#but this story has stuck with me for so long because of how powerful it was

[harmonytheme]

thinking about stendan since I’ve just done a rewatch, and while i’ve been desperate for emmett to come back to the show for years, I honestly believe brendan’s three year arc on the show was as close to perfect as it could have been.

I’ll never stop wanting him back, but there's some comfort in knowing how legendary brendan's story remains to this day. eleven years on and he’s still being brought up on the show. he's still being referred to as the love of ste's life (ste who has been married like five times) by kieron. and he still has half of us hoping against hope that he’ll return some day.

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)

[sundrop-writes]

The Way You Miss Me

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

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

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

I hate the way you miss me. 

Summary:

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 18,500

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This left you with only one glaring problem. 

You had a crippling fear of heights. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?” Fred asked you simply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,” 

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

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

Of course. Just as you had predicted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your insides became heavy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” You argued gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” 

To which you replied: 

“m fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were targeting Fred. 

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

“Y/N-?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was only you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to pull you up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly. 

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

It was a horror show. 

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

“Georgie?” 

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

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

“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly. 

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

“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked. 

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

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

“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

Mad-Eye had been killed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t possibly be talking about…? 

No. 

No, he wasn’t. 

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

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

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

The sight you saw made your heart ache. 

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

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

“Freddie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t lose you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I let you go once before.” 

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

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

You had missed him so damn much. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, darling, shite-” 

You quickly became drunk on the feeling. 

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

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

“Goddammit, please, please, oh-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moaned loudly at this. 

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

“I need you, pretty girl.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hated that he was right. 

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

“Go on, good girl.” 

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

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

“Oh darling, if only that were true.” 

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

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

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

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

His words caused you to choke on another moan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Freddie,” 

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

“Good?” He asked, smirking at you. 

“Yes, but what about-?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were close. 

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response. 

“Good girl. Come on,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, something else came to mind. 

“My things are in Ginny’s room…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Freddie.” 

… 

You wondered if all of it had been a dream. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

[comicaurora]

Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?

Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?

He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?

Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.

Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.

There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.

Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:

I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.

It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:

"Having that thought is harmless."

Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.

The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.

And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.

This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.

Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.

[cyborg-franky]

Prompt: How would the straw hats react to reader being a mind reader? Please and thanks

Repost of mine from libary of ohara

Sanji Sanji is sweating because every time he has an intimate thought about you or anyone else, he can feel eyes on him. You glare and he fidgets under the intensity of it, wondering if you will blurt out the dirty thoughts to anyone else.

Every time he thinks it’s safe to think about how good the woman at the bar would look without their dress, he has to stop himself, turning with a wide eye and seeing you glare at him while sipping your drink. Just ruins the boy’s entire life.

Usopp Another one who just opens and closes his mouth when you are around because after he lies and tells people these big, impressive stories that didn’t happen. You side up to him and ask him why he lied, you are so casual about it too.

Every time he’s about to lie to anyone, you raise an eyebrow, and he just laughs loudly and pretends like it was all fun and games. Now whenever he wants to talk to someone, he literally looks around to see if you are about

Chopper

He is so amazed! That’s a great power to have! He bounces up and down and is just giddy and asks you all about it. You sometimes read his mind and it goes from dumb stuff like ‘I want candy floss’ to something like complex potions to cure all manner of illnesses.

Robin She terrifies you. She’ll be sat there reading a book or just casually sitting at the bar, elbow keeping he propped up, hand on her cheek, her smile just slyly grows as your eyes do when you read what’s on her mind. She loves to mess with you.

She’ll purposely think of something dark or downright filthyand chuckle softly when she gets the reaction, she wants from you.

Nami Oh, you stopped doing that. You completely turn off your power when it comes to Nami, she can somehow always tell when you are in her head, and she’ll turn around with her hand outstretched and tell you the show was more money than you have.

Zoro Zoro’s mind is boring, it’s full of a collection of very ‘Zoro’ things such as booze, hating Sanji, working out and his swords. Plus, Zoro never thinks anything that he wouldn’t say out loud, he’s no fun and he knows that’s how you think and always smirks and thinks ‘nice try’

Franky Franky’s mind gives you a headache if you stay there too long. His face might often say ‘head empty’ but he is always thinking loudlyto himself and has so many projects flying through his head. So many complex designs, schismatics, maths, it’s all very exhausting for you.

Brook Brook doesn’t care if you read his mind so he’s very chill around you, he’s normally just humming inside his mind, and you hate that he can get songs stuck in your head. Like a constant source of the sound, if he’s not humming in his head, he’s humming out loud or thinking about asking if he should ask someone to see their panties.

Jinbei I imagine it’s very serene in there, like a little koi pond with the sound of wind chimes and you just get lost in there until he stubs his toe or something and it’s like a loud internal scream. Same when any of the crew does something stupid and poor Jinbei has to pick up the pieces.

Luffy “THAT’S SO COOL.” He’ll yell at you. The entire reason you’re on the crew was that Luffy found out you can read minds and he needed that on his crew like right now. He’ll sit there and always go “What am I thinking now?…. and now?… and now!!” and it’s always ‘wow that’s so cool’ or ‘I’m hungry, I’m going to ask them to get me meat…”

[candyskiez]

so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!

The Owl House

The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.

It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.

Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma

She Ra and the Princesses Of Power

Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.

It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.

Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale

Steven Universe

Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.

It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.

Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia

Nimona

Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.

It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".

Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights

feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!

[kiwiqueen13]

 My thoughts have been preoccupied as of late worrying about https://www.tumblr.com/queenkatluv @queenkatluv ‘s whole situation. She’s the voice actor for Earth from The Sun and Moon Show / The Lunar and Earth Show, and has recently been relentlessly harassed and criticized by her so-called fans about the quality of her work to the point that she decided to quit working on the Lunar and Earth Show as a writer. I wanted to draw something special in honor of her, to kind of say sorry about how all the awful bullies have been treating her, since I haven’t done any art of Earth yet and the character is currently going through something that I personally relate deeply to.

Long story short, Earth has been hurt by Lunar in a way that’s left her in crippling pain that will likely linger with her for the rest of her life. I too have chronic pain in the form of daily migraines, and I have never related so closely to another character before. In fact, I have a headache as of writing this post, and I’m just so used to the pain I don’t notice unless I point it out to myself. The scene where she was talking with everyone else in bed about her condition - wondering what to do, wondering if it can be fixed, wondering what will happen if it will NEVER be fixed, feeling claustrophobic overwhelming dread as reality begins to sink in that the pain will never leave – it struck a chord because of how closely it reflected how I felt when I was diagnosed. It was just so scarily real to me, in a way that shows the true mark of an incredible writer.

I want to say to Kat, thank you so much for what you’ve done for this fandom. The people who don’t appreciate it just have standards too impossible to reach. You’ve done a beautiful job, and having Earth effected like this has evoked so many powerful emotions in me that I never thought possible. You’ve crafted a wonderful story, even if some stuck-up brats on the internet don’t see it ❤️

[yazthebookish]

Maybe I'll spoil you guys and talk about Gwynriel and ACOTAR5 and anything related to it overall. I recently finished my HOFAS reread and have some fresh thoughts. I'll let my thoughts guide me and some of these points I've already addressed in my insta stories yesterday. I just rather share a lengthy post here since I'll only tag under #gwynriel.

I often see arguments about how Gwyn and Azriel can't move the plot forward because the series is centered on the Archeron sisters.

First, that's not true because Sarah is following what she called "a traditional romance route". She's following the same patterns of Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and Lisa Kleypas where they publish multiple books in the same series following different couples.

This is fitting for a series like ACOTAR because it's romance-centered. And Sarah have already said that each couple is getting one book and there will likely be more books beyond ACOTAR6.

Saying that doesn't dismiss the importance of the sisters to the story, Feyre already has a trilogy centered on her. The spin-off just follows different characters including the sisters.

I won't try hard to convince people on this because I've already posted almost everything Sarah said about the spin-off series and what's it's about. So if the next book is not centered on an Archeron sister, that's for Sarah to bamboozle the fandom with.

One thing that stuck out to me is when I compared the ending of ACOSF with the scene of Bryce giving Nesta Gwydion and seeming like she left Nesta with a new quest.

First, this is what the text says, and this is Chapter 80, the very last chapter in ACOSF:

Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn't mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries. Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library.

1. The Valkyries are not yet a unit.

2. SJM only and specifically highlighted that Gwyn, despite the Rite, returned to living in the library. It was like "hey, remember all the talk Gwyn did about wanting to leave the library after two years? Yeah that's on hold a bit but keep that in mind". She didnt even add Emerie or the other priestesses to that sentence.

With Nesta being left with Gwydion to find out why the 8-pointed star was tattooed on her, I don't think the next book will start with "hey Elain take this sword and deal with it". Who are Nesta's main companions now? Gwyn and Emerie.

I'll be back to the Valkyries but let's just talk about Azriel for a bit.

It is so painfully obvious to me that Azriel is being handed the Illyrian plot on a golden platter. How big or small of a plot it is depends on SJM, but it's important based on the fact that she fleshed out the Illyrian's origins and tied them to the crossover AND making Truth-teller the knife of Enalius.

That is a big deal for an Illyrian like Azriel.

And I quote my friend Lacie on this, it is very poetic for Azriel to be the owner of the knife that originally belonged to the person who freed his own people from the Daglan's clutches, perhaps because he saw his people are more than just slaves to the Daglan—how powerful would it be for Azriel, who loathes his own people, to parallel Enalius.

And for years some people were against Azriel dealing with this plot because he shouldn't make peace with his "abusers", its true his own family and some Illyrians failed him but he is condemning an entire population. Good people like Emerie and Balthazar. Even Rhys's mother, who had valid reasons to hate her people especially as a female, still made sure to make Rhysand connect with his Illyrian heritage and he even goes on to say that his mother didn't forget what they did to her but still loved her people.

If both Cassian and Rhysand (and by extension the author) continue to flag Azriel's hatred of the Illyrians as an issue—then it is a damn big issue for it to be addressed repeatedly.

Okay so to address my final point about Gwyn and Azriel and how they can move the plot forward.

Now I didn't detail out much about what the next book will deal with because that's another post (and I already have a post on that).

All of our theories and predictions are based on information that is available to us. Saying Azriel and Gwyn cannot move the plot forward does not make any sense because the central plot is tied to multiple characters, Archeron or not.

If SJM wants to make a character move the next book's plot forward, she can do it because she's in control of the story. She's in control of the narrative. She's in control of the characters.

The characters are puppets and this is an unfinished story. If some characters would add more value and make for a more interesting story before the others, she can decide on that. If she wants to make Eris the protagonist of the next book, she can easily do that whether the fandom wants it or not.

Let me give you an example of minor characters that pushed the plot forward and became main characters: Yrene Towers and the Hind. These kind of arguments could've been used for them in HOEAB or HOSAB and Pre-TOD. Before HOSAB/HOFAS and TOD, could we have predicted that they would have played a crucial role before those books? Not likely because they had minimal appearances and were not part of the main cast. This is what I'm talking about.

You can't know how a character will contribute to a story until you see how it all unfolds. We can make guesses on the information we have which is why I believe three characters are likely to join the main cast: Gwyn, Emerie, and Eris.

Why is it so easy to accept that Emerie might be sharing a book with an original character like Mor but it's hard to comprehend the fact that Gwyn could also share a book with Azriel? Because Emerie showed up in ACOFAS? To me that's not really a strong argument based on Sarah's writing and what we have in the books, she doesn't really pick based on who showed up the earliest. Here's a good example: Hypaxia, who showed up earlier, didn't even get her own chapters but the Hind did.

