, you found that Fred’s wand worked fine for you. 

Ollivander and other wand experts said that a wizard couldn’t find the same kind of success using a wand that wasn’t their own, but you found using Fred’s to be just as natural, like an extension of your own arm. Perhaps it was because his core was a Dragon Heart’s String, and that heart beat for you just as fondly as his own did. Either way, it was a fine substitution. You unlocked the door easily and tossed the wand back to him where he was sitting on the bed, and then you snuck across the hall to clean up and get dressed. 

When you came back, Fred had crawled under the covers and was starting to fall asleep. When you crawled in alongside him, you found that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so you locked the door again, just in case. It was a basic charm that anybody could get through, but it would give the two of you a few minutes of warning to make yourselves decent if somebody did come knocking. 

It felt like the most wonderfully natural thing in the world to settle beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist while he slept on his back, putting your head on his chest and feeling his sleepy fingers brush across your head from behind. 

“Goodnight, love.” He whispered, so quiet as though he was afraid to break apart a beautiful daydream. 

“Goodnight, Freddie.” 

… 

You wondered if all of it had been a dream. 

Fred apologising to you, begging for your forgiveness, the two of you having amazing sex - it was something you had dreamt about many times before. It was something you had wished would come true, only to find yourself waking up alone in a cold bed. So waking up next to Fred, with his large, warm body coiled up against your back like a koala was one of the best ways you could have come into a new day. 

It wasn’t long before the smell of Molly’s cooking reached your nose - the wonderful fatty sizzle of sausages and the bready warmth of toast that told you she was frying up a full English (likely because she had been having trouble sleeping after the events of the night before). Your stomach gave a painful pang, making you want to get out of bed to eat just as much as you wanted to stay cuddled up with Fred. 

You gently petted a touch along Fred’s heavy arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist, and soon, he sucked in a sharp breath as he too began to stir. 

“Merlin, I missed this.” He said, leaning in to smother you with more of his perfect warmth as he somehow crowded tighter against your back, kissing along your clothed shoulder and up your neck once again. 

Your heart fluttered with the sweetness, the fondness of it all, and you wondered how such a hellish night had made way to such a perfect morning. 

“I wish we could stay in bed forever, Freddie, but I think your Mum is making breakfast.” You remarked, finding yourself more aware of your hunger as you woke up more, and more drawn to the delicious smells. 

“We can stay here for a bit longer.” He hummed into your neck. 

Just then - his stomach let out a loud groan of protest, and you giggled. 

“Come on, Big Daddy needs to eat too.” You said, using the nickname in a more playful, joking manner as you patted his thigh, untangling yourself from his arms as you got out of bed. 

You were surprised, and slightly victorious when you saw a slight blush tinging his pale cheeks because of the teasing, the way you had used the nickname. It was amazing to see someone like Fred go from so powerful and confident to fluttering with shyness. 

“I have to find some trousers,” He remarked, suddenly remembering that he was naked. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” You grinned, walking across to the bathroom, lucky to beat anybody else there before the others started waking up. 

When you hit the bottom stair, Fred was standing at the back of the couch with his back to you, now fully dressed in a pair of comfortable plaid sleep pants and an old Chudley Cannons shirt that must have belonged to Ron. (It was only because of many winding discussions about Quidditch among the boys that you hadn’t even wanted to hear that you knew the Cannons were Ron’s team and the twins hated them.) 

Fred was leaning over, clearly talking to George, who was still laying where the two of you had left him the night before. You hated that your instinct was to stand back where neither of them had seen you and listen in on their conversation - but you had only learned such matters from Mr. and Mr. Extentenable Ear themselves. 

“...well, yes, I would say that it did go well, but I would still have to classify the nature of the relationship as dubious. Or friendly at best.” Fred said in a rushed whisper. 

Your stomach gave a twist. This time you had to assume that the twins were talking about you. Talking about what had happened between the two of you the night before. 

“Dubious?” George’s voice baulked, clearly trying to stay hushed himself, but having a hard time restraining his volume due to frustration - frustration at not being able to get a better answer out of his brother. “The two of you had sex and you’re classifying the nature of the relationship as dubious? Are you an idiot or was the sex that horrible?” 

You choked down a laugh at this, not wanting to be caught just yet, and resisting the urge to speak up and clarify that the sex was, in fact, great. 

“No, she seemed perfectly satisfied, thank you very much.” Fred hissed back, full of sass. You would have said more than ‘satisfied’ - for once, Fred was actually being humble. “But I just didn’t think to stop and ask: oh, by the way, does this mean that we’re back together and you still love me? Or were just scared and lonely after almost dying and wanted a decent lay? Can you fill out a post-orgasm survey to clarify, please, and make sure to-” 

An arm came up from the couch with a pillow, smacking Fred clear in the chest - hard enough to force a small grunt out of him. George was certainly feeling better. You were glad to know that your potions had done him some good. 

“You should have just asked, you numpty!” George scolded him. “You’ve been mooning over losing her for-” 

“Y/N,” Fred cut off his twin’s words by saying your name, announcing your presence as that smack with the pillow had caused him to finally turn his head and spot you there. 

“Fred.” You grinned, not at all ashamed that you had been caught. 

You walked over to the couch, leaning over to find George grinning at you in a way that said he was holding back a barrage of stomach shaking laughter because of the conversation you had caught the two of them in. 

“For the record, I would call the sex more than satisfactory.” You said, a mischievous grin coming over your lips. “And I do still love you.” You announced, turning toward Fred. “I was lonely and scared last night, but that’s why I came to you. You’re the only person I want to go to when I feel that way. I missed you. And I want you back if you’ll have me.” 

“Merlin, of course I’ll have you.” Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, now grinning as well. “I love you more than anything, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

“I have some idea, and it was bloody annoying.” George muttered out, only to be ignored. 

You leaned in for a kiss, naturally, but just as Fred’s lips brushed yours, George let out a loud, fake gagging sound - one that had Molly running into the room, clearly fretting and worried that George was actually ill. 

“I’m fine, Mum.” George groaned as Molly began patting down his head with a wet cloth - clearly, his night had been filled by the annoying, but loving fuss of his mother watching over him. 

“Yes, yes of course.” Molly nodded, hesitantly putting the cloth down. “It’s time for breakfast anyway - do you feel up for sitting at the table, dear?” 

“I would love to get off this bloody couch.” George groaned. 

Fred rushed around to help him up, and after a moment of struggle to his feet, you grabbed his other arm to help him along into the kitchen. 

“I suppose it all worked out for the better.” George said, smiling at you. “Even if you did end up with the less attractive twin.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile at this.

...

A/N: This fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This is a capsule story meant to be read independently, and in terms of the narrative, there will not be a continuation. If you are going to leave a comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written here, do not comment asking for more. If you would like to read more of my fics, please take a look at my Harry Potter Masterlist, more specifically, my other Fred Weasley fic - Kisses Like Fire Whiskey. Thank you if you have gotten this far, and happy reading!

[itsabouttimex2]

Where's Wukong in LSO? Is he like retired and far away? Just doesn't want to butt into how MK is mentoring his student? Sorry if I'm being too noisy. Just curious about the au ^^'

(No worries, dear! I love answering questions about the things I write anyhow! 💕 I’ll go into a few characters here!)

Let’s Start Over

Friends and Family

After many, many long years… Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven… has retired, actually!

Our lovable Sage is kicking around wherever he pleases (with a strange shadow following him about), leisurely traveling the world and enjoying everything that it has to offer. He stops for fans and scholars alike, signing autographs and answering questions.

The ginger-furred simian especially enjoys visiting different zoos and aquariums to admire the animals- and they seem to like him, too. Old Sun also stops by local pastry shops pretty often, looking for something sweet and made of peaches. He’s got his photo hung on at least two dozen walls by now.

He’s got a pretty good thing going now. Wukong is more than content- he’s happy.

Of course, our powerful King’s not just going to leave an entire life behind.

He’s got a new kiddo to dote on, after all!

Yeah, this man adores you. Every other week or so he’ll come zooming in on his mystic cloud, blazing into view with a shower of vaporous mist trailing behind him.

‘Sun Yeye’, as he’ll frequently call himself, comes bearing gifts and stories. He’s in a better place both mentally and socially, and he’s grown more comfortable with physical contact- somewhat. He’ll ruffle your hair and ply you with something expensive or unhealthy, then bound off to chat with his loyal monkey subjects.

And… there’s someone with him?

As ever, this little rat is mostly unrepentant and prone to lurking about in the shadows. Still training and eavesdropping and scheming, just a little less cruel about it.

He’s slowly becoming a better person, off journeying with Wukong and learning about everything he’d missed while stuck in the underworld.

But Macaque doesn’t get to have ‘cool uncle/granddad’ title that the Monkey King has been bestowed, I’m afraid. After all, where Wukong was willing to accept his wrongs and shortcomings and actively work on them, Mac just kinda… gets away with his bullshit without ever trying to making amends.

MK keeps him at a full arm’s length from you, considering the sable simian to be not only a bad influence, but a dangerous one.

But, theoretically, if Macaque were to complete a list of intentionally nearly impossible tasks:

1. Apologize to every person he’s hurt

2. Make reparations for all the destruction that he’s caused

3. Acknowledge his own shortcomings and mistakes and try to become better

Then he might consider allowing you and ‘Uncle Macaque’ to meet up. Just for an hour.

Maybe.

As always, Pigsy maintains his grumpy fervor for cooking and serving, but in a far more lowkey fashion than before. Mei helped to hook him up with topnotch streaming equipment, allowing the chef to start a personal channel where he teaches beginner’s to prep basic meals and take care of their equipment.

He’s found some degree of fame with it, spreading his culinary skills across the internet, which quickly comes to love him.

And speaking of love- Y/N. Oh, how this man cherishes you.

MK gave him a grandbaby.

Ok, so he was a little worried at first. Pigsy thought that his son had gotten someone pregnant (irrational, but he was still worried!) and now was raising the kiddo as a single father.

Once all that has been cleared up, our favorite chef settles into the “granddad” role admirably, tending to you as he did to little MK.

He comes over every Friday to make a family meal for the three of you, and Tang always tags along- usually with a book that he thought you might like.

Although MK’s relationship with Mei has grown notably… strained, the two still keep in touch. She’s grown to be a massive streamer, and frequently competes in city-wide races as something of a celebrity. A decent chunk of her hard-earned cash goes to local charities or is spent sponsoring young racers that she sees worth in.

Mei is super dedicated to seeing the city grow healthier and happier, opting to visit and buy from only local stores and restaurants. She gives very fair reviews and often causes surges of growth for whatever business she stops in to check out.

She still finds time to game with MK on occasion, trying to bridge the gap that’s grown between the two in recent times. It’s not a phenomenal success, but they have fun and part on decent terms.

