#but my face is really itchy for the past 2-3 days :(

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

I don't even know what I ate the other day but my face is badly breaking out

[thegorysaint]

Long Time No See

Hello everyone! I'm finally at the tail end of the rough month I had (and years).

 I wanted to get back to streaming today but i think i will take a couple extra days and start on Tuesday. Now I will explain what happened, so if you are not interested in that you can skip the read no problem : )

Mid May I got a really bad case of gastritis that lasted for 3 to 4 days, meaning, I had really bad stomach ache, I honestly dont remember but i probably ate something too spicy. Then after that week on a Sunday at 2 am I got what i thought was an allergic reaction to some ham and salami. I went to the ER when I started feeling itchy all over and my face swollen.

I stood around the ER for about hour and a half and I was not getting treated, so i just decided to go at the drugstore for at least some allergic medicine, i was feeling better on the way home but as soon as i was pulling up I felt bad again, i was really tired, it was almost 6 am so i went to take a nap to rest and let the medicine work. I woke up an hour later with a rash all over my arms and itchy all over my neck and chest. I googled to see if there was a 24/7 doctor nearby and luckily there was one.

After explaining everything I got a shot for the allergic reaction and some pills to take the next 3 days. Omg, it was so bad, at that time i didnt know the shot should of taken care of the reaction, so i thought it was normal and was gonna go away with the pills. The rash was going away little by little the next couple of ways but still very itchy and visiting the bathroom too many times during the day (not the good kind of bathroom visits).

After going to the same clinic but different Doctor, i was diagnosed with Food Intoxication, not food poisoning or allergic reaction, I had a fever that i didnt notice. So they were gonna give me antibiotics pills but i asked to get the injections, because I know antibiotics are really bad for my gut and i was already at my limit with the bathroom visits. Luckily the Doctor said ok and i had to take only 3 injections, 1 each day, and some pills in case i felt more pain or fever. Literally 40 minutes after the first injection i felt great, no pain in my stomach or guts, it got so relaxed that i was able to burp and without feeling nauseous for the first time in a week.

I was finally so relaxed that i was able to sleep a full night. After the 3 days have passed i was feeling so good, better than what i've felt in the last couple of months. I was able to eat without wanting to puke it out as soon as it touched my mouth, and the bathroom only saw me once a day. Funny thing is, my brother came for a surprise visit so, while i was still recovering physically, he helped me to recover mentally, he stayed for a week and by the end of it i was feeling so good and full of energy (even tho I was under the sun sweating my butt off a couple of days).

He left before this past weekend so i've been just recharging my social battery. I was feeling so good i got into the pool a couple times to just relax, pretty much I had a vacation week because my bro was here (totally making me want to go to my hometown again but the heat is worse there for some reason).

So, for now I just need to get my energy back and not let the bad energies to return, I'm trying to focus this week on getting my sleeping schedule back to normal (something i fixed before i got sick), and trying to get in the rhythm of drawing again. I want to get some stuff before I go to visit my bro for a couple of months around mid August or September but I really need to sell some stuff I dont need. Also kinda making plans to move to Japan as soon as possible, the forecast for my country is not good with the election and if the new term people have it their way, Mexico is heading to a really bad place.

I wanted to visit USA before going to Japan to visit friends but obviously I havent been making enough money to save up, so unless i win the lottery that aint happening because my mom doesnt want to go to USA for whatever reason. That means I will start fully focusing on getting on track with projects so I can afford a living.

Sorry for the delay of all my stuff, last year was really bad mentally and physically for me, and sentimentally was devastated for the second year in a row, now I will try to focus on not getting attached to people for a while and just work work work (dont worry, that just means im not going to search for a romantic long term relationship, specially not long distance online)

So, I apologize for my lack of professionalism and I really appreciate your patience, it really means a lot.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/long-time-no-see-105561594

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Tattoos and Tissues

Fandom: Stranger Things Summary: No Upside Down. Tattoo Artist and Florist AU. Eddie is a tattoo shop owner and all is going swimmingly until a certain familiar face from high school drops in to ask for help with tattoo design but ends up setting off his allergies. But Eddie can't pinpoint why his ex-bully is so... squirmy? CW: Really mild mention of mess? Steve has the kink but it's really only implied. Word Count: 4k Author Note: Heya! I tried to throw some fun kink-related scenario stuff into this fic just for shits and giggles. But also kept it pretty tame, but I've got some ideas for a pt 2 and possibly pt 3 if y'all like this? And those might get spicier. So just let me know if you like this AU or just really sneezy Eddie in general. It was fun to write! Also kinda lowkey maybe sorta snuck in some Autistic Eddie bc hi author is autistic oops. MINORS DNI

It was winter. Blessedly crisp and cold, and even if Eddie hated being cold, he liked winter. It was one of the few seasons where he wasn’t the sneezy friend for once in his life. No, with his Munson Constitution, Eddie had an immune system like a damn suit of armor.

Come Spring, Summer, and even Fall? Eddie was bound to sneeze on and off all damn day depending on the pollen count for the various things he was allergic to. The only reason he was usually functional at all was because of getting allergy shots that helped make his itchiness, sneezing, and everything else more manageable. When he couldn’t do that he just had to pop some Benadryl and hope for the best.

Eddie’s chilly fingers were currently wrapped around a coffee mug as he headed into work, greeting Gareth sleepily with a mumble.

“Dude. It’s 11am. You should absolutely be awake by now.” Gareth said incredulously from behind the counter where he was going over the schedule for the day. They’d only just opened. Such was the luxury of owning a tattoo parlor, they could open just before noon, and it was completely normal for them.

Eddie sipped his coffee and waved a ring clad hand at Gareth, shushing him once he’d swallowed. “Shhh… you sound like my uncle when you nag like that.” He complains and has another sip of coffee, leaning over to peek at the schedule. “I got anything early?”

It wasn’t unusual for Eddie to lean into other people’s personal space and Garret just rolled his eyes and shoved him back over the counter. “No. When do you ever? Chrissy always does mornings for you.”

“He’s riiiiight.” Chrissy says with a sing song voice as she comes skipping over to Eddie with a grin on her face. She steals his coffee cup for a sip and Eddie doesn’t even whine as she does so. Just lets her have it.

Eddie wraps an arm around Chrissy’s shoulders and squeezes her gently. “And you’re an angel for it. An angel!” He insists and turns his face away from her to yawn into his arm. “Urgh sorry.”

One of Chrissy’s hands comes up to gently cup Eddie’s face, eyeing the bags under his eyes and how bloodshot they look. “Is it nightmares again?” She asks him quietly to which Garret politely pretends to be busy doing anything but listening in.

With a fake smile, Eddie gently takes her hand off his face and squeezes it reassuringly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He told her quietly and kissed the top of her head. They weren’t together. Had tried it once but Chrissy had broken down and sobbed to Eddie over a bottle of wine that she was a lesbian. Eddie had held her all night, reassured her, promised her that no matter what he loved her and supported her wholeheartedly.  

So, they weren’t together, but they were as thick as thieves. Closer than siblings but not together in any romantic or sexual sense. They just knew each other too well. On some deeper level… Chrissy knew shit about Eddie’s past that no one else knew and Eddie, in turn, knew things about Chrissy he’d never breathe a word about…

The door chimed and Chrissy stepped back to look at the person who had come through the doors. “Hi, welcomed to Banished Tattoo, if you’re my eleven thirty you’re pretty early, eager beaver.” She greeted chipperly to which the stranger seemed surprised.

“Uh… no actually. I was looking around at some tattoo places near my new apartment and this place is pretty close. Thought I’d stop by and check out some work. Maybe talk design ideas if I like your stuff?” And the man used a hand to brush his stray bangs that had fallen back up out of his face.

Strangely familiar… He was gorgeous. No really. Utterly and completely heart-stopping. Those soft lips and handsome jaw with that perfect fucking hair, those little moles, fuck  Eddie was smitten already, and the motherfucker hadn’t even agreed to a tattoo yet.

In fact, it didn’t look like he had any tattoos at all… Eddie was somewhat confused but left Chrissy to set him up with their work portfolio booklets full of their best pieces. He took his coffee to his tattooing station on the lower floor.

All of Chrissy’s things were in the loft area up top. She was so short and so liked to feel tall otherwise. A little while later, Eddie became aware of Chrissy’s presence behind him when he was about half way done with his coffee. “Oh no…” He said quietly. “Don’t tell me…”

“He liked your work.” Chrissy said with a grin and grabbed him by one of his curls to pull him out from behind the dividing wall to the waiting area while Eddie hisses “ow ow ow ow ow Chrissy-!”

Once they’re in front of this poor stranger, already subjected to Eddie’s nonsense this early in the morning (at least in Eddie’s opinion), Eddie tucks the strand of hair Chrissy pulled him by back behind his ear.

“Sorry, he’s not a morning person is all.” Chrissy explained, still cheerful as ever. “I’ve got to go prepare for my eleven thirty. You boys have fun brainstorming.” And with that she hurried off back up to the loft.

Eddie wanted to grumble but instead he took a breath, felt a dull tingle in his nose and ignored it, before switching his coffee to his nondominant hand to offer a handshake out to the other man. “Eddie Munson. So, you liked my stuff and wanna design a tattoo?”

The other man takes the offered hand to shake it and nods. “Yeah! I really liked your style and consistency, man. I’m Steve Harrington.” He introduced himself and Eddie could swear the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

His nose prickled with that itchy sort of tickling sensation again and Eddie rubbed at it with the back of his wrist. “Steve Harrington, huh? Nice to meet ya. Let me grab some things and we can get settled in my tattooing area to design this if you want? There’s a couch in there?” He offered and headed back to his area. Rummaging around a little, Eddie pulled out his sketchbook, pencils, and pens. “So, what’s our tattoo idea?”

Slowly, Steve eased down on the black leather couch while Eddie leaned against the tattooing table, setting his coffee down there. “I’m not totally sure… I babysit these kids and I sort of just promised them if they’re all graduating with A’s then I’ll get a tattoo for them. And well- I’m a man of my word.”

A loud sigh escaped Eddie as he smiled and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh man… You’re in some shit. Okay, bud. You want something small or big?” He asked casually and felt the tickle spike in intensity for a moment. “Hih… Uh… h-hang on one s-seehhcond…”

Holding up a finger with the hand still holding his pencil, Eddie lifts his opposite arm to prepare to sneeze into his elbow. “EhhhXT’shh! Ugh sorry. S’cuse me.” He shook his head, curls flopping wildly for a moment and sniffed.

“Bless you.” Steve said, blinking a few times and looking like he had to recover for a moment. “Are you okay?”

Eddie waved off his concern with another sniff and a nod. “I’m fine. So, this tattoo. How big or small? Any sort of theme you’re th-hiih-inking about?” He questioned and tapped his pencil against the paper a little, the itch still bothering him.

Poor Steve looked completely out of his element now that they were talking about putting ink on him specifically. “Um… well… I think small might be better for my first-”

“HiiD’TShhuh! Ugh… snff sorry.” Eddie apologized, realizing he’d interrupted Steve again who looked positively flustered.

Maybe flustered was too kind of a word to use. Actually, Steve looked downright embarrassed. He was bright red but even as Eddie went to ask if he was okay, Steve took his turn to cut him off. “It’s fine. Um. What was I saying? Oh! Small! So how small is small really? Like a quarter? Or… like a drink coaster? I dunno…” He threw his hands a little in frustration and Eddie couldn’t help smiling in endearment.

“You h-hhhaave no idea what you w-want do you?” Eddie asked with a smirk and another sniffle punctuating it.

“No fucking idea.” Steve finally admitted with a groan and put his face in his hands.

Eddie laughed a little and felt his breath wheeze in his chest. “Oh shit. That makes s-sense…” He chokes out, his breath threatening to hitch again. “I can h-help you design a tattoo no p-prehh… problem snfff but I need some allergy meds f-fihh first because something is seriously s-setting me off.” He hitches his way through reassuring Steve and goes to dig in his cabinets for some Benadryl.

For a few moments, Steve looks stunned and is apparently too shocked to speak.

“W-Whhhiih…what’s the batter, Stevie?” Eddie asked, his sinuses swelling a little and congestion settling in to turn his m’s to b’s and n’s to d’s. “Dever heard of allergies b-beeh… eehHID’TsHHew! HeiSHEW! Ugh… fuck be…” He plucked a few tissues from the box on the counter to wipe his nose after sneezing into his elbow.

“No, it’s just- shit. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Are you allergic to pollen?” Steve asked anxiously and brushed his bangs back out of his face. When Eddie glanced back at him, Steve was still wearing that look like he was beating himself up internally, but he was more concerned than anything else.

Overly so in Eddie’s opinion, but maybe it was because he delt with this on the regular. “I’b allergic to everythi’g, Stevie. Is it a pladt that cad jizz? Thed I’b godda sdeeze add itch add wheeze…” He murmurs and rubs at his nose a little before finally pulling out the godforsaken bottle of Benadryl to down a dose with some water from his water bottle. ”Hiih’tshhuh! Huh… oh by god.”

The way Steve’s expression falls and crumples just about breaks Eddie’s heart. “Shit. Yeah. It’s my fault. I’m a florist. My job is making all the floral arrangements that get put on display or that people order.” He tries to smile softly at Eddie in a reassuring way.

“That bakes- hhii’DTshhuh! Ugh… so buch sedse.” Eddie mumbles, swiping at his nose and rubbing at it in rough circles with the tissue he’s got. His nose itches something fierce and his eyes are starting to get itchy and watery too. God, it makes him want to jump in a steamy hot shower for an hour to rinse the allergens out.

Steve was making to grab his things, looking like he was getting ready to leave. “I’m sorry. I really liked your work but if the allergies are too much I don’t wanna torture you, man…”

Panic rose in Eddie like a snake rearing its head to strike. Something in him didn’t want Steve to leave. He was so damn pretty, held good conversation, and Eddie still can’t place why Steve is familiar. Nope. Something in him tells him Steve can’t leave, not yet.

“D’no!” Eddie said quickly and moved around the tattoo table, knocking the tissue box to the floor in his rush. “Shit- uh d’no uh dod’t go. Seriously, I’b used to this. I- iihhxshhTsh! Fuck. I’b like this all spri’g, subber, add fall. Ask adyode. I cad work through this d’no probleb. I eved keep basks for whed I’b tattooi’g just id case.”

There was a look of uncertainty from Steve as he shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment, “Your allergies are that bad? Do you get like… allergy shots or whatever? I hear those help.” He picked up the box of tissues off the floor to hand them back to Eddie who took them gratefully.

