#she's always trying to be pleasant to the people around her and she uses humor as a distraction

[britneyshakespeare]

One thing that's really striking to me on my reread of David Copperfield is how Dora is arguably the most consciously humorous character in the book. David Copperfield is full of humor, generally. Most characters have at least some comic element to them, but Dora is very aware of her own, as much as she is her shortcomings. Dora is imaginative, creative, whimsical, and purposefully playful. The idea that people read this as vain frivolity is absurd to me.

[acevid]

DRDT X DESPAIR DISEASE

what if the danganronpa despair time cast had the motive of despair disease? well, i’ve made diseases for everyone! (i may write a oneshot for this but to be determined..)

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Teruko Tawaki - Childish Disease. Since her childhood is..probably not the best, considering what information we have about her thus far—it causes her to act childishly and to make up for what had once lost! (And makes her an easier target.)

Xander Matthews - Lazy Disease. This disease is exactly how it sounds. This makes it so that Xander is no longer the energetic and determined person that he is, but rather someone who doesn’t put much effort into things, or sees the reason to care about others too much.

Min Jeung - Confidence Disease. This disease makes it so that Min is completely confident in her abilities and whatever she does. This makes it so that she is much less anti-social towards others, and not afraid to prove anyone wrong.

Arei Nageishi - Cowardice Disease. Because Arei has this disease, she will act meekly due to pretty much everything. Often times another student will see her shaking or on the verge of tears. She can be comforted, but many things can set her off again.

Ace Markey - Truth Disease. This strain of disease makes it so that Ace can only say the truth. While, yes, he can simply change the subject by saying random but true stuff like “It’s cold right now”, but it’s harder to fight the more he does it—and it’s especially hard whenever somebody directs a question towards him.

Levi Fontana - Empathetic Disease. This gives Levi what he’s always been lacking—empathy! And not just any old empathy. His empathy is seriously high, like off the charts. 

J Rosales - Villain Disease. While, yes, making it so that J had some ‘murder’ disease would’ve been funny, considering how she hates murder—that would’ve been too easy. And so, we’ve resorted to making her act like a really bad cartoon villain. Why? Comedy. Makes the show go up in ratings.

Rose Lacroix - Forgetfulness Disease. Pretty self explanatory, Rose simply is unable to keep long-term memories. (..Actually, change that to memories in general, as she seems to forget a lot that happened in a short time-span as well. Such as—half an hour.)

Arturo Giles - Kindness Disease. This disease makes it so that Arturo doesn’t see the ugliness in people, but rather the good qualities about them. He’s rather vocal about this too.

Hu Jing - Antagonist Disease. This causes her to act rudely to everyone, as if she is above them, and cause troubles just so that her classmates struggle. She doesn’t seem to have any want to cooperate with everyone like this.

Nico Hakobyan - Aggressive Disease. This makes it so that Nico is more easily aggravated, and will lash out more. He’s becoming Ace-core

Whit Young - Stoic Disease. This disease makes it so that Whit can no longer use the humor and carelessness that he so desperately loves. In fact, he acts the opposite of how he typically does.

Eden Tobisa - Jester Disease. This is different to Charles’ disease. While he makes jokes and acts somewhat childishly, Eden does so somewhat maliciously. Her jokes always seem to hit hard in someone’s core (and definitely not in a pleasant way). Her way of making others laugh seems to be by putting others down. On the outside, she may look the same—but there is a certain evil aura around her.

Charles Cuevas - Jokester Disease. This disease makes it so that Charles can easily find humour in situations. (He uses so many puns it is ridiculous.) It’s almost as if Whit and Charles switched personalities.

Veronika Grebenschikova - Considerate Disease. Veronika will act respectful towards others, always trying to help and never breaking any boundaries. (Think Ibuki’s disease except she actually has a personality.)

David Chiem - Naivety Disease. This disease makes it so that David believes everything that others are saying—or at least makes it easier to. Because of this trust that he’s putting into others, it’s also much easier to get the truth out of him about matters important and unimportant.

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[eternalsa2z]

Cookie Cutthroat

"So try my hot, tasty delicacies here at Cookie's Bakery. We're always 'Bringing Individuals To Cookie Heaven'...Yum!"

"CUT! THAT'S A WRAP!" the director yelled as the cameras stopped rolling for the final time that day. Cookie set down her tray with a sigh. Acting was exhausting. But customers seemed to eat up her warm, motherly attitude on TV and the commercials helped make Cookie's Bakery one of the most popular brands around.

The brunette baker slowly took off her hot pads and untied her apron. As she began to walk off gracefully in her white flats set she felt a small shiver run through her body. The pills she took before the shoot must be wearing off. The sensation distracted her slightly as a crew member bumped into her path trying to break down the set.

"Oh I'm sorry Ms. Cookie!" the gofer stammered quickly, seeing an unusual scowl sweet across the woman's gentle face.

"No worries dearie..." the businesswoman smiled sweetly back. Although a hint of annoyance remained on her face. "Just don't let it happen again..."

A phone alert interrupted their exchange, allowing the assistant to scurry away unscathed. Cookie reached into the sewed-on pocket of her floral dress, pulling out a bejeweled phone. She began texting rapidly, increasingly long red nails clacking away rapidly in time with the sharp clicking of her high heels.

People in her path began to part, staring at her with wonder. Despite having just finished shooting a commercial with her, she seemed different. Her prim dark hair was now longer, wavier, with a hint of highlights. The dress, no longer covered by an apron, seemed to hug to curves that were a contrast to the matron image she had projected. In fact her pleasant face was different, now plastered with more makeup and plump lips suited for a high end model.

"What?" she snapped as she stopped suddenly, noticing the stares. "I'm not signing autographs so get lost!"

Quickly the studio peons looked away and continued their mundane tasks. A smug little grin curled on Cookie's lips as another shiver of pleasure coursed through her body. She loved being the center of attention but it was even more fun to assert her authority. She was a powerful boss bitch, after all.

Her satisfaction momentarily waned as she saw one more figure standing in her sight. It was her bakery's Business Intelligence Manager, Ethan, a short stumpy figure in comparison to Cookie's lithe, modelesque figure. Especially as her appearance was becoming more striking by the second. Her sweet medicine was finally being purged from her system and similarly her tolerance for any imperfections was ebbing away.

The bakery queen didn't understand why her No. 2 didn't put more effort into his appearance. Cookie had often contemplated firing him just so she wouldn't be associated with his drab appearance. Lucky for him he was almost as smart as Cookie so she humored him by keeping him around.

"Coat first. Then report," she snapped her fingers as she snatched the luxurious fur trim coat her CFO was carrying like a common attendant. "Walk with me...or rather behind me. Can't make it seem like we're equals."

"Of course, ma'am," Ethan replied quickly as he opened a notebook. He knew better than to question her as her pleasant TV production persona was slowly slipping away.

"I have two things to bring to your attention," he said, eyes cast downwards to read his notes. "First, an investigative reporter is looking into our 'secret ingredient'. Any comment you want to provide?"

"Tell them it's just 'extra love and handmade dough'," Cookie chuckled, tossing her partially blonde ponytail over her shoulder dismissively. "If they don't eat that up, offer them a taste. We could use a new model raving about our product."