For what it’s worth, they’d both still go crazy if the other was injured.

Also, Auntie Mei??? Bringing you fun games and snacks and getting you a custom motorcycle helmet for the rides she takes you on (away from the crowded city streets, of course) and telling you embarrassing stories about MK.

(Also also, Goldendragon?? Moving apart from being friends and then reconciling into being lovers? Or even Chimera? In that final case Y/N is absolutely screwed.)

Mr. Tang, as always, remains a dedicated scholar and mooch. He’s still spending every day by Pigsy’s side and sampling his food, but now he’s got an audience eagerly watching his every bite. The internet loves this man, both for his honest enthusiasm for food and for his interesting historical lectures.

Tang switching from calmly explaining the history of jajangmyeon to outright squealing about how damn good the dish is the moment he takes the first bite.

Him and Pigsy have moved in together at this point, sharing the streaming equipment for both cooking videos and history lessons. They absolutely share the same channel.

(I cannot think of a name for what that channel would be called. Delicious History? Culinary Chronicles? Past and Produce? Freenoodles?)

I think that Tang would read to you as he did MK, sharing stories both old and new to keep you updated on the dangers you might face.

So much bonding over food. With MK’s permission, he takes you out to different stalls and shops to broaden your horizons. It also helps to build your social skills and the sense of community you feel with the locals.

Also, those Golden Cicada powers? He busts them out whenever you’re in danger, wrapping you in a sphere of glittering light. Actually pretty good at keeping you safe, all things considered.

The pacifistic view that Sandy has inherited is explored a bit more in this AU, with MK coming to view it as selfish, if not outright stupid.

If an enemy needs to be fought, pacifism is pointless. It’ll only get you and your friends hurt, refusing to fight when your assistance is needed the most.

If an enemy doesn’t need to be fought, every sane person becomes a pacifist temporarily to solve the issue in a non-violent way.

And in a world like Lego Monkie Kid? When fighting is frequent and necessary?

People are absolutely going to look at explicit non-combatants in a certain way.

The real value that Sandy finds in pacifism isn’t strictly for himself- he also doesn’t want to hurt anyone else or go too far in a fight, which are both reasonable. There’s nothing inherently wrong with his refraining from violence.

The main problem is that MK just doesn’t believe that Sandy would be able to protect you if you were in actual danger. Would he run away with you in his arms? Yes. Would he stuff you somewhere safe and force you to hide? Also yes. Would he take someone on, hand-to-hand for your safety?

It’s way harder to be sure. All visits are supervised just in case of a surprise attack

You, on the other hand? You adore this man. Sandy is great for the soul, giving you a chance to drop the training drills and stretches and pick up a paintbrush and put on some music. Also, kitties? Falling asleep on his couch and waking up covered in therapy cats with a cup of tea left within reach.

He’s just so good to you, and a perfect display of what healthy familial behavior actually is.

Here’s another person MK has soured his view of- Red Son. Given that he falls square into the “instead of actually becoming a better person, I gave up on being evil” category, our hero doesn’t have much fondness for the fiery demon.

Red has settled into life on the outskirts of Megapolis, working as an engineer/mechanic. If you’ve something strange/dangerous to build or fix, he’s your man. A fair price, and he doesn’t even ask questions.

His parents, who often visit, absolutely will. DBK leering down at you as you try to explain that an enemy threw a brick through the window of your tuk-tuk and if your mentor finds out he’s going to go full demon-hunter. PIF raising one eyebrow slowly as you trudge in covered in bruises, a new set of blueprints tucked under your arm.

The evil->helpful but menacing pipeline is real.

If you doesn’t know how to drive, Red’s a good bet for a teacher… if you can handle the yelling. Hit him with an ‘Uncle Red’ and he’ll loosen up a bit.

Also, taking into account his little insulting nicknames he has, like Noodle Boy?

Give that MK treats you like his own child, and may well even outright adopt you under certain circumstances-

You are absolutely getting called ‘Noodle Baby’.

(I’m admittedly not a fan of Spicynoodles, but that dynamic would be somewhat interesting to explore here. MK giving this one villain the ‘redemption’ card, not because Red Son has earned it, but simply because… MK likes him. It would be one hell of an angle for Y/N to attack him with.)

[walpu]

Hi, it’s me again!! >_<

When I tell you I gobbled that headcannon post up, I went down on two knees and howled /hj

Anyways, do you think you can do some headcannons on Aventurine with Bodyguard! Reader if you have the time? But this time, with a twist :3

See, reader does care for Aven, you truly do, but before that, you were tasked by Everflame mansion and by Duke inferno himself to kill Aventurine. But you can’t bring yourself to, no, not when you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

When reader does become Aven’s bodyguard, you maintain that serious, no nonsense demeanor, but if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the lovestruck puppy hiding under the hardened shell that they’ve put on.

But the guilt catches up. One day, at least a few months after reader’s betrayal to Duke Inferno, you catch sight of an assassin sent to finish the job they couldn’t do. And so, the secret is finally revealed.

Personally, I think Aventurine would be betrayed, like very, how could he not be? He’s always kept people at an arm’s length away, and when he finally lets you in his walls, and starts falling for thier charm, this secret of yours comes out. He fires you almost immediately, but the way he stares after you with misty eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

The next months were absolute hell. Reader found a new job as a barista, and is quite enjoying the quaint and simply life it provides, even if you do miss Aventuirne. He’s probably still seething at you, right?.

Wrong. Because you’ve gone MIA, Aventurine been scouring all over the place, trying so hard to find you. He’s loosing sleep, forgetting to eat, all things that you would chide him about. Aeons, he misses you so much.

And when he does find you, he’s overjoyed, and when the two finally reunite, the first thing you do is to apologize deceiving him. But he forgave your silly ass a long time ago, why else would he have spent the last months trying to find you?

Long story short, it’s a happy ending, Aventurine couldn’t be more grateful he has you to be his bodyguard, his closest confidant, and most importantly, his lover <33

I’m so sorry if I went on a ramble, but this idea’s been plaguing me so bad I literally can’t focus on anything else 😭😭

I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWAR TO WRITIG FOR THIS REQUEST SINCE THE MOMENT I SAW IT I ADORE YOUR BODYGUARD!READER x AVEN SERIES btw thank you for sharing the c.ai bot

I feel like the only thing I do with each post is apologize for taking so long but right now I like from work trip to work trip so I'm actually really really sorry this madness should end soon 😭😭😭😭 Hope you'll enjoy this post, it was my goal to finish it before version 2.1

bodyguard/assassin!reader x Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes- gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, no beta

It was not a fast prosses for the both of to form a genuine connection. Moreover, you know goddamn well you shouldn't get attached to him.

And at first it seems easy, like yeah another rich playboy, no big deal, you've delt with people like him before, right? Right??????????????

Yeah until suddenly he's not just a rich playboy.

The more you notice how deeply lonely and unhappy he is, the more your heart softens towards him. And the more your heart softens, the more he relaxes around you, seeing behind your cold exterior.

He's not used to people caring about him. And yes, of course he knows it's your job but still, for a man who never had a real friend before, he surely can appreciate having someone who not only won't leave him but also will listen to him and look after him.

And the part about you being paid to do it? Oh well. It's the same guy who offers you to use him as you wish and who's greeting line is "I can play a role of a friend :)"

Mf is FRIENDLESS, LONELY and PATHETIC /affectionally

He'll take what he can get okay.

But goddamn. Don't think he doesn't notice how you started going out of your ways to take care of him. How you make him eat, tend to his small injuries ("my, my, you're my bodyguard, not a doctor. perhaps someone wants a raise, hm?~"), how you drag him out of casino or his office when it's too late.

It drives him crazy. It's not beneficial for you, right? The w h y.

He won't ask. Instead he will watch and slowly fold.

You are probably suffering tho lol. You should just kill him already, you've had so many opportunities to end him. Instead you spoon feed him soup because he claims he has a hangover after a night in the casino. And this little brat looks so smug about it too!!!!

Sometimes he feels like it's too good to be true: you being here, taking care of him, looking after him. The line between professional relationship, friendship and... something more is way too blurry already, and he knows it's dangerous but it just feels so good. Too good.

Duke inferno gets tired eventually. He sends someone to remind you of your mission. To remind you who you really work for.

Well, the duke receives a warning of his own. The dead body of his little messenger.

You know, of course, that the Everflame mansion thugs are not easily intimidated. They will be back. So you better warn Aventurine and tell him everything.

You can't keep lying to him, can you?

Well. It's surprisingly not as easy as you thought. After all, even if they will send someone, you'll just protect Aven like you always do, right? He doesn't have to know. Not about your past, not about your original mission. He keeps his secrets too, so why can't you?

You know goddamn well why tho. You know and yet you still can't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

It goes on like that for several months and Aventurine notices that something is clearly off, something is bothering his darling protector. He tries to pry, to tease, to cling, to pester you. Something to make you open up. Or, at least, get distracted. He can't help but feel anxious. Why are you suddenly so reversed? Do you want to leave his side? Does he not pay you enough? Does he bother you too much? It eats him alive while he tries to mask it by pestering you even more. As if to test you. As if to make sure that it's not the case.

All the hell breaks loose one day when you discover that Duke inferno has sent another assassin to finish the job.

I you spare the details but yeah, your secret was unraveled. And it wasn't pretty at all.

You have never seen emotions so vivid on Aven's face. Part of you always wanted to see him more vulnerable, more open with you. But not like this. Not this look of utter betrayal.

He collects himself quick enough, hiding behind the mask of mock disappointment.

"Hm, well, I recall mentioning that treachery is just another tool of the trade. But it seems like our little deal is not paying off for me anymore" he says with a cold chuckle, shaking his head a little. "After all, you have very little to offer outside of your dog-like loyalty. But seems like this dog bit both hands that fed it".

You were expecting him to call for your arrest but instead he just fires you. It hurts nevertheless.

What hurts even more is that look he gives you when you part ways. It's like his pretty eyes are even more lifeless now.

At first he feels this overwhelming emptiness. It truly feels like the fate is mocking him. One time, just one time, he allowed himself to relax around someone. Just this one time, with this one person who took care of him, who listened to him, who looked out for him. And this person was supposed to kill him.

Then his stupid brain finds another way to torture him. He keeps thinking about the way you have always protected him, the way you took the hit even during the last attack, when Duke Inferno's new assassin tried to get to him. You were ready to leave your past life behind to stay by his side, weren't you?

As soon as he realizes it he goes frantic. Of course he tries to find you asap but of course someone as competent as you would be able to disappear without a trace in no time. You were an assassin, after all. A skilled one too, since he never even suspected you.

This connection the two of you had, this realization that you really cared enough to betray your client, all of this makes him realize that he needs you so, so much. He needs to feel this care again, he need to look at you again, to know that you're here by his side.

