#but I would never have guessed that it would match like that

[mywhisperingwords]

never will be | fred g. weasley

summary: if one more person called fred your boyfriend, you were going to hex them—and then probably yourself for wishing it were true word count: 5.8k masterlist

“Seriously, though,” Angelina said, leaning against the Gryffindor common room sofa with a sly grin, “when are you two finally going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Fred asked, looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was shuffling.

“That you’re dating,” George chimed in from across the room, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper into the fire.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “For the hundredth time, we’re not dating.”

“Not yet, at least,” Angelina muttered, smirking at you.

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just bored and trying to start drama.”

George snorted. “Says the bloke who can’t go two hours without dragging her off to help with one of his pranks.”

“That’s because she’s got steady hands,” Fred argued, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip. “Best partner-in-crime I could ask for.”

“Mm-hmm,” George said, exchanging a knowing look with Angelina.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but forced a casual laugh. “Exactly. Partners-in-crime. Nothing more.”

Fred’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice faltered on the last words.

Later that evening, as you sat in your usual spot in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

George and Angelina had finally left you alone, their laughter about your so-called “relationship” fading into the background.

Fred tossed a bright green bean into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Honestly, they’re relentless. Next thing you know, they’ll be planning our wedding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, definitely. George would insist on fireworks during the vows.”

“And Angelina would probably hex the cake to explode in my face,” Fred added, grinning.

“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Me? Deserve it? Please, I’d be the perfect groom. You, on the other hand…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Fred smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’d probably spend the entire ceremony arguing with me about the flowers or the seating arrangements.”

“Only because you’d insist on something ridiculous, like having a Quidditch match instead of a reception,” you shot back, laughing.

“See? Proves my point,” Fred said, throwing another bean into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. The conversation was silly, but it sent a pang through your chest all the same. For a moment, you wondered—what if it weren’t so ridiculous? What if you weren’t just friends?

“Guess it’s a good thing we’d never actually be a couple,” you said lightly, testing the waters.

Fred snorted, not catching the slight hesitation in your voice. “You’ve got that right. Can you imagine? We’d probably kill each other within a week.”

Your smile faltered for a split second, but you quickly recovered, laughing along with him. “True. It would be a disaster.”

“An entertaining one, though,” Fred added, grinning at you.

You laughed again, but the ache in your chest lingered as his words played over in your mind. A disaster.

Fred, oblivious, tossed the box of beans onto the table and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, who needs all that relationship nonsense? We’re better off just being us.”

“Right,” you said softly, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Just us.”

But as you watched Fred lean back, his expression carefree and content, you made a silent decision.

It was time to stop hoping for something that would never happen. It was time to move on.

A couple days later, Fred dropped into the seat next to you in the common room, his typical big grin directed at you. “Fancy sneaking out to the kitchens? I was thinking a snack, but maybe we could even go for a full-course meal if the house-elves are feeling generous.”

You didn’t look up from your book, keeping your voice steady. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Fred tilted his head, frowning. “Plans? With who?”

“Just plans,” you said vaguely, flipping a page.

Fred narrowed his eyes, studying you for a moment, but you didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Your loss. More food for me.”

You hummed noncommittally, keeping your gaze fixed on the words in front of you.

Later that evening, Fred was sprawled on the sofa near the fire, George and Lee arguing over a card game beside him. Angelina sauntered in, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Oi, Ang,” Fred called, waving her over. “What’s she up to tonight?”

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who. She said she had plans.”

Angelina hesitated for half a second before smirking. “She’s got a date.”

Fred blinked, the words not registering immediately. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “With that bloke from Ravenclaw—what’s his name? Aaron? Aiden?”

“Andrew,” George supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right. Andrew,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Apparently, he’s been asking her out for ages, and she finally said yes.”

Fred frowned, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “Huh.”

George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fred?”

“No,” Fred said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would there be?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, who raised an amused eyebrow. But neither of them said anything, much to Fred’s relief.

Meanwhile you were trying your best to focus on Andrew as he told you about his latest Quidditch practice. He was charming, handsome, and undeniably kind. Exactly the type of person you should be going out with.

But as much as you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept wandering. His laugh wasn’t quite as infectious. His jokes weren’t quite as sharp. And when he leaned in slightly to brush his hand against yours, your chest didn’t flutter the way you wanted it to.

You forced a smile, reminding yourself why you were here. Andrew had always been good to you, and after Fred’s clear rejection, it was time to stop holding onto something that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked, his voice soft as he studied your face.

“Yes,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. It’s been a long week.”

Andrew smiled, his eyes warm. “I get it. I’m glad you said yes, though. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

You felt a pang of guilt but managed another smile. “Me too.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Andrew deserved a chance, and you were determined to give it to him.

Still, as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what Fred was doing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought that you wished he were sitting across from you instead.

You had done your best to steer clear of Fred over the past few days. You weren’t sure why, if someone dared to ask. Maybe you wanted to avoid telling him about your date or maybe talking to Fred would force you to acknowledge that moving on was harder than you thought.

It wasn’t easy, avoiding Fred, considering he had a knack for showing up everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

And, naturally, today was no exception.

“Oi!” Fred’s voice rang out from behind you as you made your way down the hallway after class. “Wait up!”

You considered pretending not to hear him, but the sound of his footsteps catching up told you there was no escaping this time.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. His usual grin was in place, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been avoiding me or something?”

You gave a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just… busy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy with what? Or should I say who?”

Your stomach twisted at the question, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Angelina mentioned you went on a date,” Fred said, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Figured you’d be too busy swooning over this Andrew bloke to hang out with your real friends.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “It was just a date, Fred. No swooning involved.”