"Very good, Ms. Cookie," Ethan nodded, scribbling notes furiously in a vain attempt to focus on something other than his boss' heart shaped ass wiggling in her tight designer pants. "Item two is also about our secret ingredient. Our supplier in the UK is being sticky about price due to the recent strikes. How do you want to handle it?"

"Fucking unions. Little pissants thinking they can measure up to a titantic titan like myself," Cookie scoffed. "I have half a mind to crush them myself beneath my heels. But honestly it's not worth my fucking time. I'll just call up Ms. Hyde directly and ask for an advance on our supply. She knows I'm good for it and will make her double what I pay."

"Are you sure that's wise, ma'am? Sideswiping the supplier may gain negative attention and impact our positive image..."

Ethan gulped as his boss turned to face him. Even with large sunglasses covering most her face, the angry pout of her plump lips and the way her talons were clenching her expensive handbag told him he had made a mistake. You don't question Ms. Cookie.

To the subordinates surprise, Cookie didn't fire him on the spot. Or even cuss him out so commandingly that the whole production crew could hear them inside the studio 25 meters away. Instead she just scowled and brushed off her increasingly luxurious fur coat.

"You are fucking lucky the Sugar Pills I took before the shoot haven't completely worn off," she scoffed. "They must be suppressing my inner bitch enough that I still have some pathetic ounce of pity left for you. So I'm going to forget you just asked me that and let you keep your job...on one condition."

"Thank you, ma'am! I'll do anything!" Ethan trembled gratefully.

"I know you will," his boss smirked. "So when I get back from my 'Business Bitches' luncheon, I expect you to have tried a generous sample of the new batch of treats we've been testing. It's time my top assistant had the appearance and attitude to match my own."

Cookie didn't even wait for a response as she strutted away from her stunned, scared assistant. For the first time since the shoot a grin crossed her lips. But unlike the sweet smile of her TV persona, this was a smug smirk of the real cutthroat tycoon who enjoyed power and money more than anything else. She knew full well that you can't bake a cookie without cracking some eggs. It would be Ethan's mind and body that she had to break down and build up next.

A final shiver swept through her body, signaling the purge of the rest of that nasty sweetness in her body and brain. Cookie pulled her full-length fur coat more tightly around her thin body to combat the old, familiar coldness she felt. Stepping gracefully into her luxury sportscar she put one hand on the wheel and precisely pushed a button to make a call.

"Hi Evie, it's Cookie. Yes I am calling about that...heard already? Ah yes I suppose that is in your area. Yes it is a shame. Don't worry, those naughty little minions by you will be thoroughly punished. Here's what I need from the Emporium..."

Cookie chatted away, listing her demands, as she set up her next power plays in her head. She had a strike to crush. A reporter to turn. A new batch of pure, concentrated Bitch Elixir to try out. All which needed to be taken care of before lunch - but thankfully she was now uninhibited by those Sugar Pills and was at her full bitchy cunning. It was just another day as queen of the wickedly good, corruptively tasting cookie empire.

[byhimawari]

“Candid”

(a RivaMika drabble/ modern day au)

“Oh! Today is MCM.”

Levi raised his brow questionably before sipping his tea as he watches his girlfriend scroll on her phone, “What the hell is MCM?”

Mikasa looks up and a faint tint forms on her cheeks, her expression a tad embarrassed and timid, “It stands for Man Crush Monday. People post it on social media with the hashtag MCM.”

Levi can tell by the way she's fidgeting in her seat and how her eyes drift to and from him every other second that she's suggesting that she wants to do post as well, but is too shy to ask. A childish trait, but undisputedly adorable if it's from her, and oddly enough, it is one of the reasons he's in love with her.

He'll cave in, like he always does, proving himself a weak man to her wants. But Levi decides to have a little fun with her first.

"Oh?" Levi smirks, placing the teacup down, his stare teasing, "And who is this man crush of yours?"

Mikasa pouts with a glare, already catching on to his game, "Who do you think?"

"No clue. Enlighten me."

She rolls her eyes with an exasperated laugh. Then she looks at him with a challenging gleam in her eyes. Levi thinks for a split second how cute she is.

"Well," she starts, sitting back and crossing her arms, "He's an awfully sarcastic old man with a dry sense of humor."

"Dry?" Levi scoffs out a chuckle.

"Yup," Mikasa says with tight smile, seemingly trying to keep herself from laughing, "He also always has such a grumpy look on his face. And he's a clean freak. Always wants everything spotless. Thinks tea is better than coffee."

"Smart guy. You have good taste."

"I do," she agrees, uncrossing her arms and sitting back up straight, scooting closer, "He's also very handsome."

"Oh?"

"And selfless. Protective. Caring. He makes me the happiest girl alive," Mikasa says, the blush on her cheeks deepening but her smile remains, "I'm really so lucky to have him."

The sincerity in her eyes and her words of affection pull at something pleasant in his heart, something like thankfulness. He returns the same look back.

"Sounds like a decent man."

Her smile grows and automatically, the world around them seemed brighter.

"He's quite alright. Though, he'll be even better if he lets me take his photo of him right now because he looks so incredibly handsome.”

With a chuckle and shake of his head, completely awestruck and humored by this woman, Levi finally caves in.

"Fine, you win."

Mikasa, of course, does her little victory smirk before picking up her phone in excitement.

"Okay, pose."

Levi stares at her oddly, a bit dumbfounded, actually, as he's not used to having his photo taken without her. He told himself to just smile, but awkwardly enough, he can't seem to do so on command. So instead he just eyes upwards, thinking much too hard about how he should pose.

"Levi...what are you looking at?"

"Just take it already," Levi says, doing his damn near hardest to suppress his embarrassment, still looking up, "This is--"

"It's perfect!"

Levi brings his gaze down and looks at her confusedly, "You already took the photo?"

"Yes. Photos always look better when they're candid," Mikasa giggles.

He was about to protest, but he sees her staring at the photo with such warmth and admiration in her eyes, a soft, joyful smile planted on her lips, as though the person in the photo takes up such a special space in her heart. Levi's own heart betrays him and suddenly his face flushes, in awe of the woman in front of him, a remembrance of how lucky he was that his crush on her bloomed into something much greater.

It gives him an idea.

"Your turn," he says simply, picking up his phone and turning on its camera.

Mikasa at first blinks in surprise, but soon she smiles warmly. She then picks up the mug and reaches for her pastry, already willing. It appears she's been prepared and it makes him chuckle inside.

"Okay, let me pose with--"

*click*

"Beautiful."

Mikasa turns her head to him with surprised eyes, her mug mid-air in her hand, "Wait you took it already? I wasn't ready!"

Levi looks at the photo he took, marveling at her enchanting features, and is reminded again about just how lucky he is to have such a beautiful woman in his life to call his. This time, welcomes his smile.

"You're right. Photos do look better candid.”

[appatary8523]

Dumb probably negative no context rambles under the cut

Last chance, don't ruin your mood and go back

OK you wanted it this way

1.- I like STW but I usually have to get up to do things while playing (yea sometimes in FN:BR I hide in bushes to go and do some other stuff. I've barely made any progress, the game is quite complicated to me because I don't play it often and I forget what was going on? And I don't know how to use most of the mechanics of the game(? Still, the humor is funny, the gameplay might feel repetitive from time to time but I like it, I really really like it.