And there's one argument I recall about how I need to rely on Nesta to have a plot focused on Gwyn or the Valkyries in the next book. Nesta's arc is clearly not over based on HOFAS, but does that mean she's getting a POV? Not necessarily. I don't think she is. Gwyn is the perfect candidate for us to see what's going on with Nesta post-HOFAS and how they all deal with the Valkyries and whatever Sarah will set up with them.

There is this whole Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict that could be triggered as a result of the Blood Rite, with Ramiel definitely being an important location to explore in the next book, we also have the Pegasi and the Prison and the implications of the crossover. It makes sense to have an Illyrian and a Valkyrie POV to deal with some plots in the next book.

"Gwyn contributes to nothing" we can't know until the book is out. How sure are we that maybe SJM won't connect her to the crossover by making her mysterious father a Worldwalker? Or Prince of Hel? Or an Asteri? Maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong.

"But Koschei! And the Human Queens!" Koschei will always be a background player pulling on the strings until the final book as it's obvious he is the big bad in the series, unless someone even worse is revealed. But no one is dismissing Koschei or the Human Queens messing around.

Literally what's the point of the story or the fun elements of surprises or plot twists if you need Sarah to list down everything that the next books will deal with. That's not how a story develops to me. I don't need to know everything in advance to just know how it will go. That's like knowing spoilers early on and checking off with each book what happened and what didn't happen. I feel like it's close to how a lot of readers were disappointed with not having enough ACOTAR in HOFAS, because Sarah implied half of the book would be set in Prythian. So by the time the book came out and it wasn't that, people were vocal about it.

In my opinion, SJM set a good foundation for Gwyn's arc to build up on in ACOSF and her arc is not over. We won't get mentions of her still carrying the guilt of her sister's death or not leaving the library after she said she's sick of being there for two years without us seeing resolution for that. She wouldn't be in Azriel's bonus chapter if she is not involved with him.

To conclude, my reread still affirms to me that the next book with an Azriel/Gwyn book. Azriel is clearly being set in the forefront.

[theforsakenprince]

Forsaken as a revenge story fascinates me but not because of anything really related to the revenge story itself but rather the context surrounding it. like, "revenge is wrong" stories are everywhere and almost expected at this point, and Forsaken is no different, really. Forsaken says going on this path of revenge will turn you into a monster, but... we as the player don't really care? And why should we! Uldren killed one of our favorite characters! And every expansion before this has us killing something, so it's not really out of the ordinary.

This feeling is especially reinforced by how much Bungie tried making the young wolf a self insert during y1 (which REALLY did not last long). We, the player (if you played d1/y1 anyway) are angry at Uldren for killing off the most popular character at the time. It's PERSONAL now. And sure, the ending does feel like we're kicking someone who's already down (Ghost says it himself: Uldren's already done for), but we got the bad guy! The end, right?

Nope! Our actions have immediate consequences! Ghost is scared for us. We have to watch Petra struggle with the events of Forsaken while trying to lead a city of people stuck in a perpetual 3 week loop. Mara is obviously not happy with us (and we know we have to deal with lightbearer Uldren at some point). We may not feel bad about killing Uldren, but it doesn't feel great either. And unlike most past Destiny expansions, Uldren isn't an obligatory unequivocally evil big bad alien we need to shoot because this is an fps, he's... just some guy we barely knew anything about before now. Sure, he was a dick to us, but watching his descent into madness throughout the campaign is downright uncomfortable. All our past enemies, in comparison, have been rather straightforward: they're trying to kill us? well we gotta kill them first.

Forsaken also marks a MAJOR tonal shift. It literally kills off the comedy relief. Every release after Forsaken has a noticeably more serious tone (and while humor isn't completely absent (Saint, Crow, Fynch, and Nimbus have their moments) Forsaken's story is a particularly dark one, and it seems to carry over the rest of the year as we first start to consider the "line between light and dark"). It was definitely much more noticeable at the time of release, but Cayde's death has an impact not only on the characters but the tone of the story overall (he is the perfect example of characters continuing to haunt the narrative imo) and clues us in as the audience that shit is about to get Real.

and what happens the next year? We find a Pyramid ship.

this post is kinda all over the place but MAN not a day goes by that I don't think about Forsaken and how good it is as a self contained story and as an expansion that sets up a lot of the major players leading up to final shape! it's not really controversial to say that Forsaken is one of destiny's best expansions (story wise at least I'm not touching that power grind with a 10 foot pole) but I feel like a lot of that sentiment comes from the fact that it came out after curse of osiris/warmind which. no hate to either of them but anything that came out after them would look really good in comparison.

anyway uhhh forsaken good uldren did nothing wrong (JOKE I feel like I have to specify this is a joke people have taken this statement from me seriously before)

[munchy-k]

danmei list that no one asked for (long post incoming)

ok so I've accumulated a pretty decent list of danmei that aren't as well known and I want to talk about them!! so here we go! these aren't in any particular order btw

Nan Chan

an aloof, listless immortal and a very hungry caterpillar fish demon go on an adventure to retrieve a runaway bell 🔔. and also they both have amnesia. CUE ANGSTY BACKSTORY REVEAL!!!! 🔪🔪🔪

I'm sure it's to no ones surprise that this is first because I'm a SLUT for nan chan. if nan chan has one fan it is ME and if there r no fans I am DEAD!! I love this novel so much it has the perfect combination of painful angst and sweet sweet lovin' !! the main couple's relationship makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside 🥺👉👈 (probably because I am a touch love language girly and these bitches be touching!!!) and I LOVE the characters sm. especially my little meow meow Jing Lin and his adorable little stone figure. I live for the interactions between Cang Ji and the stone figure! it may be a little difficult to read the first time around since the plot gets a little convoluted but it all makes sense in the end! 10/10 really recommend!!

How to Survive as a Villain

transmigration plot! rich ceo gets transported to a novel as the villain emperor and gets buddy buddy with the novel's MC so he doesn't get killed. ends up buddying too close to the sun and accidentally becomes the leading lady. drama ensues!

this is another favorite of mine!! this one is another good mix of angst and romance and the MC is so funny and likeable. there are also two cute side couples which is always fun! (one of them is f/f so it gets extra brownie points with me🤭) its also not too complicated which makes it great for casual reading ^^ p.s. this one has an official eng tl now! its being published thru rosmei (like nanchan) so it has to be ordered thru a 3rd party distributor but I think its worth reading 👀

Living to Suffer/ Till Death Do Us Part

living to suffer: ancient wuxia style prequel where the characters meet as a humble doctor and member of a demonic sect and their fate intertwines. this one has a BE

till death do us part: early to mid 1900s setting sequel. the reincarnated characters meet again as a elementary school teacher and rich playboy and face the struggles of having a relationship. this one has a bittersweet ending

THIS...... OK THESE NOVELS... let me tell you something. this made me SOB. oh my god especially the ending of TDDUP. I saw a review saying "I honestly could believe there lived a Shen Liangsheng and a Ch'in Ching, and that they fell in love..." and hard agree because something about this story felt so real?? which made it all the more intriguing and heartbreaking!! its set around the time of the japanese invasion of china and the cultural revolution so it does talk a lot about politics but it wasn't a difficult read imo. BUT BE WARNED! there is a LOT of smut. (not rly vanilla either..) and the relationship does get pretty toxic at times 😬 but it gets better by the end of the book and the toxicity actually does add to the story and character development. if u give it a try please read the prequel (living to suffer) first!

After Being Forced to Marry the Evil Star General

a deputy prime minister MC who's powerful, high-maintenance, and hated by the public is arranged to marry a laid-back general who is much loved and praised (but also rumored to be cursed!). this is an arranged marriage + enemies to lovers novel

I'm actually in the middle of rereading this one rn 👀. I think this one is also good for casual reading since it isn't very complicated. in the beginning the interactions between the main couple r rly funny because they just clash all day long lol. its also got a little angst sprinkled in 😎👍 I did see some reviews saying that the MC is not likeable since he does some kinda bad things and he's stuck up but I still liked him idk 😭 I feel like his flaws made him more interesting

Married Thrice to Salted Fish

a doctor MC who only wishes to study medicine (and poison oop) gets arranged to marry a guy whos dying. turns out that guy has been taken over by a transmigrator! transmigrator ML then proceeds to die and come back as someone else.. more than once 😭

if you love a couple that schemes together then this is the novel for you! the MC in this book kinda reminds me of the MC from the book I mentioned right above. (these titles too long man 😅) I found the repeated "reincarnation" plot to be pretty interesting. the interactions between the couple were pretty amusing as well and since the ML is from modern times he randomly uses modern slang. MC even picks some lingo up from him loll

Xiao Jiu

about a 9th prince MC whos trying to win the heart of the emperor's cold and aloof bodyguard! call him the prince of rizz because it works eventually 😎 this is an age gap romance with a smidge of angst and political drama

this a short and sweet story! the ML is described as cold a lot but he actually becomes rly sweet and warm later on so he isn't one of those stone faced characters. I don't have much else to say about this besides "its cute, I like it" 😅

Guanshan Muyu

wife-chasing crematorium story! it's about a outlaw MC who's kidnapped by the very guy who betrayed him. ML wants to win MC's heart back but issues from the past cause a bunch of misunderstandings :( but it is a happy ending!!

man.... I haven't read a wife-chasing crematorium story before this and I was not prepared for the amount of ANGST. basically everyone is miserable for the entire damn time! 😭😭😭 but that's not to say it wasn't a good story!! all the suffering made the ending feel even sweeter 🥰 if you cry easily maybe keep a pack of tissues on hand when you read this 😂

I wrote this in my notes app while reading and I feel like it summarizes the ML pretty well bahaha 👇

"qi yan: my girl is mad at me. I hope I die"

It’s Not Easy Being a Master

transmigrator becomes the villainous shizun in a novel he read and attempts to avoid a bad ending but *gasp* the novels MC (ML) has been reborn with all the past memories!! MC tries to get close to ML while ML is like wtf is going on ! seems like a typical "transmigrated as a villain" type plot until suddenly it's not... 👀👀

this one was rly fun! there's a big plot twist that I found rly interesting and unique! very fresh!! fresh produce!! 🥒🫑🥕🍅 I also like the MC a lot he had a rly silly personality hehe. I think this novel is good for people who like solving mysteries alongside the characters since a lot of hints are dropped throughout

Golden Stage/ Terrace

arranged marriage between a court dog and a general who's become phsyically disabled. everyone knows that the two HATE each other... but do they really? 👀 no, it's not an enemies to lovers, but the other characters seem to think so! 🤭

great novel!! very good!! I love the dynamic between the main couple! they love to banter so their interactions are entertaining. there's a bit of political plot but it's nothing too complicated and the angst is minimal. I also like that one of the main characters is a ambulatory wheelchair user. this one also has a official eng tl now but I'm not sure from which publishing house

Sharing Rain and Dew

MC whos staying in the palace dies a painful death but then gets reborn several months in the past. he spends his time stressing about his impending death but for some reason the Emperor has suddenly become super clingy and doting

this one is very very short, only 5 chapters + 3 extras, but it's quite funny and cute. despite being so short the story is actually pretty interesting? good for a quick, casual read

list over!! I have a few more but this is already too long of a post 😭 I hope someone can find this helpful for some reading recs!

[nakedbibi333]

Thinking Fourth Dimensionally - Neville Goddard

“The condition which I desired and assumed that I had, becomes  objectified within my world and bears witness to the power of my assumption.”

