#honestly I think they’d make great friends

[teensy-weensy-octopus]

I saw this art trend(?) on Twitter about drawing your two biggest comfort characters as the Steven Universe meme, so I wanted to draw my share.

Here’s the original tweet btw

[fingertipsmp3]

We need to take all the hate that tax collectors get and instead give it to debt collectors and people who check on eligibility for benefits. Tbh

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who have sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

[princessbrunette]

i saw this tweet that said ‘if you’re bringing your man to girls night, can we fuck him?’ and it got me thinking about rafe.

he doesn’t originally insist on being dragged along to the bar with your friends, but he sees the length of your skirt and changes his tune, demanding you let your friends know that they’re just going to have to ‘deal with it.’ they had less of a problem with him tagging along than you imagined, they know what rafe’s like — and know better than to argue against it before he swipes you from the plans all together.

you’d already had a little to drink to pregame by yourself whilst you got ready, so when everyone starts drinking from the bar — you’re just that little bit more gone than the rest of your friends. it’s the reason you don’t seem to notice the way they’re fawning over him, leaning on their hand with gooey heart eyes when he tells a story, having loosened up. you don’t notice the way they stroke his thick arms or smack playfully at his chest when he makes a dumb joke. he’s honestly rather clueless to it at first too, especially due to the lack of reaction from you, his sweet thing sat on his leg at the table scratching at the back of his buzzed head, too drunk to care about anyone else.

he doesn’t wanna fuck ‘em. no way. he was obsessed with you, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind. but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t like the attention a little bit. he’d entered this new phase of life, rafe cameron the man. the boss. having a bunch of girls surrounding him must’ve looked great, especially when they were practically whoring themselves out to him like this. thoughts of treating tannyhill like a playboy mansion briefly dusts his mind.

he agrees to drop everyone home, and has to wrangle them to his truck, a chorus of drunk girls giggling and stumbling just so he’d grapple them, because it was the polite thing to do. they’d even taken to calling him ‘dad’ when he did so, which he thought might’ve been the final straw for you — but still your eyes are on him, a hazy lustful smile and heavy lashes.

it’s only when they cut the act and beg you to let them come in and ‘play with rafe’ a little longer that you catch on, shutting the door in their face — the intoxication doing nothing to soothe your confusion and upset.

he reassures you by folding you like a pretzel and fucking you deep on the bed, all of your clothes and uncomfortable shoes discarded and he grinds you into the mattress.

“‘fuck you crying for, hm? clearly don’t want anyone else but my sweet girl. only ever gonna fuck this pretty little pussy. you understand?” it’s his version of reassurance and it does the trick, grabbing him repeatedly where you could just trying to draw him close.

“mine.” is all you can say, over and over.

“yeah, you’re damn right about that.”

[azulaaaaaaah]

rating every zuko ship (cause that mf is shipped with everyone)

CLICKBAIT!!! this isn’t every zuko ship just the main ones i immediately lied lol. idk if any of these are hot takes or not but please don’t crucify me (might do a part 2 where it’s azula ships)

Jinko - Zuko/Jin

6/10

awwww it’s cute (for what it is)

and what it is was one singular date that was never really mentioned again

i really appreciate how jin is so unperturbed by zuko’s awkward angst and just genuinely likes him

howevvver she’s kinda one dimensional (as she’s only in like an episode) and i just don’t see this going anywhere longterm

less a ship, more a vehicle for zuko’s character development lol

Jetko- Zuko/Jet

3/10

jet being zuko’s first gay encounter is canon in my eyes

don’t ship them however cause i hate jet with the fire of a thousands suns

similar issues to jin as well where their interactions are extremely limited so personally have no clue how this could be a long term thing

Maiko- Zuko/Mai

5/10

i am so impartial on this ship it’s not even funny.

i get that it’s canon. i get that izumi looks suspiciously like mai so it’s endgame. i just don’t see HOW?? it feels as if the writers realised zutara was becoming popular and were like ‘OH SHIT WE GOTTA DEFUSE THIS SITUATION SOMEHOW’

their relationship is basically just mai being a cold asshole and zuko being an angry asshole and there’s no change or development between EITHER OF THEM

however when they’re cute they’re cute !!!!

‘i love zuko more than i fear you’ COLDEST LINE EVER

however again it’s like - you had a crush on him as a kid. he was BANISHED. you dated for like a month as teens. you argued the whole time. he left again- and shortly after you saved him from prison, but then you were imprisoned partly due to his actions. you get back together again, he becomes the ruler of a country, and then you’re surprised it’s isolating him/making him even more of an asshole???

on the other hand we as a society need to admit that zuko is weirdly possessive of her (ig that’s a positive if ur a booktok romance girlie but im not). like if i was mai i wouldn’t put up with that toxic shit either

at the end of the day, i honestly don’t care that they’re canon lol- but i think they’d probably best as a bitchy best friend duo

Zukaang - Zuko/Aang

1/10

not round here partner. not round here

my first issue is the age gap is objectively extremely weird if examined in canon. leaving it at that

i get that this is grumpy x sunshine in a way the other ships aren’t to me- but we’ve only ever seen these two characters interact with each other when there’s (again) A WEIRD AGE GAP

they are bros in the least homosexual way possible

the cherry on top of this situation is: isn’t aang the reincarnation of his great grandpa? isn’t that giving slight, uh, inc*st vibes??? imagine if people shipped korra and jinora isn’t that just WEIRD???

Zuki - Zuko/Suki

8/10

is this my most controversial take ???

i am a sucker for bodyguard x royal family dynamics guys

and the fact that this is girlboss x malewife is even BETTER

suki seems the most competent at handling his pissy ass in a way the other people on this list aren’t

like she’s real. she’s not sugarcoating his situation, BUT SHES COMPASSIONATE !!

i don’t like throuples typically but suzukki is even eliter than this, which removes the whole ‘going against the bro code’ element that arises from them being together

also i feel like if you haven’t read the comics this doesnt make sense At All so please do

-2 points for the lack of tangible reason to ship them lol

Zutara - Zuko/Katara

7.5/10

okay this one makes the most logistical sense to me within canon (solely examined as a zuko ship not overall)

it really seems as if they were gonna make this canon and swerved circa book 2

LIKE CMONNNN OG ENEMIES TO LOVERS WHERE THE GUY ACTUALLY HAS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND ISN’T JUST EVIL? FIRE X WATER? ITS INTRIGUING

something about this makes me uncomfortable though. (despite the age gap which again a little weird)

something about katara potentially becoming the fire lady is so… icky. she’s a waterbender. the fire nation tried to systematically erase her kind. her mother is killed by the fire nation because they think she’s a waterbender. and katara…. what, becomes part of the royal family? it just seems wrong, and like something she wouldn’t be into

also i feel like their arguments would be a little too NUCLEAR. there’s like, a 50% chance of divorce

she deserves a better ending than that is all i’m saying

to paraphrase the hunger games: katara has plenty of fire herself. SHE NEEDS THAT DANDELION IN THE SPRING MAN

(i’m a kataang truther)

Zukka - Zuko/Sokka

9/10

my zuko related otp!!!

bros to lovers guys, where zuko falls first but sokka falls HARDER !!!

ik this will never be canon and im happy with that. i know there’s not even a whisper of romance between them in the show, but i just think it’s c u t e .

sokka (like suki) is very likely to call zuko out on his shit, but less likely to lose his own shit (like katara)

this in my heart of hearts is 10/10 however is still problematic in a similar way to zutara

his mother is killed by the fire nation and he (presumably) becomes consort ?

however though, i would still say it’s not as ruhroh as zutara bc firstly, sokka isn’t a waterbender, and secondly, ‘consort’ is a lot more open to interpretation than i think fire lady is. in my opinion a consort ≠ a fire lady, just like irl a consort ≠ a queen. it kinda means he can still be ambassador to the southern water tribe/a leader of his own people, while just so happening to be married to the fire lord.

overall i can’t help but stan a friends to lover ship cmOn now

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 2)

More flirting from Agatha the morning after and then the much anticipated Halloween party starts...

Word count: 2500

Warnings: allusions to smut

The sunlight streaming in through the windows wakes you up and you stretch with a groan. It takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings and heat floods your face at the memory of Agatha last night. 

You really need to get a hold of yourself. 

You brush your teeth and head downstairs. The door to Nicky’s room is shut, which doesn’t surprise you. You cannot sleep past eight, meanwhile, he can easily sleep until noon if he isn’t interrupted. 

Agatha is down in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooks eggs on the stove. 

“Good morning,” you say quietly so you don’t startle her. She turns around, eyes raking up and down your body, still clad in the nightie she gave you last night. The older woman’s hair is messy and she wears a black robe with flower designs, still managing to look hot as fuck. The robe has a low V-neck and you have to make an active effort not to stare.

“Hey, sweetheart. My clothes look good on you,” she says with a smirk. You have to bite back a comment about how they’d look even better on her floor. “How’d you sleep?” 

She turns back to the stove, but has her head tilted toward you so you can tell she’s still listening. 

“I slept great,” you answer honestly. “The bed is so comfortable I might just move in.” 

She gives you a heated glance. “I’d be more than okay with that.” 

You swallow hard. “Thanks for having me over for dinner and for letting me spend the night. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, dear. You’re always welcome,” she says warmly. “What time do you have to leave for work?”

You glance at the clock. Your shift starts at 9:30 am and it’s currently 8:15. It’s a twenty minute drive from their house. “Around 9 or so.” 

She hums and scoops some eggs onto a plate and hands it to you. They’re scrambled, your favorite. She retrieves a fork and gives that to you as well, your hands slightly brushing. 

“Thank you so much,” you say and sit on a stool at the island so you can watch her. She makes herself a plate and stands on the other side by the sink so you’re facing each other. 

“So, you’re dressing up as a witch for Halloween,” she starts. You blink, and then recall that you had mentioned that last night. “Why a witch?”

“I don’t know. I’m really into witchcraft and all that, plus they’re a staple of Halloween. I just think their history is really fascinating and there’s all different kinds of representation of witches in the media. I also just like the costumes,” you hastily add, not wanting to bore her with your nerdy thoughts. But Agatha is hanging on to every word, nodding in agreement.

“I’m glad Nicky has a friend as smart as you. And I’m sure you’ll look great in a witch’s costume,” she says with a wink. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She looks positively delighted that you’re playing along and internally you are proud of yourself. If she’s going to flirt with you, maybe you can have some fun back. “Are you dressing up for your party?”

She laughs at that. “Dear, I think I’m a little too old for that. No one wants to see a forty-five year old woman dressed as Snow White.” 

You bite your lip. It’s got to be a crime to be this turned on by how old she is. “Maybe not a princess. You could be a witch. Or maybe a cowboy or something.” Images of her wearing a slutty Halloween costume flitter across your mind and you work hard to push them out. 

“Maybe you can pick me something out. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.”

You obey. You’d do anything she says, you think. She also picks up her fork and is bringing the egg to her open mouth (not that you’re staring or anything) when a piece of egg falls off and falls right into the open V of her chest. 

“Whoops,” she says innocently. She cranes her neck to look down and swipe the egg up with her finger and then sucks the finger into her mouth. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

You stammer out an apology, blushing harder than ever, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The last thing you want to do is make her uncomfortable in her own home, but she seems to be enjoying the effect she has on you.

“I don’t mind, dear. It’s always nice to get some attention.”Oh, come on. She has to be flirting with you now. “Ever since Nicky’s father left…” She trails off. 

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely, because you don’t know what else to say. You don’t know the story of what happened and you don’t want to make Agatha feel like she has to talk about it. But if she thinks that no one would pay her attention when she looks like that, she is wrong. 

She gives you a soft smile and then brightens up. “It was for the best. I realized that I wanted something different than he could offer. He was a safe option, but I was tired of that. I wanted something new.” Her eyes burn into you as they travel down to your chest. 

Is she saying what you think she’s saying?

You look down at yourself just to make sure you didn’t accidentally spill anything and you see your nipples poking through the silky material of Agatha’s nightie. Oh. You look back up and she finally tears her eyes away and looks at you. 

“Who’s staring now?” you say before you even have a chance to think about it. Her grin is wolfish and her stare is unapologetic. She shrugs. 

“I’m just admiring how good my clothes look on you. Why don’t you keep it? Any woman who gets the pleasure of seeing you in it is a lucky one,” she says. 

“Oh, I couldn’t–” Is she counting herself lucky? Or is she just being nice?

“I insist.”

“Thank you.” And now you need to get out of here before you explode. You shovel the rest of the eggs into your mouth, stand up, and go to the sink to wash off your plate. 

You’ve just turned the water on when, all of a sudden, her warm body presses against you. Your brain short-circuits and you freeze. Her arm reaches around and shuts the water off and she pries the plate from your hand. 

“Let me,” she whispers right in your ear. You shiver and you turn around. Her face is three inches from yours, her body just a hair away. You can feel her hot breath on your face and you can’t help yourself from looking down at her lips. 

Her tongue darts out and licks her lips and oh god, you are going to kiss her. 

You look back up and meet her hooded blue eyes. Neither of you move, and you’re just about to say fuck it and lean in when you hear a noise from upstairs. 

Nicky. He must be awake. 

Agatha smirks and steps back, putting some space between you and you finally feel like you can breathe. 

“I should probably get going. I think I’ll run by my house and change my clothes,” you tell her, heart going a hundred miles an hour. 

“Good plan,” she says, not taking her eyes off you. “I’ll see you on Halloween.”

You give her a tight smile. “Tell Nicky I’ll see him Monday?” She nods and you quickly leave her house. Once in your car, you run a hand through your blonde hair and inhale and exhale slowly. 

Holy shit. 

***

The next few days pass quickly. Your Halloween costume comes in and you don’t remember it being this tight or short when you ordered it. The black long-sleeve crop top accentuates your breasts and the dark purple miniskirt barely covers your ass. The purple hat is really the only thing that looks like it belongs to a witch. 

You don’t care, though. If anything, you can’t wait to see Agatha’s reaction to it, assuming the looks and the touches and everything else from her last week wasn’t just a fluke. 

A text from Nicky buzzes on your phone, saying that you can come over whenever for the party. It’s supposed to start at 8 pm. It’s an hour and a half before, so you text him back that you’ll get ready and then come over. 