Fred tilted his head, studying you. “Come on. Spill. What’s he like? Is he as funny as me? Doubt it.”

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you searched his face for any hint of jealousy, any sign that this conversation bothered him. But Fred’s grin was firmly in place, his tone casual and carefree.

“He’s nice,” you said finally, keeping your voice even. “Really nice.”

Fred’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning. “Nice, huh? That’s a glowing review.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe that he’s secretly boring or has terrible taste in music. Something I can mock him for.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, but it quickly faded as the tension in your chest tightened.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if he’s so bloody great, maybe we should invite him to hang out with us sometime.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

Fred shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Why not? He could use a proper Weasley test. See if he can keep up.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible.”

Fred watched you closely, his grin slipping just enough to reveal the confusion beneath it. He didn’t know why the thought of you with Andrew left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was determined to ignore it.

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know the guy. Or because he didn’t want to lose his favorite partner-in-crime to some bloke from Ravenclaw. That had to be it.

Definitely not because he cared more than he should.

&

The common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner chaos. Fred was in his element, loudly challenging George to an Exploding Snap rematch after a questionable loss earlier, when you walked in with Andrew.

Fred’s laughter faltered for half a second, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. Ravenclaw royalty.”

“Hi, Fred,” you said, your voice neutral but carrying an edge of warning.

Andrew smiled politely, clearly unfazed. “Hey. I thought I’d take you up on your offer to hang out.”

“Brave of you,” Fred quipped, gesturing to the chaos around him. “We’re not exactly Ravenclaw standards of refined.”

Andrew chuckled. “I can handle it.”

George appeared beside Fred, grinning broadly. “Andrew, right? You’re the Quidditch guy. Chaser, yeah?”

“That’s me,” Andrew said, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Always nice to have another flyer in the group,” George said, clapping him on the back. “Ignore Fred if he gets too annoying.”

“Oi!” Fred protested, but George was already leading Andrew to the sofa, chatting about brooms and game strategies.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Play nice,” you muttered as you passed Fred, taking a seat near Angelina and Lee.

Fred watched as Andrew settled into the group, answering questions and laughing at everyone’s jokes with ease. His jaw tightened when Angelina leaned over to whisper, “He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Fred said, his voice flat.

An hour later, everyone seemed to be getting along swimmingly—except Fred.

He wasn’t outright rude to Andrew, but his usual teasing had a sharper edge tonight. Every time Andrew spoke, Fred had a quick quip or an exaggerated eye roll.

When Andrew mentioned his house winning the latest match, Fred chimed in with, “Ravenclaw’s strategy, isn’t it? Win the game, lose the fun.”

George elbowed Fred, but Andrew only laughed. “We take Quidditch seriously. Some of us, at least.”

Fred grinned tightly. “Right. Because fun has no place in sports.”

“Okay,” you interjected, cutting through the growing tension. “Who wants snacks? I’ll get some from the kitchens.”

“I’ll help,” Andrew offered, standing up.

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Fred before nodding. “Sure. Let’s go.”

After you and Andrew left the common room, Fred slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Fred said quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” Angelina said, smirking as she leaned against the armrest. “You’re only acting like a jealous git.”

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Please. I just think he’s boring.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, he’s awful. Friendly, charming, loves Quidditch—how dare he?”

Fred scowled but didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the door you’d just walked through.

When you and Andrew returned, the evening had mostly calmed down. Fred kept to himself, though his eyes followed you whenever you weren’t looking.

As the group began to disband for the night, Andrew turned to you, his smile warm and easy. “I had a great time the other night. Do you think you’d want to do it again? Soon?”

Fred’s head snapped up at Andrew’s words, but he quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with his deck of cards.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Fred for just a moment. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and averted eyes. Ignoring him and the little voice in the back of your mind, you turned back to Andrew.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Andrew’s grin widened. “Great. I’ll find you tomorrow to figure out the details.”

You nodded, and as Andrew left, you glanced back at Fred one last time. He was shuffling his cards with unnecessary force, avoiding your gaze entirely. Weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Andrew began to take shape. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life.

He wasn’t overly pushy or demanding, which you appreciated, and he had a way of making you laugh—though not quite as effortlessly as Fred could.

Still, it felt nice to have someone show genuine interest in you, even if the spark you were hoping for wasn’t quite there yet.

Of course, Andrew didn’t just win you over—he charmed everyone.

“Well, he’s bloody polite,” George said one evening after Andrew left the common room. “And he brought snacks. Can’t argue with that.”

Angelina nodded in agreement. “He’s sweet. You picked a good one.”

“Of course she did,” Fred muttered, slumping lower in his chair.

Lee gave Fred a side-eye. “You alright, mate? You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with unnecessary vigor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

The thing was, Fred wasn’t fine.

He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how the bloke always seemed to be around now, sitting beside you in the common room or leaning in too close when you laughed at one of his jokes.

Fred told himself it was just the newness of it all. You’d always been his person—his partner-in-crime, his go-to for pranks, his late-night snack accomplice. And now Andrew was stealing you away.

It was irritating.

But Fred wasn’t jealous. Definitely not.

One afternoon, the group decided to head down to the lake to take advantage of the rare sunny weather.

Andrew and George carried the food, Angelina and Lee brought the blankets, and you walked ahead with Fred, your pace slowing as you chatted.

“So,” Fred said casually, kicking a stone along the path, “how’s Prince Charming?”

You gave him a look. “He has a name, you know.”

“Right. Andy.”

“Andrew,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing,” Fred said with a shrug.

You sighed. “He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred said, though his tone was anything but casual. “Just wondering how long he plans to stick around.”

“Why? You planning to scare him off?” you asked, your voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

Fred grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you could respond, Andrew called your name from behind, jogging to catch up with you.