I also would like to have more IRL friends who play STW (or FN in general), I bet that game mode is way funnier and rewarding in squad. But nobody plays it, and I think I have no friends who play FN? Just my older brother and he has his own duo so I'm not getting in between them (?) (and he doesn't like STW so he doesn't even have access to it). There's a dude at my workplace who plays FN but no thanks, I don't like him, he's stupid (he's the it guy who can't fix a damn thing. I hate that guy he's so stupid)

As always, I'm playing solo in this squad mode game called life (?

2.- I know I often say I'm doing it for me but, damn, I wish someone could like it the way I like it too. I'll see if it's worth the effort or if I should just finish the damn thing and save if for myself. I'm not hurt or anything alike, I was 1000% aware this was going to happen, and it's helping me improve. I think I just don't want to deal with that anymore. Sorry, I lose motivation quite often and easily

3.- I try to keep everything happy and positive in my FN blog but... I don't really like Hope. I mean she's cool and all that but I just don't like her e-girl thing going on. The only thing I like about her is the cat on her banner icon whatever the name of that thing is. Neither sunsp0t, actually y don't like a lot of things but I'll just save my awful FN opinions. I should've saved my headcanons too

4.- Surprise surprise (actually is no surprise) I'm losing followers. And I get it, I get you guys, I used to post funny things, funny drawings (or drawings in general) but now I just complain about everything. Sorry, I'm not in a good mood anymore.

I don't think people should keep following/stay suscribed to a channel, account, blog thing they dont like no more. I've seen artists (on Twitter of course) complaining about how people should not follow an account for X specific thing but I don't think that's how things work. Just like the things you like change, the things other like change too. They should NOT feel forced to like the things you like and see the things you want to share. But I guess you have to grow up to realize that. I personally don't feel offended when people stop following me, right now I'm offering nothing but negative text post, and that's OK. Curate the things you consume, make it a more pleasant experience, don't feel forced to follow someone you no longer like.

I personally follow people for a specific thing, and sometimes, like everyone, they change the things they make, but if I like their stuff I usually stick around because it's interesting! I just stop following if they change for worse (the same way I changed for worse). Still, not everyone thinks the same way I do.

5.- I still thinking I should just make another sideblog to dump all this dumb kind of posts but honestly I don't want to deal with it. Making an FN exclusive sideblog was already way too much, but I didn't want to mix all in here

6.- I guess that's what you get for interacting with people half your age.

7.- Shouldn't have joined, should've stayed away

8.- I wish we could talk, someday. I'd like to know you better. I know I don't exist for you but you mean so much for me (yea now I understand my taste for one-sided fictional relationships lol). I know, im stupid, I'm delusional, I'm, as always, daydreaming about things that will never ever happen and I will never have. I can't understand love, I can't wrap my head around the idea of being romantically involved with someone but that's OK, that kind of things are not meant for me

9.- I wish I could control whatevers going on in my mind. I wish it could slow the pace of my thoughts, I need some rest from the world but most important, I need a break from myself but I guess there's nothing I can do about it

10.- Also, Beatles song

11.- I fell asleep after posting this and I OBVIOUSLY had to edit it to add this because i DREAMED someone gave me some support words and it felt so nice and comforting jdjsjs I'm alone

12.- Morningssey song. Yes I like him too so sue me (?

[loominggaia]

What kind of relationship does SAPHIRRA have with her siblings

I think Saphirra is generally a pleasant person and gets along well with her siblings. Like yeah, she obviously has some psychological issues regarding men and sex, but I don't think this affects the way she treats people outside her romantic relationships.

She is arguably the most problematic of Cerulea's children, yet ironically one of the most pleasant to be around. She's polite, helpful, and loves her family.

She and Lazuline are closest in age but don't have a lot in common. Saphirra is sex-crazed, Lazuline is celibate. Saphirra is a partier, Lazuline is bookish. Saphirra is extroverted, Lazuline is introverted. I think they're polite to eachother but don't really hang out.

No one gets along with Teal because she's insufferable, but Saphirra has the charisma to shut down her bullshit without starting a conflict. I imagine Saphirra has a good sense of humor and uses it to calm tense situations.

Saphirra calls Cyana "pretty doll" and always wants to style her hair, do her makeup, etc. Cyana looks a lot like Saphirra when she was younger, so this could be a bit of narcisissm in action...

Saphirra worries about Marine's future and tries to give her all kinds of advice about how to be a "proper lady", but it's futile. She never gives up though! She's always there to pull the gum out of Marine's hair, wipe the dirt off her face, and tell her that making random animal noises is going to scare boys away.

Saphirra teases Skylie, not in a malicious way but in a playful way, trying to make her laugh and come out of her shell. Like her parents, Saphirra worries that Skylie spends too much time with her nose in a book. But unlike her parents, she isn't mean about it. She just gently tries to nudge her towards other activities, offering to take her berry picking and such.

She takes pride in being Cobalt's "fun sister" who takes him to do dangerous things Cerulea won't let him do, like rowboating, rock climbing, and horseback riding. She tells Cerulea they're just "going bird-watching", then sneaks off to do some wild shit. If it weren't for Saphirra, Cobalt wouldn't get to do anything but homework and throne-training.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[bambirex]

Tbh i havent really seen a good fic about it so ronance whatever you want but like jealousy either nancy or robin

Warnings: none

**

The iron grip around her heart made no sense, nor did the uncomfortable, leaden weight in her stomach. Nancy was familiar with the feeling, she knew it all too well; what didn't make sense, was the fact that she felt this in relation to Robin.

Sure, she liked Robin: she was sweet, if a little annoying sometimes, and very clever. She was one of the few people who actually took Nancy seriously and would have gone above and beyond to protect her. And, to Nancy's biggest surprise, she also found Robin's sense of humor somewhat cool.

Of course, she liked her. But she didn't like like her, right?

Yet, that acidic envy bubbling in her chest didn't cease as that girl giggled at something Robin said, and it only flared up more when she laid a hand on Robin's arm. Nancy's grip around her glass tightened so much, it was a wonder she didn't shatter it.

As always, Robin looked adorable in her striped shirt and faded jeans. Her hair was a little mussed from the wind, and there was that beautiful smile on her face, that bright toothy one that always caused a pleasant flutter inside Nancy's chest for some reason.

For a second, Robin glanced in her direction, and Nancy quickly looked away, focusing on her drink instead. The last thing she needed right now was for Robin to notice her ogling.

She heard the girl laugh again, and Nancy wished she had El's powers and could slam her against the wall with her mind.

God, why did she harbor such hostile feelings towards a complete stranger?

The answer was faintly vibrating at the back of her mind, but Nancy brushed it off. Robin was a girl, and Nancy was only interested in boys. This wasn't jealousy, it couldn't be. She just simply wanted to be Robin's only friend, that was it.

(Then, why wasn't she jealous of Steve?)

"Hey."

Nancy looked up, and there was Robin, standing above her with an almost shy smile. Despite the emotional turmoil raging inside her, Nancy felt a flush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Hey."

"I waved to you, but you probably didn't see me," Robin said. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly seeming nervous. "Uhm, is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Nancy replied quickly, then she took a sip of her drink, doing her best to avoid Robin's eyes. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Robin bit her lip, tilting her head to the side. She seemed to be inspecting Nancy's face, trying to figure out the reason behind her behavior. Nancy wished Robin was a little worse at reading her feelings.

"Because you're acting strange, no offense," Robin replied, holding her hands up as if in defense. "You're barely looking at me. You're all cold and I just... wanna know, if I hurt you or something?"