You curl your shoulder length blonde hair and the black smokey eye makeup makes your green eyes pop. You finish off with a cherry red lipstick. You put your costume on, topping it off with a pair of knee high black boots. 

You have to admit, you look hot and your stomach warms at the thought of Agatha seeing you like this. 

You arrive at their house at 7:45. You see no other cars in their driveway, but you figure it’s early and you’re best friends with Nicky anyways, so who cares. 

The doorbell rings and it almost immediately swings open. Nicky stands there, black vest, black-and-red striped pants, a sword hanging from his belt, and a pirate hat on his head. He whistles at you. 

“Damn, you look good,” he says, stepping over so you have room to come in. 

“I’m glad you found a costume in time,” you remark, laughing as his fake sword gets in the way. 

“Mom would’ve had my head on a spike if I didn’t,” he replies solemnly. “Come on, we’re almost done setting up. You can help me spike the punch.”

You follow him into the kitchen and are taken aback by how decorated it is. The lights are dim and it looks like cobwebs are covering the countertops. Fog is rolling in from somewhere. Fake spiders and bones are strategically placed around the kitchen. There’s donut holes decorated to look like eyeballs, the punch is bright green and in a cauldron, there’s candy. 

It’s going to be an awesome party. 

“Nicky, can you grab the tape from the drawer,” Agatha yells from somewhere else, not in the kitchen. Your friend springs into action and leaves you alone in the kitchen. 

You slowly walk around the island, tracing a finger along the cobwebs. You pick up an eyeball-donut and pop it into your mouth. It’s good. You can tell how much thought Agatha and Nicky have put into setting up for the party and you love it. 

“Where did you say it was?” you hear Agatha say, you’re guessing to Nicky, her voice growing louder. You spin around just in time for her to enter the kitchen, stopping in her tracks the moment she sees you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, covering your mouth as you finish chewing on the donut. Her mouth settles into a smirk as her eyes trace you up and down. 

“Quite the getup, sweetheart,” she says in a low voice. 

You blush and then notice what she’s wearing. Maroon leather pants and a long black vest that doesn’t touch in the middle, leaving a strip of skin all the way down from her neck to her wide belt. A headband is wrapped around her head, bunching the hair at the top. 

“Look at you,” you say breathlessly. You want nothing more than to run your tongue down her bare chest and listen to her moan. 

“I decided to dress up after all. Now, would you be a dear and hand me the scissors from the bottom drawer to the left of the fridge?” 

You nod and it’s as you're bending down that you remember how short your skirt is and you realize that Agatha can probably see the lacy purple underwear you’re wearing (just for her). You swear you hear her breath hitch and suddenly you feel her presence right behind you. 

Her warm hand touches your lower back and you fight the urge to gasp. 

“Did you find it?” she murmurs. She leans over you and her hand slides down you, almost reaching your ass. Fuck. 

“Yep!” you almost squeal and jump up. You hand her the scissors and she deliberately puts her hand over yours to grab them. 

There’s no way this is in your head. Agatha is either playing some cruel joke on you, or she actually wants you. 

And you’re praying to god that it’s the second one. 

***

Thirty minutes later, the party is in full-swing. It seems to you that the entire neighborhood must be here. People in costumes fill the kitchen and the surrounding halls and you push through the crowds to find your way back to the punch. You’re not sure what’s all in it, but it’s addicting. Nicky and you had poured an entire bottle of vodka in it, much to Agatha’s chagrin, but almost every partygoer you saw was drinking it. 

You scoop yourself another cup and lean back on the island, slowly sipping it, just watching everybody at the party. An older man dressed as a police officer comes over to you, obviously drunk from the way he’s moving. 

“What’s a pretty young thing doing at this party all alone?” he slurs, the smell of vodka and maybe something else hitting your face. You wince. 

“I’m not alone, I’m about to go find my friend,” you say loudly over the music and stand up straight so you can leave. 

He grabs your wrist. You feel a spike of fear flash through you, but in an instant, you feel a protective arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn your head, figuring it’s Nicky, but instead, it’s his mother. 

“Herb, get out of here,” she says harshly and steers you away. Her arm doesn’t leave your shoulders and her hand has started stroking your bicep. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thank you for that. He was just a little drunk,” you say, not quite sure why she’s leading you up the stairs. 

“That doesn’t excuse it,” she says, a tight expression on her face. She takes you into her room and motions for you to sit on her bed. She sits next to you. 

You don’t know what’s happening, but you’re in Agatha’s room with Agatha, so you’re not complaining. “Well, luckily I had my knight in shining armor to protect me,” you say, nudging her shoulder with your own. 

She smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You look really nice,” she says. “Super witchy.” 

You laugh at that. “I didn’t realize I ordered the slutty witch costume. Must’ve accidentally ordered it a few sizes too small.”

“I’m glad you did,” she flirts, her eyes obviously dropping down to your cleavage. 

“Agatha…” you whisper, not sure where you’re going with it. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong. She’s your best friend’s mother. She’s twenty-five years older than you. There’s no way she’d want someone this young, this inexperienced. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she whispers back, looking back up at you. 

Your brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say. But what can you say?

So you just lean forward and press your lips to hers. 

[lonelypep]

every smash bros character ranked by how good of a cook i think they’d be.

82: piranha plant

eating this dish will kill you instantly. turns out he spit some poison in there while no one was looking. and yeah, that sucks, but if you even accepted a meal from this guy i think you have bigger problems

81: ridley.

let’s be real, if you let this guy into the kitchen, you made a huge mistake. it’s like john mulaney’s horse in a hospital sketch: you never know what he’s gonna do next. you’re too focused on getting him out.

80: king k rool.

king k rool is many things. a king, a pirate, a scientist. but he is not a cook. he’ll try, but he has literally no clue what he’s even doing in the kitchen.

79: yoshi

yoshi will give you a dish and you’ll be like “what the fuck is this” and he’ll talk about how it was made from the finest newborns of his home planet. i’m deciding to ignore it but it’s really nagging at me.

78: sonic

sonic shouldn’t be on this list. because he wouldn’t make you any food. he’ll go to the local sonic and get a burger in about 3 minutes. it sucks. disqualified.

77: pac man

what can i say. it tastes like literal plastic. i don’t even wanna know how he made it. i’ll give it back to him but the nice thing about pac man is he wouldn’t give a shit.

76: bowser jr.

fuck this guy. he rage quit at making a grilled cheese. now there’s a literal canonball in the stove. now no one else can use it!! this is what happens when you spoil kids.

75: pikachu/pichu

these two are in the same category since they’d make the same thing. they’d get store bought french fries and fry them with lighting outside. it’s consistent, it works, just not really filling. and they don’t know how to make anything else.

74. wario

don’t get me wrong: he knows what he’s doing. he’s the burger king of smash. he’s this low because the burger is the most unhealthy shit you’ll ever have. eating it gave you chronic diarrhea, gastrointestinal issues, and permanently damaged your taste buds. but god fucking damn was it a good burger.

73. hero

he gave you a single piece of bread with butter on it. it’s not bad but…really dude?

72: olimar

he didn’t make you a bad meal, in fact it was one of the best here. but that’s because he didn’t make you something. it was the pikmin and he’s trying to pass it off as his own and the pikmin don’t know because they don’t speak english. 0/10: not fucking cool dude.

71: kazuya

honestly? i don’t trust this guy. i was too intimidated to even ask his name. from what i can gather no one even invited him to the party he just showed up and made a mediocre meal. what’s weird: someone came into the kitchen and claimed this guy killed their whole family. we never saw that guy again. needless to say, kazuya wasn’t invited to the afterparty.

70: link (botw)

don’t get me wrong here, link is a five star chef. he’s just really unsanitary. apparently he cut the meat and vegetables with the same sword he killed calamity ganon with. i don’t wanna taste that guy!! have you seen him?? not to mention he pulled the meal out of his pants. i don’t even know how it fit in there.

69: inkling

she made a pancake and i thought it was good! but i absolutely can’t condone this. inkling left so much fucking weird slime and shit all over my house. and got really competitive when she heard i was getting meals from everyone else. i hope they’re all ok.

68: ROB

it was so processed. the most processed food i’ve ever had in my entire life. it’s not his fault, rob is a great guy. but this tasted like literally nothing.

67: ice climbers

when they told me they were making dessert, i trusted them. but i let someone else taste test first. my best friend was sent to the hospital because of tongue frostbite. didn’t even know that was a thing. i made the ice climbers pay for it (they’re fucking loaded)

66: villager

he made isabelle do it. and she made something great! but i’m not giving this cretin credit for having the money to afford a five star chef. you don’t deserve it because you sold a shit ton of tarantulas villager!!

65: lucario.

dude got really mad and destroyed my kitchen. he’s REALLY lucky he got the burger PERFECTLY cooked.

64: male byleth.

like this dude knows how to cook. he can barely make chicken nuggets. he has to eat in the school cafeteria simply because he never learned how to cook a simple meal. but he’s a really nice guy. total himbo. love him.

63: ryu

i asked this guy what he likes to eat. big mistake. he then went on to say that his training regiment doesn’t condone copious indulgence (his words) and he lives off of nothing but protein shakes. you do you i guess.

62-61: fox/falco

these two went into the kitchen and came out with weird alien food. i didn’t eat it but everyone else seemed to enjoy it

60: greninja

when he first came out i was so excited. he came out with the most finely sliced food i had ever seen in my entire life. but it was soooo watered down. everything tasted like celery. how do you make crab taste like celery?? how??!

59-58: simon/richter

these guys both made the same exact fish recipe, came out at the same time, and proceeded to fight each other. i didn’t get to try any 😭

57-49: every fire emblem character.

genuinely, i can’t tell these guys apart. or their food choices. honestly, my bad. i’m sure they’re good. but where do i even start.

48: sheik

she doesn’t know how to cook. she kidnapped someone else. normally i wouldn’t put someone like that this high but a. i have gender envy b. it’s for the greater good (or so she said)

47: cloud

dude made a great sandwich but he kept screaming random noises while he did. personally, i’m just glad he managed not to destroy the kitchen. that’s a first here.

46: captain falcon

he promised he’d pick up some pizza but got into a car crash on the way there. eventually he got there after the car crash was all sorted out, but got into ANOTHER on the way back. i’m honestly kind of impressed

45: steve

steve could cook an absolutely fucking KILLER meal. he’ll even offer to do it for free. but you shouldn’t let him under any circumstances. he took 13 hours gathering materials and while the wait was, arguably, worth it, i never want to experience it again. (side note: we asked captain falcon to get some pizza while waiting which led to the aforementioned entry)

44: sora

sora doesn’t know how to cook but he’s by far the biggest name at this party. everyone fucking loves him. he’s friends with GOOFY. this dude hangs out with GOOFY. this guys has hung out with GOOFY AND jack sparrow. bad food but i could listen to this guy talk for hours about his story. i’m sure i’ll understand it all.

43-40: pokémon trainer

this guys organization is fucking atrocious. if he can actually get his shit together he’ll cook up some nice vegetarian meals, but that’s a big if.

HONORABLE MENTION: sans mii gunner

sans undertale is a world renowned, famous chef. his recipes are simple, but cooked with such love, care, and finess it turns a simple cheeseburger into a masterpiece. sans undertale would easily top this list. sans mii gunner is not sans undertale. he bought the real sans’ cookbook and thinks he’s some kind of cooking genius. and sure he’s got the recipes but none of the skill to actually make it.

39-38: samus/zero suit samus

hooray! we’re out of bad cook options now. samus is a great cook, but she’s so used to her alien delicacies she doesn’t know how to cook on earth anymore. shame, but i trust her to produce something edible.

37: shulk

he is really good at the grill. unfortunately, he refused to put a shirt on and made everyone a little uncomfy. that being said, he showed me the beach boys and i had never listened to them before. so he gets points.

36-35: pit/dark pit

these guys don’t know how to cook but the flew into the sky and killed some mythical bird for everyone to eat. i couldn’t have any, i’m pescatarian, but everyone else loved it.

34: bayonnetta

she opened a portal to a waffle house and a bunch of demons came flying out. she didn’t make anything, but honestly, absolutely legendary experience that was.

33: duck hunt

you’d think a dog wouldn’t bring anything meaningful. this would be false. that is the freshest duck i’ve ever seen in my entire life. (didn’t eat it: pescatarian)

32: king dedede

he made his legendary homemade mashed potatoes. everyone loved them. so creamy… weirdly perfect. too bad i hate the monarchy. sorry bud.

31: meta knight

meta knight is a great cook and should be higher. but i don’t want him to be. because he’s so fucking pretentious. he sliced all the food in front of everyone and wouldn’t shut up about radiohead. hate this guy.

30-29: daisy/peach

these two put all their private chefs together to make something for everyone. great catering, great food, but they didn’t technically make it. love them.

28: mewtwo

as if mewtwo wouldn’t just read someone’s mind and cook something. but it’s not mewtwo’s food…so…. sorry dude you cheated.

27: dark samus

she really surprised me here. she cooked up the most exquisite alien delicacies i’ve ever tasted in my entire life. should be higher. but unfortunately, i had to get a space parasite removed from my system by regular samus. honestly though… it was worth it.

26: ganon

he was rude to everyone about his cooking skills and wouldn’t stop bragging. asshole am i right? but surprised everyone by grilling his god damn heart out. he’s a bad try hard but like go off i guess.

25: isabelle

she’s trying her absolute fucking best and she deserves the world here. amazing cook, we need to save her from the island.

24: little mac

dude went so hard. brought new york pizza ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK. ok, not literally, but he made a damn good pizza

23: snake

full disclosure: snake doesn’t know how to cook. also no one knows he’s an agent. but he has to cook to blend in so you BEST BELIEVE this man is going to COOK like his life depends on it.

22-20: young link, ness, and lucas

all these guys are incredibly mature for their age. surprised everyone at this party. i had deep and philosophical conversations with all of them about appreciating life. i fucking cried. oh and they made everyone sandwiches, and even took my pescatarianism into account.

19: rosalina

she brought weird space ice cream and i felt my mind expanding as i ate it. love her.

18: mr game and watch

he feels like everyone’s dad! and he’s one of those cooks who cooks in front of everyone. dude flung his meals onto everyone’s plates expertly. love him.