Summary: think outside the boundaries of the 3D world. Think beyond the things that have happened in the physical world, what could happen, what's possible. Think outside of reason, the rules of the world, think outside of logic. Allow your desires to be impossible, magical, and instant. Allow yourself to be free from the constrictions of what life has taught you it is.

Concepts Discussed: The Inner world, Self-Concept, The 4D, Instant manifestation, The Carnal Mind: The conscious mind, The Mind of Christ: The subconscious mind, The sabbath, and The importance of your inner world (mental diet).

The conscious mind is strapped by reason and the 3D world.

It can only experience the present moment as reality

Because it is physically in front of you and you can experience it, it feels more real than anything else (but it isn't).

The past only feels like an illusion and the future doesn’t exist yet 

It does not think that it can access or change the past or future

The 4D is the subconscious mind.

In here, the past, present, and future are all happening at the same time, now.

Leave the 3D alone and take time to nurture the 4D, your inner world. 

When you go into your imagination and create a new reality there, you are effectively changing your state. By assuming the wish fulfilled and walking in that assumption (thinking from and acting as if), you will be persisting in that state.

“A concrete reality, displaced in time”

5th Chapter of the Gospel of Mark (3 stories)

“Be not afraid, only believe”

Fear is the absence of faith.

To be fearful is to go against your belief in the law of assumption, in your own belief in yourself.

“Are you living in the dead past?”

The past no longer exists at this moment. It is completely changeable and it has no power over you now. The only way you can give it power is by assuming that the past is immovable and unchangeable. Your own assumptions based on your past are what are holding you back.

“If you are living among the dead, your prejudices, your superstitions, and your false beliefs that you keep alive are the tombstones behind which you hide.”

When you refuse to let go of the old man, state, beliefs, and assumptions you have carried with you for so long, you refuse to change your inner reality. If you do not change your inner reality, you won't change your outer reality.

The 4D reveals a new approach to life.

Dying to the old state and resurrecting to the new state is how you change yourself.

Think outside the boundaries of the senses. 

Don't allow yourself to be stuck within the laws and rules of logic and reason.

Get rid of limitations.

Cleanse your mind of your former concept of self

“As your mind is cleansed of your former concept of self, you assume you are what you want to be, and remaining faithful to this assumption, you give form to your assumption.”

“But now having assumed that I AM what formerly I desired to be, I cannot continue desiring what I AM conscious of being. So I do not discuss it. I talk to no one concerning what I AM. It is so obvious to me that I AM what I wanted to be that I walk as though I were.”

You stay true and faithful to your assumption and then you walk through life as though you have it. THINK FROM IT.

“When you do become cleansed and you are free, then the womb, your own mind is automatically healed. It becomes the prepared ground where seeds, your desires, can take root and grow into manifestation.”

Die to your old state, feed your mind for your new state, tell no one, walk in that assumption, and persist.

“Things I am not attentive to fade and wither within my world, regardless of what they are.”

Since you created everything in your experience, you have the ability to remove your attention from them.

“They are not born and then remain unfed. I gave them birth by reason of the fact that I became conscious of being them. When I embody them within my world that is not the end. That is the beginning. Now I am a mother who must keep alive this state by being attentive to it.” 

By removing your attention from what is undesirable in your life, you are starving it. 

Things in your life are fed by attention. Remove your attention from that which you do not desire and turn your attention on that which you love.

Your attention must remain on your new state

Do not revert back, only feed your desired state.

“Close the door to your senses”

The 3D world is merely a reflection. It is not the source. It is not concrete and immovable. It is not unchangeable. The 4D world is the true source. Imagination is the source. 

So, close the door to the physical world and move only in your imagination. Grant yourself your desires, become who you desire to be, and leave reason, limitations, judgment, and other people’s opinions out of there. Here, anything is possible. Anything can happen and you can have anything you desire, no matter how unattainable it may seem. Think about it right now. In your mind, you can have all the money in the world, and you can bring anything you desire into existence. You can have anyone you want, You can be successful and loved and revered. You can love and be loved. You can be anywhere in the universe that you can possibly imagine. You can literally close your eyes and imagine yourself on the moon and it would take absolutely no effort on your part. In imagination, all things are yours and all things are possible. This is the source from which all things in the physical 3D world come from. So, if you truly allow yourself to create, to be, and to give yourself anything you desire, then your 3D world can reflect a magical world filled with all your desires fulfilled. 

“I no longer look for confirmation. I completely deny the evidence of my senses, which mock my assumption and do not discuss with others whether my assumption is possible or not.”

You don’t look for confirmation, you don’t ask anyone (even yourself) if it’s possible. It is possible because you said it’s possible. And that’s that. Be stern with yourself. Begin standing up for yourself, your desires, and your imagination. You deserve to have your 3D reflect to you exactly what you want. No less. 

“I shut out of that state everything that would deny it” = You literally ignore anything that would go against your desire. You have to be so stubborn. You have to be like a spoiled child, denying anything that does not exactly align with what you want. You don’t take no for an answer, you don’t allow it to half-manifest, and you definitely don’t allow “signs” and “small manifestations” to come. You don’t settle for anything less than you deserve, which is everything you desire, down to the smallest detail. 

Creation is man’s I AM

We were always meant to be creators.

Man’s consciousness is GOD. There is no other power out there.

Are you free of conditions?

“Do you believe now that you, without the assistance of another, need only assume that you are what you want to be, to make that assumption real within your world? Or do you believe that you must first fulfill a certain condition imposed upon you by the past, that you must be of a certain order, or a certain something?”

Ask yourself this: are you truly allowing yourself to be the sole power of your experience? Do you truly believe that you can have, be, and experience anything you desire? Do you actually think that you don't need to do anything except imagine yourself as you wish to be and it will come? Or are you still reasoning, doubting, and conditioning?

SELF-CONCEPT

“Of what are you conscious of being?”

Neville begins talking about the importance of the self-concept.

Everything you experience comes from you. Your entire world and reality is created by you. Are you ready to completely accept that everything is coming from imagination?

“Although you cannot see your objective with the limited focus of your three-dimensional mind, you are now that which you have assumed you are. Walk in that assumption and remain faithful to it.”

Even if you can’t see your desire immediately manifested in the physical world, you ARE what you have assumed. Your assumptions, beliefs, and manifestations are true and real. You continue to remain faithful to these new assumptions, this new conception of self, so that it can show itself to you in the physical world. It must be made manifest, there is no exception. If you assume something, and persist in that assumption, it MUST manifest and reflect in the outer world.

“I alone possess the power of the first person.”

I AM - only able to refer to myself. It is a first-person experience as GOD. This is your reality. Your own personal world and experience. Only you can manifest for yourself. 

“No man can get in [the pool] before you”

No one can take your manifestations from you

No one can beat you to manifesting something or someone

It’s only you

The Sabbath

“When you are not at all concerned about the opinion of others, when you walk as though you were, you cannot raise one finger to make it so, you are in the Sabbath.”

“I cannot be concerned as to how it will be, and still say I AM conscious of being it”

You are not truly in the state of having what you desire if you are still worrying about how it will come to you.

You would know that you are in the Sabbath if you are no longer questioning.

Because if you already had it, you wouldn’t be concerned about any conditions, because you already have it. If you find yourself in confusing thought patters regarding your manifestations, ask yourself this question: If you already had it, would you be thinking like this?

The Story of the Woman of Samaria

Harvest happens now, not in a period of time

Your imagination gives you fulfillment immediately

You can think of anything and it comes to mind instantly. There are no conditions, reasons, steps, there is no how. You don’t have to do anything but bring it to mind. That is manifestation. That’s all.

The well of everlasting quenched thirst

This refers to your imagination. There is no thirst or hunger in imagination because you can instantly imagine yourself fulfilled. If you are thirsty, you can imagine yourself drinking water. If you are hungry, you can imagine yourself eating anything you desire. If you desire something, you can instantly bring it about in imagination. There is no wait for harvest in imagination, only instant fulfillment.

Your subconscious mind “Sees [your desires] as now in a dimensionally larger world, existing now, taking place now.” It has ways that are outside the limitations of the 3D mind, the conscious mind that you have access to. Allow it to do what it was made for.

“Your five senses impregnate you morning, noon, and night with their limitations” 

You are constantly bombarded with the limitations, reasons, rules, and opinions in the 3D world. It takes effort to remove yourself from this cycle and allow yourself freedom from this.  They “dictate to you that which you must accept as true.”

Basically, your 3D world is trying to gaslight you into thinking that you have no power. 

The story of feeding the ducks (mental diet)

“Man is a psychological being, a thinker.”

“It is not what he feeds upon physically, but what he feeds upon mentally that he becomes. We become the embodiment of that which we mentally feed upon.”

The mental diet is extremely important. If you truly want to live a dream life, you need to create a world in your mind that is aligned with the fulfillment of your desires. Manifestation is not only about getting one thing you desire and then going back to the life you were living previously. It is about changing completely.

Notice your thought patterns, notice what you are assuming and imagining and change those things that do not align with your fulfilled desires.

Abdullah and Barbados 

Now this is the most famous Neville story there is and, unless you’re new here, you’ve heard it a thousand times. 

“You are in Barbados”

Neville was unemployed, lived in a tiny room in New York, and he wanted to go to Barbados.

Abdullah tells Neville, “As you walk through this door now you are not walking on 72nd Street, you are walking on palm lined streets, coconut lined streets; this is Barbados. Do not ask me how you are going to go. You are in Barbados. You do not say ‘how’ when ‘are there.’ You are there. Now you walk as though you were there.”

He kept repeating to Neville that he was already in Barbados, when he would complain that he had no money, “you are in Barbados” he would complain that he’s no closer to getting there “you are in Barbados” he asked how he would get there, “You are in Barbados.” That is all he would say. Because that’s all he needed. To believe he was already there. And once he did, everything aligned, and he went to Barbados. His family members begged him to come, gave him money for clothes and essentials he needed, his brother would pay for his entire trip, and then he somehow got into 1st class because somehow there had been a cancellation. He didn’t even move a finger to get all of this done for him. He didn’t even ask his brother for help. It simply happened.

“You are in Barbados, Neville. You want to be there; wherever you want to be, there you are. Live as though you are and that you shall be.” - Abdullah

“I was identified with the feeling of being there. I slept as though I were there, and the entire behavior of man was molded in harmony with my assumption.”

Identify with your fulfilled wish

“Feast on the idea [your fulfilled desire], become identified with the idea as though you were already that embodied state. Walk in the assumption that you are what you want to be. If you feast on that and remain faithful to that mental diet, you will crystallize it. You will become it in this world.”

Identify that which you desire to have in life (or who you desire to be), walk as though it is already true, assume it as your new state, and stick to your mental diet.

“Suspend judgment, refuse to accept what reason and the senses now dictate, and if you remain faithful to the new diet, you will become the embodiment of the ideal to which you remain faithful.”

You need to ignore anything that does not completely align with your fulfilled desire. 

Logic and reason do not exist in imagination. The 4D world does not follow these rules. The 3D is lying to you by telling you that you are constricted within conditions.

“To one’s imagination all things are possible.”

“The dimensionally greater self took my assumption as the command”

Your 4D self, your inner man, is only there to take commands. 

What you assume to be in your conscious mind and persist in, will be taken as a command by the 4D self and then manifested into the 3D.

Neville mentions that the only way you can genuinely believe in the law is by testing it. Don't simply listen to his lectures, read blog posts, and watch videos about the law of assumption. Actually apply the knowledge.