Fred fell silent, his jaw tightening as Andrew slipped into step beside you, his hand brushing yours as he walked.

By the time you reached the lake, Fred was thoroughly annoyed.

As everyone settled on the blankets, Andrew took the spot beside you, leaning close to whisper something that made you laugh. Fred sat across from you, stabbing at his sandwich with unnecessary force.

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Fine,” Fred said tightly, taking an aggressive bite.

George smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully bothered.”

Fred glared at his twin but said nothing.

As the sun began to set, Andrew offered to walk you back to the castle, and you accepted with a smile. Fred watched the two of you leave, his chest tightening as your laughter faded into the distance.

“Mate,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” George said with a knowing grin.

If there was one thing Fred Weasley prided himself on, it was his ability to remain unshakable. Cool under pressure. Steady in the face of chaos.

Except, apparently, when Andrew was around.

“I’m just saying,” Fred declared loudly, leaning back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that immediately drew everyone’s attention, “no one is that nice. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Angelina repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Fred said, gesturing wildly as if this were common knowledge. “No one can laugh at every single joke. Even George’s bad ones.”

“Oi!” George protested, though he was grinning. “My jokes are masterpieces.”

Andrew, seated comfortably next to you, chuckled. “I don’t know, George. That one about the Blast-Ended Skrewts last week was a bit of a stretch.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed. “See? Right there. He’s even polite when he’s being critical. Who does that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Fred, are you really mad because Andrew is nice?”

“I’m not mad!” Fred insisted, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m just… observant. He’s too nice. It’s unnatural.”

“Fred,” Lee said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I think you might be allergic to decent human behavior.”

The group erupted in laughter, and for a moment, even you couldn’t hide your amusement. But Fred wasn’t done yet.

“Mark my words,” Fred continued, pointing dramatically at Andrew, “this whole ‘charming and perfect’ act is going to crack one day. And when it does—”

Andrew held up his hands, laughing lightly. “Alright, you’ve got me. I’ll admit it: I burned toast once. Twice, actually. Sometimes I even leave the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Oh, the horror,” Lee said, clutching his chest mockingly. “Fred, are you sure we’re safe in his presence?”

Fred scowled, muttering something under his breath.

You shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. “Fred, if you’re so bothered by something, maybe you should do something about it.”

Fred blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, standing to grab a glass of water. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Fred watched you leave the room, the weight of your words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, glancing at the others.

Angelina snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Fred frowned. “What?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, nothing,” George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you acting like a jealous prat every time Andrew breathes in her direction.”

“I’m not jealous!” Fred shot back, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure you’re not,” Lee said, patting him on the shoulder.

Angelina leaned forward, her smirk practically glowing. “Fred, has it ever occurred to you that you’re not mad at Andrew? You’re mad because he’s with her, and you’re not.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He shut it again, glaring at the lot of them as they burst into laughter.

“Honestly,” George said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more self-awareness.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all useless,” he muttered.

“Hey, we’re just here to point out the obvious,” Lee said with a grin. “The rest is up to you, lover boy.”

&

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with chatter, the kind of lively atmosphere that could distract anyone from their troubles.

Fred leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug of butterbeer, and let the noise wash over him.

It had been weeks since he’d felt this at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Andrew or the way he seemed to occupy every spare moment of your time.

Because, for the first time in a long while, it was just the group—George, Lee, Angelina, you, and him—laughing, joking, and bickering like always. And with you sitting across from him, grinning over the rim of your butterbeer as you teased George about his latest failed prank, Fred felt… content.

Comfortable. Like everything was back to normal.

But then the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure.

Fred’s stomach twisted the moment he saw Andrew.

“Hey, everyone,” Andrew said, his smile easy and confident as he approached the table.

Fred tried to focus on his drink, on George cracking a joke, on literally anything else—but then Andrew leaned down, his hand brushing your shoulder, and kissed you.

It wasn’t long, just a brief, casual kiss on the lips, but it might as well have been a Bludger to Fred’s chest.

The laughter at the table carried on, the others welcoming Andrew like they always did, but Fred barely heard a word. His mind was spinning, his heart racing, and for the first time, he couldn’t keep up the denial.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was jealousy.

Pure, undeniable jealousy.

And it wasn’t just because Andrew had you—it was because Fred wanted you.

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Every time you laughed at Andrew’s jokes, every time you brushed his hand with yours, every time you smiled at him with that soft, affectionate look in your eyes—it burned.

Because Fred wanted to be the one making you laugh, holding your hand, earning your smiles.

But it wasn’t him. And now, sitting here, watching Andrew slide into the seat beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, Fred finally understood why it hurt so much.

&

Fred paced the length of the Gryffindor common room like a man possessed, his hands raking through his hair as George, Angelina, and Lee lounged on the sofa, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

“She kissed him,” Fred muttered for the fiftieth time, his voice tinged with both disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said patiently, not bothering to hide her smirk. “We were all there. You don’t need to recap.”

“But—” Fred turned on his heel, his expression wild. “How did I not see it before? How did none of you tell me?”

George snorted. “Mate, we’ve been dropping hints for years. You’re just thick.”

“Excuse me?” Fred stopped pacing long enough to glare at his twin.

Lee chimed in, grinning. “He’s right, you know. It’s been painfully obvious to everyone but you. Honestly, we were starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

Fred groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now? She’s happy with Andrew. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You could do nothing,” Angelina suggested, crossing her arms. “Let her be happy. Maybe keep your mouth shut for once in your life.”

Fred glared at her. “Thanks for the support, Ang. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Angelina continued, shrugging. “If you care about her, maybe you don’t ruin things for her. It’s not about you, Fred.”