17: joker

originally much lower on this list, joker showed up at my house and attempted to make a grilled cheese and made the worst thing i’ve ever taste. then he said something about gru from despicable me and stood in the corner for an hour. originally i had him towards the bottom but then he doordashed five gigantic burgers, ate all of them in one sitting, and then made me an expensive curry that tasted fantastic. dude went hard.

it was at this point i realized i made a mistake with the numbers. like hell if i’m going to fix the whole thing.

22: zelda

she made some weird food but damn was it pretty to look at! crystals, magic power, i mean good vibes all around here.

21-20: pyra and mythra

i feel like i should put them here since they’re confirmed to be good cooks in the game. but between you and me, i didn’t invite them. i’d consider some entries before this to be better cooks but at this point i’ve been working on this list for 8 hours i do not wanna go back and fix things please i mean this whole list is a joke no one should take this seriously

19: banjo and kazooie

these guys can fucking cook. they’ve been living on their own for a while so it makes sense but it still surprises me. they made a really big stew and even brought free puzzle games.

18: wolf

GRILL MASTER. dude knows what he’s doing on that thing. i’ve never seen better spatula work. holy shit.

17: kirby

kirby came in with some weird blonde hair and made some FANTASTIC ribs (that i didn’t have bc i’m pescatarian). weirdly, gordon ramsey went missing the same day…. i’m sure it means nothing.

16: mario

dude made some absolutely spectacular spaghetti. but he kept talking about how great he is and it really off put some people. kinda weird dude.

15: dr mario. dude brought 50 apples to the potluck. guess he doesn’t wanna see anyone in the office. and he didn’t because we ate them all. take that.

14: min min

she brought some soup dumplings which a lot of people hadn’t had! love her. literally fantastic. she had a whole arm for cooking. that’s what we call efficient.

13: ken

he’s kenough. he is amazing at barbecue. he can cook things with his hands, juggle, also he’s just a fun presence. (i made him make fake meat burgers for me)

12: jigglypuff

she showed up with so many pastries. like so many. not only that, but they were decorative!! she put so much work into that. love her.

11: luigi

he tried to make spaghetti like his brother but a literal fucking meteor slammed into his pot and cracked it. tough luck. then he offered to pay and i refused, but went out and got me some really expensive spaghetti anyways! he’s such a nice guy!! shouldn’t be this high… but i love this guy so much. he’s trying his hardest and i respect that.

10: toon link

toon link didn’t actually make anything. but his mom came and made everyone a salad. and honestly! his mom is some great company. she had so many interesting stories about his childhood. honestly she added so much to the function

9: terry

he is the BARBECUE MASTER!!!! literally what the hell how is he so good! everyone at the party kinda stereotyped him but he’s really really progressive with his views which you wouldn’t think for a big barbecue muscle guy in a baseball cap but everyone loved this guy.

8: mega man

the MASTER CHEF!! literally. he was on master chef. he uses thin round blades to slice vegetables, heats things perfectly, has an instance knowledge of spices, just damn. this guy knows what he’s doing.

7-6: bowser and donkey kong

common misconception: everyone thinks these two would have no idea how to cook. but these are FAMILY GUYS HERE!! they’re providing for absolutely gigantic families, these fuckers know how to make a sandwich and they did. initially they started off making separate sandwiches but they have a really similar recipe and decided to work together. and i really respect that. also turns out peach is just bowser’s kids’ babysitter.

5: palutena.

everyone expected her to show up with some absolutely mystical food. naturally, she showed up with the literal ambrosia of the gods. holy shit. unfortunately, she didn’t put as much effort into it as she could’ve.

4: sephiroth.

ok this guy didn’t really cook anything amazing. but his sheer fucking commitment to the vibe is literally legendary. this man has a long as sword he cut 10 veggies at a time with. he heat them with magic world ending fire. when he was done in the kitchen he surrounded himself with fire and gazed menacingly at me. his sheer commitment to the edge lord aesthetic is truly exemplary.

3: incineroar.

THE GRILLING GOAT!! this man is a grill master. he was prepared to grill ANYTHING. and i mean anything. fish, veggies, meat, fucking grilled cheese. love this guy.

2: wii fit trainer

she made the most well balanced and healthy salad i’ve ever had. and she made it taste extraordinary. she can be a little intense about fitness but i’ve never had a healthier meal in my life. it immediately lowered my extremely high cholesterol.

1. diddy kong

he’s about ten. he made you a pb&j. he had homework to do, but he made you a pb&j. he didn’t have to. he wasn’t asked to. he just wanted to make you a pb&j. he could’ve done anything else but he made you a pb&j. what heartless monster wouldn’t accept it.

[rosemariiaa]

~The Weight of Want~

part: 5

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: surprise,this is kind of rushed and shorter than expected!! happy reading lovelies 💌

themes: teasing , language, drinking

The leaves outside were turning shades of orange and gold, and the air had that crispness that signaled Halloween was just around the corner. Paige stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her hat, feeling more anxious than she’d like to admit. It had been almost a year since everything had “fallen apart” , and while she had tried to take Caroline’s advice to heart—focusing more on her studies, basketball, and just enjoying life—tonight felt different.

What if Azzi was there? The thought sent a rush of anxiety through her. Fuck. I haven’t seen her in months. They’d left things on somewhat good terms, but there had been no real closure. The idea of seeing that doe-eyed brunette again, with her cheeky smile and deep dimples, sent a rush of warmth through her. Get it together, Paige. It’s been a year.. But were you really ever over someone who made your heart race just by being in the same room?

“Yo P! Are you ready yet, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at yourself all night?” KK’s voice cut through her thoughts, impatience thick in the air.

“Yeah, just—” she started, but KK barged in, a teasing grin plastered on her face.

KK leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “You look like a grinning tomato. Are you ready to scare people with that outfit or what?” Paige rolled her eyes, letting out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that bad! Just give me a sec!”

“Seriously, though, why are you so jittery?” KK asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting like you’re about to walk into an exam you didn’t study for or something.” “I’m not jittery!” Paige protested, but the high pitch of her voice gave her away. I’m totally jittery.

KK stepped into the room, inspecting her costume. “Oh, really? Because you’ve been checking your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline.

Paige thumped KK’s forehead again, causing her to stumble back, hands flying up in mock defense. “Shut up. I’m just making sure I have everything I need.”

KK smirked, leaning in closer. “Look at you, still worried about something. What’s really going on?”

Paige tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn’t leave. “Nothing, okay? It’s just… I might be a little nervous about tonight.”

KK crossed her arms and leaned in, eyes narrowed playfully. “Nervous about what? You know it’s just a party, right? It’s not like you’re going to a funeral.”

“Yeah, but—what if…Azzi is there?” Paige blurted, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of seeing Azzi again sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t shake it off.

KK raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk creeping onto her face. “Oh god, don’t get your hopes up! You haven’t even spoken to her in forever! You think she’s just gonna pop up outta nowhere?”

“I don’t know!” Paige snapped, her nerves getting the best of her. “I mean, she doesn’t even like these types of events. But… still.”

“Girl, boo! Don’t get any ideas!” KK teased, shaking her head. “I’m over that! We’ve both moved on—she’s with Laila. She’s fine,” Paige insisted, though the words felt a little hollow.

“Yeah, about that…” KK said, raising an eyebrow. “I heard Laila cheated on her.”

“Wait, what? Seriously?” Paige’s heart skipped a beat. That’s… actually kind of great. “Good for her. I mean… fuck Laila, honestly.”

“Oh god, you’re so pussy whipped!” KK exclaimed, laughing at her friend.

Paige opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. KK shot her a knowing look. “Yeah, exactly. You haven’t even talked or fucked any girls since that talk with Azzi. Hell, you can’t even look at anyone else unless you’re stalking Azzi’s Insta.”

Paige fell silent, her heart racing as KK’s words hung in the air. She knew it was true, and that realization settled uncomfortably in her stomach. I can’t be this way. But I can’t help.

“Let’s just go, okay?” Paige finally said, brushing off the tension as she grabbed her bag. “We’re gonna be late.”

KK laughed again, clearly enjoying the view of the angry blonde. “Alright, alright! Just don’t get all mopey on me tonight. We’re here to have fun!”

As they left the apartment, Paige’s mind raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. With a final glance in the mirror, she reminded herself that she wasn’t that scared girl anymore. Tonight was about having fun, enjoying herself, and maybe, just maybe, reconnecting with someone she had lost.

As they made their way to the party, Paige felt a flicker of hope amidst the nerves. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it. I’m ready. But are you?

———-

Azzi stood in front of her mirror, giving herself a once-over. The red cropped V-line top clung to her like it was made just for her, and those matching shorts? They fit her ass perfectly. She slipped into her red ankle boots, feeling like a total badass. The devil horns in her curls added the perfect touch—she felt like a cute little menace.

“Fuck Laila,” she muttered, still remembering how that whole shitshow had unfolded. Catching Laila in bed with some girl from accounting had stung, but the aftermath? So much better. She thinks she can just lie her way out? Nope, not this time. Surprisingly, Azzi had bounced back quicker than she expected. Maybe it was because she realized she didn’t need the drama.

Since then, she had tried going out with a few girls. But each time, it felt like they were just a distraction. Whatever, I don’t need that right now. She shrugged off the thought. Tonight was about fun, not some half-assed date that wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you ready yet, Az? You’re taking forever!” Caroline’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah! Chill, I’m coming!” Azzi shouted back, giving herself one last look. The flutter of anxiety mixed with excitement in her stomach as she thought about the party. What if Paige was there?

Get it together, girl. She took a deep breath, shaking off the nerves. It’s been months. You’ve got this.

As she stepped out of her room, she could hear the laughter and chatter of her friends in the living room. They were buzzing with energy, and she couldn’t help but feel it too. Tonight was going to be wild, and she was ready to let loose. With one last glance in the mirror, she adjusted her devil horns, smirking at her reflection. If Paige showed up, cool. If not? Whatever. She was done worrying about things that were out of her control.

“Let’s go!” she called out, confidence surging through her. Tonight, she was going to enjoy herself, and nothing was going to hold her back.

———-

Paige’s Pov

As I step into the bar, the energy hits me like a wave. It’s packed, and I scan the room, heart pounding when I spot Azzi leaning against the bar, a playful smile dancing on her lips as she chats with some guys. She’s wearing a fitted red top that draws the eye. my eye. And I can’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. After everything that happened, this feels like a test.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way over, trying to look casual. “Hey,” I say, the word barely escaping my lips. Azzi turns to me, eyebrows raised, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Hey,” she replies, her voice steady but cautious. “How are you?”

“Good,” I say too quickly, my heart racing. “You? I heard about… well, you know.” I try to keep my tone light, but it feels heavy. She shrugs, her expression hardening a little. “It’s whatever,” she says dismissively, taking a sip of her drink. “How’ve you been?”

I swallow, wishing I had something witty to say. “Oh, you know, the usual. Just… focusing on basketball.” I glance down, feeling a twinge of discomfort. We stand in awkward silence, both sipping our drinks. The tension hangs between us, thick and unyielding. It feels surreal to be in the same space after everything, and I can’t help but steal glances at her.

“Been hanging out with anyone special?” Azzi asks, tilting her head slightly. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but I can sense the underlying curiosity.

I shake my head, my heart sinking a little. “Not really. Just been busy. How about you?”

She smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure, no one at all? You really expect me to believe that, Paige?”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I do. I haven’t talked to anyone since… you know.”

Her expression softens again, just a flicker, but it’s enough to catch me off guard. “Oh. Right.”

Another moment of silence stretches between us, and I can’t help but steal another glance. It’s strange, seeing her like this—confident but still vulnerable.

———-

Hours later

A little while later, I notice she’s already four shots down, laughing a bit too loudly. “Damn, Azzi, slow down!” I call out, amusement lacing my tone.

She just sticks her tongue out at me, a defiant grin on her face. “No way!”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Whatever you say, little drunken devil.” I hop up on the bar next to her, facing her directly. “Want a sip?” I push my drink towards her.

Azzi takes the glass, swirling the straw a little while keeping intense eye contact with me. She takes a sip and lets out a soft moan at the taste. I can’t help but stare, captivated by the girl in front of me, a rush of memories flooding back.

“Stop staring,” she teases, but there’s a softness in her voice.

“I can’t help it,” I admit, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

Her smile widens as she leans in a little closer, her lips barely a breath away. “You’re really trying to play it cool, huh? Because it’s not working.”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but I can feel my heart pounding. “Always cool under pressure.”

Azzi leans back slightly, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “Right. Like the time you tripped over your own feet in front of everyone during practice?”

I laugh, the memory fresh. “Okay, that was one time! But it was just a… tactical error!” “Sure, Paige. Tactical,” she says with a wink, and I feel the warmth in my cheeks deepen.

Suddenly, she hops off her chair and moves closer, her body mere inches from mine. Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you miss me?”

The question takes me off guard, and I blink at her, trying to process. “Uh, yeah. Did you?”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, a small nod confirming what I’m hoping to hear. “A lot.”

That makes me smile, and without thinking, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. “I’ve missed you,” I say, my gaze drifting over her outfit. I lick my lips.

Azzi notices, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Is that better?” she asks, pulling the zipper of her top down slightly, revealing a hint more cleavage.

I smirk, nodding. “Definitely.”

Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pull her closer, staring deep into her brown eyes, my heart racing as I scan her face. The moment stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. I can feel the tension building, and before I can think too much about it, I whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Without waiting for my full permission, Azzi closes the gap between us, her lips crashing onto mine. The kiss is electric, filled with urgency and desire. I can’t help but explore her back with my hands, finally letting them drop down to her ass. She sighs against my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

We break apart, breathless, both trying to catch our breaths.

Azzi looks up at me, her gaze softer now. “I’m tired. I wanna go home.”

“Okay,” I reply, still trying to process everything that just happened.

She looks up at me, her thumb grazing my cheek, then my lips. “Can you take me home, P?”

My breath hitches, and I nod, my heart racing. “Yeah, I can do that.”

———-

goodnight 😊

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful

[nnnyxie]

shigaraki, twice, mr. compress, & spinner with a civilian s/o

requested by @supernatural-hunter1

“Hi, I read your Dabi with a civilian S/O (aside from the other characters) I want to ask? how even more interesting it would be if the rest of the LOV (Shigaraki, Spinner, Mr. Compress, or whoever else would prefer?) also had a civilian S/O? (quirk or quirkless)”

these are all like,, pre-seasons 5-7

pt. one

shigaraki tomura / shimura tenko:

⤷ like i said with dabi, i don’t see him being with a civilian. or anyone.