Eddie nodded when Steve asked if his allergies were that bad, his breath hitching unevenly again while his nostrils twitched. They were starting to get pink and irritated, plucking a few tissues as said nostrils twitched and flared while his breathing stuttered. “Uh-huhh… mmf. Yeah. Get allergy s-shots as ofted as I cad id allergy seasod, but I s-still- Hhxxshuh! Oh by god… sdeeze. Add adyway it’s widter dow. Usually, dothi’g to sdeeze or wheeze about buch udtil I h-hhhave to get the Christbas decoratiods out. Snfff!”

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. Really. If you’re not feeling up to this at all we can reschedule, and I can make sure to shower and wear freshly washed clothes?” Steve offers, still watching Eddie worriedly. There was an almost mom-like quality to how he was beginning to hover and now Eddie could see how he’d likely become the babysitter of some highschoolers.

He sniffled again and pawed at his nose a little, hoping to alleviate the itchiness deep within. “I’b a-aaah-alright really. Just sdeezy. I’b so used to t-this. As lodg as you’re dot freaki’g out. If you’re freaki’g out, by all beads, H-hhhharri’gtod…” He stepped back and made a grand gesture with both hands and bowed as if bowing the king out of court.

Then it clicked. Harrington. King Harrington. From high school. This was one of the preppy jocks from that group that tried to single out his little flock of misfits. He had been set to graduate before Harrington until he was held back twice. “EiiTSHHHuh! HeehDTSHHHEW! Ugh-”

“Woah, big sneeze,” Steve said, sounding impressed and almost cheering him on in a way. “Shit. Sorry. My roommate, Robin, and I have this running joke that’s like that. Every time one of us does something like yawn or burp or… I guess even sneeze and it’s big, we say that.” He chuckles bashfully.

A soft, sort of mushy feeling settles in Eddie’s chest, and he really can’t help himself.  This was surely not the same King Harrington from high school. “Okay, d’no that’s snff snffff ki’d of cute.” He snuffled against his sleeve and his nostrils twitch and flare again, making Eddie’s eyes squint and water as he begged for relief from the tickle. “Ugh.. fucki’g pladt sperb.” He grumbles and wiggles his nose. “Well, if you and your roobbate ever h-have a gabe of who sdeezes the bost coudt be id. Easy wid.”

Once again Steve’s face seemed to just color up such a brilliant shade of red that Eddie couldn’t even begin to describe. It was richer than just cherry or tomato red. “From uh… from what I’m seeing here I don’t doubt that. But you’ve never seen me with a cold.”

And that sounded like a challenge. Eddie was all about a good old fashioned challenge. “Oh yeah snff, Harri’gtod?” His eyelashes fluttered a little and his breathing hitched ever so slightly, a hand coming up to hover in front of his face. “H-hhhold that th-hhhiihh- thought-! Hih-! HiiTSHH! EhhTShhEW! Eheh… eh-? EhhptSHHEW! EhhKTSHHEW! Huh…”

“Holy fuck, big sneezes. Bless you!” Steve says in a soft sort of awe which makes Eddie laugh softly as he plucks some tissues to clean himself up. He clamped his ring covered hand over his mouth and nose and now it was a total mess which he was struggling to clean up.

Blowing his nose would probably help but with someone like Steve right there, Eddie didn’t exactly want to feel that unattractive. So, he settled for snuffling softly behind a tissue. “Thagks.” He mumbles, cringing at how congested he was getting as he pumped some hand sanitizer onto his hands, rubbing them together rapidly. “Alright. Tell be about these rudts of yours-”

The time flew by after Eddie started asking the right questions. Soon they had an intricately designed piece with many things Steve had listed that the kids did, liked, teased and joked about. Even some inside jokes were thrown into the tattoo. It was smallish. About coaster sized so maybe medium for a first piece.

Steve loved it. Adored it even. He was immediately sending pictures to his roommate who was texting back faster than Chrissy even did sometimes. The Benadryl had mostly kicked in and Eddie was still sniffling and sneezing though not as much. And he was still congested as hell.

“Eddie, really, this is… wow. And I get to have this? Like on my body?” Steve said with a smile that could light up even Eddie’s black, charred, dead heart.

Eddie chuckled quietly and sniffled, rubbing at his itchy nose some more with his wrist. “Uh-huh. All yours, big boy. I just get exclusive rights to tattoo it od you sidce I drew it.” He half jokes. It was a bit like… a code of honor. If one artist starts a piece, they should be the one to finish it unless they can’t. “EhhDTSHHEW! Huh… S’cuse be.” He mumbles and sniffled again, grabbing another tissue to wipe his nose which was now painfully red.

A soft smile crossed Steve’s face, “Bless you. You get to tattoo it on me, Eddie. No worries about that. You sure you’re okay? Don’t need me to get uh-?”

“Chrissy.” Eddie supplies his coworker’s name and shakes his head, curls bouncing again. “D’no. I’b fide. Seriously. I dod’t eved have buch od by schedule today. Snff snfff. Just two sballer tattoos add snfff… I’b hhhih… dode. I thigk snff Garret add Chrissy will udersta’d if I wadt to go hobe early add shower thed pass out.” He admits with a returned smile back at Steve, fighting off another tickle by scrubbing at his nose.

Again, Steve seems… uncomfortable somehow. Eddie seriously hopes all this sneezing isn’t majorly putting Steve off because fuck that would be just Eddie’s luck wouldn’t it? Find the perfect guy for once and he’s a total germaphobe. He suddenly has to yank his hoodie collar up to cover his face as the tickle overwhelms him. “IhhEXXTSHHUH! Oh by fugki’g god…”

Something like a sympathetic noise comes from Steve and he plucks a few tissues from the box to offer them to Eddie who takes them gratefully, hurriedly burying his face in them to- “HehhTSHhuh! Sorry for all the sdeezi’g. Snff. I probise I’b dot usually caught so- udprepared?”

“Eddie,” And god Steve’s voice is so soft when he says his name like that. “It’s alright. Seriously. I don’t mind the sneezing one bit.” He tries to insist but Eddie knows better. He likes to think he knows how to read people, it’s a survival skill at this point. Something he’d had to develop over time because Eddie Munson has no natural social skills.

Leave him alone in a room full of people and he’ll meld into the back wall. The only reason he’d been so loud and obnoxious in high school was to draw the attention of the jocks away from his group of misfits and onto himself. To keep them safe.

So, Eddie, being terrible at social skills as he is, rubs at his nose and sniffles some more. “N’do way, dude. I kdow it’s gross. You dod’t h-have to be polite to m’be.” He laughs it off like he can do most anything someone thinks is gross or weird about him. Even if it’s never quite true deep down.

And then Steve is doing that soft look again, like he’s concerned for Eddie in a way that only Chrissy or Garret (though he pretends not to) has ever been before. And well, obviously, his Uncle Wayne but he’s obligated to it doesn’t count.

Steve is opening his mouth to speak again but the tickle is burning through Eddie’s nose again so he hastily holds up a finger again to tell Steve to wait.

“H-hhhhold that t-thought, bi-ihh big boy exxshhtuh! Huh… N’gxxSHUH! Jesus. Whew. Okay, sorry. Codtidue.” Eddie was hastily swiping at his nose with the tissue he’d luckily caught his sneezes into.

There it is again. The discomfort. Eddie had hoped that making light of his predicament might help put Steve at ease, but it only seemed to make things worse. Guilt gnawed at him even if he couldn’t help it.

With a deep breath and what looked like a lot of effort on Steve’s part, the other man found his voice to speak. “You’re not gross, Eddie. Trust me. But I promise for our actual tattooing appointment I will wear extra clean clothes and come freshly showered so you’re not suffering again. Deal?” He extended a hand out with a smile to shake on it.

Eddie sniffled and grabbed Steve’s hand in a firm grip, rings clicking together. “It’s a deal, Harri’gtod. Ehh….EXT’shew! SnFF!” He’d ducked his face away from Steve to sneeze but still felt the other’s grip tighten so much more. “Sorry.” He mumbled and sniffled a little before facing Steve again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says with a chuckle that sounds a little forced even if his hazel eyes are genuine. “I should get going. I’ve gotta take the kids to D&D at the library later tonight but they wanted to hang out after school.”

That perks Eddie up instantly. “D’no shit?” He laughs and smirks. “You ever stick around to watch the sessions?” He asked, already knowing the answer to that. He just hadn’t realized that flock of seniors were the same seniors he DMed for.

With a casual wave of his hand, Steve shook his head and Eddie swore he could see pollen come off Steve’s jacket sleeve when he moved that fast. “Nah. The kids love the game, but D&D was never really my-”

“EuhhTShhuh! Hept’SHuh! EISSHhuh! Fuck- sorry.”

“- thing… Bless you three times, Eddie.”

Eddie tried to make it not as big of a deal this time, but Steve still squirmed, and he wanted to curse himself. This was awful. Embarrassing himself in front of his brand new crush on his former high school bully. Even if Harrington had never really bullied him just… never stopped some of the others from it. Half the jocks picked on him while the other half knew better than to fuck with their dealer.

So, Eddie had always chalked it up to Harrington didn’t want to fuck up his relationship to his weed dealer.

With a sniffle and rubbing his wrist against his nose, Eddie stepped back to nod towards the shop exit. “I wod’t keep you thed, but you should stay add watch a sessiod sobe tibe. Bight chadge your bide od liki’g it… Okay, you better get to those twerps before you’re late.” He teases congestedly and puts on another smile for Steve, lifting his sketchbook. “I’ve got a desigd to idk add prep for you od Tuesday.”

Steve chuckles softly and nods, “Alright, alright.” He checks his watch, and his eyes widen. “Oh shit, it’s nearly two already. Yeah, thank you! So much, Eddie, really! I love it. I’ll see you on Tuesday!” And without much else said, Steve left his tattooing room in a rush while Eddie sniffled.

“See ya,” Eddie said with a wave.

It wasn’t maybe a minute later that Chrissy came rushing into his tattooing area with a wild grin on her face. “Eddie! It went well?!” But her face fell as she saw what an allergic mess he was. “Oh, Eds, sweetie- did you take allergy meds?”

With a wave of his hand, Eddie brushed her concerns off. “I did yeah. Already got it id be. I guess it wedt well? We talked for a lo’g while to bake sure we got his first tat right, y’kdow?” He explained to Chrissy, rubbing at his nose to itch it some but it makes an awful squelching sound.

Chrissy makes a face at the noise but shakes her head. “No, you idiot!” She looks positively thrilled to share this news with him. “Eddie, he was definitely hard when he left.”

A beat of silence.

“What?” Eddie asked incredulously and met Chrissy’s eyes. “You’re joki’g? You’re dot joki’g. D’no… you’ve gotta be fucki’g with be…”

Chrissy watched him as Eddie began to pace between her and the cabinets of his workstation. “I’m not- Eddie, what happened?”

“Ehh… EPTSH’uhh! Ugh… sorry. Okay this is godda sou’d crazy… but I thidk by dew cliedt is ki’d of idto by sdeezes.”

Link to Part 2

[meditating-dog-lover]

Health Update

I'm surprised by how glowing and clear my skin is. The only difference I made was taking the DIM Detox supplement and switching to reverse osmosis water. I also took some antibiotics which helped get rid of some infections. But those are gone - neck and ears completely healed. I do not have any rashes on my face and neck like I did weeks/months ago. My hands are clear and smooth with some cuts and some infection that's in the process of healing. They are itchy and I do rub them under hot water when I wash my hands, but they're also clear and smooth (feels like how they felt after I got my steroid shot and pills).

I would have never thought that excess estrogen is responsible for my eczema. I feel much much better now and I'm so happy. I thought it was a gut issue, but I guess not (not that gut health isn't important, but it wasn't the cause of my skin inflammation).

I am also slim and not bloated. I know DIM helps women lose weight, but I don't believe I have much at all to lose. Digestive enzymes help a lot with bloating.

I would imagine that some forms of birth control or even a hysterectomy would get rid of my eczema. But those are extreme (mostly hysterectomy), and I don't want to do any of those. My obgyn was more helpful with helping me clear my skin than my dermatologists. I definitely knew it was hormonal.

I've been taking the DIM for 2.5 weeks and I'll see how my skin improves with time. It's getting cooler now so I'm worried that the cold and dry weather might make my skin worse. I hope this doesn't happen.

I really like the reverse osmosis water. I think it does help health-wise. Getting organic food helps too, but I don't think it's possible to eat 100% organic. Nor is it possible to use 100% "clean products". I feel like naturally supporting key detoxing organs help. In this case it would be the liver because it plays a role in metabolizing and getting rid of excess estrogen (DIM helps it do that). The supplement is great, but of course I want to check with my doctor to see if it safe to take longterm. Unfortunately it's also pretty expensive.

I'm going to therapy tomorrow to discuss my diagnosis. I'm autistic and was diagnosed at a late age. And I want to get the support I was supposed to get decades ago.

I got a coffee today and some vegan cheese puffs. When it comes to "less than healthy stuff", I prefer having a small portion on the side than a whole treat. I had a mocha and brownie last week on Thursday and Friday. I think that's fine, but I would prefer to have a small treat. I did not finish my coffee and had a few sips because I just wasn't craving it. But overall my diet is pretty health and rich in fiber, protein, fats, vitamins, and minerals. I would say I eat 80-20 at this point. Not 100-0. I would not necessarily say I eat very low sugar either. I think my diet is an improvement because I used to order milkshakes and McDonald's years ago during COVID. I recently used to order pizza and sandwiches often, which are rich in processed white bread which is loaded with sugar, as well as inflammatory oils and I'm sure the sauces had hidden sugars. I now eat out less and eat less sugar, just not 0% sugar. And I'm still fine.

Today I remembered the days when Facebook, Myspace, Formspring, and Twitter were popular when I was in school and why I didn't have a lot of friends and people messaging and interacting with me. I always had less than 200 Facebook friends. I now realize it's because I'm autistic. Of course I never deserved social exclusion. but it's just something I remembered and considered.

I will heal mentally and get the support I need as an autistic woman.

In the past there were times where my blood sugar was great. I think what helps with it is 2 things, maybe even 3. (1) being at a healthy weight, (2) minimizing stress (fasting raised my blood sugar), and (3) physical activity (walking and light body circuits). I used to follow Rachael Attard's programs and her workouts were designed that way. I remember doing her programs and was at a healthy weight and my blood sugar levels were great. Though I was depressed back then and I was eating a lot of sugar and junk. I don't want to eat a lot of junk and don't want to be depressed and stressed. I'm at a healthy weight now and am putting less stress on my body because I'm not fasting everyday anymore. However I can go back to walking (I used to walk for an hour back then) and doing some light body circuits. I want to avoid anything heavy and challenging like HIIT or lifting because I tend to overeat when I do those.