"I'm just tired," Nancy replied dismissively. She couldn't help the bitter edge in her voice when she added, "you didn't need to abandon your little friend for me."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. She looked adorably confused as she stared down at Nancy.

"What...? Oh, Claire? We used to go to the same class. We did some catching up."

"Lovely."

"Okay, I really don't know what's going on with you, but you are definitely being weird," Robin huffed. "You know what? We'll talk later, once you get over this... whatever this is."

Before Nancy could stop her, Robin stormed off. Nancy stared after her, her chest tightening uncomfortably. Shit. She really messed this up, didn't she?

But she couldn't tell Robin the truth behind her reaction. That would ruin everything, not to mention, Nancy herself wasn't even sure what it meant.

She only knew that now that Robin has left, she felt a gaping hole at where her heart should have been.

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 12 - DOWDY

Rhiki, Thancred, and Tataru go on a shopping trip!

I took this prompt in the direction of "generally unfashionable" and used it to vent my and Rhiki's shared sentiments about the design of Tank armor. I can almost always count on the gear designers for award winning mmorpg final fantasy xiv to disappoint me.

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, humor Characters: Tataru Taru, Thancred Waters, Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light) Word Count: 1,330 Content Warnings: None

“Oh, this is cute!” Z’rhiki held up one sleeve of the jacket to turn it on its hanger towards Tataru. “I love all of the orange parts! Ooh! And the waist is adjustable. And I think this scarf is actually attached….”

Tataru giggled as she watched Rhiki whirl around the shop excitedly. “I think it would suit you!”

“Right?” Rhiki beamed. It had been too long since she had gone shopping with friends – it felt like a lifetime ago. Recently she had been either busy, or trapped somewhere without a particularly expansive market. Sharlayan had very few redeeming qualities (at least in her opinion) – the food was bad, the people were rude, everyone was always reading or studying – but it did have a marketplace, stocked with enough wares that one could pass the time perusing them.

“I’m not sure how practical the color is,” Thancred pointed out. She had been a bit surprised that he had offered to come with them, but it seemed that even he had tired of sifting through dusty tomes with the rest of the Scion’s book club.

Rhiki rolled her eyes. “What do you know about practical color schemes. You wear white and then stand in spattering range of whatever you’re fighting!”

Their chatter must have drawn the attention of the shopkeeper, because all three noticed him hovering before Thancred could marshal up a witty retort. Seeing that he had caught the attention of potential customers, the middle-aged elezen gestured towards the jacket that Rhiki was still holding.

“Ah, this is from one of our latest collections: Moonward. It was inspired by the designer’s dreams of soaring through the stars. And I can assure you, it is very practical – every piece has been carefully tested for its durability in battle – not that you couldn’t wear it for fashion’s sake, of course. This jacket, for example, is perfect for hunters and ranged fighters. It’s warm enough for even snowy climes, it offers enough padding to protect you from the typical hazards of the unforgiving wilderness as well as any brief scuffles you may find yourself in, but is also flexible enough to allow for a wide range of motion, such as the drawing of a longbow’s string! Should the color not be to your tastes, we offer a range of dyed colors!”

Rhiki had returned to examining the jacket as the man spoke. “How do you think it would hold up against more than a ‘brief scuffle?’ Or if you were… closer to the action? Like with a sword?”

The shopkeeper’s pleasant, well-trained smile faded. “Not well, I’m afraid. I couldn’t recommend it for a swordsman. While the padding will protect from rugged environments and the occasional glancing blow, it isn’t enough to stop a swinging blade.”

“I see,”

Seeing her smile fade, the man quickly added, “However, I do have a set from the same collection that would serve you better in close-quarters combat.”

Tataru nudged Rhiki’s leg with an elbow, but looked towards the shopeeper “Oh, do you? We’d love to see it!”

Rhiki nodded along, hope in her heart.

“Wonderful, right this way, please.”

He led the trio past displays of richly colored textiles and dyes, weaving past mannequins draped in scholarly robes, towards the back of the shop.

“Naturally, Sharlayan doesn’t produce many warriors, but knowledge is knowledge and knowledge of armor is no different, so we try to keep some sturdier fare in stock. It’s greatly appreciated by the huntsmen who visit Sharlayan to accept or turn in bounties, many of whom seek more challenging prey than the usual game animal,.” the older man prattled as he walked. Tataru either listened, or made a good show of pretending to listen, and Rhiki tried to do the same, only pausing to look at a few items before taking quicker steps to catch up. Thancred, for his part, looked uninterested, his eyes listlessly roaming the shop.

“Here we are! The Moonward Fending Set! I expect you will find it well-suited, pardon the pun, to your needs.” He came to a stop in front of a row of mannequins lining the furthest wall from the entrance, and extended one arm in a flourishing motion.

“Ah.” Was all Rhiki said, the disappointment setting in almost immediately. Adorning the mannequin the shopkeeper had indicated was a heavy, silver cuirass with spiked pauldrons and a straight blue cape dangling behind it, apparently attached somewhere to the back of the collar. It wore matching flat-heeled sabatons that extended all the way up the leg before disappearing beneath the bottom edge of the chest piece. For reasons she couldn’t understand (certainly not fashion) there was no metal plating covering the arm, just a pauldron on the shoulder and a gauntlet that extended partway up the forearm. Between the two was only the white of the mannequin’s arm and two thin gold wires that crossed paths connecting them. At least there was a narrow golden belt slung across the waist so one was able to tell where the waist was supposed to be.

“Well, it certainly looks more… functional.” Thancred pointed out.

Functional? It doesn’t even protect your arms! She wanted to snap at him, but held her tongue. She didn’t want to offend the gentleman who was clearly trying to be helpful. There was no helping the forlorn look on her face as she stared up at the set, though.

She pondered what could possibly connect this design with the jacket she had been examining earlier to form a “collection”. They looked like they had been designed on different planets by two people who had never met nor spoken to each other.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Tataru offered, “Maybe it will look better if you try it on?”

“Oh, yes,” The shopkeeper hastily tacked on. “Seeing it on oneself makes a world of difference! If you’ll step behind one of those curtains, I’ll see if I can find a set that might fit you!”

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

“Well?” Z’rhiki said, stepping out from behind the curtain. Her tone was flat. She already knew how she looked.

Tataru looked her up and down, eyebrows drawn together in sympathy. “It’s not… that bad.” She tried to comfort her.

To her surprise, the curtain next to her rustled, and Thancred stepped out, having heard the snippet of conversation. He looked to her, then to Tataru.

“Tataru, I understand wanting to spare a friend’s feelings, but don’t lie to the poor woman.” He chided, though his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Tataru scowled at him. “Don’t listen to him, Rhiki. It’s not like it’s awful.”

She groaned loudly.

“You know, I don’t think it looks half bad on me.” Thancred said, examining himself.

Rhiki took a moment to actually look at him, gaze combing over the details of the armor.

“UGH! You’re right!” She lamented. Whereas the pauldrons perched awkwardly on either side of her, their spikes getting caught in her peripheral vision when she moved her eyes from side to side, on him they accentuated the strong line of his shoulders. The cape that only drew attention to her diminutive stature looked downright heroic hanging behind him. With the more defined muscle tone of his biceps and forearms, she could almost see what the designer might have been intending when constructing the outfit. On her the exposed skin just looked… silly. The light, shining silver even matched his hair. Damn him.