⤷ but if he ended up with a (civilian) partner, i think he’d be protective. especially when it came to pros and the other members.

⤷ he’d be kinda shitty at first, i’ll be so fr.

⤷ it’s nothing like,, extreme. just him acting sort of petty and non communicative when it came to things that bothered him.

⤷ there was a point (early in the relationship) where you almost broke up but, he felt genuine fear at the thought of losing you—

⤷ so you both sat and had a really really really long talk.

⤷ he’s not great with words, or with anything, honestly. but, he begins to try for you. especially after that conversation.

⤷ though, there came a point in the relationship where he had to confess he was part of the league— and he was baffled by how well you took it (aka you already knew)(he didn’t hide it well or at all tbh).

⤷ which— speaking of— he finally introduced you to his… ‘colleagues’.

⤷ immediately toga was obsessed with you!! in the big sibling sort of way, of course.

⤷ the others had no choice but to trust his judgement so they were pretty decent towards you.

⤷ aside from toga, you and spinner got along the best. which worked well for shig since they both gamed together (my personal hc). so having his gaming buddy & partner get along was great.

⤷ anyways, i think as your relationship develops, he becomes a lot better and he’s able to voice his emotions more.

⤷ all in all, he’s a piece of shit at first but, with just a bit of communication, he becomes better. <3

twice / bubaigawara jin:

⤷ squeals

⤷ your relationship with him is oddly cute.

⤷ i think you started dating a year after he joined the league.

⤷ he’s the type to be friends first then eventually become lovers. (which i adore <3) (friends to lovers >>)

⤷ he’s vocal in ways that contradict his emotions (as we all know)

⤷ so communication is definitely hard.

⤷ but!! he eventually finds ways to convey his feelings without the troubles of misunderstanding.

⤷ he’s the type to go above and beyond for his partner. especially since he isn’t always able to voice his love without a sarcastic comment trailing behind.

⤷ twice is a gentle person, despite him being part of the league. which is what makes him a sweet boyfriend.

⤷ he slowly introduces you to the league. first starting off with toga— who immediately saw you as a big sibling. (i love jin and toga’s friendship. big bro & lil sis!!)

⤷ he’s very careful when he introduces you to the others. he knows how they are and isn’t sure what they’d do. (but he couldn’t keep hiding you anyways cause they were starting to piece it all together)

⤷ he’s very careful as to not have you close to the sights of their missions. he doesn’t want you getting hurt if there’s a fight.

⤷ again, he’s such a sweet and gentle boyfriend.

⤷ and you wouldn’t ask for anyone else!!

mr. compress / sako atsuhiro:

⤷ bbygorl……………

⤷ compress is such a gentleman <3

⤷ he pulls out your chair for you nd everything!!

⤷ i think he’s a very,, committed?? partner.

⤷ like— he’s the type to only date someone if he sees a future with them.

⤷ he’s very adamant on you meeting his ‘family’. (i like to think that, despite his status, he’s a big family guy)

⤷ he’s so polite and sweet, you wouldn’t even suspect he’s part of the league.

⤷ sooo when you found out he was, you were quite shocked. but accepted him nonetheless, you love him afterall.

⤷ anyways, i think the league has a hard time accepting you— except for toga & twice (those sweethearts)

⤷ he’s also a very protective partner. not in the crazy way but— in the way where he makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his “wrongdoings”.

⤷ he’s such a good partner— i can’t stress that enough!!

⤷ he’s so “in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman” core… (let’s just ignore the fact that he’s a villain…)

⤷ he’s just a sweet cutie patootie

spinner / iguchi shuichi:

⤷ tbh i don’t see him being w anyone period. he seems too devoted to his ‘work’ to even think abt a relationship.

⤷ that being said… he’s a bit negligent as a partner.

⤷ he prioritizes his ‘job’ over you and it causes trouble in the relationship.

⤷ he wouldn’t be the best partner in the beginning.

⤷ it takes multiple talks and an ‘almost’ breakup before he gets his shit together.

⤷ but once he does— he’s truly a good partner.

⤷ his good treatment towards you isn’t the typical ‘one month and he goes back to before’ kind of thing. he continues to be a great boyfriend.

⤷ and going back to the multiple talks— you set some ground rules. you wanted to know where he was sneaking off to, who his friends are, and just what he does for a living.

⤷ this meant him introducing you to his… buddies…

⤷ personally, i think they all would like you (minus shiggy but he’s a lil bitch boy [/aff] so he doesn’t count)

⤷ they definitely trust his judgement considering how he is— which is harsh and a bit rude.

⤷ but anyways, he always keeps you out of the crossfires of his work. it’d destroy him if you ever got hurt or worse.

⤷ you made him into a little bit of a softie.. <3

sorry my pookies i was a teensy high writing this…

idk why but being high just gives me motivation to write…

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking a friend to leave because they were dysphoric?

I (34m, he/him) have been with my partner (30ftm, he/him) for 6 years, married for 4 years, and in love with him for literally as long as I can remember. We had a pretty idyllic childhood friends to lovers relationship, honestly - I grew up with him. He’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and after a lot of talking, we both decided we’re in a good enough spot now to have kids. We talked about surrogacy but my husband ultimately told me he wanted to carry our kids himself.

That was a couple of months ago. We recently found out he’s pregnant and we’ve both been over the moon. Partially to celebrate and partially just for fun, we decided to have a get together at our house and invite a bunch of our friends, and make the announcement there. Neither of us are in contact with our family so this group was the only people we planned to tell. For context, basically all our friends are also queer.

The night was great at first, we played some games and etc. When everyone sat down for dinner is when we announced the pregnancy and for the most part everyone seemed happy, but one of our friends (28nb, they/them) got up a few minutes after and excused themselves, and they seemed pretty visibly upset. My husband goes to check on them and then he comes back upset, so I go see what’s up.

Basically, they told me they “weren’t happy to have the topic of pregnancy sprung on them like that out of no where”, and the idea of another transmasc person being pregnant was making them heavily dysphoric. I’ve known this person for years and I’ve never heard them talk negatively about pregnancy, and when I asked they said something to the effect of “I don’t mind pregnancy in women, but I don’t like thinking about men being pregnant”. They’d said something similar to my husband which is why he came back upset.

I will admit, it made me kind of angry, though thinking back on it I’m not sure why. This was a big moment for my and my husband and it felt frustrating that they were making it about how they felt instead of trying to be happy for us. So I told them, pretty firmly, that if they didn’t want to hear about it then they needed to leave now, because we were going to continue to talk about it. They seemed pretty upset but they did leave and we tried to carry on the night like we planned. The next day they sent me a long text about how hurt they were being made to leave and how they felt like I “didn’t respect their boundaries regarding their dysphoria”, since we could’ve just stopped talking about pregnancy after the announcement instead of making them leave, and they apparently spent the rest of that night feeling horribly uncomfortable.

I haven’t responded and I don’t know if I plan to. I don’t want my husband to feel like him being pregnant is a taboo, and I also don’t know how we’re going to stay in contact with this friend if they’re so distraught at the concept because pregnancy is a pretty hard topic to avoid when you’re pregnant. I think asking them to leave was the right move but my husband is pretty torn up about it and wonders if maybe the whole announcement was just a bad idea. AITA?

[tikosblogg]

A Helping Hand

Part 2 Here

Summary: you’re in college, still a virgin and frustrated. You just wanna know what sex is like. Noah wants to offer his help.

Warning: oral (f receiving), fingering.

A/N: college boy Noah. HOT AF. Not proof read I apologize for any mistakes. Please enjoy.

The air in the apartment was thick with laughter and the scent of popcorn as me and my only two friends on campus lounged on the couch, binge-watching a new series. The conversation had turned to relationships—everyone was discussing their latest crushes and dating escapades.

I listened, a bit detached, nursing a twinge of envy. The thought of my virginity weighed heavily on my mind.

"I want to know what it’s like," I sighed, glancing down at my half empty drink. "I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

My friends exchanged glances, and Clara leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"You know, I heard about that guy on campus, Noah Sebastian. He's supposed to be amazing in bed. I’ve heard stories, you should ask him." I rolled my eyes, feeling my insides flutter at the name.

"I am not gonna ask Noah Sebastian to fuck me. I don’t want to feel like some charity case." I sighed. If He asked me, you bet your ass I’d let him. But sadly I’m also aware, that he is way out of my league. Hence why he hasn’t asked me.

I’ve been around him and his friends at parties a bunch of times. We even had a nice long conversation one time about our favorite music. Yet he always found a girl the complete opposite of me to take home.

"Come on! It’s a great way to break the ice," Layna smiled nudging me playfully. "You’d be in good hands!"

I hugged my knees to my chest. "I don’t know. He’s had plenty of chances to ask me, and he hasn’t. He isn’t interested. I’ll probably just go out and find someone at one of the bars in town.”

They both smirk at each other, before quickly changing the subject. I decide to let it go, and join their new conversation. A couple hours later, I walked them to the door, as they gathered their things to leave. Layna turned towards me, pulling me into a hug. “Please just think about asking Noah. I promise you won’t regret it.” Clara nodded, hugging me as well.

I sighed nodding my head. “Yeah yeah, I’ll think about it.” I waved them off as they drove away, making my way back into the apartment. That night I stayed up late, looking up Noah’s socials, going through his pictures like a stalker. “God why are you so hot.” I mumbled under my breath. There is noway I’m asking him.

I entered my apartment, tossing my keys onto the counter. The glow from the livingroom lamp casting a warm hue in the quiet apartment. I settled into the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly as I tried to shake off feelings of loneliness.

Each ding of my phone caught my attention, but I dismissed the notifications as my friends being typical sent: memes, inside jokes, and rants about the day.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the silence. I glanced at the clock—it was unusually late. Hesitantly, I stood up and opened the door, and my heart nearly stopped. There stood Noah, looking hot as usual.

“Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting,” he grinned, his eyes casting down, and slowly back up my body. Confusion washed over me, as I struggled to respond. "Clara and Layna sent me." He chuckled, as my face fell in shock.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I remembered our conversation from a few nights ago. “Oh… wow, um, yeah I’m sorry for… this," I stammered. "I didn’t know they’d... well, um…" I trailed off, feeling anxious and down right humiliated.

He chuckled softly, his presence magnetic, making it hard to look away. “It’s alright.”

I shifted, biting my lip, an apology spilling out. "I really didn’t mean for them to set this up. I’m just—I'm…you really don’t have to be here."

“No, I’m mean it’s okay. No pressure, but I’m glad they sent me,” he assured gently, taking a step closer. “I want to be here. And honestly? I’d love to help you.”

My heart raced as I processed his words. This impossibly sexy guy, the one everyone talked about, wanted to help me. The weight of my own inexperience settled heavily on my chest, embarrassment mixing with excitement.

“Noah, I’m really shy about all this. I haven’t—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted softly, tilting his head slightly. “We can take it slow. I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I won't do anything you don’t want to.”

His genuine tone wrapped around me like a warm blanket, easing my anxiety. “What if I mess it up, and completely embarrass myself?” I whisper, my face on fire at this point. “I promise, it’s not about perfection. It’s about enjoying the moment. And trust me, the right person makes all the difference.”

The room felt charged with tension, uncertainty melted into curiosity. I took a deep breath and gestured for him to come inside. As he stepped in, I felt a rush of disbelief. This was really happening.

Noah looked around the apartment, his gaze landing on me with an intensity that sent my heart fluttering. “So, what do you want to do first? You’re in complete control right now. We can take it slow tonight. start with the small things, and then next time we can a little further.” he smiled, his voice low and inviting.

I searched his gaze, finding kindness and patience. Next time? He wants to come back? My body fidgeted as I took a step closer. “Um I really don’t even know how to start..” I whispered, my shyness slowly overtaking me.

He smiled, and the warmth in his expression reassured me. “We can take all the time we need. Do you want me to take the lead?” His voice was low and smooth, carrying an invitation wrapped in gentle authority.

I looked up at him, his deep brown eyes searching mine, and felt a rush of warmth spread through me. My heart pounded in response, whispering its consent even before I found the words to say it. Nodding slowly, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness coil within me.

With a soft smile, Noah took my hand, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of comfort through me, as he guided me to the couch, the plush fabric a welcoming embrace as I sank into its depths. He threw a behind my head, resting it on the back of the couch. His grip remained gentle yet firm, a reminder of his steady presence.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” he assured me, his voice rich with sincerity. “And if you ever want me to stop, you just say the word, okay?” I nodded again, a small but powerful gesture, and felt a wave of relief wash over me. I was safe here with him.

He leaned closer, his hand gently cupping my cheek, sending another rush of warmth through me. Our eyes locked, and Without breaking our gaze, he began to lean in, and instinctively, I tilted my head to meet him, closing the distance.

His lips brushed softly against mine, a tentative exploration, as if tasting the sweetness of the moment. The kiss deepened gradually, shifting from tender to a more passionate embrace. I found myself melting into it.

He pulled back slightly, and I could feel my breath quicken. The warmth of his palm still lingered on my cheek, and I craved more of his touch. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern.

I nodded again, a smile breaking across my lips, unable to find words that could capture how I truly felt.

Noah leaned in again, claiming my lips with a newfound urgency that sent my heart racing. I surrendered to the moment, letting him lead. I melted into him, as his hand slowly crept up my thigh, squeezing gently.

A whimper escaped my lips, surprising even me, but it drew a teasing smile from him as he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in that way that made my wet core throb. His gaze was soft, and teasing an invitation to share my thoughts, and yet I felt my cheeks heat up.

With a shy nod, I felt a rush of warmth trickle through me. I was fumbling with my words, my heart racing as he challenged me to speak. “I—I…” I stuttered, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I feel really good.”

His smile widened at my confession, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, lingering kiss before trailing them down my throat. A soft moan escaped me, unexpected yet welcome, as I let my fingers find their way into his soft brown hair.

I gripped it gently, feeling the softness between my fingers, grounding me in this moment that felt unreal.