George tilted his head. “Or—and hear me out—you could tell her how you feel and let her decide.”

Lee grinned. “Or—and this is my favorite option—you stage an elaborate prank to scare off Andrew, then swoop in as the knight in shining armor.”

Fred groaned again, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re all useless.”

“Hey, I’m giving you options,” Lee said defensively.

“Yeah,” George added. “And Angelina’s just saying what she’d do if she were you. Personally, I think you should grow a pair and tell her the truth.”

Fred shot him a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Angelina said, her tone softer now. “But you’ve got to figure it out, Fred. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep driving yourself—and the rest of us—mad.”

The sound of the portrait hole opening drew their attention, and there you were, stepping inside with your bag slung over one shoulder and a slight frown on your face.

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sat up straighter, trying to look normal—which, of course, only made him look even more suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you asked, glancing between the group and Fred’s suspiciously guilty expression.

“Fine!” Fred said quickly, his voice a little too loud.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead walking over to your usual spot by the fire. You dropped your bag on the floor and pulled out a stack of parchment, rifling through it with a small, frustrated sigh.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t anything special—just you being you—but the way your hair caught the firelight, the tiny furrow in your brow as you concentrated, the way you bit your lip when something didn’t go right…

In that moment, Fred knew.

Knew that no one else would ever make him feel the way you did. Knew that no one else would ever measure up to you. Knew that he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell you.

“Merlin, he’s gone,” George muttered, nudging Angelina. “Look at him.”

Fred ignored them, his mind racing as he tried to think of something—anything—to say. But for once in his life, words failed him.

Fred had never been one to overthink things. Usually, he went with his gut, said whatever was on his mind, and dealt with the consequences later. But when it came to you, every plan he came up with seemed doomed from the start.

The first time he tried, it was on the way to Charms. He’d spotted you walking ahead, your bag slung over one shoulder and your hair bouncing as you moved. His heart did that stupid thing where it sped up, and before he could stop himself, he called your name.

“Hey,” you said, slowing to let him catch up.

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like his tongue had turned to lead.

You smiled at him, that warm, easy smile that made his chest ache. “What’s up?”

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Andrew appeared from the other direction.

“There you are,” Andrew said, grinning as he slipped an arm around your waist.

Fred’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Right. See you in class,” he mumbled, walking off before either of you could reply.

The second attempt came during a group study session in the library.

Fred had been unusually quiet, his eyes darting to you every few seconds. You were sitting across from him, absently twirling your quill as you read over your notes.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning forward.

You looked up, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

“I—”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed from across the room, glaring at Fred like he’d just set one of her precious books on fire.

Fred sighed, leaning back in his chair as George smirked beside him. “Smooth,” George muttered under his breath.

The third time wasn’t even his fault.

He’d waited until you were alone in the common room, curled up in your usual chair by the fire. It was late, and most of the others had gone to bed, leaving the room quiet and cozy.

Fred took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached. “Hey, can we talk?”

You looked up at him, your expression soft but curious. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Fred hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He just had to say it.

But before he could, Lee burst into the room, laughing loudly about something George had apparently done. The noise startled both of you, and whatever fragile moment had been building between you vanished in an instant.

Fred sighed, watching as you smiled politely at Lee’s antics before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Andrew was as kind and attentive as ever, but your heart wasn’t fully in it. You caught yourself zoning out during conversations, your mind drifting to memories of late-night laughs and pranks with Fred.

Andrew noticed.

“You’ve been a bit distant lately,” he said one evening as you sat together by the lake. His tone was calm but serious, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

Andrew smiled faintly, shaking his head. “We should talk. Really talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with unease and the underlying feeling of already knowing what was about to come.

&

The rain fell steadily, soaking through your cloak and chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t care. After your conversation with Andrew, you’d needed space to think, to feel, to breathe.

That was why you stayed in the same spot he left you in, even when it began to pour.

But tonight, the storm wasn’t just inside.

The sound of footsteps on the dock pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Fred, his red hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his clothes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice carrying over the rain.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, looking equal parts frustrated and relieved. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the water. “Needed to think.”

Fred hesitated, then stepped closer, the wood creaking under his weight. “And you couldn’t think inside? Where it’s dry?”

You huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Guess not.”

An awkward silence stretched between you as the rain continued to fall. Fred shifted on his feet, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he blurted finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You’re out here in the rain, and I’m the idiot who followed you, and… Merlin, I don’t even know where to start.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression guarded. “Then don’t.”

Fred shook his head. “No, I have to. Because—because you drive me mad. You’re all I can think about, and it’s infuriating because I don’t even know when it started, but it’s just… there. All the time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

“You know, Andrew is… perfect, really. Kind, understanding. Says all the right things. And he’s right. He’s everything I should want.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “If he’s so perfect, then why are you out here? With me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Why, if Andrew’s so perfect, are you standing out here in the rain with me instead of him?” Fred pressed, his voice soft but insistent.

Your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the truth spilled out. “Because he’s not you, Fred! He never was.”

Fred stared at you, his breath hitching as your words sank in.

You laughed bitterly, swiping at your wet face. “Andrew is kind and caring and everything I should want. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not you. And that’s why we ended things. He knows he’s not the one I want to be with.”

Fred didn’t move for a moment, as though your words had stunned him. His wide eyes searched yours, raindrops slipping down his face, mingling with the uncertainty you saw flicker there.

But then, something shifted. Determination sparked in his gaze, and in one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands, rough yet gentle, cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your rain-damp cheeks.

The kiss came like a thunderclap—fierce, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His lips claimed yours with a desperation that stole the breath from your lungs, as though this was the only way he could make you understand everything he couldn’t say.