He misses you so much. Your nagging, your reassurance, your touch. He's like an addict who felt what it feels like to love and beloved in return for the first time and now he can't live without it.

He doesn't eat or sleep properly, his head plagued by the thoughts about you. What if you forgot all about him? What if you're wounded? Where are you even? His fingers itch to trace your face and your scars.

He thinks about how you would scold him for not taking proper care of himself and it makes him miss you even more.

Aven finds you after a few months. It was honestly a coincidence, one of his subordinates saw you in the coffee shop you were working at.

He though that finding you will calm him down but seeing you from afar, looking somewhat peaceful and cozy, having a regular job... it's too much. And what if you really don't need him anymore? Maybe you never did? After all, he's painfully aware that he probably needs you much more than you need him.

And yet, he decides to take this risk. He's a gambler, after all.

"Somehow I'm not surprised you're good even at that. How come you have never made me coffee before, hm?"

You literally freeze on the spot after hearing this familiar voice next to you.

When you finally get to talk, you can see he's really trying to look calm and collected but how can he? His hands are shaky and his voice cracks. It breaks your heart.

He doesn't even let you finish your apology, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Hush, darling. All is forgiven. In fact, I even have an interesting proposal. I'm can be a generous man after all".

He can't fool you. Not with this shaky soft voice. And he knows it as well.

Please hug that fool and kiss him. Swear that you won't ever leave him again. Swear that you want to be by his side. As his bodyguard, as his friend, as something more. So much more. That's all he really need to feel like he's at home.

[endless-weightless]

Random nameless ghoul headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

I'm taking the piss with all of these. And remember, kids, this is fanfiction!

I mostly just wrote about the current ghouls but I'm more than happy to write about any past ghouls if you guys want!

TAGS/WARNINGS: mating cycles, CNC, weed mention, primal play, polyamory and orgies,

SFW✄

All of the ghouls have a specific scent but Mountain for some reason can emit any particular scent so long as it's earth related. He usually smells like pine trees and grass but if any of the ghouls are anxious leading up to rituals or just worried in general he'll make himself smell like lavender because he knows how calming it is.

Mountain is also victim to clothing robbery because he smells so nice and is SO DAMN TALL.

They're some of the most open-minded and accepting people you'll ever meet.

Full moons tend to have a weird effect on the ghouls. Not as bad as say a werewolf but they definitely become a bit more... feral. The less extreme effects would just be heightened senses and craving gamey meats more while the worst of the worst would be bordering violent and definitely nsfw (see nsfw for more on this). They'd probably call it a hunter's moon (badum tss).

All of their eyes glow very faintly in the dark.

Their pupils are like a mix of feline and just regular ol' human.

They all have claws but Aurora and Sunshine are the only ones who actually have them out because everyone else needs short nails to play their instruments.

They all purr when they're happy or they're experiencing physical affection, though the volume and intensity varies depending on the ghoul.

Mountain sleeps like a log unless he's sharing a bed, then he's everyone's teddy bear and always has an arm around someone whether he agreed to it or not.

Rain absolutely HATES throwing up.

Swiss and Sodo convinced Mountain to grow marijuana by letting him try some. The ghoul den now constantly smells faintly of weed.

All of the ghouls have their own bedrooms but prefer to cuddle with each other and usually just make a nest out of blankets and pillows in the main common room area and turn it into one giant bed for everyone.

Cirrus and Aether tend to take on an almost parental role in the group just to keep the newer ghouls in line which can be draining at times but rewarding in the end.

They all have black tails and horns that are pretty much identical with the only difference being everyone has a slight tint to theirs depending on their element (Sodo's are red, Rain's are blue, Phantom and Aether's are purple etc).

Their fangs aren't actually too sharp. Could be because they've just become blunter over time with less need to bite actual people.

Most of them straight up act like cats depending on how new they are to the mortal plane. Since Omega’s been on earth the longest, he acts more closely to a human than Phantom, who is fresh out of hell.

Zephyr gets really bad chronic leg pains which is why he's always sitting while performing and so quick to sit back down after finishing the Mummy Dust solo.

Aurora has super painful cramps leading up to her heat so Sodo has taken it upon himself to use his hands as a heating pad for her (which he will do for anyone in need of a heat pack).

NSFW✄

If you had to make a spectrum of all the ghouls from most submissive to most dominant, it'd be Sunshine, Phantom, Rain, Cumulus, Swiss (ultimate power switch), Aurora, Ifrit, Sodo, Mountain, Zephyr, Cirrus, Aether, Alpha and finally Omega.

None of them are strictly doms or subs, they like experimenting and switching things up every once in a while to keep things interesting but they certainly have preferences.

They all enjoy both monogamous and polyamorous sex equally. Sometimes they just want soft intimate sex with one person or they're just craving multiple people.

Full moons don't make everyone horny in an "I need to impregnate someone/be impregnated now" way, they make the ghouls horny in a primal way...

Some of the ghouls that are more affected by the full moon or just enjoy primal play with a bit of CNC will sometimes ask some of the siblings of sin and/or you if you'd all be comfortable with letting them "hunt" you down.

Aether and Cirrus have sleepy and lazy sex when they're tired from dealing with the ghouls and need a break and some relief.

Mountain is always looking down the sisters of sin's and the ghoulette's tops to see their cleavage. In his defence he's pretty fucking tall and can't help that he has to look down to talk to people.

If anyone in the group, including you, are feeling lonely, stressed or just exhausted and in need of some kind of relief, all of the ghouls are more than willing to give head to anyone for hours, making sure they cum at least four times before they let them have a break.

All of them have a marking kink because of their need to mate during heats and ruts.

They all go just a teensy bit feral when they pick up on the scent of a virgin with Swiss being the most dramatic about it.

And if someone doesn't smell like a virgin but instead like ghoul, they still go feral because ghouls like sharing when the moon isn't full.

Aether feels the constant need to slap every ghoul and ghoulettes ass possible, even Sodo.

Aurora, Zephyr and Phantom the most handsy out of the ghouls.

Heats and ruts are already hellish enough, but what makes it worse for the ministry is how only half of the ghouls get their heats and ruts at the same time while the other get it the other half of the time, which basically means twice as many heats and ruts in a month.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

that's all my lovelies, lmk if you want any more!

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series) 

chapter six: 24

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes. 

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses. 

chapter summary: y/n tells Pedro the truth. 

authors note: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little rough, but it's done lol. Also, what do you guys think about the length of the chapters? Do you want them longer, shorter, the same length? Let me know! I believe they're average 1.5-2k words as of now. Enjoy! :)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ 

“BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” 

You had spent the last thirty minutes catching Angie up on the newest details of your escapades with Pedro and all of your doubts that came with it. It has become really common for Angie and yourself to go weeks without seeing each other, only sending each other texts here and there or the two of you discussing work stuff when necessary. When both of your busy schedules finally aligned, the two of you immediately set up a ‘catch up and gossip’ sesh on your living room couch. 

“Please stop yelling. I’m one noise complaint away from being evicted because of you.” You sigh only half joking. 

“Sorry sorry. I’m just… okay wait let me gather my thoughts for a moment.” She takes a sip of her iced coffee and she's staring just past your head at the wall behind you. Your leg is bouncing at a record breaking pace. You told her everything, not skipping a single detail, and you were hoping whatever came out of Angie’s mouth next was positive. You weren’t exactly sure why you were so nervous to hear what she was going to say. Maybe you wanted some confirmation that what had been happening between you and Pedro wasn’t crazy, that you weren’t in over your head. 

Angie had always been better at relationships than you and understandably so. She was naturally beautiful, it baffled you how someone could even be born so blessed. She was about 5’4, with ginger hair that went down just past the middle of her back. She has this perfectly white smile that hid behind her perfectly plump lips with light freckles scattered along her cheeks and shoulders. Her loud and outgoing personality just solidified just how easily likable she was. You used to envy her but she was never competing with you. She was the kindest soul you had ever met and she stood beside you always. You knew whatever she said was probably what was best for you. She was the definition of a girl's girl. 

“Okay okay... so you’re telling me that he came to see you on his day off, the two of you messed around in your trailer, he asked you to come over, and the two of you didn’t fuck?” She says as she finally snaps back into reality. 

“Angie oh my fucking god… how many times do I have to tell you that we didn’t have sex.” You’re starting to feel hopeless. You had asked her for advice and shes done nothing but annoyingly ask if you and Pedro had fucked since the moment you mentioned that the two of you basically dry humped each other for a good five minutes in your trailer.  

“Can you please be serious for five minutes and actually help me? I’m freaking the fuck out. Everytime I’m with him all of the worrying goes away but once I’m alone it hits me like a fucking truck.” You’re begging her at this point to put her dating expertise to use. 

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” She says sincerely and you let out a faint thank you. 

“So he said something about wanting to take you out?” 

“Yea, um, he mentioned it when he was asking me if I wanted to stay over. It wasn’t anything set in stone but he did mention like dating and stuff so I don't know…” You trail off, really unsure of everything. 

“I think you’re overthinking it babe. If he didn’t fuck you, he definitely respects you and wants to have something more with you, ya know?” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. He’s a good one y/n, I can feel it in my bones.” You give her a small smile. 

“You should totally introduce me to him though so I can really double down on him.” She grabs your hands from your lap and looks you in the eyes. 

“It’s all going to be okay, okay? In the end, he's just a man y/n. Besides, we can jump his ass if he plays you.” She squeezes your hands and gives you a tough nod. 

“But that’s the thing Ang, he’s not just a man. He’s my older, insanely hot co-star, who still doesn’t even know just how young I am.” You huff and shove your face into your hands. 

“Y/n, you haven’t told him?” She’s giving you a look you’re not familiar with. 

“No…I tried but work stuff interrupted me and that was before he kissed me” 

“Hm… well I think you should for sure tell him sooner rather than later, but don’t worry about it too much, yea? I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

“OH fucking shit, fuck fuck fuck…HOLY SHIT..” 

Swears were flying from your mouth left and right as the wax lady ripped more and more wax off of you taking each hair follicle with it. With your intimacy training coming up soon, you had to prepare by being silky smooth on all body parts that have a chance of being on camera- which was basically your entire body for this shoot. You’ve been through this same process many times before but something about this felt different. You knew that this project was bigger than anything you had ever done before but somehow you being naked on camera for millions to see wasn’t your biggest fear right now. 

Once your appointment was over and there wasn’t a hair left on your body, you were speed walking home. For some reason you always convince yourself to walk to the wax studio due to the close proximity to your apartment, but you always regretted it once your skin was begging for some sort of soothing distraction from the pain. Even with the loose fit of the skirt you were wearing, commando at that, you could still feel the irritation growing stronger. Your thighs were beginning to rub together in a way in which you knew you'd have to slather vaseline between your legs just to prevent any further chafing. 