He smirked, and she found herself grumbling, “Shut up, Thancred,” despite the fact that he hadn’t actually said anything.

He laughed, but reached over to pat her on the shoulder, carefully avoiding the pauldron’s thorny protrusion. “Never fear, we’ll find something that fits you one of these days.” His self-satisfied grin flickered back to life. “Or, if we don’t, you can at least take heart in the fact that you can use the time the enemy spends laughing at you to catch them off guard!”

“Thancred!” Tataru scolded as Rhiki stormed back behind the curtain.

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 95

McCoy

“What do you think of the city, your highness?” Ms. Brandt asked as she and McCoy continued walking in the gardens. She had asked him many questions already about how he was enjoying Starfleet.

“It’s lovely,” McCoy replied honestly. “I haven’t seen as much as I would like to yet, but what I have seen I’ve liked.”

“Had you been here before?”

“No ma’am. Most of my time here on Earth has been spent in Scotland, at my husband’s home. I came to Los Angeles a few months ago for a job shadow,” McCoy said.

“Georgiares II is quite warm, correct? Is the weather here or in Scotland a challenge?”

McCoy laughed.

“It can be, but I’ve learned to dress warmer as needed. Scotland was quite pleasant in the summer though. And of course I always have Scotty to keep me warm.” He smiled and wondered briefly what his husband was up to. He had said his group was going to be working on their project.

“May I ask what you’ve seen here in the city so far?” Ms. Brandt asked.

“The academy, obviously. We’ve taken some walks through the neighborhoods around it, out to see the ocean. We’ve been to a few clubs and places. I took Scotty out for a nice dinner one weekend.”

“Any places you want to mention by name?” she asked.

“Uhh, no, I don’t think so,” McCoy replied after a moment of thought. “Wouldn’t want people to begin staking those places out to look for me after all.”

“Too true your highness,” Ms. Brandt agreed. “I just had a lucky stroke of fate. I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

“I hope you’ll write a decent article ma’am,” McCoy said. “We’ve had enough hatchet jobs against us the last year or so.”

“I will keep it to the facts you said,” Ms. Brandt promised. “No speculations from me. I’d like to be able to talk with you again if need arises.”

“The reverse is true as well Ms. Brandt.” McCoy stuck out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you, your highness, you’ve been most obliging. Please give your husband my good wishes, and good luck to you at the academy.”

“Thank you,” McCoy said.

He entered their room and fell onto the bed. No matter how many times he spoke with the press he always found it tiring. Ms. Brandt had been polite, had not asked any inappropriate questions. She had kept it to Starfleet and the city. McCoy was grateful for that. It didn’t sound as if it would be too in depth of an article.

McCoy knew Scotty wasn’t in the room, but he looked up from where he had buried his face in his pillow. There. On his own desk. Scotty had left a note. McCoy heaved himself up and grabbed it. Scotty had gone to Aporal’s.

He frowned. Was that where they were working on their project? McCoy was sure Scotty had said a classroom. He shrugged. Either way Scotty had been to the room if he had left a note. He pulled out his comm.

*Interview’s done. You going to be back soon?*

McCoy glanced at the time as his stomach gave a rumble.

*Meet you at dinner.* Scotty replied a few minutes later.

McCoy frowned again. Had Aporal taken a turn for the worse?

*Everything alright?*

*Aye…*

Now that made an eyebrow go up. McCoy looked at the comm curiously. What did Scotty mean by that?

“Just Leonard!”

McCoy smiled as he looked across the dining hall. There was only one person who would call him that. He waved as Jaylah and Keenser waved back. He collected his dinner and made his way to their table.

“Hi,” said Keenser as McCoy sat.

“Hey guys. How’s the project going?” he asked.

“Good,” Keenser nodded.

“Maybe,” Jaylah disagreed. “If someone doesn’t try to take all the credit.”

McCoy looked at her in puzzlement. “Who would do that? You all worked together.”

Jaylah huffed. “Someone,” she emphasized as she looked towards the entrance of the dining hall, “thinks he can make it better by himself.”

McCoy looked over his shoulder and saw Scotty entering with Aporal.

“Scotty wouldn’t do that,” McCoy said, keeping the hint of humor from his voice.

“Just Leonard!” Jaylah said in exasperation.

Beside her Keenser made a noise that McCoy could have sworn was a laugh.

“You know I meant him!”

“Aporal’s fine,” McCoy said. “He just puts on that arrogance as a shield.” He looked over his shoulder again and saw Scotty grinning.

“We shall see Just Leonard,” Jaylah said with a frown.

Part 96

Scotty

"Just be friendly," Scotty quietly reminded Aporal as they entered the dining hall and found Jaylah, Keenser and Leonard already sitting at their regular table. He couldn't help but grin as he thought about how cute Jaylah and the Andorian would look together.

"Hey there, how did the interview go?" Scotty asked as Aporal and him sat down. He pressed a kiss to Leonard's cheek and looked at him curiously.

"Oh, it went just fine. Ms. Brandt was actually quite nice, even told me to give you her good wishes."

Scotty nodded with a grateful smile. He had thought so. After all, when they had first met the reporter she had appeared to be a friendly person.

"Sounds great."

Leonard turned his gaze to Aporal who was picking at his food.

"Aporal, how are you doing?"

The Andorian shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm okay, Prince. Thanks for your concern."

"Leonard. Well, good to hear that you're getting better."

They all started to eat and slowly more and more friends came to join them. They chatted about how their courses had been and about upcoming projects and exams.

"How is your project going? Jaylah told me this morning that you're almost finished?" Uhura asked, looking at Scotty and the others.

Oh my... the Scotsman really hoped that the talk wouldn't escalate.

"It is finished," Jaylah claimed, raising her chin up, showing that she didn't accept any objections. But of course that didn't stop Aporal.

"Not yet. Tomorrow we'll talk about last improvements."

That caused Jaylah to glare at him.

"It is good the way it is!"

"Just because you didn't hear my ideas yet, ghost gi-" Aporal stopped himself and if Scotty wasn't imagining things there was a slight blush creeping to his cheeks as he corrected himself. "Jaylah."

Jaylah's eyes widened in surprise when she heard Aporal using her real name. She blinked a few times.

"Can I at least explain them to you tomorrow?" Aporal asked, raising an eyebrow.

A huff escaped his female counterpart as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Keenser gently nudged her.

"Fine. If you must," Jaylah muttered, not looking at Aporal while doing so.

Scotty could see a smile pulling at the corner of Aporal's mouth. He actually seemed happy about that answer. It was one move into the right direction.

"What the heck was that?" Leonard asked once Scotty and him were back in their room. A grin crossed the Scotsman's face as he got out of his jacket and threw it onto his chair.

"What do ye think?" he asked back, wiggling his eyebrows.

Leonard stared at him in disbelief.

"No way! Aporal can't have a thing for Jaylah... can he?"

Scotty shrugged his shoulders.

"Who knows..." was his mysterious answer and he sat down on the bed. Leonard followed his example, slowly shaking his head. There was a smile on his lips.

"Wow, now that's a big surprise.

"Did Aporal talk to you about it?"

Scotty sighed.

"Ye know I cannae just talk about those things, mo ghràdh," he said, leaning over to run his fingers through Leonard's hair.