The rain blurred everything around you—the trees, the lake, the world itself—but Fred’s warmth anchored you. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, betraying the vulnerability beneath his boldness.

A soft gasp escaped you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. The rain had drenched you both, but Fred’s heat seeped through the layers, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

His lips moved against yours, earnest and unrelenting, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. And yet, there was no demand in his kiss, only a raw, aching need that left you dizzy.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Fred rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. His hands stayed on your face, as if letting go would break the fragile moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but firm, his thumb brushing away the rain—or was it a tear?—from your cheek. “Forgive me?”

The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, but it didn’t matter. Fred’s eyes searched yours, unguarded and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Fred’s lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming.

From a distance, George and Lee watched from the cover of a nearby tree, Angelina holding an umbrella over them with a triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” George said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered, crossing his arms, but not before handing George the bag. “I still say it’s weird to bet on your brother’s love life.”

“Not when it’s this predictable,” Angelina chimed in, snatching a Galleon from the bag. “You’re welcome, by the way. I made this happen.”

“You did nothing,” George said, rolling his eyes. “They’re just idiots. Idiots in love.”

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 9

Hey guys! Only one chapter of this one this week, I promise. But it's the chapter. The best chapter.

Eddie comes home! And Steve gets help in the kitchen.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

~

Eddie insisted on having a cook come in and make dinner three times a week. That included Steve’s day off, so he would be cooking for most of their meals but that he would have help on those three days.

Steve disregarded professional chefs right off the bat. Eddie didn’t need to pay some big named star to make mediocre food for the girls. And would have stuck to that if the best candidate wasn’t a French Culinary school graduate with having owned two Michelin star restaurants.

His name was Benny Hammond and he was retired. He just wanted something fun to do in his spare time. Steve talked about what the girls liked, what recipes he had and when Eddie would be home.

“I haven’t cooked for kids in ages,” he said with a grin. “That sounds like a fun challenge. Count me in!”

Just after one week with Benny making all the meals, Eddie cackled an ‘I told you so!’ on his evening call with the girls.

“I didn’t realize how much energy all the cooking was taking until I had a day without doing it,” Steve whined.

“He made us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup,” Joan said brightly. “It was nummy, Daddy.”

“And the soup didn’t even come in a can!” Janice crowed. “Not even the tomatoes.”

“It was better than how I make it,” Steve grumbled into Joan’s hair.

But Eddie caught it anyway. “Sounds like someone was right. So what do we say, Stevie?”

Steve wanted to pout but that would set a really bad example for the girls so he straightened up and sighed. “Thank you Eddie. Benny was the final piece of the puzzle we all needed to for a well run household.”

“Good!” Eddie said brightly. “I have some news. It’s bad news for the band, but good news for everyone else.”

Both girls perked up and started talking over each other as they tried to guess what it was.

“Joanie! Janie!” Eddie barked from the tablet Steve was holding. “If you’ll let me talk, I’ll be able to tell you.” Once both girls had settled, Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks to a major hurricane, the last two shows have been combined into one big fundraiser for the towns devastated by the storm.”

“I heard about that on the news,” Steve said with a nod. “I’m sorry the tour has to wrap up early, though. I know you were really looking forward to playing in Ashville.”

“It is what it is,” Eddie said resigned. “But all proceeds will go to disaster relief so some good will come out of it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Steve murmured. “I’ve got to get these little munchkin to their bath, but I guess we’ll see you on Saturday.”

“So you will,” Eddie replied warmly. “Good night, girlies!”

“Night, Daddy!” Janice and Joan chorused. Then they clambered off Steve’s lap and tore off for their bedroom.

Steve turned off the app and laid the tablet down with a sigh. It was a good thing that Eddie was coming home. He just felt conflicted about how soon it was now. He thought he would have more to get his emotions under control.

~

Janice and Joan wanted to dress up really nice for their dad so Steve helped them pick out their outfits.

Janice had completely surprised Steve when she pulled out a pretty plaid skirt and a white blouse. She was such a tomboy most of the time, that he wasn’t even aware she had skirts and dresses in her closet.

Joan wore a matching plaid jumper dress with a similar style in blouse. They even had matching black Mary Jane shoes.

Steve had never seen them look more like twins in the whole time he had known them. They even asked him for matching French braid pigtails.

Janice and Joan sat in front of the window, anxiously waiting for the Uber that would be dropping their dad off so they could see him in person for the first time in months. Steve had originally tried to distract them from the ever present ticking clock, but gave up about an hour in.

They were just too keyed up.

Then an unknown silver SUV pulled up to the house and out Eddie popped. The girls started screaming and jumping up and down.

“Girls go get your signs!” Steve said brightly and they ran off to grab the signs they had made yesterday.

The door opened to a very bedraggled Eddie and the second he saw his girls with matching outfits and cute little signs saying Welcome Home, he dropped to his knees. He threw open his arms and both girls dogpiled him.

There were tears flowing down all three of their faces. Eddie picked them both up and walked toward the sofa, then he carefully lowered himself onto its surface.

Steve just smiled and walked away.

He made his way to the kitchen where Benny was slaving away at marvelous homecoming meal. Steve leaned up against the doorway and watched as the large chef chopped away at some vegetables. His skill was always fun to watch.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed in the kitchen when I work,” Benny said without turning around.

Steve huffed out a breathy laugh. “I’m following your rule, you grumpy old man. I’m not in the kitchen.”

Benny turned around and sniffed. “Close enough.” He looked up at the clock. “Shouldn’t the master of the house be home by now.” He waved to a bar stool for Steve to take a seat.