[capesch-arts]

Okay since people want to hear me yap here's the smol gist of Lore accurate KiY AU. (I hope I can make it as brief as possible lol).

First it's a double layered AU, with Faroe with Jane, and Arthur with the King.

I would like to start with how The King operates. Much like in the OG book, there's the King in Yellow book that drives people mad and other small things like his signs and his cultists that spread his influence on the human side of the world. If you even touch anything that has its influence, you gradually become exposed to more supernatural things until eventually The King can just harvest you and take you to Carcosa. However, for the last few decades, The King has been reliant on his cultists, thus more activities in the human world and eventually their actions got the notice of certain people, let's say Lester and Yang PI.

Arthur and Parker got involved with the supernatural much earlier than canon Malev. They weren't in too deep with it yet, but they're aware that there's other entities and they need to protect people from it. Eventually, Arthur split off from Parker and his daughter because he feared that whatever cult they were dealing with would eventually get to his family. He told Parker to watch over Faroe and Daniel and then went off alone.

During this time, he found John/Jane's book and for the most of it, kept it far far away from the King, until Arthur realises that he was going to die soon. Being too close and too exposed to all the supernatural influences of The King, made him viable to be whisked away. So, in his final moments, he hid the book away before "disappearing" from the world.

All the while that's happening, Faroe believed that her father had abandoned her and grew up resenting the man. (She was abandoned around her teenage years).

When Faroe became an adult, she got an anonymous letter that came from Arthur's old office (note: Parker, Faroe, and Daniel are in NY, and Arthur asked Parker to move there to watch over Faroe). She found Jane's book hidden under the floorboards and then bam, Jane is stuck in Faroe's head.

Faroe's story more or less goes the same way Arthur does, but she discovers her father's trail. Letters he addressed to people about the cults and The King, etc. and also his final will which revealed that he was indeed killed by The King.

For Arthur and the King, Arthur was exposed too much to The King's influence, at his last moments, his body was taken by The King, while his soul entered Carcosa. But, everything that happened between the two of them was unexpected, to say the least.

One, Carcosa was a dead city. The people in it were withering away and The King has been struggling to keep them alive. Two, Arthur wasn't affected by the madness that seeps off of the city and also didn't wither away like the others did. So, the two eventually had a mutual agreement that they'd figure out what exactly happened to the inhabitants of Carcosa and why Arthur was so special. During this, they had a mutual understanding and respect for one another and were soo close to becoming friends. Imagine a wiser Arthur with a John for this segment, that's essentially what their situationship is.

Eventually, Arthur realised what was happening with the people of Carcosa. The longer he was with The King, the more he understood what he was. He came to the conclusion that The King represents not only madness, but also decay and death. The madness of men to hide away the dread of death and decay through opulence, and because The King had lived with so much power and glamour for so long, he had forgotten the "decay" part of his being and his people were simply expiring. The King in all his pride, denied this and in their argument, decided to scramble Arthur's mind and forced him to play music for him for all eternity.

And that's so far what I got to share publicly lol. These are all just my insane ramblings of this thing, whether or not it ends good or not we'll see lol.

I unfortunately am not a fic writer so I may not write this except for my short illustrations of this AU hehe.

I would say that everyone is sad with their circumstances, even The King. Hehe

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, I love your stories and I hope you can make my fun request

Can you do Eddie Munson x Death fem reader

So hear me out let's say there in the upside down (11 and everyone isn't in California there in Hawkins and in the upside down with them and while they where chilling out in the upside down when Steve got hurt all of the sudden they heard whistling and turned and see a badass fem reader and walked up to 11 and starts toying with her (just like the wolf from puss and boots yk Death and when they figured out she's actually death they somehow get her a change of heart (after she tried to kill 11 and showed off her power a bit) and her and Eddie fall in love or Eddie falls first.

Sorry if it’s long

This was actually so fun and I loved writing the Death character. So if anyone else loves it, feel free to request ( once they are open ) for more death reader. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Death was inspired by Rio from Agatha all along, won't lie. But the Death character is NOT Rio. If that makes sense. Just don't think Aubrey plaza is the reader because she's not, just was an inspiration so I wanted to give the credit to that.

Lady Death

"I FUCKING hate these bats," Steve growled. Nancy sat on her knees as she tried to cover Steve's wounds.

"What the hell is this place?" Eddie asked once he caught his breath. All he knew was that he jumped off a boat and was in a hell pit.

"The upside down," El said. She was looking around, almost like she felt the presence of something no one had seen yet.

"Oh great, so I have to fight to survive in the normal world, and now I have to survive in this sewer-type place? And this girl has powers?" Eddie asked frantically. He knew somewhat of everything that was going on, he just didn't believe it was a real place.

"Dude, I've already told you all of this!" Dustin argued.

"No offense, kid. But I figured you were full of shit!'" Eddie spat.

"Guys! Quiet," El demanded. Everyone went silent as they looked at her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel what was wrong. "There's something here," she whispered.

"Yeah, flesh-eating bats!" Steve hissed.

Before anyone could say anything, El was flung across the ground.

"EL!" Mike shouted, running over to her. But before he could come in contact with her, she was evaluated into the air. The gang watched in horror as she seemed to be held up by her throat, by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" Robin panicked. Nancy worked faster to clean up Steve.

The sound of someone whistling filled their ears. The gang all turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a skin-tight green bodysuit, holes on the sides that showed skin, a green crown on her head, and a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

Everyone stared at her in fear and awe. She was incredibly beautiful, but nothing alive behind her eyes.

"Poor little El, not so strong anymore, huh?" The lady mocked, she flicked her wrist and El fell to the floor. Mike raced over to her, this time able to collect her body in his arms.

"Who are you?" El asked, panting as she took air into her lungs.

"She's Death," Eddie said in awe. Everyone looked at him shocked, how did he know who she was?

Even she was surprised. She was fast, appearing in front of Eddie in seconds as she gripped his neck. Eddie tried to cover up the fact that he was incredibly turned on by her harsh touch.

"Who are you?" she questioned, Eddie blushed under her studying eyes. She took in every inch of his face, something about him was familiar.

"Edward Munson," he choked out. The gang didn't move an inch, staring at the two.

"How do you know who I am?" She released his throat to allow him to speak. She flicked her wrist and everyone in the gang was thrown to the ground. They were stuck, not able to move a muscle.

Eddie was a little scared, looking at his friends and some people he barely knew trapped under her power.

"I've read about you. You collect souls, right? El was supposed to die from Vecna but she escaped. Unfinished business and now you have to finish her," Eddie explained, "am I right, Y/N?"

Y/N stepped away from the boy. She felt uneasy that he seemed to know everything. No one was supposed to know who she was until she took their soul, of course.

With her distracted, the gang ran over to El. El was quick to use her own powers, sending Y/N in the air and harshly crashing into the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her body went still.

"LET'S GO!" Steve yelled, the gang nodded and all ran to make their escape. Eddie went to follow but when he took a look at Y/N's limp body on the floor, he stopped.

"Eddie, come on!" Dustin said, gesturing his hands to show that everyone was leaving.

"We can't just leave her," Eddie argued, against his better judgement he walked towards her.

"You said it yourself, she's Death. I think she's capable of handling a bump on the head," Mike sassed. He was annoyed that Eddie seemed to care about a stranger that was more than willing to kill El.

Eddie ignored Mike's words, kneeling down as he rolled her body over. There was a gash on her head, blood running down the side of her face. Eddie didn't have anything on him to help, but he ripped the end of his shirt and tied it around her head. He watched as his white shirt began to stain with her blood, but he didn't mind.

She couldn't die, he knew that. But he wouldn't feel right leaving her behind with no help at all.

~~~

It's been a few days since the encounter with Death, and she was in everyone's head ( just for different reasons.) El thought of her as a new enemy and most of the gang were terrified to know they were that close to Death.

But she was in Eddie's mind for a different reason. When he was younger he loved reading about death and what happened in the afterlife. He learned what death was, who death was. She's been around for centuries but never aged. Still the beautiful girl, who lost her soul too young.

Eddie often felt a connection to her. She didn't have a family, or any friends. People were scared of her, banished her, leaving her alone for years and years. She was like Eddie and Eddie was just like her. He was alone and banished in his own way, but they had much in common.

He couldn't leave her behind because he understood the pain of being alone. The pain of everyone running away, terrified. He wanted her to feel cared about for once.

Something about Eddie humanized her in a sense. She hadn't felt anything in her body since she died. She didn't feel emotions, her heart, not even her lungs. But when she was near him, touching and seeing him, she felt a beat in her chest. A flutter in her stomach.

Her body felt alive

She was able to trace where he lived from the property of his shirt. She carried the blood stained shirt in her hand as she walked through the woods, looking for his trailer park.

She felt that same beat in her chest as she walked past a small trailer. Random chairs in the front and an ash tray by the door. She walked away, the beat in her chest decreasing. With furrowed eyebrows, she walked backwards, the beat increased.

"Well look at that, having a heart is good for something," she scoffed, turning in the direction of the trailer.

She didn't knock, using her powers to fling the door right off the hinges.

Eddie was brushing his teeth when he heard his front door slam a wall.

"Shit!" He swore through his foamy mouth. He figured a big gust of wind blew through the door but when he came out, he saw Y/N standing in his house. His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he stared at her in shock.

"On-mf-e-sec-mff," he said through the foam. He turned and raced back in his bathroom to spit out the paste and rinse his mouth. He jumped when Y/N appeared behind him.

"Um, hi," Eddie said, staring at her reflection. She stood tall behind him, peaking over his shoulder. Her hair was down, framing her face. She was in her death clothes, the tight bodysuit making him gulp.

"You gave me this," she spoke bluntly. She held his shirt, hanging from her fingertips. He turned around and grabbed the shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he smiled. She flinched as she felt her heart race. But recovered with a smile.

"You're welcome," she said, turning around and walking out. Eddie followed, confusion on his face.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, moving to cut her off. Her body slammed against his and she stepped back. Her face stone cold.

"I dropped off the shirt. That's all that needed to be done," she said. Eddie frowned, thinking about how the only time she's in someone's presence is to kill them.

"Hey, you know you can be around people for fun, not just take their souls," the comment sounded like he was a dick but he was genuine about it. He closed the door and moved to his couch, patting the seat next to him.

She eyed him, moving cautiously and sitting next to him. "Well, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me. I promise my friends are kind people, they just had to fight for their lives a few too many times," Eddie sadly laughed.

"You haven't?" She asked, Eddie could feel her eyes. He turned his head to look at her, trying not to get lost in her eyes.

"I have, I just understand how it feels to be the one that's left behind. I've studied you my whole life and you're not as scary as the books made you seem."

Y/N was in awe of the softness he showed and offered her. She couldn't remember when was the last time she got to be in someone's company.

"And by far more beautiful in person," he said, softer and quieter than before. Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin getting warm.

She felt shy, moving her head to hide away but his hand reached out. She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on her warm cheek. The eye contact felt intense, like she was in a trance and unable to look away. She didn't want to anyway, she wanted to stare at him all day long.

"You know, since you brought back my shirt. I think I owe you for your kindness," he whispered. Her stomach flipped as a small smile formed on his face. His perfect pink lips stretched as his white teeth were on display. She turned her head to the side, questioning him.

"You hungry?" He asked, "for food not souls." He clarified. She couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"I could eat," she smiled. He smiled back, standing up and grabbing her hand. He was prepared to go right out the door but then he stopped.

"Would you maybe feel more comfortable in..uh-" he stuttered, still feeling the effects of her suit clinging to her body and showing off her figure. "Comfier clothes?"

"What are the options?"

~

"Steve, if I hear you moan and bitch about the bats one more time, I will cut you myself," Robin threatened.

"I'd like a little support here! I could've died!" Steve argued. Nancy laughed to herself as the two began to argue. Jonathan had his arm thrown around her shoulder, looking down at the menu.

Eddie walked in, his hand in hers as he looked around for an open table. He was shocked to see Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan at a table.

Steve looked up and his eyes locked on Eddie, and then the girl next to him. Eddie gave him a small wave but turned the other direction, leading Y/N. They sat at a table, with her back to his friends.

Steve raced over to their table, he wanted to see if his eyes were seeing things. But as he made it to them, his eyes were right. Eddie was holding hands with Death.

"Can I talk to you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Eddie.

"One second," Eddie said, softly kissing her hand before he let go.

The two huddled over to the side, Steve whispering harshly.

"Are you insane?"

"She's still a person!" Eddie argued

"She's a killer, Eddie. You can't just get sucked into her looks. She's evil."

"She's not! It's a job. She doesn't kill randomly. She only goes when she's called. There's some human inside of her, I'm going to bring it out. She just needs someone to show her" Eddie explained.

"You are going to risk yourself and all your friends because you want to find the human in her?" Steve scoffed, "I don't believe there's any human in her," Steve looked over at the table. She sat drumming her fingers as she twirled a knife in the air with her powers.

Eddie sighed, knowing she wasn't helping his case.

Steve noticed a look in Eddie's eyes. He was desperate and he had this soft look when his eyes cast over her.

"You fell for her already, didn't you?" Steve chuckled. It was nice to see Eddie had a romantic side to him. Steve remembered the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

"Yes," Eddie sighed. "Which I know is crazy but trust me, she came to my house and do you know how easily she could have killed me if she wanted to?"

Steve sighed, he nodded his head. Sometimes he hated being a good friend.

"Well," he puffed, landing his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Enjoy your date. And the gang will need to hear all about it."

The hand that was on Eddie's shoulder was suddenly ripped off. Steve cried out as his arm was bent backwards behind his back and slammed into a wall.

"Y/N!" Eddie hissed, taking her body off of Steve's.

The rest of the gang looked at the commotion, fast on their feet to run to Steve.

"Sorry!" Y/N said, a look of shock in her eyes. "I felt something burn in my body and lost it."

"From what?" Steve asked, his eyes huge as he sassed the girl, who he now noticed was dressed in Eddie's clothes.

"You touched Eddie," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't exactly sure herself.

"What's going on?" Robin asked. Quickly looking Death up and down, which didn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He snapped his fingers and Robin looked at him.

"Well," Steve said as he rubbed his arm, "looks like Eddie and um Y/N here are on a date."

The gang were shocked, not sure what to say.

"And she's the jealous type," Steve added through his clenched teeth.

"I'll stop by later and talk yeah? I'd like to enjoy my date," Eddie said as he slipped his hand into hers.

"Uh sure," Nancy said, still giving the two a weird look. Jonathan kept quiet, but he was just as confused.

The gang walked back to their table, Robin looking over her shoulder as the two sat back down.

"How the hell did he manage to swing her? She's way too hot for him," Robin scoffed.

"Oh little Rob, we'll get you your own little Death lover," Steve teased.