“Good? Just good?” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers through me. He licked, and nipped along my neck, each time igniting a fire in my veins. I could hardly keep the gasp at bay as his lips danced over sensitive spots, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“More than good,” I finally managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper, caught between vulnerability and desire. The honesty in my words caused his teasing demeanor to shift, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something more serious.

He raised his head, his eyes locking with mine, stripping away the teasing to reveal a sincerity that made my heart flutter. “I want to make you feel amazing,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly over my inner thigh, so close to where I really needed him. “Tell me what you want.”

His words hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of them. My breath hitched, and I felt a blend of excitement and insecurity. I wanted him to keep kissing me, to keep this connection alive. “Just—keep doing that,” I whispered, motioning towards his hand on my thigh, my voice cracking just a bit. “But…but higher.” I whispered. 

Noah grinned, a spark of mischief igniting in his eyes. His hand slid up the rest of the way, his thumb pressing directly on my swollen clit through my shorts. “Right there?” His voice was low, and teasing.

His eyes never leaving my face. I let out a whine, nodding my head, as he once more dove back in, planting soft kisses all over my neck and jaw, eliciting soft sounds from me that filled the otherwise quiet living room. With every kiss, and stroke of his thumb, I felt myself unraveling, losing the grip of shyness and diving deeper into the growing intimacy between us.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his words swirling around us that made my heart race. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Noah slips from the couch next to me, moving with a sense of purpose that sends a flutter of anticipation through me.

He kneels between my thighs, the warmth of his presence enveloping me as he gently pushes me back until my back rests against the plush fabric of the couch. Pure excitement courses through my veins.

“You want me to take these off?” he asks, his voice low and smooth. I nod my head, unable to form words, my heart racing at the thought of what might happen next. There’s a moment of stillness, as if time itself is holding its breath in anticipation.

With careful hands, Noah reaches for my shorts, and slowly pulls them down, and off. There’s a sense of vulnerability, a rawness in the air. My breath catches, and I can feel the pounding of my heart echoing in the silence that surrounds us.

He gazes at me, his eyes sweeping over my form, a mixture of admiration and desire illuminating his features.

Once my shorts are gone, his eyes land on my undeniably soaked panties, and I feel a surge of warmth flood my cheeks.

There’s something in the way he looks at me – not just with hunger, but with a deep appreciation that makes me feel confident. The moment stretches, electric and charged, and I can see the unspoken questions dancing in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, checking in as if the weight of the moment bears heavily on him too. I nod again, feeling any nervousness fade slowly. His presence is grounding, and I find comfort in his gentle demeanor.

He takes his time, studying me as if he’s tracing the shape of my form with his eyes. A shy smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I can’t help but feel a sense of empowerment.

“You’re soaked baby,” he groans. His thumb stroking down the wet patch of my panties, mixed with the pet name, sending flutters through my stomach, igniting a warmth that spreads throughout my body.

He leans in closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from him, hitting my aching cunt. Our gazes lock, before he grips my thighs, pulling them further apart. His lips ghosting my core before placing the softest kiss against it. The soft action sending a desperate whine flying from my lips.

I looked down at him, my breath hitching as he looked up from between my thighs. His deep brown eyes sparkled with mischief and affection, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The vulnerability in that moment was intoxicating.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, sending shivers down my spine.

I felt another soft whine escape my lips, a plea both innocent and desperate. "Please Noah... take them off," I managed to murmur, the words barely forming as they left my lips.

Noah’s smile widened, illuminating his features with a warmth that made my heart flutter. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on my thigh. The sensation was electric, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

There was a playful glimmer in his eyes as he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties, moving slowly as if savoring every second. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the anticipation building with each deliberate movement.

Time seemed to slow as he carefully pulled them off, exposing my wet folds to the cool air of the room.

His touch was featherlight, and every instinct in me screamed to draw him closer, to press deeper into the moment. I offered a shy smile, nodding my head encouraging him to continue. Noah’s gaze held mine as he removed the last barrier between us, dropping them to the floor beside the couch.

"Fuck baby," he whispered, his voice a husky murmur that sent a thrill coursing through me.

He bent forward, wrapping his hand softly around my throat, before pulling me forward into a messy kiss. His tongue licked into my mouth, tasting every inch of it. He pulled away, releasing my throat.

His lips dropped down trailing soft kisses along my inner thigh, as his fingers reached up softly rubbing up and down my slit, making whine his name. He paused, looking up at me with that beautiful teasing smile. “You like that baby?” I nodded, my hips bucking slightly.

“Please Noah.” He laughed softly, before slowly reaching up, shoving two of his long fingers, into my mouth. I licked, and sucked on them until they were covered in my spit.

He bit his bottom lip, as he watched me before slowly pulling them out.

Without another word, he ran his wet finger down my slit, and back up softly circling my swollen clit. He watched my reactions closely, with a small smile.

He slid them back down before slowly sinking his middle finger deep inside me. I let out a loud moan, gripping the couch cushions beneath me. “Feel good baby?” He groaned, like he was experiencing just as much pleasure, while doing it.

I slowly ground my hips against his finger nodding my head. “Fuck…yes” he nodded before pulling it out, and shoving in his ring finger in with it. I whimpered at the stretch.

His fingers reaching deeper inside of me than I ever could. He pumped his fingers a little faster, watching my face for any discomfort. I was losing my mind in pleasure. If his fingers felt this amazing, I could only imagine what his dick feels like.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asked, his fingers never slowing down. “Fuck Noah please…please make me cum.” His usual sweet, and playful demeanor suddenly turned dark, as I met his eyes.

His fingers crooked up, hitting that perfect spot, driving me wild. He leaned down, placing a kiss on my throbbing clit, before running his tongue flat from his fingers all the way up to my clit before sucking it into his mouth.

Hips stuttered, as my hands flew to the top of his head. I gripped his hair, tugging on it as he moaned against me, sending vibrations through my clit.

He released with a pop, before flicking it with his tongue softly. “Oh fuck Noah please, right there right there.” I was babbling nonsense over and over, lost in the pleasure of his tongue and fingers.

Noah never let up, pumping his fingers faster. He pressed his tongue flat against my clit, before shaking his head side to side. I instantly lost it, my orgasm hitting its peak. Noah slowed down, and kept a steady pace, and his tongue and fingers continued fucking me through it.

“Fuck baby you taste so good.” He groaned, trying to keep his composure. My thighs shook before closing around his head. When I finally came down, he pulled his lips away, stilling his fingers. I laid there catching my breath, as he sent a proud smile my way. I couldn’t help but smile and blush, realizing what just happened.

I quickly covered my face, laughing softly. He slowly pulled his fingers out, reaching up to remove my hands, before pulling me into another kiss. When he pulled away, he tapped my lips with the two fingers that were just deep inside of me. I opened up, letting him press them against my tongue.

I softly moaned around them, as pulled them out, shoving them between his own lips, cleaning them. I could have came again at the sight. He finally stood back up, sitting back on the couch next to me.

His hand softly gripped my jaw, turning my face towards him “Was that okay?” He smiled, but his question was genuine. The smile on his face was infectious, I couldn’t help but smile myself. “It was amazing.” He let out a soft laugh, leaning down bringing me into another kiss. This kiss was slower but just has needy as the rest. His teeth bit down on my bottom lip, and pulled away letting it pop back in place. “Yeah? You just wait til next.”

[badger-tales]

More Than Meets The Eye//F.W x Reader

a/n: oops I went a little crazy with this fic. i was only gonna write like 2k.

request:

Hii!🫶🏻

Can i request Fred Wealey x Slytherin reader?Fred wouldn't spare a second glance at her because he expected her to be mean and arrogant...and then they bond through a prank.He gets to know her.He is surprised at how well they get along.She still has a strong personality,like being determined and ambitious,prioritizes her goals, but they also share common humor with Fred,supports him and his dream,is honest,stands up for him and his family and etc.

Honestly, I am more about the beginning of their connection,but I'd be very happy if you want to add romance.

Also, I wouldn't mind if the reader is gn.

Thanks in advance!♡♡

word count: 7.4k

Fred Weasley had never really given much thought to anyone in Slytherin, especially not you. It wasn’t anything personal—well, actually, it sort of *was*. From the moment he and George had stepped into Hogwarts, they’d been fed the same story over and over again: Slytherins were ambitious, ruthless, cold, and far too pleased with themselves for anyone’s liking. That was just the way it was. House stereotypes ran deep, and for Fred, those old tales of Slytherin superiority seemed to hold more than a little truth. 

Most of the Slytherins he encountered fit the mold perfectly—smug, calculating, always scheming in their own dark corners of the castle. In Fred’s eyes, they had an aura about them, a kind of icy detachment that separated them from the warmth of Gryffindor camaraderie. So it was only natural that he didn’t spare you more than a passing glance whenever you crossed paths. 

At least, not until that day.

You weren’t mean, necessarily, but there was something about you that set you apart—a kind of magnetic presence that made people take notice. Maybe it was the way you moved with confidence, the way you held your head high like you always knew exactly where you were going and how to get there. You walked the halls like you owned them, and for Fred, that kind of self-assurance could only mean one thing: you were another one of those Slytherins. The type that had ambition running through their veins, and absolutely no time to waste on anything or anyone that didn’t serve their goals. 

You always seemed focused—too focused. Good grades, a close-knit group of friends, and that perpetual look of someone already ten steps ahead of everyone else. You never bothered with Gryffindors unless you had to, and Fred had long assumed he was no exception to that rule. You hardly ever looked his way, and he certainly didn’t make the effort to look back.

But all of that changed the day you pranked him.

It had started off like any other afternoon in the Great Hall. Fred and George had been huddled together at the Gryffindor table, heads bent in deep discussion about their next grand plan. The hall was alive with the usual chatter and clinking of silverware, but the twins were in their own world, plotting whatever chaos they could unleash next.

Fred was mid-sentence, leaning over the table, when suddenly—BAM. A bone-chilling shock of cold hit him, ripping through his body like he’d been plunged into the icy depths of the Black Lake. His breath hitched, and without thinking, he shot up from the bench, arms flailing, his wet robes clinging to his skin. Water dripped from his hair and pooled at his feet, and he shivered uncontrollably as the hall erupted in laughter.

It took him a second to regain his bearings, blinking as he processed what had just happened. George, looking equally baffled, stared at Fred’s drenched form with wide eyes, hands lifted in mock surrender.

“That wasn’t us,” George muttered, casting a wary glance around the hall. “Who—?”

Fred didn’t even get a chance to finish his thought before a soft, unmistakable chuckle floated across the table. His ears perked up, and his gaze followed the sound. There you were, sitting a few seats away, your arms casually crossed over your chest as you watched him with a look of pure amusement. The faintest smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, but it was the glint in your eyes that caught Fred’s attention—the kind of glint that screamed mischief.

You tilted your head slightly, raising a single eyebrow as your eyes locked with Fred’s. You didn’t say a word, but the message was clear as day: Got you. The smirk deepened, and Fred felt the heat rise to his cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from theyer disbelief.

Had you, a Slytherin, just pranked him? 

Fred stood there, blinking, momentarily thrown off-kilter. Slytherins didn’t prank. They schemed, sure, but this? This was something else entirely. He’d expected arrogance, maybe a condescending remark or two, but this? This playful, teasing glimmer in your eyes—this was a whole new side of you he’d never seen before.

For a split second, Fred didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed. But as the hall’s laughter died down, he felt his mouth twitch into a grin, the shock fading into something more like admiration. It wasn’t every day someone managed to catch him off guard. And for you, of all people, to pull it off? Well, that was something he could respect.

Fred glanced at George, who was still trying (and failing) to stifle his own laughter. “Looks like someone’s playing our game,” George said, nudging Fred with his elbow.

Fred’s grin widened as he turned back to you, shaking off the last of the water from his robes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear. “Didn’t think I’d see the day a Slytherin pulled one over on me.”

You didn’t reply, but the satisfied smirk on your face said it all.

Fred stared at you, still dripping wet, his shock morphing into something else entirely—a blend of disbelief and curiosity. His brows were raised, and there was a slight flicker of admiration in his eyes. He hadn’t expected you to be behind it. Not you. He wiped the water off his face with a quick swipe of his sleeve, blinking through the last remnants of surprise.

"Was that you?" Fred asked, his voice a mixture of incredulity and—though he wouldn’t admit it yet—something like respect.

Your smirk only grew wider, a glint of satisfaction dancing in your eyes as you met his gaze without hesitation. “Maybe,” you replied, your tone casual and entirely unbothered, as if soaking one of the Weasley twins was a perfectly ordinary part of your day. You leaned back slightly, watching his reaction with amusement. “It’s not like you Gryffindors own the art of mischief, you know.”

Fred blinked again, still caught off guard by your audacity. Slytherins didn’t pull pranks like this—at least, not ones that weren’t dripping with malice or some underhanded agenda. But this? This was pure fun, a clever, harmless trick. His kind of fun. His lips twitched upward despite himself, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin that was more impressed than anything else.

“Right, well,” Fred said slowly, his surprise now melting into something warmer, “I can appreciate a well-executed prank, even when I’m the one getting soaked.”

You tilted your head, your smirk deepening as you shrugged, the gesture effortlessly cool. “I’d hope so,” you replied, eyes never leaving his. “Thought you could use a taste of your own medicine.”

Fred let out a short laugh, and for a moment, it felt like the entire hall had faded into the background—the noise of clattering plates and chatter dulling to a distant hum. You had his full attention now, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you’d just broken some sort of unspoken rule. Slytherins didn’t prank him. Yet here you were, defying every expectation he had, and doing it with style.

George, still laughing beside him, clapped Fred on the shoulder, clearly enjoying the moment as much as Fred was. “they’s got you there, mate.”

Fred kept his eyes on you, studying you in a way he hadn’t before. There was something about the way you carried yourself—sure, you were ambitious, confident like any Slytherin. But there was something else too. A spark of humor, a playful side that Fred hadn’t seen in you or any of your housemates. It was like you weren’t just focused on winning or getting ahead; you enjoyed the game itself, the thrill of pulling off something clever. 

After that day, Fred couldn’t help but notice you more. Whether it was in the common spaces between classes or across the Great Hall at mealtimes, there was a new, unspoken connection between the two of you. A shared look, a grin exchanged across the room, and sometimes, when the timing was just right, a wink if one of you had managed to pull off something particularly sneaky. You didn’t hang around with the Gryffindors, not like Fred’s usual circle, but it didn’t matter. There was something about you—something that felt a little too familiar, like the two of you were cut from the same cloth in ways Fred hadn’t anticipated.