“He’s here,” Steve said, sitting down. “But I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s the kind of man that likes crying in front of other adults. Especially ones he doesn’t know well.”

Benny stopped for a moment and then nodded, going back to his chopping. “That’s fair. You’re like me, when things get too emotional, we come to kitchen to work out those emotions.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding back. “I love having you here. It makes taking care of the girls so much easier...”

“But sometimes you wish that you can just come into the kitchen and make something?” Benny finished. “Next time you feel that way, let me know and I’ll teach you a technique or a new recipe, all right?”

“Thanks, Benny.”

After a few minutes of contented silence Benny spoke, “You should probably go check on them and makes sure they’re alive enough to eat my dinner.”

Steve laughed, slapping a hand the counter and getting up. “You got it.”

He wandered back to the front room but no one was there. Steve frowned and went to Eddie’s office, but they weren’t there either. He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. Where could they have gone?

He tapped his lips thoughtfully and the darted up the stairs, taking them at two at a time. He reached the top in no time at all and sure enough he could hear giggling. With a sigh of relief he walked to the girls’ room and pushed open the partially closed door.

Joan had decorated Eddie’s hair with ribbons while Janice read “Opposites” to him in a very serious tone.

Steve couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter when he saw the absolutely besotted expression on Eddie’s face.

Eddie looked up in shock and then when he saw who it was, he grinned. “Do I look pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Steve confirmed, moving further into the room. “Benny sent me in search of everyone because dinner is almost ready.”

Eddie’s face really lit up. “Ooh. He asked me what my favorite dish was and is making it for me. I’m really excited to see what a Michelin chef can do with poor people food.”

The girls both made faces and Steve gave them a look. “Remember when you went to Maria’s birthday party and the cake was carrot and you didn’t like it?”

Both girls nodded and Eddie looked suddenly interested in the new lesson they learned. “What’s this?” he asked gleefully.

“When it’s someone else’s day,” Joan said, “they can have whatever they want for their party.” She scuffed her shoe on the carpet. “So since it’s Daddy’s homecoming day, he can have whatever he wants.”

Eddie cackled in satisfaction. “Yes, girls that is a very important lesson to learn. It’s hardly my fault you inherited your Papa’s palate. I like it and so we are going to have it for dinner.”

“I’ve seen it,” Steve said, barely concealing a smile. “It looks fantastic. I can’t wait to try it.” He bent down to the girls’ level. “Remember the three bite rule. You take three regular sized bites and if you don’t like it, you can have something else.”

Joan nodded solemnly but Janice’s face as twisted up in distaste. Steve just shook his head. “Go wash your hands, girls and then join us at the dinner table.”

Both girls were off with a flash and Steve held out his hand to help Eddie to his feet. Once on his feet Eddie flashed him a broad smile that really showed off those dimples. He looked...cute.

Just then the door to the girls’ bathroom burst open and Steve dropped Eddie’s hand. Not quick or harsh. Just a simple act of letting go.

“I’ll race you to the table!” Eddie crowed, ducking around Steve.

Both girls squealed in delight and they were off like a shot, tearing down the stairs like a herd of elephants being told that it was peanut time.

Steve followed more slowly behind just soaking up how happy the girls were that their dad was home at last. The trip had clearly done Eddie good. He had color in his cheeks and his shoulders were no longer up around his ears, like dog expecting to be hit. Time away from the girls really helped him out.

“Come sit by me!” Joan cried when he entered the dinning room. She patted the spot between her and across from Eddie.

Eddie lit up at that and grinned at Steve. “Looks like you’re stuck with us now, Stevie boy! Once Joanie’s got her hooks in ya, you can’t leave.”

Steve smiled and shook his head fondly. “That would imply that I would want to leave in the first place.” He bopped Joan’s nose and she giggled. “And that would never happen ever!”

Just then Benny came in hold a large casserole dish. It had tatter tots covered with cheese and it just smelled heavenly. Benny set it on the table and began serving them. Inside was fresh peas and carrots and shredded beef in a mushroom sauce, gently seasoned with herbs and spices. Steve couldn’t wait to dig in.

Eddie was served first and he bit into that first bite. The moan of pleasure that escaped his lips, caused Steve’s eyes to roll back and flutter shut as he tried to think of very gross things to keep his embarrassing erection to a minimum.

“Benny!” Eddie cried. “This is amazing! You really out did yourself.” He grabbed the spoon from the dish and brandished it at Steve and the twins. “Mine! All for me!”

Steve laughed and then took a bite of his own and his eyes snapped up. “Sorry girls, but it appears I’m going to have duel your dad for the rest of this casserole.”

“Betrayed!” Eddie said, clutching the spoon to him. Suddenly he got a wicked gleam in his eye and he licked the spoon.

“Ewww...” Janice crowed.

“Gross!” Joan agreed.

Steve just shook his head and turned back to his meal. He wasn’t going to do something in front of the girls, because it would be the wrong lesson to teach, but he was highly tempted to grab the spoon and lick another stripe right next to Eddie’s. But for now he would bide his time.

The two girls managed to eat about half before declaring they wanted something else. So Benny took them into the kitchen to fix them something they would eat.

Steve leaned over and whispered, “Jokes on you, I’m a nanny, a little spit won’t deter me from what I want.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his blush as Steve helped himself to another spoonful of the casserole.

Steve ate in smug silence as Eddie took a moment to come back online. He cleared his throat a couple of times but didn’t dare speak.

Once Steve had eaten his fill, he picked up the girls’ dishes and piled them on his plate. He stood up but before turning away to take the dishes into the kitchen, he said softly. “I’m glad you’re home too.”

Eddie looked up at him in awe and nodded. “It’s good to be home, Stevie. It’s so good to be home.”