I have experienced more physical stress from undereating than from overexercising in the past. For example, calorie restriction or fasting will cause more stress and inflammation than doing workouts focused on weighs and HIIT. I feel like I can continue with the anti-inflammatory diet and cycle fasting and definitely walk and do some sweaty pilates. I know this will help with my metabolic health, which is already great (blood pressure, sugar, cholesterol, etc...). But exercise will help even more with my sugar profile.

[lavenderedhoney]

Day 77 on T! 11 weeks! Been using about a third of a pack of androgel a night. So far:

Skin: been weird but not too bad! Started reacting immediately and continues to be up and down. Before T, birth control had my skin really clear and my skincare routine was literally just moisturizing after a shower. Immediately after starting T I broke out for about a week (nothing cystic but quite a bit more irritation and texture than I've had in years). Not the most convenient for me bc I have skin picking problems lol 🤪 but it's been ok! Since then my face has stabilized somewhat. I've had a couple more breakout periods but they never seem to last longer than about a week and then things go back to being relatively for 2-3 weeks or so. Cleansing at least once a day with micellar water seems to help.

I've started getting folliculitis and acne from certain things touching my face which is new - stuff like a pillowcase that hasn't been changed in maybe 7 days tops, or a mask I've worn too many times. Both of these are kind of annoying!! I used to reuse a KN95 7-8 times (airing out in between uses, obv) but recently I've been capping it at 3 or maybe 4 wears and changing my pillowcase slightly more than once a week. The micellar water helps with all this too.

Also, for the first time ever I'm getting small blemishes on my shoulders and chest. This started like 2 weeks ago. 🤔 I used to get a zit on my chest like once a year but now I've got a few. Might just have to start regularly cleansing these areas too, who knows!

Also also, sometimes the alcohol in the gel dries out the skin on my leg and that's itchy and annoying, but it's easy to combat by lotioning in the morning after I wash the gel off.

Dick: I honestly haven't been keeping close track of the size but my gf says she can actually feel it when she touches it now lmfao. An improvement for sure! Tiny dick problems. 😔 She started noticing a significant size increase at about 2 and a half weeks, and she says it's continued to get a little bit bigger since then. For the first time ever I can grind on horizontal surfaces and receive stimulation from it, which is crazy (previously mentioned tiny dick problems!!). I'm definitely a little more sensitive than I used to be but I haven't had any problems with oversensitivity when getting off!

Libido: I was SUPER horny all the time for the first few weeks, but I'm just regular, pre-T levels of horny now most days lmao.

Facial hair: I've had a couple long-ish chin hairs for years but they were SUPER fine and almost impossible to see. Now the slightly darker one is course enough to feel with my fingers, and my peach fuzz is starting to get longer too (only in my chin area so far tho). I've started trimming the longer hairs bc I'm curious to see how they grow back!

Body hair: for the literal first time ever I have visible leg hair on my thigh lmao. Before it was very, very blonde and fine, and now it's light brown and feels just a little bit fuzzier under my hands. Only on the one thigh tho, bc I've only been applying T to one side just for experiment's sake. Gonna start applying to both sides when I can get more leggings (I've been wearing a pair that I cut one leg off of to sleep in to make sure I don't get any T on my girl).

Body shape: haven't really noticed yet! Might have experienced a little bit of weight gain since my pants have been getting a tiny bit snugger in the waist, but I don't own a scale on purpose so I can't check and my weight's been inconsistent the past half year anyway! So I don't know if it's the T or just my body doing body stuff, and I also don't know if it's weight gain or just body fat moving around.

I'm having a pretty good time overall!

[domestikhighway58]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Thanks to @spencer-reids-adventures for tagging me! Woo!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 58 (LOL UNINTENTIONAL)

2. Word count posted for the year: 1,099,815

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Parks & Rec (but yo, I don't really count those last two)

4. Pairings: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid/The BAU Team, couple random outliers in there somewhere. Feel blessed I didn't drop any of my 4 Jeid fics in public.

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Casimir Pulaski Day with 536

Bookmarks: Casimir Pulaski Day with 262

Comments: And again! Casimir Pulaski Day with 151 comment threads (why is sadness so popular?)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

Honestly? My first ever fic and the thing that got me back into writing. The Eyes Have It literally opened my own eyes to writing again after a decade of not touching a keyboard. I did not think I would make it past 1000 words, let alone the 100,000 words that fic inspired. I had never written dialogue seriously before, never come up with any kind of extended plot, never explored character arcs, or even written creatively past a few lines of poetry. I posted that first chapter assuming I would lose interest or my depression would get the best of me yet again but neither of those things happened. I finished the three-part series three months later and made so many amazing fandom friends through that one fic. Even if it's not my most popular or even best-written work so far, it will always be my favorite.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

OOF. Well, quite a few fit that category but one I'm quite sad about is also just a symptom of my itchy fingers when it comes to writing whatever pops in my head. I deleted it (so sorry) but I plan to return to it one day and make it what I wanted it to be. If you're dying for shitty Highway58 drunkfics, here are these two terrible gems: The Wolf (terrible half-assed attempt at werewolf Spencer, update coming the next time I have whiskey) and my one and only Harry Potter fic, Sequi Mi, where I decided no matter how hard I fangirled on HP in my youth I can't do it anymore now. Maybe one day.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

My very first few comments on my first-ever fic bolstered my confidence like nothing else could. Some were short, some were so long and detailed that they made me cry. I recall two specific commenters who stuck by that crazy story with inspiration and encouragement and they are now in my circle of online friends I never would have found if I didn't keep writing. <3 Every comment I get is an amazing compliment and every single person who decides to take the time to read my bullshit is a goddamned gift.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Several stories I've completed this year spanned a time of my life that I thought was my lowest point. While writing it out through fic was helpful, it was also an outlet that exposed my issues and forced me to face them. The hardest time for me to write was also the time I probably wrote the most, when I was in that lowest space around this time last year. I felt guilty about it when everything else was going to hell but I kept doing it. Ultimately, exploring this side of my creativity allowed me to overcome some of those massive problems I thought were insurmountable.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

So many. I think I was somewhat surprised to find how much I enjoy writing the OC protagonist from their warped perspectives. I wrote a sadistically evil Doctor, a psychopathic billionaire heiress, and a Wild West warlord this year all within the context of CM and they were SO MUCH fun, I'm sad I killed them all. I also just think it's interesting to explore the potential depths of OCs within the fanfiction genre. So, that was a pleasant surprise when all I anticipated starting on this journey was a new way to explore the characters I already love.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ugh. I dunno. Too many words, but here's this from my first OC I still love and miss: Cheers, Caro, you might be in my first OG novel one day:

"Time to make an offering. 

The clothes and the phone bundled in her hands, she turned to the door. Walked down the narrow stairs, across the empty hall. Pushed the creaking screen door open against a violent night, the storm which had gathered earlier finally unleashing its fury. 

She cradled the phone with the image of those hands frozen, locked against her. Against her. On her. In her. Choking life back into her. 

Edging the rusted gate open she entered the garden. The wildness couldn’t compare with home, but it was something. " The Eyes Have It, Chapter 19

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

I think I've expressed this already elsewhere but... I wasn't a writer at all before this year. I dabbled for years in poetry and songwriting before landing at a point where I assumed my creativity was dead beneath the yoke of daily life and responsibility. When I started reading fanfiction, I was more depressed than I have ever been in my life. I buried myself in the words of others and wished I could even come close to that kind of creative expression. So when I finally sat down to write a story, I outlined something that came nowhere close to the story I ultimately wrote--and that's when I learned it's not about planning or hoping to do it, it's just about doing it. So, if anything, I grew comfortable with the idea that I can write and that I should--for myself. Because it helps.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to start finishing my WIPs more succinctly and with a bit more regularity. I do think I need to spend less time writing fanfic and more time honing my other skills. It is difficult to find the delicate balance between doing something for fun and doing it because you feel you need to please others. That's the double-edged sword of writing and posting fics--sometimes you feel the guilt weigh heavy when you let. a story lie there for months without relief. So, I want to probably slow down with my writing and be a little more intentional with it going forward. (Though honestly, that pains me to imagine--I love following the faintest whiff of fresh plot wherever it might lead). I do know I have no plans on stopping now that I've started.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

This is so hard. I've met so many new people this year who have endlessly encouraged and inspired me. Way too many to list here. I will shout out to @foggyblues-ralvez for being the first person to say Hi to me from the fandom (seriously, my dear Mandy, thank you <3). @masterwords, I love you and writing with you has been a fucking honor (also just hi, you should do this if you haven't yet, ily). @spencer-reids-adventures--endless love for your support and comments and the sprints, literally every step of the way. And then I'll shout out @brillianthijinx because darlin' you bring out a side in me I love and am terrified by lol, in the best way. But again, if I were to personally shout out every single person who has made an impact on me and my writing this year this silly thing would be longer than my ao3 wordcount. No one wants that.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

I won't go into detail here, but, yes. I write Spencer as my comfort character. While I sensationalize his issues to suit the story, the emotions are written from repressed experiences I have never explored. Writing is therapy as much as it is an obsession for me.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Just start writing. Don't think. Write. Share it or don't. Edit or don't. Just write. Every damn day, if you can.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Good lord, ALL of them. I hope to finish Casimir Pulaski Day by the end of January. I will be bringing back Signed, Sealed, Delivered in January as well. I want to finish up a few short fics soon and then continue my sequel to Silk Road quite soon. I have several A/B/O fics in the works, including the sequel to Old Town Road. @masterwords and I will of course be continuing our soft Hotchreid saga in Missing Pieces of Sleep. And then, you know, in my spare time I plan to start up part 2 of Finding it Out to explore some complicated Moreid/Hotchreid love triangle stuff within the canon. So, I've got a few things going on, ya.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@masterwords @eldrai @goobzoop @tobias-hankel @pandorasdreamings @fortheloveofwonderland

[quaranmine]

playing doctor on myself this morning with google and losing my mind just a bit

i keep. over the course of the last two years at least. randomly getting these blotchy red rashes on my torso. they don't itch or hurt, they aren't raised, and they seem completely random. i cannot figure it out or any link between it appearing. It will typically last several hours. they do not go on my face, neck, or limbs, just the torso. i don't think theyre like dangerous??? because i assume that if they were i would have some adverse reaction like pain, fever, swelling, etc. so that is why i have not been overly concerned with it. but it is baffling me. now sometimes in the past i have gotten extremely itchy for no reason on my torso, so maybe that's a factor, but the itchiness does not always coincide with the rash. for example, today there is none.

the thing i'm interested in today though, is if it's some sort of drug allergy rash. because it always looks exactly like the rash i got last year when i took paxlovid for my covid infection. the doctor told me that's a common (harmless) reaction. i've looked it up and it looks most like a morbilliform drug reaction which are very common. so, if morbilliform drug reactions look and behave like that, i had that reaction to taking a drug, and a doctor told me it was a reaction to the drug then....

...it stands to reason that my experiencing this off and on for 2-3 years might ALSO be a similiar reaction? i just can't figure out the common thread.

one of my meds is implicated as a cause for this type of rash, and has studies/journal articles on it causing this. EXCEPT. um, it happens when you are first introduced to taking it??? and like dude i've been taking this particular medication since 2016 probably. i'm sure anything is possible (like developing new sensitivies) but nothing i have read is about reactions popping up YEARS after the fact, just within 1-3 weeks of starting it. i saw a study done on someone who developed the rash after taking the medicine, but 5 days after first taking it. i saw another study/journal article that was written as a diagnostic aid that literally excluded any drugs you'd been on for a few months as not the cause. so??? idk. my other medicine does not seem to be implicated in this, as when i looked it up i didn't really get anything.

i'm no biochemist or whatever but i can't seem to find any similarities between my med and paxlovid? like ok, we've established that either the nirmatrelvir or ritonavir that is in paxlovid likely caused it. that's what the doctor said. he said my reaction was a common one to one of the drugs in that mixture, which lines up with everything i have read. but afaik these drugs arent like....similiar to the one i have been taking...it isnt like "oh these are the same drug class so maybe your issue is with them"....

the other (relevant) drug implicated in these types of reactions are NSAIDS. now this could be something. i did take ibuprofen yesterday, and woke up with the reaction. is that it? i'm going to start logging it every time it happens to see if it ever coincides with me recently taking ibuprofen. BUT LIKE. i take ibuprofen pretty frequently, mostly for headaches. this reaction might only happen once every two or three months. i feel like if i were getting a reaction from ibuprofen it would happen every time, not just once in a blue moon?

so why am i experiencing it today???? i'm not wearing any clothing made from atypical materials. i havent used any new shower products. i havent tried any new medicines for a while. i havent eaten anything i don't normally have. none, except for the paxlovid rash, coincide with me being sick so i doubt it's viral.

if it IS a mobilliform drug reaction, it still seems atypical because a) i havent started anything new b) it goes away within a few hours, not days/weeks c) it isn't always itchy

WHERE IS THE COMMON LINK AND HOW DO I FREE MYSELF OF THIS?

[janetbrown711]

Endurance

A funeral is held for Princess Angelina II, and Sir William the Good.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Ao3 Link

“Yakko I don’t wanna go,” Dot complained, pulling on her itchy and puffy black dress that was just a little too tight (Angelina had always thought Dot was “too plump”).

“We all have to go, Dot, it’s not up to us,” Yakko sighed, adjusting the bow tying her ears together.

“But this dress itchessss,” she whined, tugging on the sleeves.

“It’ll be over before you know it, Dot– we just have to get through it,” Yakko patted her shoulders.

“Why do we have to go?” Dot continued with her complaining.

“Because Grandma said so, and what grandma tells us to do now… we have to,” Yakko glanced at his younger brother who was leaning against the wall and not facing them.

“Why?” Dot asked.

“Because mom and dad can’t help us anymore,” Yakko sighed, taking her hand and walking towards Wakko. Wakko muttered something under his breath.

“...Right,” Dot looked at the ground and Yakko gave her hand a squeeze.

“You ready?” Yakko asked Wakko.

“Yeah,” Wakko said. Yakko rolled his eyes, noticing his brother’s shirt was buttoned all wrong.

“You know you can ask me to help you button, right?” Yakko sighed, fixing it. Wakko muttered yet again.

“What on earth are you on about?” Yakko shot him a look.