It was a few days later when Fred and George were sitting in a quiet corner of the castle, heads bent together over a crumpled piece of parchment as they plotted their next grand scheme. The brothers were deep in discussion, hutheyd whispers and wicked grins, when your voice cut through the air, smooth and teasing.

"Planning something good?" you asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, just enough swagger in your stance to grab their attention without even trying.

Fred looked up, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned back against the stone wall. “Always,” he said, his voice light and playful. “Why? Want in?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead tapping your chin thoughtfully, as if weighing your options. Finally, with a small, amused hum, you gave a short nod. “Could be fun. What are we targeting?”

George’s eyes went wide, flicking between Fred and you as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Are we seriously teaming up with a Slytherin?” he asked, though the glint of excitement in his tone betrayed him.

Fred shrugged, shooting you a sideways grin. “Why not? they've got talent.”

At that, you flatshed a quick grin of your own—sharp, confident, and just mischievous enough to match the Weasley twins. Something in Fred’s chest warmed at the sight. He hadn’t expected to like you this much, hadn’t thought you’d be the kind of person who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him and George in the art of causing magical mayhem. But here you were, already fitting right in with the two of them, your mind working just as fast, just as sharp. It was almost too easy—like you were meant to be part of the team.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to hatch a plan. The idea was bold, ambitious, and absolutely hilarious: charming all of Hogwarts’ staircases to reverse themselves at random intervals, creating chaos for anyone trying to get anywhere in the castle for at least an hour. Fred could already picture it—students lost, moving in circles, teachers getting increasingly flustered as they tried to reach their classrooms. It was perfect.

As you all sat together, conspiring over the finer details of the prank, Fred couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of camaraderie. There was something electric in the air, a shared excitement that buzzed between the three of you. It wasn’t just the thrill of the prank itself—it was the fact that you were part of it. That, somehow, the boundaries between Gryffindor and Slytherin didn’t seem to matter when you were plotting mischief together.

And as Fred exchanged a glance with you, your eyes gleaming with the same kind of mischief that always lived in his, he realized that this was only the beginning.

When the prank finally went off without a single hitch—just as the three of you had planned it—Fred couldn’t help but feel a surge of genuine admiration. The chaotic symphony of moving staircases, confused shouts, and students doubling back in frustration echoed throughout the castle. Everything unfolded exactly as intended. It was a beautiful disaster, one Fred and George might have taken full credit for under normal circumstances, but this time, there was someone else in the mix. 

You.

He glanced over at you amidst the mayhem, and for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he found himself impressed. You were sharper than he'd realized, quick on your feet with ideas and witty comebacks, and your sense of humor? It matched his own in a way that surprised him. Where he and George were used to bouncing ideas off each other in perfect sync, adding you to the mix had been... effortless. It was almost as if you'd been part of their mischief-making duo all along. The way you kept up, even outsmarting them in some cases, made Fred feel like he’d finally met someone outside of his brother who got it—the thrill, the fun, the sheer genius of a perfectly executed prank.

And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. He liked how you weren’t afraid to speak your mind, whether it was about the prank or something else entirely. There was a blunt honesty about you that Fred found refreshing. It wasn’t like the typical Gryffindor bravado he was so used to—charging into things headfirst and hoping for the best. No, with you, it was different. There was a sharpness to your words, a determination that showed how driven you were toward your own goals. You were ambitious, no doubt about it. But you weren’t above teaming up for something as ridiculous as a prank.

That night, as the three of you sat together near the Gryffindor common room, celebrating the chaos you’d unleatheyd on the castle, Fred found himself laughing—really laughing, the kind that made his stomach ache and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. George, too, was still chuckling beside him, recounting the way Snape had nearly gotten caught in one of the staircases as it reversed direction. But Fred’s focus wasn’t entirely on his brother. It kept drifting back to you.

As the laughter slowly faded into an easy silence, Fred leaned against the stone wall, catching his breath. He looked at you, and for the first time, he realized just how wrong he’d been—not just about Slytherins, but about you. All that time, he’d thought of you as nothing more than another ambitious snake with no room in your life for fun or friendship. But here you were, your laughter still lingering in the air, looking more at ease than he’d ever seen you.

"You're not so bad," Fred said, nudging you playfully with his elbow, his grin still lingering. You were standing near the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, your posture relaxed in a way that told Fred you were no longer trying to prove anything—to him or anyone else. It was just you. And he liked that.

You shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it, just a teasing smile that softened your features. "Thanks, Weasley. You're not half as annoying as I thought you’d be either."

Fred chuckled, but there was something in your voice—something light, playful, but genuine. It wasn’t just teasing; it was a little warmer than that, like maybe this whole thing had surprised you too. The back-and-forth between you two was easy, natural even, and Fred found that he liked this feeling—this... whatever it was.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the glow of the flickering torches, silence settling comfortably between you as the others around you continued chatting. Fred turned toward you again, his grin softening into something more thoughtful.

"You know..." he began, scratching the back of his neck. "I’m glad we did this. I didn’t think I’d ever say it, but I actually enjoy having you around."

The words were sincere, maybe more sincere than Fred had meant them to be, but he didn’t take them back. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, he really did like having you around. You weren’t just some prank partner or an occasional clever rival—you were someone who challenged him in ways he didn’t expect. And that? Well, that made you someone worth knowing.

Your smile grew just a little warmer at his words, and for a second, Fred swore he saw something shift in your expression—something almost... fond. "Careful, Fred," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement. "People might start thinking we’re friends."

Fred let out a light laugh, though it felt like something more, something unspoken passing between the two of you. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

You didn’t answer right away, instead turning the question over in your mind, and Fred could see that you weren’t dismissing it outright. It wasn’t like you to offer your trust or friendship easily. You were too sharp for that, too guarded, too Slytherin, maybe. But then, after a moment, you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"No," you said, your tone softer now. "I suppose not."

And that was it. Simple words, exchanged in the quiet of the evening, but to Fred, they felt heavier than they should have—like you’d just let him in, just a little, but enough to know there was something real there.

Fred didn’t say anything more, didn’t need to. But as he stood there beside you, he felt something settle inside him, a lightness he hadn’t expected. Maybe you weren’t just a Slytherin. Maybe you weren’t just the ambitious, clever person he’d thought you were. Maybe you were something more. Someone more.

And maybe—just maybe—you were someone he wanted to know a lot better.

Days had a way of blurring together at Hogwarts, especially when you were caught up in the whirlwind of pranks and laughter, but lately, Fred found himself paying more attention to the small moments. The little flashes of time where you crossed paths—fleeting, but somehow charged with a new energy. It started slowly at first. He'd catch your eye across the Great Hall, a brief glance that always ended with a knowing smirk exchanged between the two of you. Then in class, he'd feel your gaze on him from across the room, or he’d notice you walking ahead in the corridors, and something inside him would stir—a spark of recognition, of expectation.

It was odd, really. Fred had never thought he'd actually enjoy the company of a Slytherin, especially outside of a prank war. But here you were, slipping seamlessly into the chaos of his life, like you'd been part of the madness all along. You fit in so naturally with him and George that it was starting to feel like you were an honorary Weasley twin—sharp, quick-witted, and always one step ahead. You weren’t just a partner-in-prank; you were a constant presence now, someone Fred had grown used to looking for, whether he’d admit it or not.

The pranks kept coming, too. After the staircase stunt, which had sent the whole castle into a delightful frenzy, you, Fred, and George had begun working on a series of smaller, subtler stunts. It was almost too easy. You always seemed to know exactly what would work, how to make the chaos just disruptive enough to be hilarious but not catastrophic. Fred couldn’t help but admire that. It wasn’t just that you could keep up with him and George—it was the fact that you made the mischief better.

But what surprised Fred most was how much he enjoyed being around you when there wasn’t a prank in progress. It wasn’t just about causing trouble anymore. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The way you laughed, the way you challenged him in conversation, even the way you’d give him that small, genuine smile—those were the moments Fred found himself thinking about more than he cared to admit.

It was on one of those rare afternoons when Hogwarts seemed quieter than usual. The hustle and bustle of the castle had slowed, and Fred, fresh from Quidditch practice, his broom slung casually over his shoulder, was heading back to the common room when he spotted you by the lake. You were sitting alone, reading, the usual group of Slytherins conspicuously absent. 

The sight of you, bathed in the soft light of the afternoon sun, caught him off guard. You looked different here, outside of the usual spaces where chaos brewed. Fred hesitated for only a moment, feeling an unfamiliar boldness rise within him. He wasn’t about to let this chance slip by.

Grinning to himself, he walked over, his long strides carrying him swiftly across the grass until he was close enough to cast a playful shadow over your book. "Well, this is unexpected," he teased, dropping down onto the grass beside you without waiting for an invitation. "You, out in broad daylight, no mischief in sight? I’m shocked."

You glanced up from your book, one eyebrow arched as you took him in. "Believe it or not, Weasley," you said dryly, "I do have other things going on besides plotting your downfall."

Fred let out a laugh, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, completely at ease in your presence. "I don’t know," he replied, casting you a sideways glance. "You’ve got a talent for it. Can’t imagine you giving it up entirely."

"Who said I’m giving it up?" you shot back smoothly, closing your book and setting it aside with deliberate care. "Maybe I’m just taking a break before the next strike."

Fred’s grin widened. There it was again—that playful edge, that back-and-forth that came so naturally between you two. He couldn’t help himself; he nudged you lightly with his elbow, the gesture almost affectionate. "I should be worried, shouldn’t I?"

You shrugged, the faintest of smiles tugging at your lips. "Probably," you said, though there was a spark of amusement in your eyes.

It was that smile, that small, genuine smile, that did something to Fred. He was starting to realize how much he liked seeing it, how much he looked for it in those quieter moments between the laughter and chaos. You didn’t smile easily—not like George, not even like Fred himself—but when you did, it was real. Honest.

There was something about you—something different from anyone else Fred had ever known. It was in the way you held back, keeping parts of yourself hidden, but not in a cold or distant way. It was just... you. Fred respected that, maybe even admired it. You didn’t need to prove yourself to anyone, and that made the moments when you let your guard down—like right now—all the more meaningful.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the breeze ruffling the pages of the book beside you. Fred found himself glancing at you again, his usual grin softening slightly. You were just sitting there, reading by the lake, no pranks or schemes, no grand plans for the next wave of chaos. And yet, Fred felt that same warmth, the same pull toward you that he’d been feeling for weeks now.

"Don’t tell me you’re actually reading that," Fred teased lightly, nodding toward the book, though his tone wasn’t as sharp as usual. "Seems awfully serious for someone who’s so good at plotting pranks."

You laughed softly, and Fred swore it was one of his new favorite sounds. "I can have layers, you know," you said, rolling your eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, my entire existence doesn’t revolve around your demise."

"Shame," Fred replied, eyes twinkling. "Keeps things interesting."

"Don’t worry," you said with a smirk. "I’ll make sure to keep you on your toes, Weasley."

Fred grinned, something fluttering in his chest that felt a little like excitement, but something else too—something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself just yet. Maybe it was the fact that being around you felt easy, natural. Or maybe it was because he knew that you weren’t just someone to laugh with or prank with. There was more to you than that, and Fred couldn’t deny that he wanted to know all of it.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake, Fred found himself wishing for more afternoons like this—where it was just you and him, no distractions, no grand schemes. Just the two of you, sitting by the lake, exchanging easy banter, sharing something that felt... right.

He didn’t say it out loud, but Fred knew. He liked you. Maybe more than he’d expected. Maybe more than he was ready to admit.

“So, what’s next on the list of Slytherin goals?” Fred asked, his voice casual, though there was an unmistakable flicker of genuine curiosity beneath his playful tone. He wasn’t used to asking questions like that, not with people outside his usual circle, but with you? There was something about you that made him want to know more—something beyond the pranks and witty comebacks.

You leaned back on your elbows, eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of the Black Lake, where the late afternoon sunlight danced on the water in rippling, golden threads. The world around you was quiet, peaceful in a way that felt rare at Hogwarts. Fred watched as you seemed to contemplate his question for a moment, your gaze distant, thoughtful. Finally, you spoke, your voice steady but relaxed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I’ve got my eye on a few things," you said, exhaling softly. "Mostly school-related, getting ahead in my classes." You glanced at him then, as if already anticipating his reaction. "I know it sounds boring to you, but I’m not about to coast through just because I can pull off a good prank."

Fred tilted his head slightly, watching you in a way he hadn’t really done before. He’d always been the kind of person who found more joy in breaking the rules than following them, living for the thrill of chaos and spontaneity. But you? You seemed to walk a fine line, balancing ambition and fun, seriousness and mischief. You weren’t defined by any one thing, and that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit.

“Nah, doesn’t sound boring at all,” Fred said after a pause, surprising himself as much as you. His voice had softened, no trace of his usual sarcasm or teasing grin. "I respect it, actually. You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to go after it."

You turned your head to look at him, a bit taken aback by the sincerity in his words. Fred Weasley wasn’t exactly known for deep, thoughtful conversations, but there was something in his tone—something real—that made you stop and consider him in a new light. It wasn’t just a passing compliment. He meant it.

"And what about you, Weasley?" you asked, sitting up a bit straighter now, your interest piqued. "What are your big ambitions? Or is it all just pranks and Quidditch with you?"

Fred chuckled, though the sound was quieter than usual. He shifted his position, plucking absently at the blades of grass between his fingers. The question caught him off guard in a way that few things did. He’d never really thought too seriously about his future—at least, not in the way you seemed to think about yours. But now, sitting here with you, the question felt like it demanded more than his usual joking response.

“Me and George—we’ve got dreams,” he began, a bit hesitant. His voice wasn’t quite as confident as usual, and for once, it lacked its typical swagger. “We want to open a joke shop, you know? Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.” He let the name hang in the air for a moment, as if testing how it sounded when said aloud. “But it’s just an idea for now.”

You shifted slightly, turning to face him more fully. There was something in the way he said it that made you pay closer attention, something in the way the words seemed both hopeful and uncertain. "A joke shop?" you repeated, intrigued. "Sounds like you’re well on your way already. Between you and George, half the school already thinks you run one."