After your long ass hike (a ten minute walk) through the depths of hell (it was 80 degrees with a breeze), you finally made it home. You walked straight into your bathroom, stripped, and hopped into a cold shower. You scrubbed your body with a vanilla and coconut body wash, being extra careful when you got closer to your fresh brazilian wax, and washed your hair. When you finished showering, you lotioned up, dried your hair, and laid down in your bed to relax. 

You planned on bedrotting and watching tik tok for the rest of the day but you couldn’t shake the thought of what Angie had told you earlier today. 

Sooner rather than later…

*hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime soon? :) 

You sent the text and threw your phone across your bed. It’s been a few days since you slept over at his house. After you agreed to stay, he offered the guest room, but with all of your courage -mostly sleepiness,  you asked to sleep with him. The next morning you were wrapped in his arms, soft snores in your ear. His hand was holding yours and you laid there memorizing each crinkle of his knuckles, staring at the tattoo that sat between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. You kept trying to imagine how he looked when he was sleeping, wondering if he had a peaceful look to him or if the wrinkles in his face relaxed. Not being able to hold off any longer, you turned over so your mind wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. You were right. He looked like the definition of peace. His hair was a mess, his mouth ajar, eyelashes resting beautifully on the underneath of his eyes. Pedro was the most handsome man you had ever seen, you were sure that you could have fallen in love with him right then and there. 

Pedro:

*Hey baby. I’m done filming around 9 tonight. I can come pick you up and we can grab some food. 

*Sound good? 

You:

*sounds good. see you later <3

Another late night with Pedro. You’d unconsciously have been reserving nights just for him. When the sun was up, you worked, saw friends, handled whatever business that needed to be dealt with, but the night was strictly for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was purposeful or completely accidental that the two of you seemed to meet when the moon was out. The next few hours leading up to seeing Pedro would be hell, you were certain of it. Knowing that everything that has built over such a short time period could be washed away and you would have to awkwardly deal with him on set, somehow ignoring the strong feelings that you were beginning to hold for him. You were really hoping that Angie was right. That he would somehow be totally cool with the whole 24 year age gap thing, but you knew deep down that just wasn’t likely. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

It was 9:30 and you were pacing around your living room waiting for any sign of Pedro. You’ve been anxious all evening and now that the time to see him has come, you weren’t ready at all. A soft knock on your door makes you come to a halt. Walking over to the door, you peer through the peephole to see Pedro- who looks so good it makes your jaw drop. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door. 

“Hey sweetheart.” He greets, smile beaming. You open the door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

“Hi..” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, anxiety seeping through your body. “Uh, let me just grab some shoes and my bag then we can head out.” You walk towards a small coat closet to grab your checkered vans. “You can take a seat if you want, I'll be right back.” He gave you a nod and walked over to the papasan chair that sits in the far corner of your living room. Meanwhile, you were in your room freaking out. Seeing him was a hard slap in the face. You knew you had to tell him tonight before feelings developed and someone got hurt, but who's to say that won’t already happen tonight. 

You felt like shit and you definitely looked it. Grabbing a small purse, you spray some perfume on and make your way back to the living room. 

“Ready to go?” You ask, putting on a small smile, hoping Pedro couldn’t see through it. He returns the smile and stands up. The two of you make your way to his car, stopping once outside to lock your door. 

“So, what’re you hungry for?” Pedro asks while putting his seat belt on, you do the same. 

“Whatever is fine with me, I'm not too picky.” 

You ended up grabbing some mcdonalds and parking in some random parking lot to eat and talk. He was being so sweet to you, complimenting you every few minutes, a smile never leaving his face. He was truly your dream guy, he was everything you could ever want. You were terrified that you were going to lose it all. You hadn’t been completely yourself all night and Pedro was starting to catch on. 

“You okay baby? You seem a little off.” He’s looking at you, eyes filled with concern. You don’t answer him right away. You’re trying to find the best way to go about telling him. You were 24 but you were an adult and you hated that this age gap was such a big deal. You had never been into the idea of dating an older man but then Pedro came around and changed everything. For you, it wasn’t a life changing idea, but for Pedro, it could very well be career ending. If he was seen with you and people found out just how young you were compared to him. This whole relationship, or whatever it is, was doomed from the start. Your leg is bouncing, a regular occurrence around Pedro it seems. 

“P…I need to tell you something.” You’re looking down at your hands, unable to look him in his eyes. 

“What is it sweet girl? You can tell me anything.” His voice is filled with nothing but sincerity and you can physically feel pain from your heart slowly breaking. 

“I’m not actually 35…” You’re still not looking at him, silence fills the air. You’re waiting for him to say something but he never does. You look up and his expression is unreadable. 

“Okay…How old are you then?” From the sound of his voice, you can tell that he is confused. 

“I’m 24.” You’re looking in his eyes searching for any rapid change of emotion. Your leg is still rapidly bouncing, heart pounding. 

“What?” 

“I’m 24, well i’ll be 25 soon but yea…” 

“Jesus fucking christ y/n…” He’s shaking his head and running his hand over the slight stubble coming in on his chin. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. You sounded so pathetic right now, but it’s all you could muster up. 

“I’m not mad.” He’s staring at you. Relief flows through your body and you start to relax. 

“Why did you lie to me?” His voice is raised slightly causing you to wince slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you P, I swear. My um…my agent, Angie, lied about my age to book the audition. It wasn’t something I did intentionally, well it wasn’t something I did at all.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” A look of hurt present on his face. 

“I just never thought to bring it up. I mean we were just hanging out then you kissed me and everything changed. I tried to tell you at the skating rink but we had to head to the floor and I swear I've been trying to find a way to tell you but I was so scared to ruin whatever we have going on here. I really like you pedro…”  

“I really like you too y/n, but you’re so fucking young. I mean I’m about to be 50, I can’t be screwing around with a 24 year old.” 

Your heart drops. You can feel the tears starting to well up before a few fall against your will. 

“I’m sorry.” You're looking down again, trying to hide your tears from Pedro. 

“I should get you home.” He sighs and starts the car. 

The drive back to your apartment was quick but painfully awkward. You faced the window the entire time, letting your tears fall freely. When he pulled into the parking lot, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You were afraid to leave the car, afraid that this might be the last time you get to be with him outside of work. 

“What does this mean for us?” You whisper, turning to look at him. He has his right hand still sitting on the steering wheel, while his left hand is sitting on his thigh, fingers tapping. 

“I don’t know y/n.” He’s still not looking at you, face staring out the front windshield. 

y/n.  No baby, no sweetheart or sweet girl, just your name. 

“Okay. Well um… thanks for dinner. I’ll see you on set.” Your voice betrays you, cracking on your last words towards him. He gives you a slight nod. You get out of the car and make your way to your apartment. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and walked slowly to your room. Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a sob, all of the emotions you had been holding in finally being let free. You felt heart broken. For once you had the perfect man who saw past your weight, thought you were beautiful, and enjoyed your time. But it didn’t matter now. It was all ruined because of some stupid lie to get an audition for some stupid movie that has a stupid fucking title. You were starting to feel more angry than sad. Angry that you had even got the part in the first place, angry that Pedro asked you to hang out with him, angry that he had kissed you. If the two of you could have been professional and just be costars, your heart wouldn’t be breaking into a million pieces. Life was so fucking unfair. 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ 

series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast, @kungfucapslock, @hansilandgretel, @ashleyfilm, @titabel, @fifitheragertot

*If you wish to be added to the tag list, leave a comment on this post letting me know! <3

[mayuichi]

She wants to trust you. Give her reasons trust you. Give her reasons be happy.

Furina x Reader

Warnings: None beside archon quest spoilers (kinda?? i think)! Fluff fic because I want to give Furina some deserved affection :(

Lys' note: i wrote that during the night (started around 4am it's now 7:30 I guess I won't sleep zbfozjfo), i hope furina isn't too ooc :( I love that cutie sm she deserves love and no one can change my mind. well i've finished rambling eNJOY THE FIC!! 🩷

Official arts from Genshin Impact!

Now that the Hydro dragon, Neuvillette, has become the new Archon of Fontaine, he has many things to worry about. Worries for his people, and his new role. He couldn't find time to check on Furina yet. So he falls you to his office. Being someone who already shared many tea parties with her, he humbly requests for you to go see her.

You don't have to be asked twice. Furina and you weren't close friends, yet.. you feel the need to be here for her. After her trial, where everyone has been against her, she couldn't actually be fine.

Of course, knowing no more of fontainians has dissolved makes her happy, but at what cost? You yourself have felt betrayed when the verdict fell upon her. She has never been the true Archon is the end. But she never deserved a death sentence.

Finding her still alive made a weight come off your shoulders, and yet... You felt a knot in your stomach. Why did you felt sorry for her at that time?

Enough questioning.

You are at her doorstep now. Hesitantly knocking, you wait for a potential answer. But no one answers. You could swear she would've been here. Why wasn't she? Panic runs through your veins. You shake your head. It isn't the time to think of the worst, isn't it?

You sigh, crossing your arms. Today has no performance, nor trials. So perhaps... She went to the Opera House? It wouldn't be surprising, but you wonder why would she be there. In any case, there is only one way to figure it out.

It's a long road until there, but you make it anyway. You'd do anything to know how she's doing. Despite not having much of a good.. friend. You haven't visited her or tried to check up on her before Neuvillette's request.

Perhaps she wouldn't even trust you.

Shaky steps, you make your way to the inside of the Opera House. You take in a deep breath before opening the doors leading to the stage. There she stands, oblivious to your presence.

Gracefully dancing alone, in the empty scene. No one to look at her, no one to say anything to her, no one to blame her. Humming to herself a soft, yet melancholic melody, a tune bringing up to the surface all the pain she has always felt.

You can't tear your eyes away from the sight of her. Carefully approaching, cautious to not make any sound. It's like watching a broken puppet putting on her last show. Despite the grace she has, some of her movements were... Hesitant. As if her mind is on fire.

Tripping on her feet, she falls on her hands and knees, quiet sobs filling the silent room. Her shoulders shruddering under each cries, her tears falling from her cheeks to crash onto the wooden stage. She is just a mess, overthinking everything she has done those past hundreds of years.

“What if things could've been different... Have I done my job right...„ she wonders. Such a painful sight for you to witness. You glance away, taking a few more steps. “Lady Furina...„

Her head snaps up, eyes filled with tears as she tries to crawl back. “What... What are you doing here?!„ she croaks out.

The once almighty and theatric Furina is now reduced to be a shadow of herself, in the exact same room where her people has left her. You sigh quietly, climbing onto the stage and kneel at her level.