“Nothing… nothing,” Wakko looked away. The older prince sighed. He really didn’t have the energy for this.

Then again, he could hardly say he had the energy for anything anymore. The most sleep he had gotten the past four days was when he got knocked out by the assassins. Other than that, guilt ate him alive and he constantly was tormented with flashbacks of seeing his wounded and tied up mother.

“Let him go! It’s me you want, not him!”

He shivered.

“Let’s just get going… the sooner it’s over, the better,” Yakko said, offering a hand to Dot and Wakko. Dot took it, but Wakko crossed his arms.

They carried on.

“Ready, you three?” Their grandmother asked, making that the sixth thing she had said to them since the day after the attack.

She still hadn’t taken off that stupid veil.

“As we’ll ever be,” Yakko said. Dot squeezed his hand.

Slowly, the grand doors to the overcast courtyard opened, and Yakko’s eyes quickly went to the two caskets.

“Who’s in there?” Dot pointed as they went to their spot, which Yakko quickly made her put down.

“Not mum and dad,” Wakko mumbled, and Yakko gave him a look as their grandmother went to the podium to give her ‘oh so heartfelt’ speech she prepared.

“My people, we are gathered here today to do something no mother should ever have to go through. Today, we honor and mourn the memory of my only child, Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Second, and her husband, Sir William the Good,” She said, her voice sounding almost like she had real emotions.

Yakko felt a wave of anger wash over him. She had no right to speak in that way.

She hired the assassins. She wanted them dead and gone. It was all her fault.

“It is with a heavy heart that I am forced to retain my throne until my grandson, Prince Yakko, is of age,” she gestured to him. Yakko didn’t look at her or at the crowd of thousands, with their looks of pity and expectations.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure this.

His grandmother continued on with her speech, but Yakko paid it no mind, his eyes stuck on the empty caskets.

Wakko was right, his parents weren’t in them. Nobody told them why, but Yakko was smart enough to realize that just meant the assassins either burned them, threw them in a river somewhere, or buried them in the middle of the woods somewhere far, far away.

His parents didn’t deserve that.

But… in a way, Yakko was glad the caskets were empty. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to look upon the dead faces of his mother and father, who probably looked much, much worse than when he saw them last, and he was much more sure that seeing that wouldn’t be good for Wakko or Dot.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and heavier is the heart of one who has lost a child,” he heard her say.

Yakko growled before noticing Dot was looking at him with confusion and he immediately stopped.

However, he wished he held onto his anger, as when that was gone he was left with… nothing.

Just a dark, vast, empty hole in his chest that constantly reminded him his parents were dead.

Gone.

Never coming back.

And now it was he alone who had to protect his sibs.

It was almost funny to him how this was something he had technically wanted– to prove he was responsible and able to help and all.

…Almost.

Eventually, Angelina was done, and other, more boring people spoke. There was a song and Yakko really wanted nothing more in the world than for this to end so he could go back into his room and be alone for just a moment, not standing in front of thousands feeling empty and hollow and numb.

The queen chose to stand on the opposite side of the podium than the trio of children. In truth, she had been distant ever since the attack. Yakko suspected that was likely to change soon, but for now, he was grateful. The last thing he wanted to deal with was her complaining that Dot was crying too loud or that Wakko should be standing taller or whatever bullshit she’d nitpick on.

Poor Dot… she was still too young to really understand what death was, no matter how Yakko tried to explain. All she knew was that they were gone, and they weren’t coming back. At first she thought it was because they abandoned them, but Yakko was quick to explain they’d never do that to them. After that though, she started looking around corners for them, expecting them to be there any minute…

Every night, Dot would wake up and start crying for them, but they never came. Instead, Yakko could come in and take Dot to his and Wakko’s room, and he’d cuddle with her until she fell back asleep.

He was glad at least one of them could sleep…

“Yakko, we’re going, it’s over,” Wakko said, snapping his older brother back into reality.

“Right, right, yes,” Yakko shook his head, taking Dot’s hand again, and they all went to the great hall for refreshments, though Yakko hardly had the appetite.

However, Wakko did have the appetite, so he stayed anyway, though he was unfortunately placed right next to his grandmother, looking evermore cold and blank behind that veil. He could hardly make out where her eyes were, until she looked at him, then he looked away.

“It’s rude to stare at a woman in mourning,” She said.

“Mourning my ass,” Yakko thought. He was so done pretending to care about her.

“Sorry,” he said instead. Knowing the new lengths she was willing to go to to get rid of people kept him extra cautious now

“That brother of yours is causing a racket. Fix it,” She waved her hand at him, and Yakko looked for Wakko and whatever racket he was supposedly causing, but all he saw was him and a few other random boys laughing and playing a game in the corner. Yakko frowned.

“I mean… Nobody else is noticing them..?” Yakko tried to make an excuse but frankly, he didn’t like it too much either.

“This is a funeral, boy, you aren’t supposed to be playing games,” She seethed, and Yakko left without a word.

“Wakko, c’mon,” Yakko went to his brother.

“What? I’m in the middle of a-”

“Now.” Yakko snapped, stepping out into the hall. Wakko quickly followed.

“What did I do this time?” Wakko asked as the door closed behind him.

“This is a funeral, Wakko, you can’t be playing games with strangers,” Yakko pointed out. “Or did you forget why we’re wearing these black uncomfortable outfits?”

“I didn’t forget,” Wakko rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Because it really seems like you have,” Yakko stepped forward angrily. Wakko blinked in confusion.

“W-well… it’s not my fault it doesn’t actually feel like a real funeral. I-i mean seriously Yakko, they didn’t even find their bodies– there’s not even a burying thingy,” Wakko crossed his arms.

“Wakko… they’re dead whether you like it or not,” Yakko felt a lump forming in his throat.

“No,” Wakko shook his head. “I don’t believe it. If they were dead, they’d’ve been in those boxes.”

“Wakko, i know it hurts, but-”

“But no! They aren’t dead! They can’t be dead b-because if they are-” Wakko paused from his shouting.

“I-if they are…”

Wakko sniffled.

“...It’d be my fault.”

Yakko blinked. “Wh-what?”

“I-it was my idea to run i-in the garden a-and I ran through the flower bed and I tracked in the mud, and she took me to the tower a-and Dad broke me out a-and grandma g-got mad at mum who only talked to her because of me a-and then everything was b-bad a-and n-now they’re gone–! They’re gone!” Wakko shouted, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face.

“Wakko, that isn’t true!” Yakko was mortified.

“If they’re dead it’s my fault, it’s true-!” Wakko didn’t listen, shaking his head and closing his eyes tightly, putting his hands on his head. Yakko quickly hugged him.

“It’s not your fault Wakko,” He stroked his head.

“It is my fault- I-I’m such a screw-up,” he continued to cry.

“Wakko, you are not a screw-up and you are not an idiot,” Yakko adamantly denied.

“Th-then why else are they gone?” Wakko looked up at him, tears still pouring. Yakko bit his lip.

He could tell them. He knew why, he had seen the letter.

But that would make them angry, and anger would cause them to lash out at the queen, which could get them hurt or far, far worse.

…Like mom and dad.

“Because evil people decided to hurt them,” Yakko sighed. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more to it than that.”

“I’ll kill them,” Wakko sniffled and buried his head in Yakko’s shirt.

“I know Wakko, I know,” Yakko stroked his head softly, it suddenly occurring to him how weird it was that he wasn't wearing his red hat.

“S-so… they’re really… dead?” Wakko glanced up.

“Y-yeah… they’re really dead, Wakko.” He paused, before adding, “I’m so sorry.”

Wakko sniffled. “You don’t need to be sorry, it’s not your fault either.”

Yakko hesitated at that.

He was there– he saw his mother– hell, he might’ve even heard them take his father– he could’ve done something– his father was training him in sword fighting, sure he was twelve, but he could’ve done something, anything! But no, he was a coward, he went and hugged her instead of trying to fight, he just–

“Worrying yourself to death isn’t going to do any of us any good.” His mother’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Yeah… you’re right,” He sighed. “There’s no point in guilt anyways. We’ll just… have to move on now.”

“…I miss them,” Wakko whispered.

“I miss them too Wak, and I’m pretty sure I always will, but they’re gone, and there’s nothing we can do except accept it, okay?”

Wakko slowly nodded, “Okay…”

“Okay,” Yakko smiled a little and gave his brother another hug before heading back inside.

.o0o.

Acme Falls had been especially cloudy the past three days, especially in the minds of the townspeople.

Especially in the mind of the good nurse Helloise.

She was the childhood best friend of William– they were practically raised side-by-side in the orphanage but the last time she saw him was the impromptu wedding twelve or so years ago and now he was…

And the Princess– stars above, she was as lovely and as kind as rumored and now she too was gone.

It wasn’t fair. Princess Lena and William were saints, and it was pretty much agreed amongst the common folks Queen Angelina wasn't exactly charismatic or well liked– being a queen of the upper class more than anything.

And now they were undoubtedly going to be stuck with her for another twenty or so years. Yay.

Helloise sighed behind her desk at the office. She didn't feel like working but the sick and injured never wait, especially with all the early snow happening. Carts and people seemed to be falling left and right and she had to make sure each person was accounted for and kept happy.

Still, she couldn't deny she was a little glad it was almost closing time now, she was in desperate need for some space and air to mourn her dear friend.

And so Helloise made her final rounds of restocking, sweeping, mopping, and making sure everything was in its place, saying goodbye to Doctor Scratchnsniff and then turning the sign to closed, and again double checking everything was accounted for before grabbing her things.

But just as she picked up her bag there was a knock at the door.

"Great, just what I was hoping for," The nurse thought with a sigh, setting her bag back down and heading to the door.

"I'm terribly sorry, but unless it's a dire emergency, the sign says closed and we just can't–" Helloise gasped.

In front of her was none other than her supposed to be dead best friend with his wife in his arms, both looking like zombies

"William?! Wh-what are you doing– how are you– I thought–" Helloise put a hand on her forehead to check if shed gone mad.

"We had… one hell of a weekend," William smiled at her and then collapsed to his knees.

[tasmiq]

Jumu'ah Sohbet: 3 May 2024

As a Tariqa (spiritual school), we avoid politics because we know how people's nafs' (lower-selves or egos') taint it. However, it has really been harrowing to watch the level of destruction being carried out in several war-torn contexts. We are witnessing unparalleled support for some over others by citizens globally, including brave and tactical reactions by student movements. Allah bless Anne (our spiritual mother) for "arming" us with devotions where we are actually witnessing the transformation that we seek, Subhana'Allah (Divine glory)! Within this horrid context, our Tariqa reflected on some additional spiritual insights:

#1. During our last Jumu'ah congregational Zikr's Sohbet, Shaykh Nishaat first proclaimed that with each day, we must know what we are grateful for. Thereafter, synchronistically, Raeesa reflected on guidance, which led her to a sense of gratitude. Equally, during my past despair and darkness, did Allah design for me to bump into Shaykh Nishaat at the Sustainable Living Expo where both our respective work was featured.

However, with my previous NGO work, I was carrying immense spiritual thirst, and Allah sent Shaykh Nishaat with the message of Sufism that inherently made sense from the get-go. Over the years, I was guided deeper and deeper into a state of gratitude, despite "misfortune" that restricted my itchy feet from the past - where I simply couldn't be still long enough in my learning and service. To now, where I'm facing more confinement than ever before, but I have undeniably gained a license to "fly" spiritually - Shukran Ya Allah (Divine gratitude)!

This past Wednesday morning, I saw a video of limbless, young, and adult Gazans, making the best of life in the moment. It inspired me as a sign of their immense resilience and faith in the face of all kinds of loss. With my limited ability, I often suffer with a "martyr complex," but I have to acknowledge that I am still blessed with so much. Above all, Shukran Ya Allah, for blessing me with your Abbu, who is always my voice of reason.

#2. Our Anne then hit a spiritual nerve in me, where I still misattribute Allah's blessings upon me to worldly things. I erratically lack the ability for insight with my spiritual senses, with a tendency to succumb to my worldly senses instead! Even though your Abbu has been a joyous Godsend to us, it is Allah's design as Al-Musawwir (The Fashioner).

"If somebody thanks us, you know that it is Allah that helps this person through us. Or if we are thanking someone, you know in that point and time you are actually connecting to Allah for how He personally takes care of you through a difficult time."

Murshida Shaykha Muzeyyen Vargonen Ansari

#3. Thereafter, Shaykh Nishaat shared his wisdom on Julie Allie's spiritual vlog. What struck me most was when he related his history into Sufism through Islam, which immediately makes us aware of his soul's sheer depth.

"Over the years, I realised Islam is not a simple religion. It is an action that you move with in every breath and every moment. Therefore, our awareness of everything around and in us must be greater than their ritualistic value.

... Beyond the rewards that we hope for from Allah, we seek love for Allah and it is what transforms us! The Qur'an afterall says that those who purify themselves are the successful ones. This sounds simple, but it is immensely profound because Allah is showing us who is successful and what the process is if we want to achieve that success.

In a sense, Sufism is the process of purification of the heart so that the light in the heart is the one leading it. As human beings seeking meaning in our lives, we can only have more meaning when we are aware. I have observed in my own life that the greatest fulfillment received is when you are more aware. The reward of awareness is fulfillment! Nothing else will transform or fulfill your heart but with what Allah gives you."

During these perilous hours that could escalate into a World War, we continue to pray for balance in the world, protection and Allah's help towards crafting goodness:

Ya Adl Ya Muqsit Ya Haq Ya Latif

Ya Muhaymin Ya Hafiz

Ya Nafi Ya Nasir

[frankiebirds]

okay. confession. part of the reason i haven't updated anything in so long is because:

a. i had no energy for a while

b. i regained energy, but by that point it had been long enough that i got the itchy feeling of needing to edit/revise all my wips before continuing them. i know that's silly. i don't know if anyone else does that. if i spend too long between updates, i have to go back and edit all the older stuff before i can even think of writing new stuff. in the past, this has been bad as "the gap was too long between chapter 5 and chapter 6, so i have to edit chapters 1-4. oops, the gap was too long between chapters 2 and 3 and now i have to edit 1 and 2 again before i edit 3-6 before i write 7. something is wrong with me!

c. this i think is actual writing advice that i got from Somewhere. or maybe there's another thing wrong with me. either way: the way i edit is by retyping the whole thing and figuring out things i want to change/spotting mistakes as i go, rather than reading it over, where i skim and skip over things.

d. i have generally had less time to write than i did before.

if you've ever gone back and reread a fic i wrote, you might have noticed stuff changing (it's never anything major. usually it's a paragraph or two being cut, added, or replaced. what i'm about to share is probably the biggest edit i've done in a bit.

anyway, rn im rewriting the opening scene of "like the strength of an army", and my weird process wound up with a change that i really do like.