Fred chuckled again, but this time there was a trace of uncertainty in his laugh. His fingers played with the grass as he looked down, avoiding your gaze for a moment. "Maybe," he admitted, his tone a bit quieter now. "But it’s risky, you know? Our mum thinks it’s all a big waste of time."

You frowned, your brows knitting together in disbelief. "That’s ridiculous," you said firmly, your voice full of conviction. “Your pranks are brilliant, Fred. You’ve got something here—something that could be bigger than you realize.”

Fred blinked, his head snapping up to look at you, taken aback by the weight of your words. He wasn’t used to hearing people take his ideas seriously, not like this. Sure, George was always by his side, and the two of them had enough confidence to laugh in the face of doubt, but this? You weren’t just humoring him. You believed in him. And that hit harder than he expected.

“You really think so?” he asked, his usual bravado softening, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

You didn’t hesitate, meeting his gaze with a steady certainty that made Fred’s heart do a small, unexpected flip. "Of course I do," you replied, your voice calm but firm. "You’ve got a gift for making people laugh, Fred. That’s not something to take lightly. The world could use more of that. And if it’s what you want, you shouldn’t let anyone stop you—not even your mum."

For a moment, Fred couldn’t speak. He just stared at you, the words sinking in, warming him from the inside out in a way that caught him off guard. It was rare for him to feel this way—this seen, this understood. Most people saw him as just the jokester, the prankster, always up to something but never serious. But you saw him differently, and that meant more than he could put into words.

A slow, genuine smile spread across Fred’s face, but it wasn’t his usual cheeky grin. It was something softer, more real, a smile that reached his eyes and stayed there. "You know," he said after a moment, his voice a little lighter, "for someone who’s all about ambition and personal goals, you’re a pretty good friend."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint returning to your eyes. "Is that your way of saying you like having me around, Weasley?"

Fred let out a soft laugh, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. "Maybe. Don’t let it go to your head."

But as the two of you sat there by the lake, the sun sinking lower on the horizon, Fred couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through his chest. For the first time, he wasn’t just thinking about pranks or jokes or the next laugh. He was thinking about you—about the way you saw him, the way you understood him in a way no one else did.

And for the first time in a long while, Fred wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you than friendship. Something worth exploring.

You scoffed lightly. "You say that like being ambitious means I don’t care about other people. I just don’t waste time on people who aren’t worth it."

Fred leaned back on his elbows, mirroring your posture as he glanced over at you. "And I’m worth it, then?"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. "Surprisingly, yes."

Fred chuckled again, but the sound was quieter this time. There was a comfortable silence between you, one that felt easy—natural, even. It was in these moments, when the pranks were set aside, that Fred realized just how much he enjoyed your company. You weren’t what he’d expected. You were honest, driven, but not ruthless. You stood up for what you believed in, and apparently, that included him and his ridiculous dreams.

The conversation drifted after that, moving from Quidditch to classes to some gossip about Snape’s latest unfair detention, and Fred found himself talking to you about things he normally didn’t share with people outside his family.

By the time the sun started to set, casting long shadows over the grass, Fred realized he didn’t want the conversation to end. He liked this side of you—the one that wasn’t all Slytherin determination and ambition, but someone who could tease and laugh and encourage him, too.

As you stood up to leave, Fred reached out and lightly grabbed your wrist, just enough to stop you. When you looked down at him, confused, he gave you a crooked grin.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, "Thanks. For believing in the joke shop thing. It means a lot coming from you."

You held his gaze for a moment before nodding. "Anytime, Weasley."

He let go of your wrist, watching as you walked away, his heart doing a little flip in his chest. He didn’t know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Fred had stopped seeing you as just a Slytherin. You were more than that. You were you, and that was someone he wanted to keep around.

That evening, as Fred lay in bed staring at the ceiling, George nudged him.

"You’ve been staring at the ceiling for ages. Thinking about a new prank, or is it something else?" George asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

Fred hesitated, then grinned. "Maybe both."

George gave him a look. "Is this about a certain Slytherin?"

Fred shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Maybe. they're—" He paused, searching for the right words. "They're not like the others."

George chuckled. "Clearly. You’ve gone and gotten yourself interested."

Fred threw a pillow at his twin, but his mind was still on you—on how you’d looked at him today, how you’d believed in him. Maybe George was right. Maybe Fred was interested.

The chill of autumn had settled into the castle by the time Fred’s feelings for you became undeniable. He’d tried to play it cool—tried to act like it was just fun working together on pranks, just a friendship with a Slytherin he hadn’t expected to like. But as the weeks passed, Fred found himself thinking about you more often than not, and it wasn’t just about jokes or mischief anymore.

He liked how you challenged him, how you made him think, and how you were unflinchingly honest. You didn’t just see the prankster side of Fred; you saw him, his dreams, his frustrations. It was a connection Fred hadn’t expected, but now that it was there, he couldn’t ignore it.

Which is why it stung when he overheard what happened in the dungeons one afternoon.

Fred was passing by the Slytherin common room on his way to Potions when he heard raised voices. Curiosity piqued, he slowed his pace, pausing by the stone corridor to listen.

"Why are you always hanging around with Weasley and his lot?" a familiar, sneering voice spat. It was one of your housemates, a particularly snide sixth-year named Malvin. "You know they’re blood traitors, right? Dirt poor and—"

"Shut up, Malvin," your voice cut through sharply, filled with a kind of venom Fred had never heard from you before.

Fred’s heart stopped. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but something about the tension in your voice made him stay put, listening.

"Yeah, right," another Slytherin, Bexley, chimed in. "What’s wrong with you? Hanging out with Gryffindors, defending that pathetic family—"

"They’re not pathetic," you snapped, your voice fierce and unwavering. "They’re decent people, which is more than I can say for some of the so-called ‘pureblood elite’ around here."

Malvin snorted. "You’re joking, right? Fred Weasley? He’s a joke. His whole family’s a joke. You’re embarrassing yourself by hanging around with him."

Fred’s stomach twisted at the cruel words, but what hit harder was the silence that followed. He could picture you standing there, tense, eyes flashing. He half-expected you to walk away, to let it go like anyone would when facing off against their own housemates.

But then, your voice cut through the air again, colder than he’d ever heard it.

"If anyone’s embarrassing themselves, it’s you. You think that insulting people makes you better than them? Grow up, Malvin. Fred’s twice the person you’ll ever be."

Fred’s breath caught in his throat.

"Unbelievable," Bexley muttered, sounding disgusted. "Look at you, defending a Weasley. Maybe you should’ve been sorted into Gryffindor after all, since you’re so keen on playing hero."

"Maybe I should have been," you shot back, defiant. "At least Gryffindors know how to treat people with respect."

There was a tense pause before Malvin spoke again, his voice lower, more threatening. "You’ll regret this, you know. People talk. Stick around with the Weasleys long enough, and your own house won’t want anything to do with you."

"Good," you said, your voice unwavering. "Because I don’t want anything to do with people who treat others like rubbish."

Fred’s heart swelled. He didn’t wait any longer. He stepped out from the shadow of the corridor and walked straight into the common room entrance, ignoring the startled looks from the other Slytherins. His eyes were locked on you, standing tall, arms crossed, with a fire in your gaze that made Fred’s chest ache in the best way possible.

"Y/N," Fred said, his voice firm but soft. "You don’t have to do this."

You turned to him, surprised. But then your expression softened, just slightly. "Yes, I do."

Fred stared at you for a moment, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t push down any longer. He didn’t care what anyone said anymore—about him, about his family, about Gryffindor or Slytherin. You had just defended him and his family against your own housemates, knowing full well the backlash you’d get. And that was when it hit him—how much he really, really liked you.

No. How much he was falling for you.

Malvin sneered, stepping forward. "Oh, look, the hero shows up to—"

"Shut it," Fred snapped, cutting him off. His voice had a sharp edge now, something fierce that wasn’t always there. He turned to you, ignoring the others entirely. "You alright?"

You nodded. "Fine. Just dealing with idiots."

Fred grinned, feeling a surge of pride at your bravery. "Well, you do that pretty well."

The Slytherins were still glaring, but Fred didn’t care. His eyes were on you, and in that moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted to tell you—everything.

"Let’s go," Fred said, reaching out his hand.

You hesitated for a second, then placed your hand in his, letting him pull you away from the common room and out into the corridor. Once you were clear of the Slytherin common room, Fred finally stopped, turning to face you fully.

"You didn’t have to defend me like that," Fred said, though his tone was softer now, filled with gratitude. "But… thank you. For standing up for me and my family."

You shrugged, but there was a warmth in your eyes. "It’s nothing. They were out of line. I don’t care what house I’m in—people don’t get to talk about you or your family like that."

Fred smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. His heart was pounding now, but for a different reason. It wasn’t just gratitude he was feeling—it was something bigger. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

"Y/N," Fred began, taking a step closer to you. His voice was quieter now, a little more serious than usual. "I’ve been thinking… about you. About us."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Fred—"

"I like you," Fred blurted out, his cheeks going a bit pink but his grin never faltering. "A lot. You’re not just some prank partner or a mate to hang around with. You’re… you’re incredible. And today, when you stood up for me—" He paused, his grin softening. "It just made me realize I don’t want to waste any more time pretending I don’t feel this way."

You blinked, processing his words, but Fred didn’t give you a chance to reply just yet. He scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish now.

"So, um… what do you say? Would you want to go out with me? Like, a proper date?" His voice was laced with hope, his usual confidence just slightly shy as he waited for your response.

For a second, you just stared at Fred, your eyes widening slightly in surprise as his words sank in. You hadn’t expected him to ask—not now, not like this—but there it was, hanging in the air between you, as real and clear as anything. His question wasn’t some flippant remark, some casual joke. It was Fred, standing there with his usual crooked grin, but there was something else in his eyes too—something soft, hopeful, and entirely sincere.

And then, slowly, a smile broke across your face—not the usual smirk you gave him when you traded banter, but a real, genuine smile, one that reached your eyes and softened your whole expression. It was the kind of smile that made Fred’s heart stop for a beat, then race twice as fast.

"You know," you said, stepping closer to him, your voice light but full of something warmer, something that made Fred’s pulse quicken, "I was starting to wonder when you’d finally ask."

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, the world around him seeming to still for just a moment. You were close now, so close that he could see the glint of amusement in your eyes, the way your lips curled just slightly at the corners. He’d been teasing, sure, but now that he was looking at you, seeing that smile, that look, he realized that maybe this wasn’t a joke after all. This was real.

"So that’s a yes?" Fred asked, his voice a bit more breathless than usual, though he tried to keep the grin on his face. His heart was pounding now, loud enough that he wondered if you could hear it.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your expression didn’t fade. In fact, it only deepened, and Fred couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. "Yes, Weasley. That’s a yes."

Fred’s grin widened, a rush of pure joy surging through him so fast he barely had time to think before his arms were around you. He pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground without a second thought, his heart soaring as your laughter bubbled up, light and easy in his ear. The sound sent a thrill through him, and in that moment, Fred felt like he was on top of the world.

You held on to him, your laughter fading into a breathy chuckle as he spun you once, just enough to make you squeak in surprise before he set you back down. But even as your feet touched the ground again, Fred didn’t let go. His arms stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was afraid to let the moment slip away. His forehead rested gently against yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the noise of the castle, the bustle of students in the distance. It was just the two of you, standing there in your own little world.

"You know," Fred said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I think this is going to be fun."

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief he loved so much. But there was something more behind it now, something that made his chest feel impossibly full. "Of course it will be," you replied, your voice as light and teasing as ever, but the words carried a promise. "We’re in this together now."

Fred chuckled, his breath fanning lightly against your skin as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle, teasing kiss to your forehead. It was quick, playful, but there was a tenderness to it that made his heart skip yet again. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his arms still loosely draped around your waist.

"Together, then," he said, his grin returning in full force, the playful edge back in his tone. "Let’s make some trouble, yeah?"

You smirked, that familiar spark of mischief flashing in your eyes, and Fred felt the thrill of it run through him. "Always," you replied, your voice confident, playful—*you*, in every sense of the word.

And in that moment, Fred Weasley knew—*really* knew—that he’d found something special. Something real. There was no more guessing, no more wondering. You weren’t just someone who could pull off a good prank or keep up with his teasing. You were someone who believed in him, who laughed with him, who made him feel like anything was possible. 

And he wasn’t about to let that go. Not for anything.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

A kiss amidst the bookshelves

pairing: Remus x reader

word count: 2k

tags / description: friends to lovers, first kiss, steamy kiss, bookish Remus and reader, best friend Sirius, friendship fluff, romance fluff, gn

“You look like you’re about to murder him,” Sirius snarks, falling into the sofa next to you amidst the noise of the party surrounding you, following your gaze across the room.

“I…” you begin your routine protesting but give it up. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, surprised. 

“You…?”

An exasperated sigh, then, “I… it… ugh,” you drop your face into your palms and speak into them, “Murder would simplify things.” Sirius barks a laugh in response. 

“Do you want an accomplice in offing our best mate?” His smile is conspiratorial, but there’s something in his eyes behind his typical teasing tone. 

“Would you mind? I don’t know if I can go through with it,” you joke seriously. “If you do the killing part, I promise I’ll help hide the body.” Sirius, smiling but knowing, pulls you into him, his arm around your shoulders, your head coming to rest on him. 

“To be fair, that would probably be the more difficult part,” he continues, and he feels your chuckle against his chest. “I know I can take him, but our Moony is pretty tall; it might pose a problem when we have to move him after.”

An affirmative “hm” is all you offer in response, basking in his warm comfort silently for a moment. 

“Or…” he cuts the quiet. “And hear me out here, love. I know homicide will seem the more appealing option initially… but you could, you know, tell him how you feel.” 

“Murder. I choose murder,” you deadpan.

“Y/NNN,” he whines with the tinge of a scold. 

“Siriusss,” you mimic childishly. 

He sighs and says, “Darling, I know it’s scary,” he squeezes you, “but your miserable pining is seriously starting to bum me out. I don’t know how much more I can take honestly.” You pull away from him and shove his shoulder as he chuckles. “Alright, alright, sorry. I suppose I’m slightly concerned for your happiness as well.” The energy between you shifts palpably. You don’t get this side of Sirius much, and the gravity of it shakes you. 

“I can’t,” you whisper, looking down. 