“You don't need to stay alone, Lady Furina.„ you whisper softly. You know your words might be insignificant, especially considering her state, but if you could just... “No need to keep the lady... After all, now you all know..„

You felt pity for her. For everything that has happened. “You know.. No one hates you. You've never tried to bring bad things. You were just...„ “Lost...„ she mutters under her breath.

“Yeah.. as much as we were.„ you try to reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pushes it away. “I don't need anyone's pity.„ she growls out. Perhaps she doesn't need pity, but she clearly needs someone.

“I don't pity you. I truly want to be here for you.„ you smile, leaning your head closer to her, sitting right in front of her. “... Why?„ she inquires. “Well...„

You chuckle softly as she doesn't seem to remember anything. “Haven't you always listened to my issues back when we would have tea parties?„ you tilt your head on the side, keeping your gaze on her. “Well it-.. it was just a mere formality! Who, as a supposed Archon, wouldn't listen to one of her people's problems?„

You shake your head. You know there is more than that. But pressuring her right now isn't a good idea. Instead, you creep closer, until you could wrap your arm around her shoulder and let her rest her head against you.

“You do not have any reason to tell me what troubles your mind. Yet, I wish you are aware you can share anything to me. Your secrets are safe within those walls.„ you reassure her. It might not work, but at least she now knows she can lean on you if she needs.

Staying in that position for a little while, you gently rub her arm in a comforting way. She looks up at you, and suddenly asks what you feared.

“... Why didn't you came earlier?„ you have no true answers to that. You felt betrayed, lost, unsure. Everything and nothing flooded your mind at that right moment. “I'm sorry. I don't have any answer to give you. I'm to blame. But I do care for you. I never thought we would be friends from tea parties alone, but we can still be close. A confident, someone to share your burdens with. I'd love to be that person to you, if you want me to.„

She doesn't say anything more. She just processes your words in silence. And you don't mind it. If this could give her some peace of mind, you'll gladly stay this way.

“... I have never asked to carry such a burden.„ you snap your head towards her, unsure of what she means. You just wait for her to keep going.

“When she told me I just had to wait until an important and life changing trial, I... I never thought she was speaking of my own. I never felt so lost in my entire existence. My own people, going against me... I now know it was for the best, but...„

Her voice cracks. Tears sting in her eyes again, threatening to fall down. She is trying with all her might to not let them fall as she goes on.

“It hurts. It hurts like hell. I've lived through everything, and even now it still hurts. Will fontainians ever forgive me for lying to them? Does Neuvillette will forgive me? I've tried for so long to find a solution. We've lost so many people.„

You feel a sudden urge to shield her in your arms from all the cruelty. But it's too late, she already felt too much of it to ever forget. Yet it doesn't stop you from wrapping your arms around her petite frame, placing your chin on top of her head.

“I've tried. I've tried everything I could! I never wanted to see anyone dissolve! I spent days and nights searching for a solution, only for.. that...„ she lowers her head, hiding her tears as best as she could.

“Monsieur Neuvillette has never been upset. He is just busy. As for the people... I am sure they understand now. They can't be mad at someone who tried so hard to save them for all those years.„ you try to reassure her, but even yourself don't know how to do. How to comfort someone who had to lie for so long, to hide her true feelings and not even feel capable to share her burdens to the renowned traveler?

You feel helpless. Perhaps you aren't the one made for comforting her. But you want to try. To try no matter what. “You loved us. With all your heart. You have tried everything, at the cost of your own happiness, being eaten day by day.„

Your heart aches for her. You want to be there, to help her. To just... Let her be happy once again. She hides everything behind a facade. But every facade breaks at some point...

“Let me be the one for you. Let me show you how this world can bring many discoveries, how it can still give hopes and joy. Let me... Let me give you the happiness you're craving.„

She tilts her head up. Her eyes... It's empty. Filled with despair and pain. She's aching for love, to finally be happy and carefree. But there's also a tiny... Extremely tiny twinkle. A sparkle of hope igniting at your words. She wants to believe you, to trust you.

She wants to trust you. Give her reasons trust you. Give her reasons be happy.

She cracks a faint and weak smile to you, hesitantly reaching to take your hand in her. “... You promise to not leave me?„ she's scared. Terrified of another pain. But the passion in your eyes, the love your heart holds for her... It couldn't be faked.

“I promise. But you have to live on. Let your past behind. Don't let it haunt you...„ she doesn't know how to do that. She never knew. Placing a hand on her head to gently stroke her hair. “It's okay if you don't do it now. We will go step by step. At your own rhythm.„

You stand up, helping her stand as well, as you snake an arm around her waist to keep her close. “Now, let's go see Neuvillette. He is worried sick he hasn't seen you in days.„

Walking slowly to the aquabus, you sit together in silence. No words need to be spoken. Not when she sees how much love you want to give to her.

You arrive at the Palais Mermonia. Everyone is a little uneasy to see Furina after she excluded herself either in her home or the empty Opera House. Entering the Palais, you let her knock on Neuvillette's office's door. But no one answers.

She is about to grab your hand to tell you you should go, but instead, you knock again, clearing your throat. “Monsieur Neuvillette, it's me.„ recognising your voice, he tells you to enter, and so you do.

Furina hides behind your back, but Neuvillette could see her attire. He sighs in relief upon seeing her, smiling. “I am pleased to see you are doing okay, Lady Furina.„

She doesn't answer. “... Don't mind her silence. She took a while before talking to me. But I can assure you she'll be okay.„ you explain in a hurry, not wanting to offend the new Archon. “I never doubted it. She is in good hands with you. Why would I have asked you to see her otherwise?„

A weak smile spreads on your lips as you look behind to see Furina. You nudge against her, pushing her in front of his desk. “Eeep!„ her eyes widen. She's like an animal caught in a trap. She feels slightly betrayed that you make her face him, but it just makes him laugh.

“Well, I suppose she is indeed not talkative anymore...„ Neuvillette teases gently, his eyes gazing back to the papers. “I- I am talkative!„ you raise an eyebrow. Neither of you believe her words. But it just makes you laugh.

You walk closer to her, cupping her cheeks in your hands as your nose almost touch her. “It's okay. I'll show you how it feels to be loved. Let's just give us some time.„

You then proceed to walk away, under Neuvillette's gaze as he watches closely for Furina's reaction. Her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at your back before shouting.

“What do you mean give us some time?! There's no way I'd date someone like you!„ she hears you chuckle, and she knows she is now going to be teased.

“You're assuming things, ma très chère amie. I never said we would become a thing... Did I?„ you smirk, stopping in your track to watch her expression.

“You-! You implied it, imbécile!„ she runs to you, gently punching against your chest as she pouts. And then... You just lead her back home, promising her to come first thing tomorrow to go on a walk with her.

Perhaps you two will truly become something eventually.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I’m imagining yandere!Harry Potter characters with a darling that’s kind of like Luna Lovegood. Like she’s completely spacey almost all the time, unwittingly gets herself into the most bizarre scenarios, and always seems to have “adopted” a new dangerous magical creature. And everyone just becomes an exasperated babysitter.

Snape got fed up and put her on one of those child leashes so she would stop wandering off, or getting into dangerous stuff in his class. McGonagall was going to say something about it, but then she saw how well it was working

Okay hear me out but imagine the Reader is actually the sibling of Luna Lovegood and is even worse then Luna is when it comes to being spacey and just overall in their own little world. Like, even Luna remarks on how out of it and unaware her sibling is and how she doesn’t know where they get it from, meanwhile everyone is just like🤦🏻‍♀️. Luna’s probably the first one to have sibling!Lovegood!Reader on a child leash to begin with and somehow ropes Snape into babysitting watching them for her while she tends to something else hence why Mcgonagall comes across him with the Reader on a leash.

It never fails that when one person loses the Reader they end up being found by someone else only to gain another exasperated yandere babysitter keeping an eye on them. Everyone would just be very overly hyper aware of the Reader and what goes on with and around them. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the house their sorted into (probably Ravenclaw or maybe Hufflepuff) isn’t already yandere for the Reader as a whole, having taken up the babysitting role since they first got to Hogwarts.

Wholeheartedly, sibling!Lovegood!Reader just wanders off all the time. One second they’re there and the next there gone, it’s a gif reason why even Luna has taken up keeping them on a leash or always holding their hand or an arrival of their clothing so she could feel when they move to leave or anything of the sort. Not to mention a good majority of the yanderes have a tracking spell on the Reader or something of their’s that they always have on, it’s primarily a few of the kids but most of the adults who take this route while Harry, Ron, Fred and George put more faith into the Marauders map to find the Reader.

Regarding the Reader ‘adopting’ magical creatures, Hagrid would have such a field day with them. He’d absolutely panic the first time they wandered off on him and he lost them in the Forbidden Forest only for them to come back riding atop a unicorn like they haven’t been missing for two days and had everyone ripping their hair out in worry. Also, I feel like the ghosts would be pretty attached to the Reader. I especially like the idea of them having some weird friendship with Peeves. He always finds them no matter where they end up and just enjoys the unpredictable chaos they find themself in or that they inadvertently cause.

Honestly, Peeves is probably the reason why the Reader wanders off so much in the first place. They could be happily chatting away with someone only to stop mid sentence, looking off somewhere and just leaving. Meanwhile in actuality it’s Peeves who’s getting their attention and luring them off to some impromptu adventure. The other ghosts absolutely detest that he does this knowing damn well he’s going to get the Reader hurt one of these days or worse. It’s usually up to Nearly Headless Nick to guide the Reader back to either a housemate or one of their yanderes while the other ghosts deal with Peeves.

[myfictionaldreams]

To the question about moving in with mafia Steve:

Did she had a space or place that she really liked? Like the Libary or the fireplace?

If she does… would Steve find her there often? 🥺

Aww, I actually love this question (thank you for asking it!) This all takes place following the fic 'Last Hope' from my Mafia!Stucky series.

It was difficult at first, the realisation of the previous day's actions had caused tears to fall, and thankfully Bucky was able to handle the cleanup from the events of ‘last hope’, so Steve could stay with her. The entire first day was spent in bed, aching from the fighting that had occurred but also the fucking which was actually a way that she used to distract herself. She was sore from her first time, but that didn’t mean that Steve didn’t use his mouth or fingers to make her cum multiple times until she was a wet puddle in the middle of his bed.

Once she made it out of the bedroom, it took a few hours to find her way around without Steve’s directions. It was odd for her to now call this new building her home but it also strangely felt right.

The first week was honestly a mix between grieving her past life, celebrating her new one and attempting to build it. This included meeting new members of the gang, understanding their job roles and where she would come into play regarding this but that was a decision for another time. Especially when she realised she couldn’t just wear Steve’s clothes for the rest of her life and he promptly treated her to a shopping spree that had even the shop owners’ eyes bulging with the amount of money Steve was willing to spend on his girl.