~~~

Within a few months, Y/N was around more often. She was glued to Eddie's side whenever she could be. Eddie loved it. He loved always having someone on his arm, and he wasn't mad about the kisses that were always placed on his skin.

The gang accepted her, a little on edge at times but she was mostly harmless. It was clear that the two were head over heels for each other in their own ways.

The times she was called to do her work, Eddie waited in his trailer. His heart warming when she appeared back within minutes, claiming she missed him.

Then she'd slide in his lap, Eddie's hands landing on her hips. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, thankful for the holes in her suit. He was guilty of getting hard whenever he saw her dressed in her suit. She was Death so of course she was mean about it. Rocking her hips against him as she slowly kissed his lips.

She was his and he was hers.

Who knew Death could make someone feel so alive.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[thecosmicangel]

At the end of the day the only validation is you. Stop looking for validation from others because everyone has their own perspective, and journey in life. If you want someone back, stop listening to people telling you “why would you want them back, or you’re better off without them” they don’t see or understand your heart & vision. Yes, you could have anyone you want, but you are choosing SP for a reason. You are able to create the perfect relationship with anyone you want. If you want something you don’t need a long explanation for wanting it, you simply want it because you do and that’s good enough. You don’t have to work hard to become a millionaire. Stop letting other people’s limiting beliefs become your limiting beliefs or get in the way of getting what you want. Just because someone says something is impossible doesn’t mean it’s true for you. Let people stay in limiting mindsets & you be free in the mentality that everything is possible. Whatever you want is possible because you want it. Stop being part of the loop 🔁 where so many people are stuck & programmed to stay in. Start living outside the box, living your dream life. No dream is too impossible. This is also what it means to live in your authentic self, you stop listening to others and start to listen to your inner self. You are the only writer of your story, don’t let others change your narrative to something you don’t want. As we are in the “Age of information / knowledge” there is so much information we have access to but you get to decide what is true for you and what isn’t. I say this because in the spiritual & religious communities people have the idea that “things are meant to happen if they are” or “it will happen if it’s gods will” or saying things like “people have free will and it’s bad to mess with their free will” or you have to wait on divine timing, or astrological timing isn’t right or it will manifest in a bad way it won’t last, blah blah blah. I don’t mean to be rude or put anyone down because I once believed in all this until I realized I am the god of my reality and if I believe it, it made it real. When you call your power back you realize things only have power because you gave it the power to become so, you realize you give meaning to everything so stop putting so much limitations on yourself and break away from all that doesn’t serve you or simply decide what meaning you want to give it. I’m not saying you have to stop learning about astrology or break away from religion/ spirituality do whatever you want & believe what you want just be aware of any limiting beliefs and stick to what helps you. YOU have the power to make things be true, you give it the meaning you want.

This image shows how many things can be true at once, it all comes down to individual perspective. You see things as you are, whatever you believe & see as true will be true for you.

You don’t have to resonate or agree with what I say because from my perspective what I say is true based on my experience. We as humans are constantly changing our perspective, what I say now past versions of me may of not agreed or believed what I say. All you gotta do is believe in yourself & be your own validation.

xoxo, the cosmic angel ⭐️🪽

[sinnamonrolle]

wind breaker dragon!au (x reader)

(very sorry to those who are expecting obey me content... they will come. eventually. promise.)

nothing is ever as helpful in getting me to write as a looming deadline that's somewhat far away... not that i've written anything that can be seen by others. but i have been brainrotting a dragon!au for the past week, so here are some ideas because i seriously need to yap. (eventually, this will also be written as a full story. one day. trust.)

-- -- -- -- -- --

Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, and Kaji Ren centric cw: blood, suggestive(?) but sfw; not proofread

A long, long time ago, when humans were still hunting dragons, some humans gained special powers from drinking dragon blood. However, those special powers were only good for helping dragons—stabilizing their shapeshifting abilities, increasing their max potential, curbing their madness, and so on.

Seeing this, a portion of dragons who seeked peace and a potential increase to their own strength sought out the humans and reached an agreement. The humans who gained special powers, called Guides, would offer their services to dragons, but in exchange, they would have to live in human society under human laws. Of course, the humans also stopped hunting dragons. This agreement continues even to this day.

Since dragons are capable of shifting into a human form, they eventually integrated into human society. Some dragons even started families with humans, creating hybrids who have some combination of draconic traits as opposed to full dragons. Full dragons are born in their dragon form, before shifting to hybrid-looking form after reaching 3-5 years old. Then, when they start puberty, they're able to fully shift into a human.

Guides are taught that they are duty bound to bond with at least one dragon, but it isn't enforced by law. Bonding can only occur when the Guide and the dragon both agree to it, and they would need to ingest each other's blood, tears or scales/hair to officially bond. When a Guide and dragon bond, the Guide shares some of the dragon's abilities.

It's also possible for a Guide to bond with multiple dragons, and a dragon with multiple Guides. However, the latter is uncommon.

When a pair bonds, a mark appears on each other's body.

Makochi is known as "the town protected by dragons." 'Bofurin' in this case not only refers to the wind chimes, but also how the dragons break the wind with the beating of their wings. Not many cities are known to be protected by dragons, seeing as dragons are somewhat discriminated against. It's not something that's obvious, as most people are accepting of them, but we know how humans are.

Furin Academy accepts only dragons, hybrids, and Guides. They provide a socialization and culture class for Guides so that they can become more familiarized with dragons, their behavioral patterns, their habits, their biology, what exactly their Guide duty would entail, etc. (But as for the rest of the school, it quite resembles Furin High in the original.)

Your mother sent you away from home to give you some breathing space, so you ended up attending Furin Academy as a Guide. It didn't take long for you to quickly become acquainted with Sakura and Suo, and eventually Kaji as well.

Sakura was a late bloomer. It took him longer than usual to grow out of the dragon hatchling phase, and even after he started puberty, he couldn't manage to fully shift into a human, leaving behind a long, spilt colored tail. He hated it except for when it would help him win fights. But just as he has trouble shifting completely into human form, he also has trouble shifting completely into dragon form. He's been stuck with only a tail for years.

Suo and Kaji, both full dragons as well, have no issues with shifting. But Suo rarely ever shifts completely into a dragon. At most, you would only ever see either his tail or his wings. Kaji doesn't care. He'd be in whichever form that's most convenient.

Dragons' tails are like another limb for them. For Sakura, who has been stuck with his tail out for years, his tail has become another way to tell his mood. When he's surprised, it tenses straight up, like an exclamation mark. Flustered, his tail starts to move in 'S' shapes. And if he's really happy or excited about something, his tail wags just like a dog's. It's adorable. Even if others point it out, his tail will still unconsciously do the motions.

Suo uses his tail sometimes in favor of his hands and arms. When you are close enough to him, he tends to wrap his tail around some part of you. For example, when you two are walking together down the street, if you're about to run into someone or if someone's about to bump into you, his tail would snake around your waist and gently pull you closer to him with that same gentle smile on his face. Sometimes, if you are having a meal with the Furin boys, Suo's tail would wrap itself around your ankle, rubbing against you once in a while as if to remind you of his presence.

When Kaji doesn't want you to get lost or when he's walking too fast, you hold his tail as if you're holding his hand. It would look like you're walking him, if it isn't for how you hurry to catch up to his steps as he strides ahead, his platinum blond tail wrapped tightly around your hand. But when he sleeps, he's curled around you, his tail tucking your entire body against his.

When you and Sakura bond, he's finally able to control his shifting. He can't believe at it first, watching his tail disappear and reappear continuously until he finally turns to you with an expression bordering on tears, his brows scrunched, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyes misty with disbelief. He looks so lost and yet so relieved that you can't help but hug him. He sniffs once and trembles in your arm.

The core of a mark is called the "seed." Your mark—wisteria flowers and thin vines—seeds on Sakura's right upper arm, around his biceps, and it eventually spreads down his arm until it stops at the back of his hand, one stray vine curling around the base of his middle finger. Whenever he runs his hand through his hair, the pink-purple petals would catch your attention. It's worse when his sleeves slip down, revealing more of your mark. He's already really pretty, and with the mark running down his arm, it adds something to him that you can't quite name but drives you crazy all the same. What is it, he asks when he catches you staring, tilting his head, and if you had any less self-control, you would have already trace the mark a million times and watch as Sakura's face bloom bright red.