“You can,” he responds immediately, gently pushing your chin up, his thumb stroking your jaw. 

“Everything alright?” a third voice, achingly familiar, startles you. You rush to wipe the ghosts of tears before turning to where he’s taking a seat on the arm of the sofa, looking down at you and Sirius. 

“All good, mate,” Sirius answers before you have to, and you grin gratefully at him. 

“Sure?” Remus checks, looking straight at you, feigning levity.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you say lightly. “How’s Mary doing?” you ask, nodding to where he had just been chatting enthusiastically to her across the room. You’d always suspected they’d had feelings for each other back in your school days. “Good, good,” he nods. “We were just catching up, hadn’t seen her in a while. I might show her the shop next week actually. Think she’ll enjoy it.” You stomach sinks at this. “Oh yeah?” you hear the strain in your voice, your efforts at hiding your dismay clearly failing. So you quickly add, “That’s great, Rem. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Remus — the Remus that can read you like a children’s book — squints his eyes a bit at you, confused by your tension, probably still pondering the moment he interrupted between you and Sirius. 

The shop. Your shop. Your favourite place on Earth. A place you thought of as yours and his. I mean, it was, technically, but you know. You’d opened the bookshop together about a year ago now, and business was tough but picking up. Though you weren’t making much money (yet, hopefully), you and Remus were the happiest you’d been in years, finally doing something both of you found joy in, and together no less.

“Speaking of,” you start, stretching. “I have some work I wanted to finish, so I think I’m going to get going.” “Now?” he asks in disbelief. “It’s late, love. I don’t remember there being anything urgent?”

“No, I know; it’s not.” You get up a bit awkwardly. Standing in front of where he’s perched on the sofa, you’ve gone from looking up at him to down. He really is beautiful from any angle, you think to yourself. You realize you’re staring; you don’t know how strangely, but you see he’s looking expectantly at you, curiousity gleaming in his deep brown eyes. “Urgent, I mean,” you stutter out. “It’s just that inventory I’ve been trying to finish up.” 

“You can do that tomorrow,” he tries. “I’ll help.” “No, it’s alright, Rem, really. I just feel like it now.” You smile a strained smile with fake ease but real warmth. Then, shaking off the heaviness of the moment, you give him a quick hug, turn to give Sirius a quick peck on the cheek goodbye, and head out. 

You like the shop at night, when it’s empty and quiet. Well, sometimes it’s empty during the day as well, to be honest, but there’s something about the night and the blanket the darkness provides. You especially like it when Remus is there with you, but it’s nice when you’re alone too. Just you and the books and the sense that the shelves that envelop you hold endless possibilities and infinite feelings you can just melt into. 

You walk down the cramped aisles for a few minutes, your eyes and your fingertips tracing the titles. When you stumble on a comforting favourite, you pull it down, and nestle into one of the two inviting armchairs you and Remus had set up in a cosy corner of the small space. 

If it were any other activity, you would have been shocked at how quickly you were immersed, leaving the heaviness of your love and your worries in the real world to be picked up again on your way out. You are shocked, however, when, as you flip a page, a low voice says, “Hard at work I see.” 

You jump, dropping the book, and screech, “Fucking hell, Remus! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me.” He’s laughing like he can’t help himself as he kneels down in front of you to pick up the book, holding it in one hand and holding the other up in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “It’s not like I was quiet coming in.”

“Well, I didn’t hear you,” you shoot angrily. “Clearly.” He’s grinning as he offers you the book. “Good choice,” he adds, giving it a little shake.

“Yeah, well, it’s comforting every time.” Your tone is easier now but still a little edgy as you grab the book and place it on the little table beside you. 

“Hm.” He sounds serious; it makes you turn to him instinctively; you look into his concerned eyes. “And why did you need comforting this time?” His voice is a syrupy whisper, and his question makes time stand still.  

Because I love you too much, you idiot, you think but don’t say. “I’m fine,” you do say. 

“You’re not,” he responds. You look away.

“I’m fine enough.” 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” he pleads, putting his hand on your knee. “You’ve been weird all night.” “Don’t deny it,” he adds when you open your mouth to say something immediately. It’s not harsh. You close your mouth again, but don’t know what to say instead. 

“Did something happen?” he prods after several moments. You stay silent, but tears well in your eyes, transfixed on his. He whispers your name lovingly and brings his other hand to your cheek, stroking gently. You nod before you can think yourself out of it. “I messed up, Rem,” you whisper. “When?” he asks, all kindness. After a mirthless chuckle you say, “Around when we were twelve I think. Maybe even eleven.” His thumb stops its comforting motion in his confusion; his eyebrows are furrowed; one side of his mouth seems conflicted about whether to laugh or not. “I don’t understand,” he says finally.

“It’s your fault, really,” you half-laugh, wiping your eyes. “What?” He tenses and pulls away from you, concern elevated to fear in his eyes and voice.

“I didn’t mean,” you start, leaning forward and grabbing his hands in yours. “That’s not what I meant.” Your voice is still tinged in a cynical snicker, but he’s clearly not amused.

“What did you mean then?” It’s sharper, and it hurts. 

“I…” Another chuckle. “Y/N,” losing patience. 

“Fuck, this is hard.” You take your hands back and cover your face with them, kneading in frustration. A beat. He says your name again, just as firm but much more gentle, and reaches for your hands, holding them again. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I thought you knew that. We can work through anything, together… but you have to talk to me. Did I do something?”

You look back and forth between his eyes, hear Sirius’s voice in your head: “you can,” and take a deep breath.

“You can tell me,” he repeats, and you believe him… but can’t bring yourself to it. 

“I can’t,” you whisper, and you hate the familiar sound of it in your ears. You see his posture sink in defeat, but he doesn’t let go of your hands. 

“Can I show you instead?” you ask, terrified of what came next, but more terrified of never finding out. He nods eagerly and goes to stand up, but you squeeze his hands tighter and hold him in place. He settles back down where he’s knelt in front of you, staring at you intently. You shift to the edge of the chair, quite close to him now. One of your hands releases his and comes up toward his face. You hear him gasp as you run your fingertips along his cheekbone then along a prominent scar there. You keep going and run your fingers through his hair then let your hand rest there, on the back of his head among his soft brown curls. You look down at his lips. Your gaze lingers there, making your intention obvious as you move even closer to him. He’s stock-still as you approach, but when your nose touches his, he lunges hungrily forward to meet you. 

He moans into your mouth as his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and yours comes up around his shoulders. Your chests are flush now, your legs open wider to accommodate his kneeling form in between them, leaning into you completely, devouring you. His lips work against yours, exploring; his hands, intent but indecisive, travel from pulling you close to holding your face firmly against his, his thumbs lovingly pushing into your jaw, his fingers wrapped in your hair. You immediately fall into a rhythm, opening your mouths to each other. He tastes like chocolate, and you giggle at the realization. Remus instinctively smiles at the sound of your laughter and the slight withdrawal from your mouth gives him the opportunity to trail away from your lips, slowly along your jaw, down to your neck, licking and lingering. You bare your neck to him, your breathing coming more heavily now, your grasp on him tighter. You grip his hair and croon his name, and he moans loudly. He gives your neck a final, wet kiss and pulls back to look at you.

His eyes are dark and lidded; his lips swollen and moist; his hair is messy, and the look on his face is one you’ve never seen before. He looks giddy and lustful simultaneously. Pulling your face to his with a hand at your nape, he rests his forehead against yours and gives you a hungry kiss, fast but firm. He chuckles. 

“I still don’t understand.” “What?” you smile. 

“How is this a problem?” His thumb is caressing you; his smile is beaming. 

“I didn’t know if you felt it too,” you confess. 

A teasing tsk then, “Quite daft for the cleverest person I know.” He brings your mouth to his again. 

~

smutty pt. 2!

[littlespoonevan]

If you are looking for prompts.... Eddie and Tommy realising they unintentionally excluded Buck ?

ohohoho this was fun to write but Sad also bc eddie is clearly thinking one thing and tommy is clearly thinking many things and buck is off in his loft thinking many, Many things but i hope you like it, friend 💛

.

Eddie hobbles over to his couch with Tommy’s help.

“There you go, man,” Tommy says as he gets Eddie situated on the cushion. “You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Eddie replies, waving a hand. “There’s beer in the fridge though; help yourself.”

Tommy doesn’t take him up on the offer, instead moving to sit on the coffee table next to where Eddie’s propped up his injured leg.

“So, uh, Buck can get pretty competitive?” He says it like a question, nodding to Eddie’s wrapped ankle as if in proof and it’s, well-

“No, actually,” Eddie says, and he feels…stuck between a long-ingrained need to defend Buck and confusion as to how they ended up here in the first place.

Because this isn’t like Buck. Because Buck usually spends his every waking minute actively trying to keep Eddie out of harm’s way. He sure as hell is never the cause. And Eddie knows he didn’t mean to, is the thing. But just calling it a simple accident doesn’t feel quite right either.

“I don’t-” he starts and then reconsiders what he’d planned to say. “Honestly, Buck’s been a little off this week so I think…”

He trails off. It feels weird talking about Buck with someone who isn’t close to them, who doesn’t just implicitly gets all the intricate mental gymnastics behind Buck’s every action.

Then again, Eddie’s not sure if anyone is actually as adept at figuring out how Buck gets from A to Z as he is.

“Is it because of me?” Tommy asks and he looks genuinely concerned.

Eddie replays every conversation he’s had with Buck this past week – every too bright smile Buck flashed him, every enthusiastic assertion that he thought it was great Eddie had a new friend – and then he, inexplicably, thinks about when he first joined the 118 and some things slot into place.

“I think he was maybe a little worried,” Eddie allows. “That I was replacing him with you.”

Tommy’s eyes do a slow, deliberate sweep of the living room and the multiple photo frames of him, Buck and Christopher on the mantel and the side table before he looks back to Eddie. “Is that even possible?”

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a laugh. “I mean, no. Obviously. But Buck just- sometimes he needs reminding how much he means to people.”

Guilt settles between his ribs then. He’s been too distracted this week, too excited about having someone he had so much in common with around to talk to. If he’d taken half a second to look a little closer he would’ve realised Buck was spiralling.

“I should’ve spoken to him,” he sighs. “Reassured him that we weren’t trying to exclude him.”

Tommy frowns. “You really think that’s how he felt? I thought you said he never wanted to play basketball when you asked?”

“I think it was more than just the basketball,” Eddie says, wincing – the memory of him asking Buck to babysit instead of coming to the bar with them feels particularly bad.

Tommy nods slowly, mind clearly working. He’s quiet for so long Eddie thinks about telling him not to worry about it, that he’ll deal with it, but then-

“Why don’t I go talk to him?” he suggests, confident and sure. “Clear the air? I don’t want him to think I’m trying to get in the middle of you two.”

It takes Eddie by surprise. There’s a strangely defensive part of him that wants to say he and Buck don’t need anyone to mend their fences for them but he shoves the thought aside and reminds himself that’s not what Tommy means. Buck had sought Tommy out too last week and they’d seemed to get along. Maybe Tommy wants to clear the air for his own sake.

So he says, “Yeah,” probably a few seconds too late and makes himself smile. “Normally I’d be the one driving to his house and forcing him to talk. But I guess I’m kind of out of commission right now.”

He nods at his foot and Tommy laughs, pushing himself up off the couch to stand. “Well, hey, I’ll be sure to pass on your regards.”

“Thanks,” Eddie snorts.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder as he rounds the couch. “Don’t forget to take those pain pills, man. I’ll let you know how things go with Evan.”

He calls the rest of his sentence over his shoulder as he heads for the door and Eddie manages a half-hearted, “Will do,” as he hears the click of the latch.

And he feels…how Buck has felt all week, probably. Confused and irritated and a little possessive. Like Tommy’s stealing his job. As if Eddie hadn’t just told him it was fine. As if Eddie could even make it over to Buck’s place right now. At least he managed to hold back the petty, “His name is Buck,” that had immediately rose up in his throat as soon as Tommy had called him Evan.

Shaking his head, he reaches for the paper bag with his prescription that Tommy had left on the coffee table.

He’ll talk to Buck tomorrow and everything will be fine.

[goatisbetheres]

nate talking about the two loves of his life, sid and jo 😂

On if MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby will ever play together.

“I hope so. I’m hoping, I don’t know what’s before the 2026 Olympics, there might be something, but I guess the main thing I’m focused on is the Olympics. I think Sid has a ton of game left. I think he can play as long as he wants to, honestly. I’m a believer that primes are a little longer now, and if you do the right things, look at guys like him, Pavelski. There’s lots of examples of guys very successful in their 30’s and I think Sid’s going to be a great player 2-3 years from now. Hopefully I can stay good enough to make that team, and play together.”

On who he likes to watch when he’s not playing…

“I think Sid. I watch a lot of Pittsburgh games. I watch Brayden Schenn as well. Just two good friends of mine. Tyson Barrie in Nashville, and then I love watching Kucherov. I think everyone does. If you asked everybody’s favorite player in the NHL, I think they’d say Kucherov. I think everyone is a big fan of his. Obviously McDavid is McDavid. I like watching Pastrnak, he’s a right handed shot guy. Big fan of the game.”

On Jonathan Drouin…

“First of all, I know he’s a great person, and he’s even better as a person than 10 years ago when we were in High School. His talent, it’s still there, you can see it this season. He had a slow first 10 games, just getting comfortable, and now he’s taken off. He’s looked awesome. We’re playing together on a line, and he’s earned it. He was getting healthy scratched and still had a smile on his face everyday. He took less money to come to us, which is great, but I just felt like the value he would bring, I just felt like there’s so much more there. I can’t speak on Montreal, but I know in Denver, it’s pretty good. There’s not a ton of pressure. He can kind of do his thing and fly under the radar. He even talks about just going to the grocery store now, he’s just a civilian living his life, and I think he really enjoys that…he loves hockey. He watches every game, like he really loves the game. We can just talk about anything, and I think when you have a friend from your childhood, pretty much, you just feel so comfortable with them. We drive together a lot, on road dinners, we go every time together. We do a lot of the same workouts together. We’re just together all the time in the gym, after practice, we’re just on the same page with everything, which is awesome. You don’t find that a ton, that friendship, so I’m grateful that we are teammates again, and we’ve had a lot of fun together this year.”