Once she became used to her new home, there were a few places that she’d like to be to unwind and create a safe space. Baking special treats for the gang members soon won her good graces into Bucky’s books as he was soon begging her to cook something new each and every time he saw her. She liked to also spend time in the garden however the weather was becoming more chilled so inside was where she spent most of her time.

In the new relationship, she didn’t want to be away from the safety that Steve provided, so one day, she followed him into his at-home office which was lavish and yet homely, decorations and warm colours greeting her on entry. Steve showed her to one of the quant little armchairs that faced his desk, a velvet cushioned seat with a plump decorative pillow.

She chose the chair on the left and hugged the pillow to her chest, idly chatting away with Steve about who was on the pictures on his walls. This continued for hours, and she even managed to doze off in the chair, she found it that comfortable. For the next few days, she returned to the chair, sometimes with a book in hand or a freshly baked pastry, as she enjoyed simply just being in Steve’s company.

Steve was enjoying it just as much and liked that he could keep an eye on her whilst doing all the admin that came with being the boss. Once, Bucky arrived at the home, the three of them walked up to Steve’s office, where he sat in the left armchair.

“Buck, sit in the other chair”, Steve mumbled under his breath without a single thought, talking as if on instinct that even seeing someone else in that chair just wasn’t right.

Bucky didn’t question the motives and simply stood, and sat in the other chair so she could quickly plop into the seat that was officially hers. Eventually, it became her safe space. If she was feeling overwhelmed with the life changes or needed to vent to Steve in some way, she could come to her chair. Even when he wasn’t home, she could sit in the office, some quiet music and a fluffy blanket and curl up into it, hugging the pillow until Steve came home and he could sit on the floor beside her and ask if everything was ok.

It was a big adjustment moving in with Steve however, it was one that she never regretted, and she was just lucky that the home and he, was so easy to fall in love with.

[morgana-ren]

Do you have any mundane hc about Astarion? Like fave colour, what kind of books he likes, is he a morning person or does he like to lie in, favorite actual snack? Fave animal to snack on?

Obviously this after the trauma has started healing and he's learning about himself again!

Astarion is quieter and softer once he is free.

I feel like Astarion is actually a lot more gentle than he lets on. After years and years and years of faking and pretending and peacocking professionally, when he gets the opportunity to slow down, he might find he likes it. Being less snarky than he usually is sometimes. Being quiet when he could speak. Being more sincere and less defensive. Not all the time, mind you. That's still his personality. He is still absolutely Astarion. But maybe, sometimes, he just smiles softly, nods, and is content to sit in comfortable silence with the person he loves and the friends he has. He is content to just listen and watch and enjoy company.

He doesn't have to fill silence like he did before. He doesn't have to charm or seduce or manipulate. He doesn't have to be funny, or cutesy, or anything. He can just be him. And sometimes, maybe he just feels like existing and being quiet and taking in the environment. Maybe he just feels like listening. He wasn't allowed to before. He was always performing and bowing and playing a role. But now he can, and I feel like he'll sometimes exercise that. He still loves being the life of the party, but sometimes, on quiet nights, he enjoys just being.

Astarion picks up a creative pursuit for fun rather than necessity now that he can.

He has a lot of time to fill now. He can buy new clothes rather than just endlessly mending. But maybe he likes his embroidery. Maybe he continues on because he's good at it. Maybe he likes how impressed Tav gets at the deftness of his fingers and the heights of his skill. Now that he doesn't have to go out every night, he's got to find some new way to fill the time, so maybe he adds beautiful embroidery to their clothes for a flashy flourish and sews little love letters into the inside of Tav's clothing in gaudy golden threat and giggles like a naughty child when they finally see it days and days later.

He says he doesn't like reading, but he clearly likes poetry. Maybe he gives reading another shot because he can now. Maybe he feels like he has a lot to catch up on. Maybe he likes it and maybe he doesn't. Maybe he starts collecting poetry books and hoarding them like a dragon. Maybe he decides to try his hand at poetry as an outlet and is surprisingly talented at it-- or maybe he is stunningly bad but Tav still adores everything he writes because it's a piece of his heart.

He still gets up in the early mornings

He misses the sun. He misses it desperately. In the Underdark, there is no sun, and the time of day really doesn't matter, but out of sheer habit, he still gets up early and ready to go. A leftover from their days adventuring. He gets up with the sun for a very long time, even though he cannot see it.

It causes problems sometimes because his schedule is totally opposite to the other spawn. He is getting up when they are going to sleep initially. But after a while, the spawn that become very fond of him end up switching out and ending up awake when he is. He likes to pretend he can still walk the surface world any time he likes.

He still prefers human blood-- but morally... within reason

He fed on rats and bugs for so long that he will not go back. The blood is fetid and he has high standards now that he will absolutely make sure are met. He's not such a sweetheart that he's about to starve himself out to spare someone a vampiric encounter.

However, he will source it ethically when he can to spare himself the nagging. Feeding on slavers in the Underdark. Wayward drow causing a ruckus. Criminals operating underground. He tries a little bit to not kill innocents, mostly because he doesn't want Wyll coming after him and he doesn't want to upset his friends (he doesn't really care, but he knows they do.)

If he has Tav, he will feed on them and makes a point to learn a spell or buy an item that allows him to heal the bloodless bit. It's the least he can do. He will then joke that it means that he can feed twice tonight, right? Right?

They have to find a way to source an enormous amount of blood as ethically as they can (all the spawns roaming the Underdark now and they cannot have people catching wind and raiding in a fit) but truthfully, he still prefers it fresh. He still enjoys the hunt. It's still a part of him. He will 'spare' his victims when he can, but sometimes they have to die. You know how it is.

He reads smut books and develops kinks inadvertently

Just ridiculous books. Ones so raunchy and tacky it's almost funny. It starts as a joke initially because he gets his hands on one from a shipment they stole from a smuggling operation and reads it just to nitpick and make fun of it. He makes a very loud show of laughing and rolling his eyes and reading it out loud in a ridiculous voice.

But eventually, he finds it's a good way to reengage with sexuality in a safe, totally controlled way. He can read ridiculous smut books about vampires or suave, debonair playboys and laugh at them but also relate to them in the silliest way. Sometimes it's just bad writing and just for pure entertainment value, but other times, he finds it's not a bad way to examine his own feelings and view things in a way that is totally under his control with only his mind and body involved. It allows him to unpack things quietly and privately.

It's basically a completely safe way to engage with everything again after it's all said and done. He is trying to do his healing and this is just a playful, light way to do it. His life experiences will come to shape who he is, and he is finally discovering his own sexuality and needs. Maybe he develops some kinks and desires he didn't know he ever had through a book he's reading and sits there for a moment, face flushed with wine, eyes slightly wide and lips pursed. You know, the face you make when you figure things out. "Ah. Well. If I didn't know better, I'd say I enjoyed that."

He sings quietly

He only really does it when he is alone, and it's never really belting it out operatic singing, but more quiet and gentle singing. If you're lucky enough to hear him, you'd have to assume he's actually pretty good and seems to have good vocal control and an excellent voice, but it's hard to tell because he'll stop once you enter the room. He only does it when he is alone alone.

It's almost like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. They are songs from ages ago that you wouldn't even recognize if you were born in this era. Small, lost lullabies. Songs in Elvish he seems to just recall straight from memory though he couldn't tell you how. It's always low and soft and something so gentle it's hard to believe he's capable of it. He rarely speaks Elvish even when with other elves, but it's utterly flawless when he sings. Whether or not it is because he just remembers the song explicitly or because he actually remembers Elvish quite well is anyone's guess.

He likes painting

He wants to express himself. Sometimes with that kind of trauma, it's very hard to express yourself. You have to find ways to show the way you see the world around you. Things that go beyond words.

He picks it up out of sheer boredom. He finds he likes it. It's not an all consuming passion quite yet, but he likes artistic pursuits and he thinks this one is quite nice.

He paints the sun peaking over the streets of Baldur's Gate. The ocean at dawn in all its magnificent glory. The forests he remembers walking through during their adventures. A smoldering campfire beneath an orange sky. The wizard performers in the courtyard. Lots of colors sometimes, like he is reliving his life in the sun the only way he can. Occasionally draws a cheeky little building on fire like the firework shop they set ablaze. Sometimes they're funny, like Karlach dressed in a strongman jumpsuit while flexing and holding Wyll and Gale on her muscles. His sense of humor translates into his paintings.

Red and black when he is doing something deeper for himself. Memories he doesn't like to talk about. Experimenting as a sort of therapy. Sometimes they're more metaphorical and only make sense to him. Sometimes it's just chaotic, violent splashes and it ends up everywhere. Sometimes you can tell he got frustrated or didn't like what he felt because it will be half finished and then set away in frustration with the lines running so deep that it almost tore the canvas.

He isn't doing it for prestige but he will joke about the 'famous vampire painter' and how his paintings go for thousands of gold at auctions and line all the finest hallways in the finest houses. He'll laugh that he has an eternity to get good at painting, and he could become the best. You know, if he wanted to, of course. If he didn't get famous, it's because 'he didn't want to' and all of that.

When someone really means something, he will paint for them because expressing his love is still sort of difficult. Occasionally the old group will get a package that is more or less a rude and absurd painting he decided would be absolutely hilarious to send. That or poetry because that's much more intimate, but that is pretty much reserved for his lover-- and mostly only when he's drunk and cheeky.

[hezekiahwakely]

I would actually kill to hear your post 200 jmart messy divorce thoughts you alluded to in those tags

Woof OK let's get into it then

My foundational piece of thought for this comes from the fic it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies on ao3. That fic is basically the closest I consider canon to the 'jon and martin managed to survive somewhere else, with consequences' ending (if you're an 'optimist' like me and you choose to believe in that option :P) Their relationship in that fic has similar tones to the show-- the writing captures the feeling of TMA well--and the fic in general is very bleak and cathartic, clinging to the edge of a damaged relationship that's about to fall apart. So, I enjoyed this fic A Normal Amount and it's stuck with me ever since.

Now I don't actually have the brain cells or the energy levels to write the fics that're floating around in my head atm, but here are my scattered thoughts on the subject of jmart post-mag 200:

Basically, they can never truly come to terms over the final decision

(Jons desire to end the world's suffering, vs Martin's POV, the betrayal of their relationship and Jon's self hating suicidality)

At least, definitely not in the first few months when they're forced to live together bc they're stranded in this brave new world and have no one else.

Both fall back on negative habits. Jon starts smoking, withdrawing, becoming paranoid; obsessively searching for signs of the fears.

Not one person in the world understands what he's been through. What kind of sacrifice he made. And they don't know how much he failed them all.

And his body hurts. All of his wounds hurt. His head struggles to clear and the empty space in it seems so silent. He sometimes gets mentally lost without the eye to guide him.