Steve smiled and walked away.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[genderqueerdykes]

extremely fascinating that I'm seeing folks posting, disappointed that you "turned out to be" pro endo, when your pro endo posts go back to 2022???? this isn't a new development????

sorry that other folks are incapable of being normal about people with opinions that don't match theirs, please picture a ridiculous video of a cat on a skateboard as compensation

i guess not every person has been following me since then and i do understand that i only speak up on it sporadically when it occurs to me, but yes, correct! i've been pro endo since the very start of this blog! i'm glad you acknowledge that LOL

this is not a new development in the slightest- i am here to support all plurals. i've been friends with endogenic systems my entire adult life. why would i be here to spit in their faces? like i guess i haven't mentioned it all that much but i've been friends with a TON of different endogenic systems over the course of my time in the otherkin and online plural communities. why would i attack my friends?

idk why people think that dissociative plurals and other plurals can't get along or be friends, but i've literally been friends with more endogenic, natural and spiritual systems than i have other dissociative systems. not intentionally, but it's how the cards fell. like idk why people would assume that because i have DID, it means that i could never, ever support or be friends with other kinds of plurals, but it's dead wrong

that's why i'm not holding back on discussing my stance on the matter. treating non-dissociative systems like shit simply for existing is perpetuating the cycle of abuse. i don't *care* that you have trauma, it's not an excuse to attack someone else. you can't let yourself take someone else's identity personally like that. someone just sitting there being themselves doesn't deserve death threats. dissociative plurals and endogenic plurals are holding hands and learning each others' headmates names and eating pastries and watching the sunrise together. we are on the same team- we are friends, siblings, family, and lovers.

thank you for this message, i appreciate it! take care of yourself!

[multiandmany]

"It's hard to explain, I'm sure I'll figure it out later Deon."

"Well only weather that doesn't match for the most part. There is weather that does match. The star at the center of this star system for instance gives this planet the ability to make those!" Shifter points to one of the whiter clouds.

"We have those too. We also have the conductive downpour that is what you call rain. We use different words for ours, but we have both. I should have guessed it was rain by the way it acted, but the lightning..." Shifter shivers, her fur fluffing. "It was new! I didn't know it could come from such calmness! I never saw lightning of any kind in the area of my home planet I came from!"

She seems to grow to a realization then starts to think, getting down from the window and holding a paw to her muzzle. "I have seen those with the power similar to that, able to zap those near by, power things and at the very least cause bad fur days. They probably work on that part of the weather elsewhere on the planet if we do have it back home. Anything like that in the shcbvaetfhig area would cause a lot of problems."

She sticks her tongue and makes a horrible face. What an awful sound her translator made in place of that word! "Must me a Super Wolf only word... Sorry, I got carried away... its uh, lots of tall places with lots of wolves and even others. There's lots of Space ships too. Its like where the green is from where I ran out from, dense, but taller at the middle."

[thedemonofcat]

I think it would be neat if Geralt had synaesthesia.

It would make his sensitive senses even more overwhelming, and it would add a new layer to how he views Jaskier's voice.

At first, the garish, distracting colors are worse than the voice itself. How does someone's voice have so many different colors? Why do they have to be so bright and eye-catching?

Then, they just become a part of his world. An extra layer to existence.

But, after the mountain, his world is literally less colorful. More dreary.

When Jaskier was happy, Geralt saw the bard’s words as the color yellow. For the longest time, Geralt had never liked yellow; it was too close to gold—the color of his own eyes, a constant reminder of his mutation. But on Jaskier, yellow was different. It was warm, vibrant, and alive. On calm days along the path, when their journey stretched endlessly ahead, Jaskier’s words shifted to blue—a tranquil hue that matched his peaceful demeanor. At times like those, Geralt often wondered how someone as light and carefree as Jaskier could find peace alongside someone as burdened as him.

One thing Geralt knew, though, that others might not guess: Jaskier loved nature. His words turned green whenever he marveled at birds darting through the air or wildflowers blooming along the trail. It was a color of vitality, of life, and it suited the bard in those moments of quiet wonder.

On rare occasions, when duty called and Jaskier was forced to don the mantle of the Viscount of Lettenhove, his words glimmered in purple. Purple, the color of royalty, though Jaskier was only nobility. Still, Geralt couldn’t help but feel the weight of that color—a reminder of the gulf in status that separated them in the eyes of the world, even if Jaskier had never cared for such distinctions.

Sometimes, in the rough atmosphere of taverns, when some drunken fool slurred an insult toward the witcher, Jaskier’s words flared red—a flash of anger bright enough to match his fiery defense. It always caught Geralt off guard, the bard’s unwavering loyalty burning brighter than any insult hurled their way.

Having Jaskier in Kaer Morhen felt strange. After that fight on the mountain, Geralt had thought the bard would want nothing to do with him ever again. Yet here Jaskier was, sitting in the great hall, surrounded by witchers.

“Oh no, thank you,” Jaskier said, waving Vesemir off with a polite smile as the old witcher offered him more food. “I couldn’t possibly have any more.”

But his words lacked their usual light. Something was off, and it gnawed at Geralt’s mind. For the first time, Jaskier was in his home; more than anything, Geralt wanted him to be happy.