Emily cleared her throat. "Hey, Reid?" "Hm?" He didn't look up from his new file. "Lunch is in twenty." This did get his attention. He raised his head and glanced at his watch, eyebrows shooting up. Hm. Reid usually had a clock running in his head. For him to have lost track of the time... "Oh. Uh, okay." He blinked and went back to the file, apparently not catching the invitation in the statement. Of course. Silly her. Reid would never believe that anyone would like him enough to voluntarily spend time with him. He needed to be smacked in the face with a social cue if he was to notice it. "You. Me. Indian food. Twenty minutes." That should do it.

I realised as I was rewriting that I didn't like the original exchange that was in place of the last two paragraphs. it read as being too long because it had five lines of dialogue, interrupted the flow, and served mostly as a reference to a line from canon i think is funny. that's not a good enough reason to exist at the expense of the pacing! so. that'll change...within the next few days. i'm sorry, i flipflop what i'm revising/working on from day to day. because there's something wrong with me.

maybe feel slightly comforted to know that i'm restraining myself from starting another wip until SOMETHING is marked as complete.

lmao nobody is reading this. i'm yelling into the void about my incredibly strange writing/revising process that makes me take eons to update. thank you for listening, void.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Hi there! for the sentence starters could we please get Lee! Peter 1 and lers! P2 and 3? Maybe, “ahaw, no way! Your little tummy is ticklish?” Pfff I thought it’d be cute, ur a super good writer!

(Awww! Thank you Anon ☺️ I'm so glad you like the stories ❤️ Peter 2 and 3 picking on Peter 1 is a fave of mine and I'm thankful to be able to write them all together :) Hope you enjoy!)

"Ahaw, no way! You're little tummy is ticklish?"

Peter 1 blushed. "Shush!"

"No can do Squirt." Peter 3 teased as he wiggled a finger under Peter 1's chin. "Youwr juwst sow cuwte!"

Peter 1 turtled. "Ihm nohot thohough!"

"Are you kidding?" Peter 2 added as he started scribbling across his youngest brother's stomach. "Youw're the cuwtest thing we've evewr seen."

One squeaked and shot his hands down to grab Peter 2's wrists.

Two smirked. "Oh . . . Is your tummy really ticklish?"

"N-noho!"

Peter 2 slowly wiggled his fingers across Peter 1's tummy. "I think it is."

Peter 1 blushed even harder and he couldn't stop giggling. "Duhuhude!"

Another finger started tracing his abs. "And look at these abs. I bet they're super tickly."

Peter 1 squealed and moved one hand over to grab Peter 3's wrists. All of their teasing tickled him even more!

"You're right Three, they are super tickly."

"How many do you think he has? We should probably count them."

"Dohont cohount thehem!"

"One . . . two . . . three--."

"THREEEEE!" Peter 1 snorted.

Both older brothers cooed at the sound.

"Youwre juwst full of cuwte tickwy sounds."

"Nahat cuhute!"

"Stop lying!"

"Ihm not!"

Suddenly, a finger wiggled into Peter 1's belly button and Two's innocent voice asked, "What does this button do?"

Peter 1 squealed and erupted into the loudest giggles yet.

"Oh my gosh it's a giggle button!"

"No way! You have an actual giggle button! How come you never told us!"

"Ihi dihidnt knohow!"

"Well now you do," Peter 2 added.

"Gehet ohout-eeeeh!"

"But I have to get all the giggles out."

Peter 1 gently pushed on Peter 2's wrist and snorted. "No yohou dohon't!"

Two had mercy on the youngest and stopped tickling the youngest's belly button.

"You're so cute, we just have to tickle you."

One scowled. "How does that make any sense?"

Two poked him. "In older brother reasoning it does."

Peter 1 flinched and giggled.

"Aww, you look just like a little kid." Peter 3 teased.

"You know what games you usually play with kids?"

"What might that be Two?"

Peter 2 started poking random spots on Peter 1's stomach. "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can."

Peter 1 flinched and giggled at each poke. A dark blush bloomed from his cheeks to his ears. "Shuhut uhup! Ihm nohot fihive!"

"I know this one!" Three exclaimed as he ran his fingers up and down Peter 1's tummy. "Roll it."

"Guhuhuys!"

Two drummed his fingers into One's tummy. "Pat it."

"Hehey!"

Three used his finger to draw a B. "Mark it with a B."

"Cohome ohon!"

Two leaned down. "Can't forget to add a raspberry."

One squealed as he blew.

Three then wiggled a finger into the youngest's belly button. "Then we put it in the oven for baby, Peter 2, and me!"

One pushed at Three's hand. "Gehet ohout ohof there!"

Three lifted his finger with a chuckle. "Your giggle button is really ticklish."

One's cheeks burned bright red. "Don't call it thahat!"

"Too late," Two warned. "Already been changed."

Peter 3 absent-mindedly scratched his face as he chuckled with Peter 2. He was trying to grow out his facial hair and for the past few days his face had been itchy. Many of his coworkers had been teasing him about how young he looked so he thought he could stop the teasing by growing it out. Now he just wanted to shave it because it was aggrevating his skin.

A lightblub clicked on in Three's head and he smirked down at his younger brother.

One's eyes widened. "W-w-whahat?"

Three playfully leaned down. "I want you to tell me how my beard is coming in."

"Ihit looks g-greheat man."

Three shook his head and chuckled. "This test has nothing to do with looks. It has to do with feeling."

"F-feheeling?"

Three looked down at Peter 1's tummy.

The youngest was so confused until he watched Peter 3's head dip down.

"Wait!"

Peter 3 nuzzled in to his tummy and Peter 1 screamed.

Two leaned back a little. "Wow! Ihi think you killed him."

One bucked and wiggled in Peter 3's hold. He placed a hand on the back of Three's head. "KNOHOCK IHIT OFF!"

"Hold on, I have to try our cake first."

"What!"

Three moved to One's side and pretended to take a bite while adding in chewing noises.

Needless to say, One was in stitches. "MERCY!"

Three chuckled and lifted his face, carefully disentangling his hair from Peter 1's grip. "Gotta let go bud."

One finally let go of his hair. While he took a moment to catch his breath, Peter 2 smiled. One looked about 10 years younger with his cheeks a vibrant shade of red and his eyes shinning with mirth. The inner child that had to grow up way too fast.

The child that deserved to be a child.

"So," Peter 3 piped up, breaking the reverie, "how would you rate my beard?"

Peter 1 playfully pushed his face. "A shahave!"

Peter 2 wheezed at the expression on Peter 3's face. "Sounds like he's ready for more. What do you say Three?"

"Oh, he needs it after insulting my masterpiece!"

One gulped and giggled nervously. "Uhum . . ."

Two gently stroked his hair. "What do you say bud? Up for one more round?"

"Uhuhum. . ."

"It's up to you."

The youngest paused before giving a small nod.

Three playfully poked his younger brother. "You better believe it'll be a good one after the beard comment."

Instead of a verbal response, One blew a raspberry back at his older brother.

The taller Spiderman couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"Hey Three?" Two smirked. "I think your raspberries could use some work."

The taller Spiderman put a hand to his chest. "Me? I'm a much better raspberry giver than you!"

"Well good thing we have the cutest judge right here to tell who is better."

Both brothers turned to the youngest who stared at them with wide eyes. "Uh-oh."

Two leaned down. "Watch how a real raspberry expert does it."

One squealed as a raspberry was blown into his side. "NAHAHA!"

"Pfft! That was weak! Let me show you how it's done!"

The two alternated raspberries back and forth until Peter 1 was in stitches and snorts.

"IHI---I CAHAHANT!"

"Aw. He can't decide."

Two playfully leaned down. "Are you calling a tie?"

One immediately covered his stomach with his arms. "Yehes *hic*! Noho more."

Three ruffled Peter 1's hair. "Fine. We'll settle for a tie."

Peter 1 groaned and covered his eyes. "Yohou guhuys *hic* ahare embarrahassihing."

Two raised an eyebrow. "Funny you should say that."

"Why?"

Two grinned. "You never told us to stop."

One curled up even smaller. "Shush!"

Three plopped next to his brother. "One of these days you'll stop using moody teenager speak and actually say the words thank you."

One groaned and remained hidden.

Meanwhile, Peter 2 eased himself down to lay on One's other side. "And maybe one of these days you'll actually see how adorable you are."

"For now, we'll keep telling you until you believe it."

Both brothers turned to Peter 1 and waited for a response.

Three sat up a little. "One?"

When Peter 2 gently pulled back his brother's hands, their hearts melted. Peter 1 was fast asleep between his two brothers.

Peter 2 gently laid down the youngest's arms back down before dropping a kiss on the youngest's forehead. "Night Pete."

Three placed a kiss on the other side of his forehead. "We love you."

No matter how old Peter 1 got or how many trials he faced, he would always be their adorable baby brother

[metalbuckaroo]

Hi! So from the prompt list, could you do the 44th dialogue prompt where reader and roommate!Bucky are talking and bucky just keeps falling in love with her more and more but reader is oblivious to his flirting bc she doesn't think anybody wants her and while they are talking and bonding one evening they fall into the category of relationships as the topic of the conversation (sorry if it doesn't make sense, english isn't my first language)

Bad Night

Summary: After a bad date, Bucky offers his help.

Warnings: Some angst, lil fluffy, pretty cheesy, mentions of sex,

AU: Roommate!Bucky x reader

AN: After 3 days I'm finally letting this go. Not very sure how this got so long, but part of me wants to make a part 2 if that would interest anyone.

Prompt from this list. Requests are always open, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.

MASTERLIST

"Hey, dollface, can you look at something for me?" You heard Bucky call, his footsteps getting closer to your room. "If it has to do with your testicles, then no. I will not."

He stopped in your doorway, eyes wide as he looked you over. "Oh, wow. Where you going? Got a hot date you didn't tell me about?" He teased, walking further into the room.

"Yeah, hopefully this one actually goes decent. Now what do you need?"

He turned so his back was to you and pulled his shirt off. "This place on my scar is all itchy. Does it look irritated?"

Until that day you had came home early from work to Bucky standing in the kitchen shirtless. He had expected you to immediately look at the cluster of scar tissue on his shoulder and never see him the same. Instead, you had just greeted him like any other day; a warm smile that made his heart melt before blabbering about your day and asking him about his.

This hadn't been the first time he'd asked for you to inspect a spot on his jagged scar. Although for the first month he'd make it a point to cover it, not wanting to freak you out.

That's when he got more comfortable, walking around without a shirt or just in a towel after a shower. When your smile started making his heart melt even more than before.

You touched your fingers to a small red blotch on the spot where dark metal met skin and he shivered slightly, goosebumps forming on his skin. "Yeah, it is a little. Try putting lotion on it."

He sighed and turned to face you, looking down at your dress. "Who is this guy? Do I know him?" He said cocking an eyebrow at you. "I tried that stupid dating app you suggested." You exhaled, shrugging your shoulders.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shook his head. "You're not going." He said folding his arms across his chest. You raised your eyebrows and copied his actions. "And whys that?"

"Because, I should've never told you to try it. Dating apps are full of weird people." He muttered, going over to your dresser. "Murderers, stalkers, creepy cat people."

He opened the drawer and pulled out some clothes to stuff into your hands. "Which is why, you're staying in with me." He smiled, sparkling white teeth flashing at you.

Rolling your eyes you put the clothes back in their spots. "If I don't go on a decent date for once, I'm going to end up a creepy cat person. Besides, not all cat people are creepy. Mrs. Lawrey is really nice."

"She's an exception." He nodded, following you towards your bedroom door and down the hall. "If it makes you feel better, I'll text you if he starts acting creepy."

He huffed a breath and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to look at him. "Fine, but, that means I get to come rescue my girl if he does."

You felt a slight blush creep your neck and moved away from him to slip your shoes on. "You're just saying that, because I pay half of the bills." You said, opening the front door.

"And you cook pretty good. Now, go on. Be safe." He teased, swatting at your backside as you walked out into the hallway. "Try not to break anything, please." You told him on your way down the hallway.

"Not making a promise I might break."

_____

The date had went horrible, one slip up and he said a few choice words to you before calling a cab to leave.

You swiped your fingertips under your eyes to erase any sign of crying before you got to your front door, wanting to avoid Bucky at all costs.

"Hey, dollface. Back already?" He said from the living room. "Yeah..." You mumbled back, trying to make a break for your bedroom to change.

Bucky could tell something was wrong by how you weren't rambling about everything that happened. "Oh, no you don't. Get back in here."

You exhaled and turned back around to look at him. "What, James?" You sighed, walking closer to where he was sat in a recliner. "What'd he do?" He said, narrowing his eyes at you. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"You're crying, I wanna know why. What'd he do?" You rolled your eyes at his stern voice and shook your head. "Just didn't go very well." You said, sucking in a deep breath.

They never did. As soon as you let one little fact slip, they'd high tail. You would've been better off staying home like Bucky had suggested.

Bucky's voice broke you from your self pity. "C'mere." His hand reached out to grab your wrist and tug you closer. "I'm not sitting on your lap, that's weird."

He scrunched his nose up and shook his head. "Doesn't have to be. Stop being a brat and let me comfort you."

Once you were sat on his right thigh with your side against him, he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head back against the chair. "This should be our new bonding method. Feels like we're getting closer by the second."

You teetered your head back and forth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Maybe because, I'm on your lap. That's pretty close."

A soft pat to your thigh and he was looking directly at you, blue eyes dancing back and forth in curiosity.

He wanted to know what made you so sad and torn up about one stupid date. "Tell me about it?"

You took another deep breath and he lifted his head so you could slip your arm behind his neck. "Every single time I go on a date, they mention sex. As soon as I tell them I'm a virgin they're gone. Tonight's was just extra rude about it."

His eyebrows creased together, hand moving to your knee. "You're a virgin? How?"

You looked at the ceiling, tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. "Hm, could be from never having sex." You said the most obvious answer.

"No, I mean-" he huffed a laugh and gestured a hand over you. "Look at you."

You pinched his side and he narrowed his eyes at you. "I thought we told each other everything?" He mumbled, his lips turning down into a frown.

"No, James. You tell me everything. I don't tell you near as much." You said patting his chest, the chain of his dog tags cool on your palm. "You don't have to, I know a lot just by paying attention." He said, giving a nonchalant shrug.