Suo's isn't any better—his mark placement, that is. It seeded over his heart, but it expanded upwards on his left, creeping up his neck until just a tendril poked past his jawline. Whenever he's turning his head, whenever he talks—hell, even when he isn't talking, he knows you're staring at him. How can he not, when your eyes are burning holes into him? It's partially his fault, really. His posture is always straight and neat, his neck never entirely hidden even when he's wearing his changshans, which gives you a direct view to the way his neck flexed, as if taunting you. And to add salt to injury, he always smiles teasingly at you, purposefully tilting his head to reveal more of the mark. One day, you swear as you smile back at him, you'll bite into his throat and see how much he likes it then.

For better or worse, Kaji's mark seeded on the back of his neck. And when it grew, it grew downwards, spreading across his back like wings. His mark is something that's easily hidden, considering how much he likes to wear his hoodies, and you easily forget that he has a mark in the first place until the moment he takes off his hoodie and shirt. Since you always forget, every time you do get to see his bare back and how your mark claimed that space, you splutter and inch closer and closer to having a heart attack. As if he knows the effect he has on you, Kaji would always take his clothes off by yanking the back of his collar, revealing his thin but toned back first. And it's always his back facing you. Is he trying to kill you?

But bonding with Kaji has helped him tremendously. Guides generally smelled much nicer to dragons and hybrids, although there isn't a specific scent that can describe it since it's different for every Guide. As far as you understand, Guides usually smell comforting, and their scent helps soothe any mental agaitation that may come from their madness or any other source. So when a lollipop didn't help Kaji much in calming him down, he would seek you out with a glower on his face, wrapping his tail around your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He naturally gets annoyed more easily, but you're sure his kind's inherent susceptibility to madness doesn't help him much either. But it isn't like you mind. Pressing a kiss into his hair, you pat him until he's ready to let you go.

-- -- -- -- -- --

they're all my little meow meows, your honor!

i have some more ideas marinating in my brain swamp, but who knows when this will end up in a coherent story. i really wanted to get this out in the world though, because dragon!au has so much potential. imagining sakura when he was a cute baby dragon? suo with a slit pupil and the usual dragon territorialness?? kaji with tail, wings, horns??? please. please. someone tell me i'm not delusional.

thank you for coming to my ted talk. i'll go back into my cave now.

(if people are curious for more, i have answers to some questions regarding this au.)

[kkukverse]

thieves of the heart

summary: In the heart of Gotham’s night, they let the walls fall, trading sharp banter for quiet intimacy. The city’s chaos faded, leaving only the heat of their unspoken bond.

pair: batman!namjoon x catwoman!reader

genre: batman au

warnings & ratings: explicit sex scene | smut 🔞(minors dni)

wordcount: 7k

author's note: who's your favorite catwoman? so hard to choose, i'm torn between michelle pfeiffer (batman returns 1992) purely because her attitude, her wardrobe, the whip ahhh! but anne hathaway (the dark knight) was golden too! idk! anyway. hope u guys enjoy.

He is a man of control. 

Born from a long lineage of money and power, Namjoon is the most influential man in the city. It is no secret that he lost his parents. Gotham city practically bows down to his family, the Kim. How powerful is his family? Well his family is in charge of the dam that was built to run the electricity all over the city, lines of banks and corporate companies are ruled under the Kims too. It was believed that the very first generation of Kim was the founder of Gotham city. A city built from a wasteland to the most lavish city in the world. 

But everything comes with a price. 

As the only heir of the infamous Kim, his family was prone to danger. When he was a wee little boy, barely a teenager, his parents were brutally murdered in front of his eyes. Leaving him as the sole heir of Kim. After the very incident, he hides himself. No one really saw his face. He came in and out of his building with so little people know. He is just comfortable in managing his family’s empire from behind the scenes. After all, his family only hired the best of the best to assist in maintaining the legacy.

One thing that allows him to use his power for good is to help the citizens of Gotham. Namjoon wanted to be a plight of light because he saw how injustice roamed in his city. Day after day, the authority loses pitifully at the hands of the criminals. With his money he created a hero. Someone with no real name, a character that shows up when behind a mask. He became a batman.

How did he become a batman? That's another story to tell. 

Though he is a man of control, there’s only one person that can shake him to his core. 

“Namjoon,” 

“Not now, Alfred.” He walks past the old man. 

Pulling off his mask and the cape, at the first tug, the black cape was stuck and it made Namjoon yell out frustratingly. He snatched the cape until it tore from his shoulders. 

Alfred sighs, already thinking of making a new one, again. Namjoon is usually a calm man, but he sometimes forgets how strong he is. 

“Master Kim, it is my duty to remind you to keep calm. The wound on your leg is still fresh.” At the call of his formal name Namjoon flinched. Realizing he hurt his butler’s feelings. No, Alfred is much more than a butler to him. Alfred is a loyal man. Alfred has been taking care of him ever since he was born. Everything that he said is always for Namjoon’s best interest. Namjoon felt guilty at the sudden tantrum. He should’ve acted better.

“How does she always slip away so easily? It's like every time we get a trace of her, she is already four steps ahead of me,” Namjoon roughly ruffles his hair. Just thinking how he is so close to capturing the cat.

“Sly cat.” He snarled. “I swear I will not go easy on you.” Suddenly he can feel the stabbing pain on his left leg. The one that you caused. Namjoon has to go for hours of agony because you fire a crossbow just a few inches from his batmotor. Causing him to fall and being crushed by the heavy mobile. 

“May I ask, for what reason must you catch the catwoman, Namjoon?” Alfred monotonously asked. Honestly the old man is less interested in knowing the reason by now because as far as his wise age can conclude, his master and the catwoman have another issue than just chasing tails.

Namjoon just left the cave, limping. Alfred was all alone with an unanswered question. Alfred knew his master was wounded, not only on his leg, but also his heart.

“Get down right now! I swear I'll pull your legs! Look at this mess!” A piercing voice breakthroughs your dreams and almost makes you fall down from your hammock bed. The hammock was your safe haven. It is a bright orange hammock, tied so close to the ceiling because you’re the only one who can climb up to sleep there. With your legs dangling out of it, your body weighing down the hammock and Jungkook is worried that the ties will snap unless he does something about it, again. 

“What happened to your arm?!” Your best friend, big thick glasses Jungkook, gasped. He stares at the long gash from your forearm up to your elbow. “Oh dear, is this a pigsty or a house?!” He pinched on a piece of cloth he picked up on the floor while scrunching his pretty face. Hoping that they're clean.

“Kook, it's too early for this,” you yawn from the top of your bed. “I got home really late last night. Please let me rest.” You grumble. Eyes shut tight as you move your body in the tight hammock. Turning away from the nagging sounds of Jungkook.

But Jungkook is faster and he is itchy in his head the moment he sees the condition of your house. “Early, my ass. It’s evening, it's almost dusk. At what time you’re actually home?”

He climbed up the chair to smack the bottom of the hammock, hitting your butt as well. You yelped and flew out of it carelessly but managed to land on four on the floor. You fast reflexes woke you up. Wide awake.

“Fuck off!” You yelled at him.

“Poor Kitty, that trick works all the time.” Jungkook chuckles. “Now do something with your…” he sighs as his eyes caught a bunch of sparkles in the hammock. You're sleeping with jewelry, as usual “...house. Get up!” 

You love Jungkook, dearly. Best friend since highschool to be exact. He was the boy who was bullied and you’re the girl who saved the day. Just a cliche friendship trope. But really, the day you saved him was when you were too busy ‘pickpocketing’ Alex’s Superman watch as he was slamming Jungkook on the locker door. You accidentally twisted his arm and resulted in a serious pain for him and he released Jungkook. Ever since then Jungkook has followed you like a little duck.

Over the years of growing up together, both of you have been through so many hurdles and adventures. To this point, right now. He knows who you are, that's why he is special. You trusted him.

“How many times must I tell you? Trade them, cash them out for money, and we can eat grand food! Instead of weighing down your house with heavy golds and diamonds, why can't we just stuff our pitiful tummies with food?!” He nags as his busy hands are classing the clutter on the floor. You have a hoarding issue. 

“I love sparkling things, and you know that.” You pouted, with unruly hair, you're trying on a pearl necklace. Smirking at the sight in the mirror. Pulling up your hair, the necklace elongated your neck and they're just stunning! Mrs Kim knows how to live well, you sigh. His son will kill you if he finds out but nevermind.

“Why do I keep helping you to sort out your trash?!” Jungkook is inspecting a piece of painting. A big canvas of swirling colours. Jungkook doesn’t know much about art and he knows, so do you. It is a beautiful piece of art, and an expensive one.

“Really?! A Monet?! How do you even carry this!” He shouted, you winced at him but your hand was still clutching the pearls. A true picture of an aristocratic lady in a dramatic moment.

“Stop shouting!” 

“That’s it. I'm done. I'm done. No more stealing! Thieving! Next time you want something, think of a place to store them because this house is a second away from collapsing. And what that batman boyfriend of yours would think when he came over??” He babbles.

“Your mouth is moving too fast and I caught nothing.” You get up to palm your fist on his mouth. Jungkook is being too loud. You know what they say, ‘Speak of the devil and he will show up’ 

“Shut up Jungkook, he cannot catch me,” you whispered with wide eyes. Jungkook is smirking cheekily and you know it’s nothing good. 

Jungkook slaps your wrist and you let him. “Say that to this,” he fished out his phone from the back of his jeans. Swiping to find something before he yells out an Aha!

“Read!” He shoved the phone up to your face, with squinting eyes, you read the words.

“Tell her enough games, I'm coming over tonight.”

It was a message from Namjoon himself.

“You backstabbing shit! You motherfucker!” You jumped on his back, slapping his shoulders because not only Namjoon texted him but he exposed your little yet humble but also messy nest to him! You are a very territorial person. It is very unbearable to receive an unexpected visitor in your territory. You don’t like it. Simple. Not because you’re ashamed.

He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Watch out for the pearls!”

“No! How! Did! He! Know! My place?!” You emphasized on each word with a slap on his back.

“Well kitty, in case you forgot I walk in and out of his mansion everyday. I am his informant! The only person who knows his secret and yours. What do you expect?” Jungkook tried to pull you away from your body cage but he gave up. He walks to the kitchen with you still hanging on his back.

“Annoying. He is so annoying!” You grunt. “I was planning to steal a masquerade mask in the museum before his annoying ass shows up.” You whine in an unnecessary dramatic tone. 

Jungkook hums along as he pours down orange juice in a glass. “I know, I told him that too.”

“You little shit!” You karate chop Jungkook on his side neck, making him splutter out the juice. 

“Ugh!” Jungkook hunched down as the juice dripped from his chin to his beloved shirt. 

“You clean that up!” You jumped from his back and strutted down to the couch. Feeling satisfied seeing your friend in a mess. But the relieved feeling was a short one. The smug smile on your face slowly turns into a frown. Namjoon is coming and the thought of him makes you panic a little. 

“What is it that he wants this time,” you grumble. Furrowing your brows and crossing your arms on your chest. Very unamused of this situation. 

“Maybe an apology?” Suggested Jungkook. He has a good hearing and a very observant fella. 

“For what!” You barks. Jungkook raises his hands in peace. He knows better than to disturb the hissy cat.