[ud505]

Hii! I absolutely adore ur writing! I was wondering if Josh Washington would braid/tie reader’s hair up if they would allow them to, to sort of cope with Hannah and Beth’s disappearance; assuming that Josh would sometimes do the twins’ hair. Some hcs and a gender neutral reader would be nice :)

Hi anon!! I'm glad u like my writing :) I'm absolutely sure he'd do that. And I can also imagine him making his sisters hairstyles that their parents didn't allow them to wear when they weren't home 😭😭

• It sort of started as a joke. You were trying to do some new hairstyle on yourself, but it didn't turn out as you wanted it to. So he offered himself to help you, and you accepted thinking he was joking

• At first you weren't so sure abt how it'd look on you bc, since when does he know how to do someone's hair? Well guess who turned out to be a fool

• It looked amazing. More than amazing. How? You ask him. He just says it's a "secret talent of his" while trying not to laugh at your visibly surprised face

• But secretly? He was afraid that you wouldn't like it. It had been some time since he last helped the twins with their hair, so he wasn't sure if it was good enough for you

• Since then, he always offers to do your hair, it doesn't matter if you're tired, drunk, or just too lazy to do it yourself. Call and he'll do it, no reason needed

• He'd have some nicknames for you like "his hairstyle doll" and he'd actually think they're hilarious

• He'd send you random photos of hairstyles just in case you want him to make them for you. Such a cutie

• He'd be really careful while doing it bc he wouldn't wanna hurt you. All that experience with his sisters messy hairs have made him an expert, even on curly ones

• He'd make you some silly hairstyles if you let him when he's bored or inspired

• And if you let him, he'd put some accessories on you (like sanrio or princess themed hair clips)

• He'd agree to match hairstyles with you if you asked him. And he'd sometimes encourage you to try and do them to him (not a lot bc he doesn't want you to learn to do it yourself, he enjoys those moments with you more than you'll ever know)

• And even if they look absolutely horrible, he'd wear them like a fucking medal

• He'd also act like he were a hairdresser and didn't know you just to make it funnier

• If you could turn around while he's doing your hair, you'd see him absolutely concentrated and with a wide smile. It just gives him so many good memories...

• But he's never telling you that it helps him to cope with the twins' dissapearance though. He doesn't want you to be sad bc of it, and prefers to see it as a cute tradition that the both of you have

[billpottsismygf]

I've just received a notification that I've reached 10,000 reblogs on here, which is quite strange and fascinating. On the one hand, that's a lot of times for people to reblog things from me, but on the other hand, with the number of posts I've blogged or reblogged myself (69,238) in the last 13 years, I would have expected it to be far more than that. I've never been a particularly big blog, obviously, and the focus of this blog has also changed as I've become hyperfixated on different fandoms over the years, which means a lot of my followers will only be interested in one or two of the fandoms I post about, if any of them, if they're even still active.

The post that reached it for me was the one from the other day paralleling The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit and The Legend of Ruby Sunday. It's now at 1,450 notes and is currently my second most popular post of all time, after a post I made in 2011, which is my only post ever to break 2k notes, specifically 2,266. The vast majority of my original posts are lucky to get into the 10s or even 100s of notes (my average is apparently 17.18 notes per original post), which is fine by me. I wouldn't have been doing this so long if my motivation was notes-based. Still, it's just a little weird to realise how little it all adds up to in the end.

Obviously a fair few of the notes I receive are likes and some are comments, but it brings home how little I've been interacted with in 13 years despite it never feeling that way. The 398 reblogs on my Sutekh post from 3 days ago are 4% of all my reblogs ever. That 2011 Doctor Who day post has 1,343 reblogs (reblog ratios were sooo much better then, wow) and is over 13% of all my reblogs ever. For contrast, my Hide Away video (which was an addition on someone else's post, so doesn't count towards my total unless people reblogged it directly from me) has 88,000 views, most of which it garnered in its first few weeks. My Merlin fanvideo from 2012 has 11k views. A couple of brief moments of almost virality eclipse my entire time on this platform.

Of course, this is actually quite nice really, so I don't wish this post to sound all sad and mopey. I've been very lucky with my fandom experience. Although I've had a couple of unpleasant interactions, I've mostly stayed under the radar enough to just get to chill and yell about things with people in a pleasant way. It's just a surprise to me to get sudden context for my time on here in numbers and thus have to recontextualise what tumblr interaction looks like and how much of it I've actually been on the receiving end of. Regardless, I guess thanks? For the 10,000 reblogs? I'm not going anywhere any time soon, so let's see if it takes me another 13 years to hit the 20,000 mark.

13 years, 1,885 followers, 1,842 original posts, 69,238 posts overall, 31,638 notes and 10,000 reblogs. That's pretty damn cool, but also pretty weird.

[greenswing]

Things

[sysig]

Can you please draw Edgar and Johnny stargazing or something like that

Day 8 - Stargazing

[mildcicada]

[gaystonerdragon]

sometimes i feel like the people reading black butler forget that the whole premise of the narrative is a boy who saw his entire family and household massacred on his birthday is tricked into forming a revenge pact with a demon that was summoned by the cult that killed his brother after abusing the two preteen boys for weeks on end, to bring equal humiliation, pain, and suffering to everyone responsible for the aforementioned horrors committed against him. “its so dark” like yeah… what gave it away? “the subject matter is so heavy” again… what part of the narrative set up made you think it wouldn’t be? like you know how this is ending, right?

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[tchaikovskaya]

remember the first couple months of the pandemic when people were sincerely convinced wayfair was selling child slaves. listed as office filing cabinets etc. with the missing child's actual legal first name as the item's name.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[edge-oftheworld]

if your fave says that someone makes them happy btw. the least you can do is believe them. if they say that they feel safe and a bit calmer and they’re getting a chance to heal. you gotta respect that. even if you have your own concerns and reasons not to be happy about it, in the end it’s their well-being and they have a right to live and to tell their own story however they choose. and if you refuse to believe basic evidence that’s right in front of you, you don’t deserve to scrutinise their life or who they have in it.

[selamat-linting]

unblocking several ppl because they admit the ending to wrestledream was ass