He almost wishes they had died. He wishes he hadn't cut the tether. But hes so happy Martin is alive---even if he seems to hate him right now. That's ok, hes alive. Even if he can't smile at him anymore.

Jon craves any sort of comfort. But the only man who had ever wanted to give him that is now enormously angry with him and maybe rightly so. And besides, of course, he's so unworthy of comfort that it's shameful to even desire it. He deeply wishes he could stop wanting it, to stop feeling so disgusted with himself.

He feels disgusted with himself regardless. Helpless and hopeless and confused in this floundering relationship and so very guilty of the things hes done.

He's sinking deeply, deeply into self hatred and despair.

But he still lashes out at Martin occasionally bc he's a bastard

(And bc he deserves to a little bit, y'know? He's angry about a lot of things right now and he has a right to be! And some of those things might be bc Martin uhhhhhhhh. Did not always treat him with the most compassion, understanding, or patience during the apocalypse.)

NO I don't think their relationship in show is toxic or abusive. I think it's realistic that two people who love each other very much in terrible circumstances are going to fuck up. and them hurting each other makes for good drama. anyways

Martin also withdraws, becomes cold and passive aggressive. Assumes the caretaking role for Jon (again) and walls off his feelings

He just can't forgive Jon for leaving him like that. For betraying his trust. For abandoning him. For hurting him immeasurably deeply by forcing him to kill him

And he can't understand his reasoning for doing so, when he thought that there was a chance for them to get out and be ok, and it could have all been so easy, but Jon didn't seem willing to take it. He chose to die instead because of his guilt, and martin is so, so angry at him for that.

And now he's stuck. Again. Forced into caring for someone who has treated him badly, AGAIN.

And he has no one to talk to. No one outside of Jon to go to for comfort, and being around Jon hurts. He is increasingly alone. Again.

Martin's fine. Everything is fine. He doesn't want to talk about it. Would you like some tea? I.e., it's time to shut the fuck up, Jon.

His anger and resentment sometimes turn his tongue as sharp and cold as an icicle. In those moments of icy rage, Martin thinks his voice sounds like his mother's.

Except when he finally can't hold it in and he explodes at jon like a sadness volcano, because Jon can't even look him in the face anymore. And then he leaves to go cry alone in their bedroom

Eventually communication breaks down. Then I have a few fun ideas for what might happen

Jon has a full-on mental break. Becomes catatonic. He's paralyzed by the need to stay here for Martin... but he's also held in place by the webs he sees now tying around his whole timeline. He was never going to be able to stop what they had planned for him. None of his choices ultimately matter --so he stops doing or wanting anything. It will all be taken away from him eventually. Whatever's going to happen will happen regardless of what he does

At the same time, he is experiencing so much pain and so much guilt and self hatred and lack of love in their relationship that he's desperate to escape it. When he finds no relief from any quarter, he becomes extremely suicidal. The only two things holding him to life are 1. not leaving Martin alone, and 2. his hopeless resignation to the web.

Starts having severe panic attacks.

Has that PTSD 'avalanche' where, now that he's finally somewhere he can be relatively safe, everything that happened to him is hitting him all at once.

He's scared of everything. He's scared of what might happen to Martin. He's scared of himself. He's scared of Martin.

Then there's the vomiting, anorexia, agoraphobia, bodily neglect, other passive self harms, the whole nine yards. He's physically falling apart.

Jon has a very bad time.

And he's moved almost entirely beyond Martin's reach

Martin is suddenly forced to come to terms with the fact that Jon needs immediate, intensive medical help if he's going to survive

Fate turns slightly in their favor, and they find a good physical rehab doctor, a good psychiatrist, and a good therapist for both of them. Perhaps at this point they're separated, maybe just bc of a hospitalization, but they're attending counseling together.

In my happiest ending, Jon responds well to the meds and is able to start talking to someone about his overwhelming feelings. Martin is actually able to find therapeutic help for his trauma, finds other people to help him and Jon so it's not all on him anymore, and he starts getting more of the love and support he deserves from his boyfriend

they recommit themselves to the relationship and to making it work. slowly, they start healing.

While also beginning to rediscover all the reasons they loved each other in the first place :)

In a sadder ending, one of them dies ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Eventually both, if we're being honest. One would not last long without the other. Not with that kind of connection

Or perhaps they do separate. Maybe they keep in close touch, in which case I think it would lean more towards a happy ending. Orrrrrr they make a hard break of it. Maybe it's sudden, urgent, painful and messy. Maybe they dont see each other again for years.

Regardless of what they do, I don't think they could truly be apart forever. They would visit. Even if it hurt every time. They would want to see each other again.

Because they care about each other.

But maybe, in one timeline, they need some space to heal and rebuild their lives and themselves. Maybe when theyre ready, they'll try again.

I may continue this later with my other branching ideas possibly but I wanted to get this bit out while it was fresh and I was thinking about it. This line of thought continually haunts the back of my subconscious so I'm always happy to share it

[besttropeveershowdown]

The SECOND Best Trope Ever Showdown: Round 1, Side A, Poll 4

Actually, That's My Assistant

An assistant is mistaken for the person they work for (and often, the person they work for is mistaken to be *their* assistant), usually because they outwardly look/seem more impressive than them.

Propaganda:

It's got a surprising amount of range as a trope! It can go from just a fun one-off gag, to a good way to establish a character by giving them a memorable and defining introduction, to even being a major consequential reveal if it happens late into a story and the mistaken identity has obscured one or both character's actual role in the plot

Becoming the Mask

A character is only pretending to be something, but eventually grows to actually become that thing (for example, a villain who pretends to be a hero deciding to actually become a hero)

Propaganda:

Idk just something I love about arcs where someone crafts a false persona in order to infiltrate/trick/etc another group and having them slowly grow attached to the people they're supposed to be deceiving, while also beginning to connect with the identity they've crafted and learning new things about how they really feel about who they were before. And it can be super interesting in both a positive-to-negative and negative-to-positive direction! It's a good catalyst for redemption arcs, getting to see a previously antagonistic or villainous character grow close to the heroes and discover that they actual enjoy being good and then deal with the fallout of realizing that to truly change they need to also reveal and confront the truth of who they were. And it's *also* an equally fun way to set up a betrayal, and actually, that may be my favorite version of the arc! There's something super intriguing about having a previously heroic character form a genuine bond with a villain(s), and/or come to realize that they kind of like not having to worry about doing the right thing and like being The Worst. When pulled off right, it can be a really fun arc to watch unfold and help put previously established information about who a character is in a totally different light.

[stillxnunpxidintern]

A little medieval au thought I had a while ago and wrote this.

Roger and Rouge are King & Queen of a little Kingdom with both Shanks and Buggy as their adopted son while Ace is the heir to the Kingdom as neither Shanks or Buggy wished to be next King.

However when Ace was but a babe he was kidnapped from his cot in the middle of the night to be held for ransom but while escaping across the boarders into the another Kingdom, the kidnapper was attacked and during that Ace was lost in the forest, crying loudly.

He was eventually found by a young Makino, who took him with herself up the mountain to where Dadan lived. She agreed to look after Ace till his parents could be found, not knowing he was a prince and had been kidnapped.

When no one came forward to get him, Dadan raised him and upon seeing his spade like birthmark and thought about playing cards, coincidentally named him Ace.

Once Ace was old enough to travel to village where Makino lived, Dadan would send him down to run errands & help out a well teaching him how hunting.

All that time, Roger and Rouge never gave up on their child returning to them and still sent men out when they heard of rumours, however they need an heir so they named Shanks as their heir, who took this new responsible on his shoulders but really hoped that his youngest brother would return, he really didn't want to heir.

During his time living in the mountains he met a blonde boy name Sabo, who ran away from home and that how Ace gained a brother and when both boys were 8, Luffy had been dropped of by his grandfather who was an old friend of Dadan, as both his father and grandfather were worried that he would targeted for their positions/roles.

It didn't take long for the boys to become thick as thieves and then proclaimed that they were sworn brother having stolen some alcohol from Dadan.

Over the next 10 years, the brother honed their fighting and sneaking skills, as they would sometimes head to the next town over and fight thugs/anyone causing problems.

Both Ace and Sabo left when they were 18, Ace having heard stories from the villagers he decided that he wanted to join Edward "Whitebeard" Newgate army, a Duke and General of a neighbouring kingdom. While Sabo went and joined Dragon guild/organization after hearing & reading about what he does.

Having heard the stories of Whitebeard, Ace wanted to see if the man really lived up to his name, so as soon as he could Ace began demanding to face Whitebeard to see if the old man actually lived up to his reputation.

It took a few days of Ace demanding to fight with Whitebeard before he showed up and accepted Ace challenge. It went on for a fair few hours before Whitebeard had Ace on the ground, his naginate pointed at his throat.

Ace yielded with no other option and then told the Duke that he lived up to his reputation. After that every time Whitebeard came by Ace would try to attack him but was always ended up with naginate at his throat.

Soon Ace quickly rose through the ranks till he was offer the position of commander of Whitebeard 2nd division. It took him a while to accept the position as he felt he was still too new and someone who had been there longer would be suited better.

The people who were in the 2nd division told him to accept it as he has shown how hard of a worker he was and proven himself that the position of commander of 2nd was prefect for him. Hearing them all say they were happy to have him as Commander, Ace accepted the position.

For the next two year Ace proved himself over and over again to be the right choice for Commander of the 2nd division. Whitebeard told Ace that he was proud of him and asked the young commander to accompany him with a few of the other commanders to an event being held by old friends in another Kingdom.

The others commanders liked and enjoyed having him as a commander, though some of them would stare at Ace as if they trying to place him somewhere as there was just something about that him felt familiar but they could never figure out why.

While at the event Ace had expected to be introduced to new people by Whitebeard and make connections, what he hadn't been expecting is to be tackle the ground by Queen Rouge while walking through the palace gardens, the day after the event.

Ace was very confused and tried to calm the Queen down but it didn't work so he was had to wait till Whitebeard came who was happening to be talking to the king. Roger was able to coax his wife off of Ace but she refused to let Ace leave her sight.

Both King and Duke were at a lose for words, as they had never seen Rouge like that before and when Roger asked her about, she was blunt and pointed at Ace, saying she waited 20 years and she wasn't going to let him leave again.

Hearing that Roger knew what she meant and looked at her before asking if she was sure to which Rouge told him she knew that face as she stared at it every day, this only difference was it was black not blonde hair staring back this time.

Roger looked over at the young man and realised what his wife meant, and wanted nothing more to embrace the young but seeing the confusion over his face made the King stop himself. He looked at Whitebeard and asked if the two of them would come to his personal study in an hour to talk. Rouge tried to object to this but Roger was able to sooth his wife and said it was okay he would be back soon enough.