"Now, explain, miss goody-two-shoes. Why hasn't anyone popped your cherry?"

You looked to your lap and pursed your lips. "When I was younger I never felt the need to lose it. Now, I can't seem to find a guy who doesn't want to have sex on the first date. I'm not losing it to someone I barely know."

When Bucky stayed silent you looked at him, he was chewing on the inside of his cheek and you could see the gears turning as he looked at you.

He wanted to offer his help, but didn't want to scare you away. That was the whole reason he hadn't said how he felt over the past couple of months.

Although, he wasn't sure how you never noticed. How you hadn't noticed the lingering touches and looks, everything he'd say.

You had waved it off as mindless flirting because that's how he played it off; as him being a flirt without any serious intentions.

"You're being quiet and it's weird. Say something." You said flicking the tip of his nose. "I'll do it. If you wanna lose it, I'll do it. I know a lot about you."

"Buck-" you shook your head, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying. "You can't be serious." You said breathing a soft laugh.

He nodded and his hand on your knee moved to the back of your thigh.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you looked at him, his strong features completely serious. "I'm gonna go to bed. Its late."

Just like Bucky thought would happen, he was scaring you away. "Wait- no, come back." He said as you pulled out of his grip and stood.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. "Nope, not coming back. I know you don't mean it because... You're Bucky and you say shit like that all the time, so..." You inhaled deeply and started towards the hallway. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed."

Bucky stood from the chair and followed after you. "Sugar, wait." He grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you towards him, nearly crashing you into his chest.

In a sudden movement, his hands held your cheeks and his lips engulfed yours, the abrupt motion causing you to stumble a step back; your hands flying up to grip the sides of his shirt.

The kiss was slow and deep, the taste of his minty toothpast flooding your tastebuds when he slipped his tongue pass your lips.

He pulled away after a moment, looking at your shocked expression. "I mean it."

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[meditating-dog-lover]

Health update

My skin is getting better. My face was red and itchy not too long ago but is getting better. My neck as well, I'm applying antibiotic and anti-fungal ointment on 3x a day. Like I said, strict dieting makes me susceptible to skin inflammation and infections. I understand where the infections and rashes came from, I just want them to go away.

My hands have a few inflamed spots. Again I'm not too upset about it given that I'm in a recovery process and I haven't been using any steroids. I used to use steroids weekly. If I need to use them every 2-3 weeks, that's also fine. The fact that I'm not using them weekly and my skin looks better than it did when I was using them weekly is a move in the right direction. So I'm not too hopeless.

The rashes and eczema should subside with the recovery process. The infections will go away with the ointments, but shouldn't come back as I recover.

Like I said I want to find a way where I can balance my diet and fasting without gaining my weight back. I don't want to experience anymore inflammation, but I worked hard to keep the weight off. So I want a balance between the 2. I quit fasting 3 weeks ago and have been eating well. Again I'm in a recovery process, but I've been eating well in the morning (a light snack of peanut butter and cheese/banana and seeds or nuts). So even on my fast days I'm having a high fat snack before noon which apparently doesn't break your fast.

I used to eat breakfast everyday last year. But there are days n my cycle where fasting would be a better option. Even then having a light snack in the morning (rather than breakfast) and not eating past 8 is a good plan to follow. Again, what I do/don't eat will depend on where I'm at in my cycle. I'll get the hang of it, but I'm not fasting 24/7 anymore. I know for this reason, quitting my fast won't ruin my weight progress. I'm just sick and tired of the inflammation and fatigue, but I am getting better.

I did a mineral scan today. While I do take supplements and eat an anti-inflammatory diet, I do have issues with absorbing nutrients. My doctor recommends I take a digestive enzyme with each meal. It's a good thing I asked because I've been thinking about enzymes and have spoken about it here. I know a lot of people benefit from them and doctors recommend them in general. A lot of people have issues with digesting things like protein and dairy. So they really can come in handy. I have the Codeage fermented enzymes. I think the serving size is 1, but I might push it to 2-3x a day. They say to definitely take it with a large meal, and my largest meal I think is my dinner. So taking one before dinner can help. I was recommended to take one before I take my first meal and multivitamin. The supplement also has probiotics, so I don't need a seperate probiotic supplement. I feel like enzymes are much more useful than probiotics. Again given that my scan showed deficiencies even though I do supplement and eat a lot of foods with certain nutrients I was low on goes to show I do have an absorption issue. Taking enzymes and making sure I'm not struggling with intestinal permeability helps.

One thing I like about that enzyme supplement is that it contains phytase, which helps break down phytic acid, which is a certain form of how phosphorus is stored in certain foods. Nuts, seeds, grains and other plant-based sources of phosphorus are stored in this way. Unfortunately, it makes it harder to absorb, unlike animal-based sources of phosphorus (cheese, yogurt, eggs, fish, chicken, red meat, and organ meat), which are not in phytic acid form. I'm not sure why but I'm not absorbing phosphorus. It could be for this reason or just the general fact that I have malabsorption as a whole. Taking a supplement with a complete enzyme profile can help regardless. I don't know much about the science behind phytic acid, I just know that dentists (the ones who are more nutrition focused beyond floss and fluoride) don't like it. I've heard that soaking foods with phytic acid is a good option, but that's too much effort and I'd much rather just take an enzyme.

I was told gluten causes intestinal permeability. Unfortunately I love bread so I don't want to quit that. I eat healthy sources of bread like oats and sprouted grains. I don't eat white processed bread unless I'm eating out/special occasion. I know that processed stuff is inflammatory. Like the enzymes, I'm going to continue drinking aloe juice to support my gut health. Enzymes for digestion, aloe for intestinal lining support.

I'll see how often to take the enzymes. Taking it before I take my supplements helps too, as well as my first and my largest meals. I'll figure a balance out. I hope aloe will help with my intestinal health as well. Again I don't want to cut out gluten because cutting out foods will just lead to more food fear and anxiety.

I also want to prevent reinfection, so I'll do an h pylori breath test every year as part of my annual physical. I want to make sure I don't experience downstream infections as well like staph and strep (really it's the h pylori and low stomach acid that causes it because low stomach acid levels = no sterilization process = gut infections). I will continue to chew slowly and drink aloe juice, as well as add in the enzyme 2-3 times a day. I'll figure out how to take the enzyme because it's a new thing I recently implemented. Then I'll worry about HCl and reinfection (stomach and intestinal). I feel like enzymes combined with the aloe juice, supplements, and anti-inflammatory diet can really help.

I'm confident I will heal. I don't mind not being perfect health, I just don't want to feel sick, hopeless and like I'm declining and don't have any support.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 19 (Part One)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

My focus is on Gavin x MC interactions, so content relating to the plot will be in bullet-points :>

In order to take a breather from the chaos of recent events, MC returns to her company to work on some unfinished projects

She's surprised to see her beloved colleagues in the office since she gave them a vacation

Willow hands her an invitation card, and explains that a well-known international research team called “Infinite” has sent them to all media companies in Loveland City

One of their new products - Golden Apple Two - claims to awaken beautiful memories, and the product launch will last 3 days

MC finds it strange that a new product is being launched during this sensitive time, and she decides to check it out

Since each company can send two people, Minor volunteers to accompany her

[ Notable Scene: Mutual Concern and Memories ]

Returning to the office, I open the windows and sit down.

Quite a number of matters have been weighing on me lately. However, the suddenness of the Hunter Game caused many things to come to a standstill.

With more time for scrutinising and thinking, I take another careful look at the contents of things that are still in progress.

The wind is refreshing and soothing. I feel incomparably light-hearted, and become even more engrossed in work.

After re-checking the contents, I circle certain parts that don’t seem appropriate, and jot down some new ideas at the side.

An occasional breeze brushes my hair. It’s a little itchy, but I simply scratch it with my hand, not wanting these precious bubbles of inspiration to disappear.

MC: This setting is perfect!

Faced with this successfully completed document, I can’t help complimenting myself. The more I think about it, the more amused I feel, and a sense of satisfaction fills my heart.

MC: The final film will definitely be incredible!

With a satisfied smile, I do a huge stretch. Lifting my head, I realise that rosy clouds have filled the sky, and a person in a white shirt is smiling as he sits on the windowsill.

The entire world is so beautiful that it’s akin to a romantic scenic painting.

I sway my head happily before turning around. Then, I freeze in place.

...wait.

I whip my head around, looking at that person resting his chin against his hand, the corners of his lips raised as he stares at me.

He seems to have been sitting there for a very long time.

The glow of sunset coats him with a gilded edge of gold, setting off his amber eyes, reminiscent of the most natural and gentlest brush strokes in the world.

MC: Gavin?!

Outside the window, Gavin is in the backlight of the gorgeous and brilliant setting sun, letting the evening breeze blow the corners of his jacket.

MC: Gavin! What are you doing here? ...no, when did you come here, and why didn’t you tell me? No no, people from NW might find out about this.

My brain is in mild disarray, and I have no idea what I should ask about.

His bright eyes are filled with a smile, and the corners of his lips curl upwards.

Gavin: Don’t worry, I’ve already checked. I’ve only been here for a while.

MC: ...really?

Gavin: Really. But I’m a little curious about what that perfect setting is about.

My face heats up immediately. I stammer and stutter, not knowing what to say.

MC: Since you were here, why didn’t you say anything!

Gavin: I called out to you. You were the one who ignored me.

Mischief flashes past his eyes. He sways his fingertip slightly, and a nimble breeze rubs against my cheek, carrying strands of hair over to brush my face.

Despite what he said, his tone contains no annoyance or reproach.

MC: ...

It turns out that those “troublemaking” breezes were from him!

Seeing him like this, I find myself chuckling.

Gavin leans against the window frame. The curtains lift upwards slightly, covering him with scattered floating light.

This image leaves me feeling a little dazed.

I’ve seen similar images many times in silent memories.

On the roof, in an empty classroom, in the infirmary, and on the large steps in the field.

Whenever I observed Gavin in secret, I often saw such scenes.

It’s just that the youth from back then didn't have such a sharp outline. He didn’t have such strong shoulders, or such indifference in his eyes.

At that point, he was a gust of wind that I wasn’t able to touch yet.

All of a sudden, Gavin leaps in smoothly. I’m able to smell his fresh fragrance as he leans over to look at me.

Gavin: What are you thinking about?

I blink, reaching out to hold Gavin’s hand which hangs by his side.

His finger pads are full of calluses accumulated over the years. The warmth from his hand travels from his fingertips to mine.

MC: I'm thinking about how you’ve been. Have you been using your Evol much after what happened?

Gavin: I'm doing very well, and haven’t been using my Evol.

MC: Is that so?

I narrow my eyes, pointing at the window.

MC: So how did you end up sitting over there?

He averts his gaze, bringing a fist to his lips guiltily.

Gavin: Cough. This doesn’t count.

MC: Fine, whatever you say.

Not holding it against him, I unfold my hand and begin counting.

MC: I’m also thinking about how the last time I went to the hospital to look for you, the doctor told me that you were already discharged. When I thought of giving you a call to ask where you were, you hung up quickly. After the Hunter Game ended, I tried calling you but couldn’t get through.

Gavin: ...I’ve got it.

Gavin interrupts with a sincere expression. He straightens up slightly, giving me the impression that he’s accepting a lecture.

Gavin: Sorry for making you worry.

He frowns a little, extremely sincere and looking a little wronged as he watches me. My taut expression loses the battle.

MC: However, since Officer Gavin “sent” himself over completely intact, I’ve decided not to think about it any further.

Storing away my teasing expression, I meet his smiling gaze.

MC: Gavin, is something the matter? 

When he hears my question, he retracts his smile. His expression turns stern. Lowering his eyes, he nods.

Gavin: I’ll keep things brief. There’s a product launch the day after tomorrow. I heard that the organiser invited many media companies, and your company is in the invitation list. I’d like to go with you.

MC: ...are you referring to the product launch organised by the team called Infinite?

Gavin: Yes.

You find this a little unexpected.

MC: Is there a problem with the team?

During these anxious-ridden times, launching a new product this suddenly makes it easy to create doubt.

Gavin: That’s one of the reasons. Aside from that, I’m quite interested in that apparatus. It might be able to provide new leads.

He speaks calmly, but the fatigue in his eyes is difficult to conceal, betraying him on the sly.

Releasing a sigh in my heart, I ponder over this before nodding.

MC: Of course I can bring you there. But I heard that the apparatus scans brain waves before reading one’s memories. Won’t this be too risky for you?

Gavin narrows his eyes slightly. In the end, his line of sight returns to my face.

Gavin: That’s why I need you.

MC: Hm?

Gavin: You’re a memory-type Evolver, so I hope you can fiddle with my memories. For instance, by adding a “firewall” which can’t be scanned. Are you able to do that?

Hearing this bold and imaginative idea, I find myself rooted to the spot, and can only blink slowly.

MC: I’ve only read and searched the memories of others. Even if I fiddle with your memories, I might only be able to amend or erase them.

Gavin: You’ve done quite a lot. Miss Nox hasn’t done anything that violates the law, has she?

MC: ...of course not!

His sudden “interrogation” causes me to choke. I straighten my back and stretch out my hands.

MC: If I have, you can arrest me and take me away!

Gavin: I’m still relieved from my duties, so I can’t arrest anyone.

He takes my wrists with a smile.

Gavin: So... are you able to do it?

MC: Theoretically speaking... it might be possible. But I’ve never done it before. Number one, I’d definitely be able to see your memories. Number two, I’m very worried that I’d slip up, or be unable to bring about your desired result. I might even do something wrong and damage fragments of your memories.

I stare at Gavin straight. Since this involves his memories, I need to be meticulous and inform him about everything that could happen.

MC: If you accept these possibilities and trust me, I could give it a try. But it comes with risks.

Gavin: Okay, I’ve got it. What must I do?

His gaze is fresh and clear as he leans against the table, meeting me at eye level.

MC: All you have to do is stay relaxed.

Gavin: That’s a really easy thing to do in front of you.

He sits on my chair, lifting his head slightly to look at me, his amber eyes completely clear.

I snap my fingers in front of him. Gavin blinks slowly, and he says something before the look in his eyes slacken.

Gavin: MC, don’t be afraid. Even if certain memories are erased, I’ll remember them. They’ve already become a part of me since a long time ago.

-

Endless fragments of memories fill the sky and cover the earth, surging towards me.

In order to carefully and precisely gather up Gavin’s post-STF memories, as well as to navigate his memories more easily, I allow my own consciousness to relax even more.

The entire world is filled with various images of Gavin.