"Oh? I thought we don't have any secrets."

"Well... sometimes we do," Scotty replied. "But... I'm sure there's other stuff to think about than Aporal and Jaylah."

Slowly, Scotty opened the buttons of Leonard's jacket. After all the stress of the day, he was really in need of some relaxation.

[novelmonger]

I had a coworker/classmate in college that bugged the heck out of me. She seemed so self-absorbed, always talking about herself. When we'd go to sign up for tasks in our cleaning job, she would see some unsavory task like cleaning the toilets and say, "Oh, I'm not doing that," and then sign herself up for sweeping the stairs and take an hour to do that, by which point all the harder jobs would be done.

For a year, I couldn't stand her and avoided her as much as possible (which was hard, since she was in my year and also an English major, so we had a lot of the same classes, not to mention work shifts that often overlapped). I didn't understand what her problem was, why she couldn't be more pleasant or at least buckle down and do her fair share of work like everyone else.

Then we both ended up working on campus over the summer, and on the first day, I decided I was going to give her a second chance. I would pretend we'd never met before, and try my best to start on a clean slate. So I responded to her in a friendly way, and made a joke about house elves because I knew she liked Harry Potter. She laughed, and the next thing I knew, we were having a congenial conversation.

And then it clicked. She wasn't a jerk. She was socially awkward, lonely, and had a weird sense of humor. The comments she would make that I used to interpret as her saying, "I'm better than you" or "the world should revolve around me" were actually her attempts at making a joke. But when she'd tell one of these jokes, instead of laughing and bantering back, people would get offended or shun her. And so she would go off by herself, because she could sense she wasn't wanted, and the awkward cycle would continue.

We never became great friends or anything. She still got on my nerves if we spent too much time together. She still didn't really pull her weight at work all the time. But we hung out that summer, had movie-watching parties, talked about writing, walked home together. She wasn't a bad person, just different.

Even the most annoying people you know deserve a second chance.

if i can impart any one piece of wisdom to y’all, it’s to, whenever possible, assume good intentions

assume people are trying their best, want to be good and treat others well, and that when their behavior doesn’t align with those goals, it’s because of outside factors that are pushing them to their limit

it’s hard to do, it doesn’t always come naturally, but it’s worth it

[rinwellisathing]

My OCs and side characters: Overall thread of my OCs' children:

Lady Alyce Ravengard, Flower of The Gate

Alyce is the eldest daughter of Jaina Thalassia and Wyll Ravengard. She is, to the average citizen, the closest a city without royalty could have to a beloved princess. She is charitable, fashionable, beautiful, and intelligent, seeming like the perfect diplomat and leader to the public. In private, however, Alyce is a brilliant strategist and determined, devoted protector. She made a pact with an arch fey behind her parents' backs to save her mother's life from a deadly illness and she uses her power to fight devils and demons who threaten her home and family. Alyce's notable weakness is an elegant woman with a sharp wit.

Edward Wyllyam Ravengard

The son and youngest child of Jaina Thalassia and Wyll Ravengard. Edward is a kind, pleasant boy with an easy smile and a great sense of humor. He is prone to anxiety, however and can't control the motion of his tail when he is anxious. He is aware of his sister's 'extracurricular activities' and has been learning swordplay with her and his father in the hopes of helping her.

Mer'ri Dekarios was adopted as an egg from an abandoned creche her mother, Octavia, happened upon. She has grown up in a loving home learning magic from both her parents and attending school while her father teaches. She is incredibly fond of cats and is usually found acting as a warm cushion for Tara while reading a book.

Oso Ojeda is the child of Halsin and Sentry. They are a druid who prefers to spend most of their time in bear form but is also a highly skilled healer and grove tender. They rarely speak, preferring to commune internally with nature, but they will spare words for their fathers or siblings.

Lucien Ancunin

Biologically the child of Sentry and Halsin, they were raised in Sentry and Astarion's home. Lucien learned from one father more than the other two for sure as they are generally in some kind of trouble for poking around where they shouldn't or pocketing something valuable. They are a skilled archer and adept with knives and tend to leave a long line of broken hearts behind them. They are Oso's twin.

Teela Popsprocket is Sentry and Gortash's daughter, born while Sentry was technically 'dead', someone found her and sent her to an orphanage in Waterdeep where she was adopted by a gnomish artificer couple. She has tried to reconnect to her remaining biological parent now that she's started having strange thoughts and hearing whispers.

Kithyria Thalassia is Jaina and Halsin's daughter. (Yes, I tend to write big polycule AUs) she is a beast mastery ranger known to protect the wilds side by side with an owlbear companion. Known to be blunt and a bit awkward, she prefers the company of animals over people, though she makes an exception for her siblings.

Hemlock Hallowleaf is Shadowheart and Jaina's daughter with some help from other partners. She is a clever rogue who is always scheming and trying to get her siblings involved. Usually seen spending time with her older sisters Alyce and Kithyria since they're the ones who are usually willing to indulge her, she clashes too much with Lucien since the two can never agree whose plan is the good one.

[practically-an-x-man]

Uncommon Questions for OCs and their creators:

For Jasper, Robin, and Prometheus

2, 7, 10, 25, 39

Then the creator questions

C, E, F

Thank you so much!! You're the best!

Answers under the cut as always

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Jasper: Oh, so easy. They can feel everyone else's amusement, for one, but they just have a very easy laugh even without the empathic abilities.

Robin: She can keep a straight face when she needs to. She's a professional actor, after all, she knows how not to break. But when she's not trying to stifle it, it's very easy to make her laugh

Prometheus: not very. They're pretty stoic, just on principle. But that's not to say that they don't have a sense of humor. You're in for a treat once I get this new fic finished...

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Jasper: I feel like there's a few specific songs that would trigger nostalgia, because they're so connected to music. As for whether it's pleasant, it depends on the memory. Some things are nice, but most of them are definitely not.

Robin: Irish food, the sorts of things she grew up eating. And since she's so close with her family, she definitely enjoys that sort of nostalgia.

Prometheus: It's kind of hard to determine nostalgia with an immortal being... That being said, there are a few moments with the kids that remind them of their prior life, and they're not always a fan.

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Jasper: Not one lie, but they're definitely the sort of person to just make up random "facts" just for shits and giggles. Like, "hey, did you know that sometimes peoples' blood will just turn green? It happens when you eat too much Vitamin K, like in kale and spinach". No, definitely doesn't haunt them, they get a kick out of it.

Robin: There have been a few jobs where she omitted the fact that she was Deaf. Before she started working with Cindy, she had a bit of trouble getting hired because of that. It doesn't exactly "haunt" her, but she does wish she'd been a little more up-front about it.

Prometheus: Not so much an outright lie, but they definitely omit that they used to be a nightmare. Not exactly conducive to comfort. The lie itself doesn't haunt them, but their past does.

25. What are their thoughts on marriage?

Jasper: Before Kyle, they hadn't really considered it. But since then they've warmed up to the idea, to say the least.

Robin: Oh, absolutely in the cards for her. At first she's a little concerned that Peter would have trouble settling down, but that worry fades pretty quickly. He's stuck around this long, after all, and he doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

(and eventually they do get married and have a daughter but shhh)

Prometheus: Can dreams really get married to one another? Not in a legal sense, I don't think. At the very least, it's never really been on their radar. They weren't even expecting to find romance, let alone consider the possibility of marriage. But if a certain someone were to drag them down to a Waking church someday, even just to pretend...