“I don't know? Maybe because you bailed out on him when the two of you planned to ambush Bane?” Jungkook said with an unsure tone. Steadily scooches away from you. He doesn't want you to slap him again. You can be unpredictable and your moves are very agile. Jungkook shivers at the possibility of being scratched by you. He experienced it once before and nope, he is not trying his luck.

“I didn't leave him.” You mumble. Eyes casting down your toes. Wiggling them as a distraction method. “I was distracted.”

“Tell him your reason, on your own” Jungkook covers his ears as he prepares for another shout from you. He is a bit ashamed to admit that he flinched a little when you straightened your body.  

There’s nothing wrong in what Jungkook just said. 

“Namjoon is a nice dude, sometimes you’re the one who loves to tease him too much.” Jungkook adds. 

Now you're looking more like a scolded puppy instead of the feisty cat he usually knows. Jungkook likes it when he brings out Namjoon’s name to make you think rationally. Because that certain man always brings out this side soft, yet fierce of yours. He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

You're not replying. Instead you stand up to push Jungkook out of the house.

“Wait-” the door slammed on his face. 

“Ouch,” he mutters. “Call me if you need me. And clean your house! He's coming.” Jungkook reminds you again. He stepped out of the apartment complex by the back door, disappeared into the untangle maze of buildings with a bag that contained his green and black outfit. 

The robin is out to watch the city. Namjoon is counting on Jungkook to watch the day as he will be very ‘busy’.

“Open the door.” Namjoon no longer knocks as he said the words for the fifth time and yet the owner of the house is unbudged from the inside. He’s been standing at your door for half an hour now. He is a man of virtue and patience but he swears, you’re the only that pushes his button. He hates that he likes it.

You were sitting on the couch, with knees pressed to your chest. Unbothered. You want Namjoon to know that he has no effect on you at all. Despite not welcoming him to your house, the house is decently neat. The moment you pushed Jungkook out, you scrambled to clean the mess. In reality you just shoved all the jewelry in every cupboard you can find.

“Please,” his soft voice is melting you. How dare you Namjoon! You yelled to yourself.

“No.” Your voice, albeit soft, Namjoon can hear it just fine.

“Don't make me break the door, Kitten.” His dominating aura can be felt even if there's a thick door in between the two of you. You shudder at the thought of his face when he calls your pet name with that tone.

Almost mewling in surrender, you bite back your lips. Refusing to submit. You're the catwoman. The greatest, most flexible burglar, you cannot simply bend down to a man's will. 

“Fine,” Namjoon took one step back, his trench coat ruffled with his movements and your sharp ears caught that. Is he leaving already? You catwalking to the door. Being aware of making any sound. With every careful step you took, there’s not even a sound. Namjoon and Jungkook think you’re the most stealth person they know but they refuse to boost your ego. 

“I’ve warned you,” You heard the echo of his voice. So, you took another step. You were sure by the echo, Namjoon left the door. With confidence, your hands are on the door knob. Bracing yourself if he even tried to break the door. You will scratch his face if he destroys your door.

A silent. 

One beat, two beats. There's zero sounds beyond the door and you let out a sigh of relief. Though your face is frowning. He really did leave just like that?

“Really, Kitten? This is an old trick.” 

You screamed at the voice that was whispering close to your ear. 

“WHAT THE FU-” hand is on your chest as it heaves up and down. Panting from the shock. Your eyes trace behind him. The windows. 

“How the fuck do you even fit through the window, Namjoon?” With wide eyes you look back to him and the wide opened windows. The curtains are flowing when the wind blows. “Didn't you learn any basic human courtesy? Like, how you should behave when you're in someone's house? I pity Alfred. His poor soul has been teaching your sorry ass since you're a kid and this is how you act?!” You scoffed.

“Hush, kitten.” He sighs. Taking off his beige trench coat and throwing it out on the floor. Exposing his broad shoulder and chest with the tight turtleneck he's wearing. His bulging biceps are screaming, a stitch away to rip apart his top. Really? How did he even fit the window?! 

“Hush? You're in my house. You hush!” Hands on your hips. Ready to turn your back to open the door, expecting to kick him out. 

In a matter of seconds he slams his palm firmly on the wooden surface, not allowing you to open it.

“Don't you have anywhere else to go? Someone to save?” You gritted your teeth as you face him.

“Doesn't matter.” He crouched his insanely gorgeous tall figure to you as your whole body is pressed on the door. With his stunning face leaning closer and closer to yours. His perfect hair and his big hands are caging you. If you don't have a will in you, your knees will buckle down first. Weak kitty. 

“What matters right at this moment is, you,” his lips jutted out towards you, “pretty, cunning, and sly cat. You have an apology to make, kitten.” His nose is nuzzling on your neck with every description of you coming out from his mouth. 

You can feel a pathetic whimper at the end of your throat and you’re fighting it with everything that’s left in you to keep it at bay. Letting out a sound would make him win so you're biting your tongue. The pupils are shaking and expanding as your sense is heightened when he slowly circled his arm on your waist. Pushing himself a lot closer than before. Almost chest to chest.

“Hum? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles at your stiffness. 

Like a flicker switched on, his words make you brazen up to fist his perfect hair, pulling him up from your neck to face you. Scratching your pointy nails on his scalp while your other hand is cupping his chin. The hissing sound, the satisfied grin and the way his eyes rolled back makes your thighs twitch. “Tsk, this batsy, batsy boy,” you lick on his cheek. 

“Nuh uh kitten, this is not your game anymore.” Namjoon snapped open his eyes and it's like two dark dark gazes swallowing your soul. He pulls you up and with an instinct you tighten your hold with your legs on his waist and arms on his neck with him slamming you back on the door.

“You left me, baby, how could you?” Instead of an accusing tone, the way Namjoon said them is so sultry. With his deep raspy voice. Getting braver now, his lips are on your neck. He bites and sucks ferociously. His big palm rubbing your side up and down, causing goosebumps at his electrifying touch, every damn time. 

“Nam- slow down, ahh!” Your arms and legs feel like jelly and they're fast to fall down from his body. But Namjoon will never let you fall. Bouncing you back, he grips hardly on your hips. He did not stop sucking and licking your neck. Definitely will leave some more marks, since the last ones are not faded yet. 

He is making sure you stay in position. By position, it’s your lower belly snuggling his crotch area, already feeling the hardening of the other big body part of his. His lips are attacking yours now. Swallowing the sinful sounds you make. Oh, he won.

“So pretty, you always sound so pretty for me Kitten,” he breathes in between kisses. 

You're catching your breath after he kept sucking your breath out of your lungs. Your thighs are trembling at the feeling of that hard thing that is poking your lower stomach. Someone’s clearly excited.

“Joon,” you mewled. 

“I almost beat Bane to death, baby. All because I was furious you left me in the sewer. You are a mean woman.” He spanked and squeezed your ass and the act jolted you up. 

“Thank god Jungkook came and took over. Bane would've been dead instead of going to the Gotham prison. All because of you.” Another spank and this time he kneaded your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your ass is his stress relief ball. 

You giggle at the thought and the sound brings another glimmer to Namjoon's eyes. You sure are his death. An anti-heroine who rejoices in other people's agony.

“Aww you're a sweet little saint aren't you. Couldn't kill a soul,” you fake pouted at him. Though your entire face is clearly heated up from his ministrations.

Chuckling, Namjoon bites your earlobe. “Yes, baby. Though I shall never kill, I can make your pussy stings.” He whispered. The hair on your body all rises up at his words.

With your body being supported by the door, he sneaks one hand inside your thin, tight shirt. Namjoon almost drools like a dog in heat when he sees you wearing such a sinfully thin shirt and a boy short. Your attire accentuates your perfect figure. Your round ass, the tits. God, your perky tits.

“I’ve been dying to touch these pretty tits. I can see them jiggle when you get so worked up just now. Driving me nuts.” he mumbles. 

“Oh no! You’ve been staring at a lady, what a bad role model!” You fake gasp. You know he’s coming so there’s no point in wearing something that restricts him from seeing you clearly.

He sucks and bites even harder with a growl and your neck is blossoming with red like cherries. You winced at the slight pain but soon it washed away. Rubbing your thighs together for friction, hoping for him to not notice that you are reaching your patience limit. 

He did notice how your pretty legs tremble and the way you’ve been rubbing your thighs, yearning for friction for your pussy. He silently cheered for himself at that sight. This sly kitty is about to become putty in his hand, again, 

Namjoon feels that this is not enough, so he carries you to your table. His impatient hand started to push away all of the stuff on it, while his other hand is holding you up securely. 

Not allowing him to conquer you, you lick his neck. His legs stiffen when you sink your teeth on his skin. You know really well of his soft spot. 

“Ah, baby. I haven’t put you down yet,” Namjoon sighs. His tone is darker now. He’s trying hard to control it but his dick is begging for a sweet, tight and slick pressure. As if you can read his mind, you’re slowly palming his clothed dick. A pure torture to Namjoon.

“Put me down, now, or I will keep teasing you like this.” you command. Giving his ear a lick.

But Namjoon refused to lose. He grabs your waist with his big arms, sliding you on the table until your legs are dangling at the edge of it. His action excites you but where’s the fun in giving up first?

“Mr batman, do you wanna fuck me that bad?” You pout. Pushing his buttons is the best. Namjoon has this gentleman facade that he has to take care of. During the day, he is the most respected man in the city, at night, he is the hero. Usually the hero will give you an eye roll and ignore you. 

This time, there’s no eye roll from him, not even a sound. Only his labored breaths, his eyes are hazy with lust. “Yeah, I do,” he breathes.

The unexpected answer from him caught you. 

Pulling down your shorts, Namjoon is on his knee. Like the knight in shining armor, his eyes fixed on the prize, your pussy. It’s almost shameful to be in this position, with his breath fanning your hole and it would have been great if he played with it but he is just staring.

“Such a glorious cunt,” he whispered under his breath. His voice brings chills to both your body and your pussy. 

Your eyes never leave him. How can you, when all you can see is his luscious hair in between your legs. You want to tease again. He looks so focused and so cute.

“If you only gonna stare, might as well go home,” you cheekily said. One hand palming your cunt. Covering him off his best view. That kinda pushed him.

You know Namjoon is a buff guy, you just never realize how buff he actually is until he looms over your body. He propped up both of your legs over his shoulders. He inches closer until you swear you can feel his bulge. You like it when he’s like this.

“That’s not nice,” he tutted. He took your hand, the one that covered your privates and he brought it to his cheek. Leaving a soft kiss on your palm. “Now, will you be a dear, and use these fingers to touch yourself,” he commanded.

“No, why would I?” You tilted your head to your side while biting your lips.

“Or, you'd rather me to do it, but you’re just too shy to ask, hum?” Namjoon chuckled. He thinks he already got you soft. He gave another kiss on your palm before he put it down. Now his hand is slowly caressing your bare pussy. Luckily for him, you’re already wet. 

“Answer me,” he said as he ran his two fingers on your folds. A fluttering feeling but it already makes your body twitch. “Someone’s excited,” Namjoon said with his mouth close to your legs. Even if you wanted to show your dominance, your body seems to betray you. He notices the goosebumps on your delicate skin, he can help but to leave trails of kisses until he is a little too close to your pussy.

“Just touch me already!” You bark.

“As you wish,” he smirks.

He puts his middle finger inside your warm pussy. Namjoon is too ashamed to admit how your wet velvet walls feel like a home to him and that is just his finger. He moves his finger in and out very languidly. He stares at your moves in relief. As if this is what you need. And he wanted more. So, he picks up a pace and starts pumping in two fingers inside you. The room is filled with the squelching sound and the muffling moan from you. He thinks it’s such a shame when you suppress your voice. He wants to hear you scream for him.