I see a tiny him on an overhead bridge beneath the sunset, the evening glow making his eyes twinkle. 

I see a lonely and thin back standing in the rain, the torrential rain seeming to be filled with a heavy darkness The youth lifts his head, his back straight.

I see his face flushed as he gasps for breath in an empty training ground. He stumbles as he walks, and finally burrows into a corner of the bed.

I see him attending a funeral, his face expressionless, and his clenched fists covered with bandages.

Dark crimson drips onto the ground, akin to blood-coloured tears.

A pledge, an icy blade, eyes filled with a murderous gaze, figures who never got up again after collapsing, endless injuries, and being constantly on the move.

I see countless images related to his injuries that I never knew about.

Large wounds cover his bare skin. Some of the blood on his bandages appear to be new, and some appear to be old.

The innumerable lacerations are hideous, revealing themselves bare in the air.

The surroundings are in state of chaos. Sparks crackle and emit smoke dangerously behind him. Little bits that pelt onto his clothes scorch tiny holes into them.

He doesn’t seem to notice them as he casually sits on a scrap machine. With a practised hand, he quickly bandages the wound on his thigh.

HIs techniques are extremely simple and coarse. It’s as though he can’t feel pain. In order not to obstruct the operation, he even tightens the wound.

He was probably carrying out another one of his missions.

Even though he knows that he’s exhausted to the brink, even though he seems to have just experienced a fierce battle...

The look in his eyes remains clear, bright, and firm.

He appears just like how he does whenever he sends me home in the evenings, or whenever he waits for me downstairs.

All of a sudden, he presses his headset.

Gavin: I’ve already cleared this place. The others can continue going further.

He pauses.

Gavin: I’m fine, don’t mind me. I’ll be there soon.

I tremble while gathering all the memories related to the time after he left school and his missions till today. After locating this segment of memories, things are much easier.

Although I’m not seeing these things in real-time, my vision turns blurry.

I want to help this person.

An invisible force seems to be motivated by this, gathering together and turning into a ray of faint yet shining white light. Just like a soft gauze, it quietly embraces these memories.

When I touch them again, I find that even if I were to touch these fragments, it’s as though I’m looking through a foggy glass, and I'm unable to see the memories within.

I’ve succeeded.

Despite releasing a breath, my heart remains incomparably heavy.

By the time I leave Gavin’s memories, his quiet gaze is already waiting for me.

Gavin: Looks like it was a success.

Gavin says this with utmost confidence, as though he was the one who did it.

Seeing him like this, my hand finds itself caressing his face.

I can’t imagine the battles and perilous experiences Gavin had gone through in the past, nor am I able to fully understand the intense heat, severe cold, or devastation he’s been through.

He has surmounted so many hardships and crossed the boundaries between life and death, sharpening himself into a sharp yet gentle blade, scaling barren mountains and untamed rivers.

Treading on wind and returning from the abyss over and over again.

Gavin: Were you scared?

Gavin seems to think that I was afraid, and his handsome brows furrow.

MC: I just...

I’m left speechless for a moment. I try to smile and make myself look as though I’m not that upset.

This is Gavin’s pride and honour. It’s the reason why he’s been able to become the person he is.

I should feel proud for him.

MC: ...feel that you’ve gotten hurt far too many times.

Gavin: They’ve all been treated.

Gavin blinks, sweeping a glance over himself seriously.

Gavin: They don’t hurt anymore.

The corners of his lips lift upwards. His eyes glisten, as though he’s ready to accept praise. 

I have no idea what to say. While my heart still feels slightly choked up, I find that he looks really adorable right now.

In the end, I simply poke his face with my fingertip.

MC: Gavin, shall we make an agreement?

Gavin: What?

MC: If you can return from a mission without injuries, I’ll promise you one thing. As long as it’s something I can do, anything’s fine.

Hearing this, his eyes, which are coated with moonlight, seem to grow even brighter.

Gavin: Okay, it’s a deal.

-

The next day, Gavin and I arrive at the vicinity of the exhibition.

And I suddenly remember that I had agreed to let Minor accompany me.

MC (on the phone): Minor, here’s the thing. Another “employee” wanted to participate in this launch, so...

Minor (on the phone): Huh? But I woke up bright and early and am already on the way. What’s going on, Boss? Your explanation’s a little lacking, isn’t it? Who is it? Could it be...

Gavin: It’s me.

Gavin suddenly draws close to my ear, interrupting Minor’s incessant chatter.

Gavin: Do you have anything to say about that?

Minor (on the phone): ...take your time and have fun, Bro Gavin. Have lots of fun haha, bye bye!

He immediately hangs up, and a dial tone sounds. I can’t help but chuckle.

Watching as media personnel and reporters stream in and out of the entrance, I look at Gavin.

MC: Would being together so openly affect the “act” we put on for NW the other time?

Gavin: It’s fine. All the “eyes” in the vicinity have already been handled by me. Also, NW is facing some internal problems, so they have their hands full.

MC: That’s good. 

I nod. Just as I’m about to continue, someone from behind calls my name.

Turning around, I spot a senior who had taken care of me during my university days. He walks over to us.

Senior: Long time no see, MC. You received an invitation too?

His gaze lands on Gavin beside me, and is a little surprised.

Senior: This is...?

MC: Hey Bro Chen! This is... this is a new employee in my company. He’s called... erm, Gav.

[Note] In CN, MC calls Gavin “阿起” (read as “Ah Qi”)

Senior: Considering his good appearance, he can even do modelling for your company, am I right?

While saying this, Bro Chen gives Gavin a casual pat on the shoulder, showing him a smile akin to a spring breeze.

Senior: Gav, do your best! This top producer of yours is incredible. You’ll get to learn quite a number of things from her.

After I repeatedly drive him away, Bro Chen finally enters the venue reluctantly.

Gavin: Do they usually pat you like that?

Gavin frowns, and I can’t tell if this is a disdainful or sincere question.

MC: ...of course not!

The both of them enter the venue, and the host provides a brief introduction of Golden Apple 2

It’s a white, egg-shaped apparatus

The aim of it is to awaken one’s most beautiful and happiest memories and allow them to find courage and strength from it

However, Gavin seems to be pondering over something. When MC probes, he says it’s nothing

They enter the apparatus

[ Notable Scene: Most Beautiful Memories ]

Along with an electronic beep, faint white light gradually illuminates the area beneath my feet, brightening up the entire space.

All of a sudden, someone tugs on my hand. Turning around, I realise that Gavin has walked over to my side.

Gavin: Do you feel any discomfort?

MC: Everything’s normal.

He nods, then stands at the edge of the crowd with me, observing the world before him.

Long lines spread out from the faint white floors, reminiscent of tree branches as they continuously stretch upwards.

At the same time, these thick lines spread over to the left and right, creating staircases. Each staircase then spreads into arcs, forming mirror-like structures.

Different names hang at the top of each mirror.

AI System: We have selected scenes associated with happiness from the memories of participants. Everyone can step into memories belonging to them. Of course, if you’re willing, you can share them with others. May happiness bring everyone courage and hope.

My name and Gavin’s are on a higher level. We climb up slowly, stopping in front of our respective mirrors.

Gavin: It’d be safer for us to work together.

I nod. Just as I’m hesitating on whether to invite Gavin into my memories, he grabs my hand and strides towards the mirror marked “Gavin”.

Gavin: Since you’ve already seen quite a lot, seeing a little more won’t hurt.

MC: ...I did my best to limit what I saw. I stopped after finding the segmented area!

Gavin: Thank you.

He gives me a smile, his words sincere.

Gavin: Let’s go.

Bizarre and gaudy colours suddenly appear. Along with our footsteps, the surrounding world seems to be constructed bit by bit, akin to building blocks.

AI System: Rendering of memory scene completed.

After the electronic announcement ends, a warm and clean room appears before my eyes.

MC: This is...?

Gavin: This was my bedroom.

Right after he finishes speaking, a small kid leaps off the bed barefooted, running over to a woman who looks incredibly gentle.

Finding this novel, I’m compelled to move forward to have a more detailed look. However, the surroundings start to peel off like rain.

With a rustling breeze, golden coloured ginkgo leaves fill the air in a slow dance. A youth leans against the window, his gaze calm as he looks downwards.

Gavin is taken aback. He doesn’t seem to have expected this image, and a suspicious layer of crimson appears on his ears.

MC: Gavin, what were you doing back then?

A little puzzled, I follow the youth’s line of sight, only to see a girl sitting in the corner of the classroom behind the glass.

...she’s me from back then.

It appears that I had completed the homework assigned by the teacher during class. It’s a completely ordinary scene.

Gavin: I didn’t mean to steal a glance.

Gavin: That’s just what I saw when I looked down.

I blink, watching the youth sitting by the window.

Autumn light illuminates him, falling on his hair gently.

Suddenly, this image and the image of Gavin waiting for me in the dusk two days ago overlap.

Gavin: Back then, you were probably afraid of me.

His gaze lands on the young girl, watching quietly.

MC: I wasn’t afraid of you, I just...

Looking at the indifferent side profile of that youth, I purse my lips, feeling an incomparable bitterness in my heart.

I was simply warned that I couldn’t get close to you.

Gavin: Hm?

Hearing Gavin’s sound of confusion, I lift my head and follow his gaze.

In his line of sight, the young girl sitting in the classroom does a stretch. Then, she peers out of the window, her gaze falling squarely on the young man who had already turned his face away.

She seems to notice that the young man isn’t looking at her. She reveals a slightly disappointed expression, but it changes in the next second.

She stares at the youth gently and a little longingly.

In the end, she chuckles.

I lower my head, feeling Gavin’s gaze on me.

Similar images appear.

For instance, the youth sitting on a tree with his eyes closed as ginkgo leaves swirl in the air during late autumn.

The gentle keys of a piano are reminiscent of a tender embrace, enveloping the youth like a breeze.

After a while, a head sticks out of the glass window of the piano room. A young girl peeks at the youth’s side profile secretly, revealing a comforting smile.

During the time in which their gazes never meet, an innocent and sincere secret swirls in the breeze.

In the next second, the simulated world gradually loses its colour, and darkness descends in front of my eyes again.

AI System: This experience has come to an end. The cabin of the apparatus will open in half a minute. Please remain in your places during the wait.

Beep-

A soft low beep drifts over, likely signalling the end.

Before I can give it much thought, my scope of vision brightens, and the simulated world vanishes.

Beneath the slightly harsh light, I watch as Gavin walks over to my egg-shaped cabin. His ears are red, and he reaches out to me.

Gavin: Are you feeling okay?

-

Leaving the venue, I find that the atmosphere between us is a little strange.

Those memories are akin to bubbles popping one by one, exploding in my heart and causing me to keep my head lowered, not having the guts to look at him.

Gavin: ...so you weren’t afraid of me?

MC: Why did you think I was afraid of you, Senior Gavin?

I lift my head in confusion, looking at him.

Gavin: ...

Gavin purses his lips, and he seems to be rendered speechless for a moment. In the end, he reveals a resigned smile.

I have no idea what he’s thinking about. A tender breeze brushes the side of his face which he has tilted up slightly. Gavin looks up at the sky, his faraway gaze gradually becoming relieved and determined.

When he looks at me again, his gaze is slightly lowered. In contrast, his tone is much more mischievous and crafty.

Gavin: So why did you steal glances at me back then?

Pretending that I need to visit the bathroom, I evade Gavin’s question temporarily.

-

However, when I return to his side, he’s no longer as relaxed as before. I can sense waves of iciness emanating from him.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin: Nothing. Let’s leave this place for now.

MC: Did you manage to learn anything from today?

Gavin: Mm. This apparatus is even more high-tech than I imagined.

MC: That’s good. Will you be investigating this further?

Gavin: I’ll be here again tomorrow.

I toss Gavin a puzzled look, and he tugs on the staff ID hanging in front of his chest.

Gavin: This launch will continue for three days. In order not to rouse suspicion, “Gav” will be by your side over the next three days.

-

The autumn breeze rustles. After sending the girl home, Gavin walks along the street as night darkens.

An icy glint emerges in his eyes, and two faces at the product launch surface in front of him.

??: I've checked - it’s indeed a fake identity. He’s from the Foundation.

A voice drifts into Gavin’s earpiece, causing his gaze to turn even colder.

??: Did they show themselves?

Gavin: No. I have a feeling that I'm not their target.

Gavin narrows his eyes. Turning into an empty alley, shadows lurk on every side. A few figures are concealed in the pitch-darkness.

Two of them step out from the shadows, their uniforms identical. 

??: Captain Gavin, what we’re doing here is unrelated to you. Please refrain from obstructing our mission.

Gavin: But you’re obstructing me.

There’s an unconcealed murderous look in his eyes. He lowers his clear voice.

Gavin: I’m temporarily relieved from my duties, so there’s no need to call me that.

Gavin picks up a long rod next to the wall. Stepping on it smoothly, the long rod splits into two, a suitable length to be held in his hands.

Gavin: Don’t worry. I promised someone that I wouldn’t use Evol.

After this, Captain Yan and Gavin sneak into the launch venue

Gavin fiddles with the apparatus in order to read Captain Yan’s memories of the New Year Change Incident

From what’s displayed, the both of them spot a certain man

This will be explained further afterwards

[ Notable Scene: 2nd Day of the Launch ]

The next day, I arrive at the exhibition early.

Media teams are surrounding the exhibition hall, standing in the shade to enjoy the cool while waiting for the doors to open.

Simply walking under the sun results in a thin sheen of sweat appearing on my forehead.

All of a sudden, a cooling breeze courses past the crook of my neck, deliberately chasing away the heat on my shoulders left behind by my long hair. 

Looking faraway in the direction of the wind, I spot Gavin standing in a corner outside the exhibition hall.

I brisk walk over to him, and notice that he looks slightly fatigued, despite how well he conceals it.

MC: Gavin, you look really tired.

Gavin: I’m doing okay.

Before he finishes speaking, an employee steps out of the exhibition hall.

Employee: Everyone, I’m really sorry, but the exhibition might not be open to the public today.

Reporter A: What happened? 

Employee: Last night, our product was in use for an unknown reason, and some programs were damaged. We will need some time to repair it, and will notify all of you when we re-open.

The employee bows repeatedly, and those surrounding him have no idea what to say.

However, I seem to understand something, and give Gavin a half-teasing look.

“Was it you?”

I widen my eyes at him, testing the waters by sending him a suspicious gaze.

“It was me.”

He instantly understands what I'm driving at. He shuts his eyes slowly, incredibly frank.

MC: Why did you damage someone’s apparatus...