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Jasper: They feel like they don't, but that's mostly just irrational anxiety. Looking at it logically, they're past anything they'd have hoped for.

Robin: Usually, yes. She puts in the work, and it often pays off for her.

Prometheus: No, but that's only because they hold themself to an impossible standard. They can't help everyone, it's impossible even for a dream, but they sure wish they could

And the creator questions...

C. Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

Jasper: I don't think I had trouble, it just took me by surprise. I was expecting much more of a slowburn than I actually put onto the page, and I had to rework a few things because of it

Robin: No? There were a few details that got tweaked, especially when I made the decision to make her a Cassidy instead of just another mutant, but overall I've had a pretty clear idea the whole way through.

Prometheus: A little, mainly because this OC was a lot more spur-of-the-moment than the other ones. But I think I got it worked out in the end.

E. Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

Jasper: Oh, 100% both ways. Genderqueer, alt, complete music nerds, we'd get along really well. Writing them even feels a bit like I'm talking to a friend.

Robin: I'd say yeah. Again, I feel like we'd bond over music. I've done a bit of opera myself, and I'm in the top choir at my uni, so I feel like that would be something to bond over.

Prometheus: Hard to say. I'd like to say yes we'd get along, just because they're a pretty positive force, but I don't think we'd be friends exactly.

F. What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

I'm gonna answer these altogether since it's pretty much the same answer for all of them: a bit of pride, intrigue, and contentment. This is what writing's about for me, exploring the different characters, so I take a lot of enjoyment in thinking about my characters. Sometimes they're a little harder to write than others, but overall it's a positive experience for me :)

Thank you again!! You're amazing!

[eleanorxshipley]

maksimkurylenko·:

’‘If you ever have any problems with fans, you let me know. Yea?” And he meant it. He knew how people could be, had met some of the worst of them and if he had to crack a few skulls to keep that pretty hair on the top of her head safe, you’d be damn sure he fucking would. No fucks given. Charles was someone he respected, and with that came his loyalty. That extended to her.

“Might have to take you up on that offer, however, I think if Charles found out he’d serve you my balls for the main course. Might have to invite him, so he don’t get the jitters, if you get me.”

His gaze was fixated on her face, letting her know he was actively listening. Sharing her concerns and vulnerabilities. Each word sent a chill down his spine, to be so niave. He knew her own problems were real, as were every person they passed in the street. However, sometimes he wondered what’d be like to just worry about that. Instead of this. The weight of her words, however, did resonated with him, reminding him of the harsh realities they both faced in their respective lives – hers just wasn’t imminent danger or death. He still couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for her strength and resilience, even in the face of adversity.

“Think you’re doin’ a pretty good job, doll.”

A somber smile remained, tugging at the corners of his lips, laced with sincerity. “I’ve learned to be cautious. Aware of my surroundings. I have people looking out for me too, just as you do.” His eyes held a glimmer of the promise he’d made himself when he met Eleanor, reflecting his commitment to protecting himself and those he cared about. They were few and far between.

His gaze met hers. “And as much as I appreciate your concern, I’m fine. Pretty invincible, see.” He rapped her hand against his chest. “Pretty sturdy.”

Maksim leaned forward, resting his formarms on top of his thighs. “A new series? You allowed to tell me anything or is all paper work and hushed filming schedules?” He couldn’t help but offer a warm smile, he didn’t like many people but he had a lot of time for Eleanor, especially because of her familial connections. It was a refreshing change from the usual small talk they’d engaged in, on pasting encounters.

.

Eleanor adored her fans. Luckily, the majority of them seemed to be chill. There had been a few instances in the past that crossed over into the stalker territory, but hopefully her hiatus from the limelight had absolved those. Since getting back into the biz, most encounters had been pleasant. Still, she appreciated Maksim’s offer, and knew he’d meant it. He had proven his loyalty to her brother, and there weren’t many that she trusted more than him.

Having just taken a swig of her drink, Eleanor had to cover her mouth quickly to keep from spewing liquor at the laugh that rippled forth. “Oh goodness. I hope you know I wouldn’t allow that, but do not worry. I’m always happy to have him around. Truthfully, we could use a catch up anyhow. I feel like it’s been longer than it should. I get you. Your--” Eleanor’s cheeks burned brightly as she deliberated which term was the most ladylike to use. “Manhood shall remain unharmed.” She would take the small smiles that she managed to goad from him. Despite only knowing very little of the depth of his job, she couldn’t imagine it was an easy life.

The life of a celebrity often meant it was difficult to know when someone was genuinely interested in words, or humoring for status. It felt like Maksim’s eyes bore right into her, and it was refreshing to know he didn’t fall into the latter category. She too enjoyed chatting beyond their small exchanges on the street. “Thank you, Maksim. That means a lot. I’m not trying to downplay the drama and trials that sometimes comes with being in the spotlight, but I’m well aware that I have it easier than most.” 

That didn’t include the heartache and strife that came from losing the love of her life, but Eleanor couldn’t exactly share that with anyone else. So in others’ eyes, her problems were small potatoes. She appreciated Maksim giving weight to them though.

Bright eyes met his again, and Eleanor smiled at his assurance. “Wow, no kidding! You may just have to slip me some of your workout routine. I wouldn’t mind being invincible myself.” 

Although for a while now Eleanor had dipped her toes back into the waters of entertainment, this series was her first major project in some time. Elation danced across her features as she shared what little she could. “Well, the title is still in the works, but it’s a mystery romance. Nothing too dark or scary-- perhaps Bridgerton meets Sherlock Holmes?” She offered, bemused. “I know there will be some filming in Paris, but the rest for the moment is under wraps. Even for me,” she admitted. The actress noticed he ducked out of her question, so she took another lighthearted stab at it.

“Been up to anything fun outside of work?”

maksimkurylenko·:

Maksim leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on Eleanor. He couldn’t help but notice the faint lines of worry etched on her face, evidence of the pressures she faced as a public figure. He appreciated her concern for his well-being, but he also knew she had her own battles to fight.

“I understand,” he replied, his voice filled with empathy. “Sometimes circumstances are beyond our control. We find ourselves in places we’d rather not be. Just remember to trust your instincts. Stay vigilant. Your safety is important to me.”

Because it was important to his friend.

Their drinks finally arrived. Maksim raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip. The coolness of the beverage eased the tension that had settled in his muscles. He appreciated Eleanor’s gesture of wanting to pay for the next round, but he wasn’t one to let others shoulder the burden.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, his tone firm yet gentle. “Let me take care of you tonight. It’s the least I can do. Plus, I know someone who’d take my eye out if I didn’t,”

Her question about his well-being caught him off guard for a moment, his thoughts momentarily drifting away from the grim reality of their circumstances. He considered his response carefully, aware that he needed to strike a balance between honesty and reassurance.

“I’ve been holding up,” he answered, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. “It’s been a challenging time, but I’ve learned to navigate. Having friends like Charles and you by my side makes it a little easier.”

It was all bullshit span to look pretty, but it’d do.

A flicker of a smile played at the corners of his lips,

“But enough about me,” he continued, shifting the focus back to her. “Tell me, how have you been coping with everything? I know the spotlight can be overwhelming, but you’ve always managed to handle it with...such grace.”

.