You on the other hand are becoming a mess. His elongated fingers hit your spot so perfectly. It is embarrassing to succumb like this, especially on his hand. He really knows how to touch you. Although you wanna act all tough, your body says otherwise. From the way your pussy keeps clenching on his digits, shamelessly gushing out your wetness, to your writhing body, lost pleasure. This game is not over yet, you thought. You still have a chance to dominate him.

“Ah Namjoon, you’ve been practising?” You breathe. Actually he is the one who is taking your breath away with the thrust of his finger. It didn’t help when Namjoon made a come-hither movement in your pussy. You wish to cover your face. It only satisfied him to the moon to see you grimace in lust. The knitted brows, the gaping mouth, and your eyes. Your lustful eyes never lie.

“Why? Is this the first time a guy fingered you so well?” Namjoon retorted back. 

“Cocky.” You bite back. 

“Uh oh, someone’s mad.” Namjoon teases. The pushes from his finger did not stop with his knuckles deep inside of you and he topped it off by rubbing his big thumb on your clit. Your body trashes at the overwhelming feeling. He managed to shut you up with your witty words. He loves this feeling, when he can make you scream just by using his hand.

“Yes! Nggh,” you groan. The band snapped and unbeknownst to you, Namjoon was awestruck. 

The gush released from your pussy drenched his fingers and it dripped on the palm of his hand. Looking at you, hair sprawling on the table, thighs quivering and your laboured breath. Your face is glowing. Namjoon is dying to fuck you right here and now. 

Just before he can do anything, you beat him to it. 

Sitting up straight, your hands are busy unbuckling his belt. You know it's your chance when Namjoon straightens his body right after you cum. From the look from his eyes, deep and dark. Namjoon is not going to stop there. He wants it too but you are gonna give it to him on your own terms. 

“Not so fast, batman.” You whispered to his ear. The bodies are so close together, almost chest to chest. It drove both of you insane but you bask in torturing him. Your left hand is caressing his cheek. Feeling soft underneath your touch. He must’ve shaved before he came here, your heightened sense of smell caught a whiff of his cologne and you’re cheering from the inside. You noticed Namjoon makes himself handsome before meeting you. Always. 

Right hand is slowly touching his muscular body. From the firm pectoral muscles - which makes you salivate- to his sturdy abdomen. Your fast hand sneaks inside his tight turtleneck shirt. Feeling every ridges and the bumpy muscles. Your eyes are locked on his face. To search for any emotions or reactions from your touch. He usually is very stoic and very dominant. It's not fair sometimes, when he melts you into a puddle. So, you want to do that to him. Melts. You lightly teased and pinched his nipple. 

To your surprise, he groaned. Body tightened at the sudden pressure.

His face is blushed and you can see how he struggles to control his face. His forehead is scrunched and his eyes are shut. Feeling the reaction was too small for you. You keep on moving downwards. Guiding your hand to his happy trail before settling on his bulging pants. 

The one that’s been poking you from the beginning. Paying extra attention to it, you slightly rub your palm around it. You know his size but it always excites you.

You’re not the only one who is excited, it seems. Namjoon is putting both of his hands at your side, gripping the table as if it anchors him down before he drowns even further. Your touch is so electrifying. Your delicate hand trailing from his chest, his nipples, his whole body and a little scratch from your fingers are to die for. He is a weak man for you.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You chuckled. Your hand is busy playing with his hard cock, up and down. By unbuckling his belt, it provides you more space to play. You don’t know what got into him but you wanted to keep teasing him more. This is fun.

“Dick already this hard, must have been painful, huh?” You cheekily pouted. Already imagining his answer. 

“Touch it.”  He commanded and you grinned like a Cheshire cat. Unwilling to give him what he wants, just yet, you choose to play coy.

“Where’s the fun? If I give you what you want?” You asked. Shrugging your shoulders and acting like you don’t care. You let go of the hand that grips his dick and Namjoon almost whines at the loss of your touch. He was almost bursting when he saw you unravel with his fingers and with your playful touch on his hardened dick. To be deprived of you is like a punch to his gut.

It has been awhile since the two of you were in this position. Truth is, Namjoon missed you. And you know how to make a guy, even the strongest ones, weak on their knees. The thing with you, you are quite literally a cat. Nobody can hold you down. The moment he thinks you’ll stay longer at his manor, you’re gone. Strutting through the street, getting yourself in danger. 

Namjoon doesn’t have to worry about you, but he can’t ignore the nagging voice in his head. What if something happened to you? What if you get in trouble? What if he couldn’t be there on time? Love is a wild thing. 

If it’s up to his possessive instinct, he’d put you in a luxurious cage. Safe and sound. But who is he kidding? This is The Catwoman. The same woman that always shows up earlier than him at any crime scene. The same woman who knows the narrow streets, the nook and cranny of Gotham because you love to wander around. The one he first met years ago on a yacht that holds a handful of elite people related to Kim's business. 

You were very fast and agile, buglaring some of the passengers' jewelry and expensive belongings. Namjoon is just lucky enough to catch you red-handed. When he unmasked you, he was sure that was when he fell for you. Or maybe when he saw first-hand you were in hand-to-hand combat with the bad guy. Also, you’re a master at flirting.

What started as him catching you and cooperating with you, turns to sharing a bed with you. It has been awhile since you left his manor, sulking because he stopped you from stealing a huge diamond cut on an old crown from the museum. The shimmering stone has bewitched you for quite some time and Namjoon was there first. Protecting it. Mission unaccomplished. So you left his big ol house.

“You know what, I’m getting bored. If you’re gonna daydream, go home.” You fake a yawn. 

“Really? Let me check,” Namjoon eyebrows twitched up. Unamused. He gently pushed you back on the table. “Enough game, just wanna be inside you,” he adds. He took off your tee in one swift motion, and instantly placed his hand on your perky tits. Kneading the soft tissue. 

“Ahh that’s more like it,” you sigh.

Namjoon didn’t reply with words. He turns to one of your nipples and starts sucking on it like a starved man. He hums in joy when he gets to taste your skin like this. Waves of sensations are crashing on you as he paid attention to your other nipples. He licks and laps and sucks on the skin around your nipples. Every time his nose brushed with your sensitive nipples, your body jolted. 

“This is for your tease just now,” he mumbles as lightly bites on the hardened bud. Earning a short scream, from you.

“That really hurt!” You smacked on his bare body. You have no idea when he took his shirt off. 

“Don’t pout, baby. You like it when it hurts,” Namjoon cooed while aligning his stiff dick to your entrance. For someone who said it will hurt, he sure does take his sweet, sweet time to fuck you.

You, on the other hand, are very impatient. “C’mon darling,” you said with a sultry voice, inciting him to just ram his dick into you. Your dangling legs are now hugging him, your heels planted to his firm buttocks, pushing him straight into you. 

“Easy, love” Namjoon chuckled. You’re like a cat in heat and Namjoon secretly loves it. In one swift movement, he slotted deep inside your warm pussy. It’s been a really long time for him. Apparently to you too.

“Ahhh, see how perfectly your dick fits in my pussy, it’s like we’re meant to be,” you joke. Namjoon didn’t laugh, instead he picked up the pace. The longer he stays inside of your pulsating pussy, he will blow his load right now. Scratch that. Seeing how good he makes you feel right now, makes him wanna cum.

Your lean legs around his waist are somehow limiting his movement and that’s bothered him, so he hooks your legs on his arms. With one quick thrust all at once, you can see how focused Namjoon is. His eyes can’t get enough from looking at how his dick pistoning in and out of your pussy, fully coated with your juice. The sound of the squelching and the skins slapping mixed with your moans is what he lived for. Hero? The knight? Those names are out the window. He is no saint.

“Not so bored now, huh?” He asked.

There’s nothing you can say back when moan after moan escapes your lips.

Namjoon steals a glance or two at you and god, he loves it when he can make you become a mess. You threw your head back with the satisfied emotions written all over your face. Your arms are above your head as you grip the edge of the table. Your nails are gonna be fucked but who cares?Namjoon loves this view, your exposed body and your bouncy tits and your fucked face. It is as if this is something that you crave for too long, and he’s the one that delivers it to you. The table is shaking violently but neither of you care. His hand firmly grips on your thigh and you counter it back by clenching hard on his dick. That elicited a suppressed groan from him.

You like him so much. His bigger build towering over you like this, him taking full control when fucking you — not all the time, because that’s not fun, and you love controlling him too — he fucks so good when he’s desperate like this. You feel the band around your lower belly is about to snap and Namjoon can tell by how your back started to arch and the throaty moans that come from you. He sneaks his thumb to the bud on your pussy mound and starts to rub circles on it. The waves of simulations crash you down. 

“God, you’re killing me,” he groaned. Your pussy wall is tight like a vice, and it keeps sucking him in. It is almost slippery. “Such a greedy cunt,” he adds. Some of his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and you can see from the muscle on his neck and his clenched jaw that he is so determined to fill you to the brim. Looking at your orgasmic face is certainly not helping, so he hides his face on your neck.

“In me, cum in me,” you command. Your flexible legs are suddenly on his waist again, securing him closer as if he is not balls deep enough inside of you. “I’m on pills,” you whispered to his ears. He picked up the pace as he gripped on to the flesh of your ass. You felt him fumbling the rhythm with his grip on your ass, leaving marks as he thrusted inside for the last time. Ribbons of cum painting your pulsating walls. 

He let out a long pant and gently released his grasp on you. He raised his head to look at you and you can a cocky smirk across his face at your fucked out expression. His dick is still warm and snuggled inside you.

“Fine, you won this time,” you rolled your eyes at his smug face. You winced a little when he pulled out his coated dick and he grabbed a roll of tissues from the kitchen before he wiped you clean. Once you’re clean, he can’t stop himself from kissing you while putting on your shirt. Of course you kissed him back as your hand is busy rubbing the back of his head. A silent pat that you’re kinda missing him too. 

The sudden sound of police siren and gunshot stopped the two of you. Naturally, Namjoon carries you to the opened window. Glancing down he can see two to three police cars, blaring their sirens as blue and red coloured the road. You’re looking up and the bat sign is already flashed up in the sky. 

“Oh baby, it’s work time. Shall we?” Namjoon rubs your back, eyes bore on you as the moonlight makes your face glow so beautifully. He fell once again by the way your eyes stare at his signs in the sky and the smirks on your face. Namjoon can never be sure about the look of this face. It’s like you’re so proud of him but it also could be your mischievous look as if someone just said “playtime”. Whichever it is, Namjoon is smitten. 

“See you there, batsy,” you whispered before you backflipped from his hold. All this time you could’ve easily gotten out of his hold. Namjoon shakes his head at the sudden escape of yours. Sly kitten!

“Maybe we can have a second round there!” you shouted.

“Yeah, yeah” Namjoon replied, only to himself. He knows there’s nothing stopping you from what you want. His heart with a claw-shaped marks is beating alive.

Namjoon touched the pocket of his coat and was relieved that you didn’t notice the box inside of it. You have a very good instinct especially for jewelry. Before he’s done, he has to make sure the box that contains the very diamond from the crown — the one that you wanted to steal so much — is secure. 

He bought the diamond at the highest bid only to place it on top of the band of a ring. Your betrothal ring. 

Namjoon rushed to his bat mobile, all suited up. There's a particular woman waiting for him, you. You stolen jewels, secrets, and even his heart, but as the first light of dawn touched Gotham, all he could do was smile—because you always gave him a reason to chase.