Whitebeard gave a nod and guided Ace away from the the couple back inside. Once it was just Roger and Rouge in the garden he wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close, as they came to realise that after 20 years they were close to having their son back.

In that hour Whitebeard explained to Ace the event that Rouge had been talking about and that had left Ace at a lose as to what to say, he had heard something about it when he was child but never paid any attention to it cause it didn't interest him.

When the four of them were in the Rogers personal study, Ace felt uncomfortable as both Roger and Rouge stared at him, but Whitebeard was standing behind him, with hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

Whitebeard is the one that broke the silence in the room, asking if there was anyway to confirm if Ace was indeed their son. Rouge then spoke of a birthmark that was in the shape of spade, that you would find on playing cards, on the left hip.

Upon hearing about the birthmark Ace froze, no one but Dadan, Luffy and Sabo knew about his birthmark, so to hear the Queen described shook him and couldn't get his mind around what this could potentially mean.

It became quiet again or least to Ace it was as his thoughts were so loud in his head it was stopping any other words from reaching him. He was brought out of his thoughts when Whitebeard gripped Ace shoulder very firmly and called his in a tone that made the young man react instantly.

He tried to stand but the hand on his shoulder stopped him so Ace looked up at him as Whitebeard asked him if was back with them again, and got a nod that he was. Ace was then asked if he had a birthmark that they described and he hesitated for a moment before looking at both King and Queen, giving a them a nod.

Both Roger and Rogue looked at him with hope shining in their eyes, as they asked if was possible to see it for themselves. Ace obliged and pulled the side of his trousers down where his birthmark was showed them it.

Upon seeing the birthmark, Rouge was up and in front of Ace, this was her son, stolen from her and lost for 20 years. She took his face in hand and smiled at him, welcoming him home at long last. Roger quickly joined and wrapped his arms around both wife & son, and hugged them both tightly.

The door of the study was quickly pushed open making a bang as two people entered, Shanks and Buggy the adopted sons of the Royal Couple, who looked out of breath as they looked at scene in front of them, with wide eyes as they're told Ace had returned to them.

Whitebeard smiled and made his excuse to leave, leaving the newly reunited family to themselves knowing there was going to be a lot for them to catch up on. The Duke chuckle to himself at the thought of telling his commanders why Ace looked so familiar.

Over the next few weeks Ace could seen with one of his family as they learnt about each other and how he grew up as well as his other brothers and adopted mother.

With how Ace spoke about his other family and smiling widely when he did Rouge had mentioned that she would like them. While missing out on most of his life, she was glad he had got to having a loving family and like to thank them for loving her son.

Over the weeks that Ace stayed in his home kingdom, it was discussed on what would happen with him now. Ace didn't want to leave being a commander for Whitebeard just yet so they came to the agreement that once Ace turns 25 then he returned to take up his royal duties and be crowned heir.

So while he got to stay with Whitebeard till he was 25, he was write often and come home when he could.

With everything settled for now, Rouge turned to the thought of potential partners for Ace. Hearing that both Shank and Buggy gave him a look that basically said 'good luck with that/You poor thing' but thankfully Roger was able to persuade her to hold off on that for now, which Ace was grateful for.

When Ace did finally bring Dadan, Luffy and Sabo to meet his newly found family and upon first meeting Rouge decided that they were also family now and enjoyed talking to Dadan about Ace and what he like growing up.

Seeing how Ace was with Luffy and Sabo made her heart feel so much lighter, at seeing how carefree was he was and just how much each of them loved each other.

While Rouge and Roger mourned missing out on watching their son grow in to the young man he was now, they were happy with how it had turned out as they got him back as well his brothers and adopted mother which brought them both more joy.

[davidchiemcore]

drdt werewolf hcs (can also be applied to mafia but i use werewolf terms)

implied spoilers? but mostly just to stop it from being so long

teruko: always villager. audibly sighs in relief whenever she gets a different card, revealing her immediately. she also accidentially makes too much noise when shes flipping cards and doing her role most rounds, and gets killed immediately whenever she does have a fun role to play. hates the game

xander: pretty good at the game, surprisingly. has a good poker face and trustable attitude, whenever he gets caught as werewolf its bc of a stupid verbal slip up. "seeing" someone was dead during the night when his alibi is supposed to be a non-active role and stuff like that

charles: overanalyzes everything, stays quiet most of the round unless he has something important to say. will suddenly interrupt conversations with realizations about who is suspicious. when hes the werewolf, his tell is becoming more talkative

ace: yells when he dies. when hes the werewolf, he will betray the other werewolves out of fear if pressured. really unreliable minion due to this. Doesn't like to share what he knows but easily pressured into it. Not very helpful, goes along with the majority decision during the voting phase

arei: often gets mistaken for a werewolf due to her attitude. doesnt like sharing information unless it benefits her, even when on the villager team. despite this, very good at being the werewolf. will manipulate emotions to stop people from suspecting her, ie. giving fake tells to throw people off

rose: similarly to charles, very quiet but very analytical and will pop into a conversation to call someone out. helpful asset to the vilager team, only good at werewolf when she has other wolves with her. actually falls asleep during the night phase and misses her role cues.

hu: leads the group discussion and encourages everyone to chip in. her tell as the werewolf is to become more pushy and talk over people. tells everyone "its just a game" when they get upset but actually becomes very heated when she gets accused

eden: not very good at the game... gets indecisive when shes the werewolf amd cant decide who to kill, same with voting for the werewolf. often holds up discussions trying to make everything absolutely clear. however, never suspected as the werewolf and has a really good time when she wins, teases everyone about it

levi: has a good poker face but contributes to discussions well. takes him a while to get used to the game, constantly consults the book for the rules on each role because he used to ask questions outloud and give himself away. once he gets more comfortable, shockingly good at the game, but doesnt enjoy it due to the high tensions

arturo: veronika forces him to play even though he has no real interest. walks away from the table after he dies. good at being the werewolf due to his disconnect from the emotions of the game and doesnt get heated when hes accused. not very helpful as a member of the villager team. gets bored during the night phase

min: gets really invested in the game, tries to appear disinterested. spends her free time reading up on the different roles and asks to try out new ones. very good conceptually and creates a lot of strategies, but often falls apart due to getting agitated and forgetting parts of the plan

david: surprisingly good at being the werewolf, laughs it off as just being a part of the game and really just pure luck, but he actually puts a lot of strategy in. very guiding during the day phase and openly shares what he knows, even when hes werewolf he creates a fake story to fit in. actually enjoys being the first death because it means he gets to watch everything unfold. tries to pick up on peoples tells

veronika: absolutely adores the game. most likely to force others to play with her. offers to be the moderator, has the entire script memorized. gets too into the game and psychoanalyzes everyone, can get fixated on one suspect though and unintentionally lead everyone the wrong way. has a great time whether she wins or loses

j: most likely to point out logical contraditions that other people miss. says she doesnt care about the game but actually gets really invested. gets frustrated when accused of being the werewolf when shes actually not, or when people wont listen to her points. rage quits but then comes back an hour later to see if theyre still playing

whit: claims to be the werewolf every round whether or not he actually is. likes adding silly things to veronikas script. actually really good at being the werewolf because he has no real tells, acts flippant no matter the situation. makes jokes as if hes actually in the game like pretending to snore at night. never spills what he knows until its important

nico: gets really nervous playing as the werewolf and much prefers to be on the villager team. doesnt like sharing what they know. overall uncomfortable with the game concept and prefers to watch instead. relieved when they get killed off

[leolithe]

this has been sitting in my drafts forever so i'm just gonna post it!!! these are my Plural Lotus headcanons that are Integral to my interpretation of them

Lotus represents balance while Natah and Margulis represent extremes, but she also represents Acceptance in The Sacrifice. So it makes sense that Lotus is the most passive, or "watching and waiting" one of the three

Lotus is also the most withdrawn and cautious one because she's the one who holds the trauma of every event leading to The New War. From her kidnapping in Apostasy Prologue, she was Lotus-turned-Margulis. From the Sacrifice to her death in New War, she was Lotus-turned-Natah.

After holding back Wally, Lotus fainting was a direct result of realising that the war was over. That she was finally free. That she could finally get the rest she desperately needed. And her entire body took that realisation and completely shut down. The need for rest was that dire.

This is when Natah and Margulis start to awaken. In the epilogue, when the Operator and Drifter are asking Lotus Radiant questions, Natah and Margulis also answer at the same time, each with their own insight and inflections. This is what leads to Lotus saying that she hears voices.

Natah was just as dead as Margulis when her body was reprogrammed. (Jovian Concord monologue: "I became a memory, a ghost"). Therefore, Lotus was formed from a blank slate of a (powerful) Sentient husk and Margulis' memory.

Natah, being the Sentient body personified, is able to access everyone's memories at will. She can also read everyone's minds, while still being able to focus perfectly on the present/outer world. She uses this to watch over Lotus and monitor her wellbeing.

Natah hates accessing or reading Margulis' mind though. She does not enjoy the imperfect, inaccurate, messy nature of Human memory. So she leaves Margulis alone for the most part.

Because she sees everyone's memories, Natah is the first to realize that she was formed to protect the Lotus. She takes the role of prosecutor, and she's very fiercely protective. Natah places much more weight in remembering the trauma rather than suppressing it like Margulis did.

Margulis is someone Lotus remembers for caring for and loving the Tenno, so she was formed with the intent of having a caretaker in the Lotus system. She's best at grounding Lotus, whispering soothing words to her and generally being a gentle and comforting presence.

There is very clear friction between the way Natah and Margulis handle their roles. Natah's decisiveness can be pushed into being cutthroat and stubborn, and Margulis' healing can veer into unrealistic idealism. Natah doesn't like how Margulis encourages Lotus to neglect her traumatic memories, and Margulis doesn't like Natah's insistence on forcing her to remember. They both think the other is pushing back Lotus' progress; Natah by intentionally surfacing painful memories and Margulis by exposing Lotus' weak points to the same aggressor again.

Very much a fight between, "If you don't remember how it damaged you, it will always happen again" vs "It will never happen again, you're safe and free to live like it never did"

Natah vs Margulis isn't only about Power vs Healing/Destroying the enemy vs Protecting your allies... it's about Remembrance vs Oblivion in regards to distress and trauma.

Lotus gets intermittently pulled around by these two for a while, until Margulis' comforting lies become unignorable and Natah's ruthlessness becomes unbearable. And when Lotus finally snaps and asserts herself to them... it's a wake up slap to both Natah and Margulis. This marks the point where they start quietly trying to work together... pushing past their rivalry to then FINALLY. Explore each other's bodies. Sentient-Human headmate style.

Thank you for reading. I can go on and on but I'm just gonna leave u with the mental image of Lotus walking in on Natah and Margulis having ravenous floor sex because they've actually never fucked a woman in their lives and they're not normal about it