I lean close to his ear, criticising him softly.

Gavin: ...I followed their operating manual strictly. They were the ones who exaggerated too much.

I can’t help but burst into laughter. Taking the media personnel ID around his neck, I tap it again him lightly.

MC: Gav, this is all thanks to you! Looks like we can only go back now.

-

After leaving exhibition hall, we head straight to the office.

MC: Did you manage to find what you were looking for in the apparatus last night?

Gavin: Only one part of it, not the entire thing.

He lets out a small yawn. No longer concealing the fatigue on his face, he leans against the sofa.

MC: Gav, you truly exude the aura of someone in the media industry.

Gavin: What aura?

MC: Strength in fatigue.

I say this while recalling the countless late nights I spent running around for shows. As expected, I hear his low chuckle.

Gavin: I’ve only been your colleague for a day, but I have a good sense of how difficult the work is at your company.

MC: It’s all because you secretly “worked overtime” last night.

Perhaps due to the infective nature of yawns, my teasing remark is followed by a yawn.

MC: Gavin, do you want to sleep for a while?

Gavin: Isn't it currently "working hours”?

MC: It’s okay. Right now, allow me to teach you the first lesson of being a media personnel. They can work anytime, so... they can leave work anytime as well.

Hearing this, Gavin smiles. He closes his eyes, his entire frame seeming very relaxed. Even his voice grows indolent.

Gavin: What a coincidence. The same goes for STF. So... what kind of show is Producer MC so busy with that she isn’t sleeping? That perfect setting?

MC: I’m sleeping!

Although I know that Gavin’s just teasing me, I reach out to poke him.

MC: I’ve actually been investigating a charity foundation recently.

Gavin instantly frowns. He opens his eyes and looks at me.

Gavin: Because of the recent charity football match?

MC: Yes.

MC tells Gavin about the wheelchair-bound person she saw at the football match, whom she suspects is the founder of the charity foundation

Gavin notes that they might searching for the same person

He tells her that the wheelchair-bound person was seen in Captain Yan’s memories of the New Years Change Incident, and might have been a survivor

Gavin suggests that they head to the STF

MC guesses that he wants to use the “Eye in the Sky” technology to locate the man

And this brings us to my favourite scene in Ch 19 :>

Part Two: here

[whump-whump-baby]

So your Fictional Universe has Horses in it

Alternatively: People Ride Horses in Your Fic, and you’re Not Sure What to Do About It

horse rider/owner and baby writer here, throwing you an infodump that will maybe help with the whole ‘There’s a Horse in the Background here but I Don’t Know What to Do With it’ thing I sometimes see in writing!

Inside this infodump: Horse riding, horse care, horse tack (equipment), falling off a horse (and what usually gets injured), horse lingo, and behaviour.

1. Tame that beast (aka, riding the horse)

a couple things here: Getting on the horse, getting off, steering, etc

Honestly, I’m only including this part because I find that a lot of people skip past the whole ‘getting on the horse’ bit and I find it hilarious. It’s not a weird thing but it can be weird to describe. I get it!

Getting On

Experienced riders will always mount from the left side of the horse. It's a weird tradition that doesn’t really make sense anymore, but it’s still followed because most don’t really see a reason to change it. It supposedly dates back to medieval times and has something to do with where a sword would traditionally be hung on a person’s hip- mounting (Putting your foot in the stirrup, grabbing up high on the saddle, pulling yourself up and over while using your foot in the stirrup to help yourself) from the left means you wouldn’t accidentally poke your horse with your sheath. Not sure if this story has any validity to it, but we all still follow the left rule unless we’re specifically getting a horse used to mounting from the other side for whatever reason.

Getting off

I have a bone to pick with this. Nobody gets off their horse by swinging a leg in front of themselves, over the horse’s neck in front of them, and hopping down facing away from their horse. It’s not the safest bet to attempt because 1. It actually requires a lot of hip strength to swing your leg like that without kicking your poor horse in the neck, and 2. It doesn’t give you a legitimate way to hold onto your horse after dismounting, which is inherently unsafe. Even if you are in possession of The World’s Best Behaved Horse Ever, you always want to be holding onto the reins. Riders usually dismount by leaning forward, swinging a leg behind them and over the horse’s butt, pivoting sideways on their stomach, and sliding down off the horse- keeping a hand on the rein and one on the saddle to slow their descent. That way you always have a hand on your wild beast, who may decide at any given time that the nearby grass is more important than standing still for your dismount. Plus, swinging a leg like that is basically impossible in saddles that feature a saddle horn, like a western saddle.

It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but Geralt’s saddle definitely has some kind of high pommel to it- so he’d most likely dismount the normal way. It’s just easier!

If you tried to dismount like that in this western saddle you would definitely bruise something.

In this saddle (a Dressage saddle) you could probably pull it off.. but why?? All that struggle just to slide down on your butt and land funny, sprawled away from your horse. It’s just not worth it.

Steering and Etc.

Believe it or not, most steering movement actually comes from the rider’s weight in the saddle than their grip on the reins. If we’re looking at this from the realm of something like The Witcher (which is probably going to be my go-to media example because it’s still pretty recent) a relaxed turn is going to look like Geralt isn’t doing too much with his upper body, because he’d be weighting his seat bones in the saddle. Despite his saddle looking a little bulky, Roach could definitely feel it and respond accordingly- horses are pretty sensitive little friends and can feel most of what you’re doing up there, including looking down. (Protip, if you’re learning to ride horses, don’t look down- it’ll unbalance your upper body and make you pitch forward, unbalancing your horse and making yourself more likely to fall off)

A good way to have a character look experienced with riding is to describe someone relaxed but upright, shoulders back, hands closed but relaxed on the reins. They don’t have to be bolt upright, but at ease. A good way to describe a character with little to no riding experience would be to describe them as tense, probably hunching forward a little; hands too high or low and reins too long. See the lovely photos below:

A Dressage rider: she’s looking pretty evenly balanced, is sitting tall but not bolt upright, hands are low, elbows relaxed. Wonderful!

A Beginner: Absolutely no hate to beginners! We all have to start somewhere, But there’s definitely a difference in body language between this rider and our dressage rider. (Side note: PLEASE always wear a helmet on a horse, especially if you’re a beginner, good grief)

2. Horse Care

I don’t think too much needs to be said here, but there’s a couple things that are worth noting.

Grooming

Most horses love a good brushing. They’ll even lean into it if you find an itchy spot!

 If your character has a ton of experience, grooming their horse makes a lovely backdrop for conversations. Riders usually brush their horses before and after riding, to remove dirt and mud and sweat. Manes and tails are brushed if you want to be detail oriented, and feet should always be picked out (A good chance for Character B to oogle Character A’s butt, if thats the kind of story you’re writing) to remove dirt and stones. 

When Not Riding

Your furry partner-in-crime should be untacked and eating grass somewhere. Untacked means all gear removed and put away for the day- in stories like The Witcher, tied to a tree branch or a rest area in a halter is fine. As a horse person it wouldn’t make sense to leave their tack on all night- you’d leave it nearby, but not on them. If your characters are just pausing for a break or something, it’s totally ok- but done for the day? Nah. Let your pony be naked.

Injuries

Horses, like most prey animals, will hide injuries and illness until they physically can’t anymore. Small cuts and scrapes, dependent on where they are, will probably not give a physical response unless you manipulate them somehow (cleaning, applying antibiotics, etc). A horse may show discomfort by a number of signs, but if it really hurts your horse will probably shy away from your touch or may lash out at your hands to keep you from touching it. Signs of discomfort can be pinning their ears back against their head (aka Ow Ow OW, DON’T TOUCH IT, I’m UPSET) to straight up trying to run from you if they think you’re going to attempt to touch it (a more severe reaction for a more severe wound, like a deep cut/laceration/puncture etc). If a horse is in very dire straits you might get no reaction at all- your horse might be hanging its head low, not really responding to your voice or touch, appearing bleary eyed or dull eyed or sleepy. Generally that kind of severe behavior change is considered Very Very Bad and definitely grounds to call a vet for, especially if there’s no sign of physical injury.

3. Horse Tack (Equipment!)

Here’s a quick rundown of horse tack.

All these pieces make up the bridle, reins included.

*Side note- Bits are not cruel, and riders choosing to use them with their horses are not abusive. Bits are a tool riders use to communicate with their horses and there are hundreds of metal finishes, textures, shapes and sizes to fit a horse with a bit that makes them happy and keeps them comfortable. There are some horses who refuse to take bits, and their owners usually turn to a bitless bridle to keep them comfortable- however this is not “kinder” just because of the lack of bit. These bridles are just designed to exert gentle pressure to tell the horse to slow or stop instead of the gentle pressure on the bit. Different horses prefer different things, and none of these things are harmful to the horse if used properly and with care.

This is a diagram of a close contact or Hunter saddle, but the terminology generally applies to all different kinds of saddles. Girths are considered their own piece of tack and not as a part of the saddle. 

Riders who are riding consistently usually at least wipe their tack down with a wet cloth after finishing with it for the day. Because tack is almost always leather, well cared for leather lasts a lot longer if cared for. This is also a great thing to have a character talk over in a fic- have them clean tack while having a hard conversation, or maybe show how quick and not-great of a job they do on their tack if they’re angry or trying to get away from another character closeby. Lots of opportunities! (If you really want to get detailed, cleaning usually looks like: a damp cloth to wipe dirt off and then rubbing a leather conditioner into the tack, which may smell lovely or a little weird depending on the brand)

4. Falling off

I see you, whump writers. (and I love you.)

So You Want your Character to Fall Off:

Falling off is rarely graceful. It can be caused by anything from an unexpected trip to your horse spooking at something, to a jump taken at the wrong spot/speed/angle... opportunities are endless. I have fallen off my horse at the walk because he startled at a dog and I slipped to the side, and I have fallen off over jumps, because my horse actively tried to get me off, or because I just wasn’t paying attention and Oops, how’d I get in the dirt? Generally if you’re looking for a reason for your character to fall off, they are endless. If the one at fault is the horse common reasons are the rider becoming unseated and slipping back/forward/sideways by the horse startling (at legitimately anything sometimes, depending on the horse.. let your imagination go wild!) changing speed or direction suddenly. All of these things will affect how your character comes off and how they’ll hit dirt with what body part. IE- pitching forward will probably land you on the top of your shoulders, if you’re lucky- if not, you’ll land on your head. Most people will land on the tops of their shoulders as the instinct to protect their head kicks in, but sometimes gravity is a bitch. It happens.

This is where experience comes in, too- Experienced riders will usually react quicker and will try to save themselves, either grabbing onto their horse’s mane or neck or even just keeping a death grip on the reins as adrenaline kicks in- all of which keeps your upper body higher than your lower and can lead to landing on your bum/side/feet instead of your head. Beginner or inexperienced riders might not react that quickly and end up landing roughly. This is not to say that more experienced riders will always come out less injured than beginners, but that experienced riders sense of self preservation will kick in faster frankly just because they’ve fallen off more. This is also why you see more beginners breaking arms in riding accidents- as you learn to ride you are taught (if you were taught like I was) to NEVER throw your arms out to catch yourself during a fall- it’s more likely that you will land on top of your straight arm and give yourself a wicked compound break. Your instinct changes from trying to save yourself to trying everything you can to staying in your saddle. Self preservation is a wonderful thing!

If Your Character is Sick/Already Injured:

The motion of the horse, even in walk, is going to make them feel worse- especially any injury to the lower stomach area. That’s where the body absorbs most of the motion from the horse’s gaits, especially in the hips/lower abdomen. So if Character A has a stab wound in his stomach and Character B has gotten them into the saddle to bring them to help.... Character A is gonna be in some pretty decent pain until they can dismount. For head injuries the same motion might make them dizzy or nauseous. But, good news! If your character slumps forward completely while keeping their arms on either side of the horse’s neck, they will probably manage to stay in the saddle for a decent amount of time. Their lower body and leg (hopefully still in the stirrups) will keep them in the saddle unless jostled out of it. (This, of course, only making sense if the saddle in question doesn’t have a horn, because otherwise your character won’t be able to slump forward far at all. )If they manage to slip off the horse in this position, they’re going to land head/chest/upper body first, especially if only semi-conscious due to previous injuries. 

If dealing with any other injuries, getting on the horse might be nicer than walking but will definitely not keep anything still- any motion the horse makes will make the rider’s body move and jostle the injury, no matter where the injury is.

5. Wrapping it up: Horse Lingo and Behaviour

Horse terms are easy to find and but a google search away, but here’s some of the main terms:

Gaits: A horse’s movement. Walk, trot, canter and gallop with gallop being the fastest.

Aids: what riders use to communicate with the horse. This includes your hand (on the reins) your leg (squeezing to ask for gaits) and your voice.

(Riders talk to their horses! all the time. Even if just to say good boy/girl. Commonly we say things like hoooh, whoa, easy, no, etc. Sometimes just talking to your nervous horse helps calm them down)

Green horse: Inexperienced horse, usually new to being ridden, usually young.

Mare: Female Horse.

Stallion: Male horse, not neutered. Stallions can have a reputation for being hotheaded and sometimes hard to handle, but not all are like that.

Gelding: Male horse, neutered. Most people who have male horses will refer to them as geldings on paperwork.

Pony: a small horse. Not a baby horse. Just smaller.

Colt: Baby male.

Filly: Baby female.

You can probably use google for anything else without concern that you’re using a term that's unnatural.

Behaviour

My rule of thumb for writing behaviour is this: If it seems like a disney dog in a movie would do it........ it’s safe to say a horse wouldn’t. Writing a horse like a disney dog is too unnatural and will definitely make any horse people reading your story give an eye roll.

An example:

Your character has just dismounted their horse after a long ride.

A horse would: maybe sniff your pockets for treats (especially if you had some before you got on) stand next to you as you talked to someone, try to rub their head on you (scratches!! especially if they’re sweaty) maybe perk up at something in the distance if distracted enough

A horse would not: Shake their head at you, whinny at you, prance around and “smile” at you... roll their eyes at something you said... point like Lassie at something in the distance... etc. 

Horses definitely have personalities! They can be affectionate and snuggly, nervous or brave, flighty or stoic... but they don’t emote the same way a cartoon character would. The best example i’ve seen of horse interaction in media would probably be the horses in Disney’s Brave. If you pay attention to the way horses interact with each other and react to events in the movie, it’s pretty spot on!

Follow your gut. You can still have a horse with a personality, but if it feels too cartoony, it probably is!

This is a great infographic that explains body language as well.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to include more horse interaction in their writing!