No matter how good of an actress she was, there were some emotions Eleanor could not withhold and hide behind that mask. She had tried, many a time, but those that were around her enough could see the difference. Her happy-go-lucky optimism wasn't up to par these days, but she had been trying for the past couple of years. The recent slew of events challenged her even more to keep a glimmer of hope.

"That is certainly the case. It's kind of sad. I hate having to watch over my shoulder just when I go to grab a bite to eat or run an errand. I can't imagine how others must feel; I don't even know that I have a target on my back. Unless you count some obsessive fans. Luckily I've yet to run into any of those since my return to the limelight."

The blonde's expression softened at Maksim's kindness. It was mostly due to Charlie, she was certain, but it still touched her heart. It didn't hurt to make a friend outside of her usual circle. "I promise. I definitely have my guard up, just in case. I hope you heed your own advice though." Her eyes met his gently. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you either."

She meant it.

A light chuckle erupted from the actress, and she nodded breezily. "Okay, okay. But sometime you have to let me get you back. And if Charlie tries to take out one of your eyes, he'll have to answer to me. It won't be pretty." Eleanor tried to put on her best intimidating face, but quickly broke from another laugh.

After returning the mimed toast, Eleanor sipped at the fragrant tea. "I'm glad you're holding up, but I wish things were easier." A small sigh trickled, but her lips curved back up to match his smile. "Well, I'm around if you ever need a pick-me-up. It definitely helps to keep in good company." While Eleanor sensed there was more to it than just a simple gloss over, she wasn't going to pry. "I've also been told I'm a great listener."

It was an offer.

Maksim's compliment brought forth a brighter grin from the blonde, and she ducked her gaze in a bout of modesty. "Thank you. I am trying to." Her mind trailed back to slapping Olivier at the post awards party and Eleanor grimaced. "Though I wouldn't say always. It’s good to know that I convey it, however.” 

Now fully relaxed, Eleanor twirled the straw around in her tea as she turned the attention back onto him. Their conversation were usually vague and work related, but she attempted to dive deeper. “So, anything exciting on the horizon? I’ve just begun filming a new series, so I’m hoping I might get some traveling out of it.”

[shotorozu]

encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Can I request Hanako (or Amane Yugi), Teru Minamoto, and Akane Aoi (the male) with a female s/o who is literally invisible to people. (This totally not based on events that actually happened to me-)

Like some people, even her close friends, won’t even notice she’s there and if she’s has to asks something she tends to repeat it or stutter. She also tends to get forgetting or lost on school trips, etc.

This has happened for as long as she could remember and she’s use to it by now but sometimes it still hurts when they forget her

Headcanons please!

hanako x f!reader, teru minamoto x f!reader, akane aoi x f!reader

a/n: sure thing!! I feel like Hanako would understand that as a ghost, so I think I’ll write for him in his ghosty form! I hope that’s alright :)) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope these turn out alright!!

I’m really sorry if these are shorter or poorer than normal, and if they’re formatted strangely- I’m doing my best to get requests done on my phone (´ε｀”)

warnings: none?

word count: 1,414

Hanako <3

He understands, he understands more than anyone- so he thinks. I mean, he’s a ghost. He literally cannot be seen by anyone who isn’t an exorcist, near death, a fellow supernatural, or bound to him in some way.

Still… honestly, he gets pretty defensive over you-

They can’t hear him, but you can. (They can’t hear you, but he certainly can.) It’s honestly somewhat humorous, Hanako standing behind you, shouting that they’d better listen up!!

“IF YOU GUYS MAKE (Y/N) REPEAT HERSELF ONE MORE TIME?? Are they deaf, (Y/N)?? I think they’re deaf?????”

His reactions like that are half-joking-half-serious. He’s genuinely upset that they treat you like that- but he hopes that all his ranting and going on helps you to feel better somehow?

He can’t exactly follow you on trips, but! He makes Yashiro “Honorary (Y/N) Defense”! Meaning, since he can’t, she’ll defend you in his place!

You get interrupted or ignored? Hanako tells Yashiro to help you out, and (though she would any way) she’s raising her hand somewhat shyly- explaining that you were trying to talk.

Getting left behind on a field trip? Yashiro is sticking by your side! She turns around constantly, making sure that you keep up with her, and especially making sure that you get on the bus with the rest! As per Hanako’s request, and her own care for you, she’ll let you sit next to her.

Hanako is always very talkative, but he’s still very patient with you- he loves to have conversations with you, which is a big reason he doesn’t get why they treat you like that. You’re such a great person-! You’ve got such a cute voice-!!! Why don’t they listen-?!!!

To be honest, he finds your stutter kind of cute… he’s quite bold, so you being timid is something he doesn’t mind! Hanako doesn’t mind listening out for you- even if the other people aren’t in a relationship for you, isn’t it… basic human decency?? What happened to that???

“It’s really alright, Hanako. Things like this have happened since I was little- it hurts sometimes, but I’m mostly used to it.”

Hanako would then grab your shoulders gently, looking in your eyes with some determination!

“You shouldn’t have to be used to that!! I’m used to it because I’m dead, but you’re… alive. You can be heard and seen by everyone, yet they choose to not listen- it’s… ridiculous. I’m sorry that you have to deal with that, (Y/N)... really.”

Uncharacteristically soft moment, but it simply hits different for him due to personal experience. I’m sure as a human, the only time people saw him were when he was bullied, and now he’s- obviously- not seen by nearly anyone. It’s such a lonely feeling, and he genuinely hates that you can relate to it.

Teru Minamoto <3

It’s hard to not garner attention as Teru Minamoto’s girlfriend- so, people certainly acknowledge you once your relationship is made public/becomes obvious.

But! Before the entire school knew about the Prince having a girlfriend, Teru was… quite defensive over you- even before the two of you were a couple, he’d notice the way others seemed to step all over you. Ignoring you, interrupting you, forgetting about you.

Like Hanako, he doesn’t get it? You’ve got his attention, how do you not have anyone else’s? You’re so cute… and really do have a lovely voice, appearance, and overall are really pleasant to be around?? If anything you deserve more praise than he does-

He also doesn’t get it due to the fact that people acknowledge him a little too much-

Anyway, he tends to give that praise he thinks you deserve to you!

Meaning, he brags on you so much. Compliments you to your face, telling you how nice it is to converse with you- telling his family how lovely of a person you are. He even mentions it to classmates, which does start to earn others being more noticeable of your presence.

Not afraid to stick up for you in the least!! Who wouldn’t listen to Teru?? The moment someone interrupts, he’s politely making his way into the conversation- offering an “I’m sorry, I don’t think (Y/N) got her chance to speak.”

“Th-That’s okay, Teru. I appreciate it, but I’m used to things like that,” You told him after class, slightly embarrassed.

“Used to things like being ignored?”

“Yeah..?”

“...you shouldn’t have to be. I’d never be upset with you, but it does upset me that people have been so willing to pretend you aren’t there? I think you’re lovely, and nearly impossible to ignore. It’s simply confusing, I suppose.”

BRO if he, for some reason, isn’t on the field trip and you get forgotten- it’s game over for the chaperones will get their heads chewed off. Except he’ll be calm and collected while doing so- however, on the inside, he can’t express how upset he is.

“Is it not your job to make sure all the students are accounted for? What if (Y/N) had gotten lost? Do you not realize she could have been kidnapped? Should some low-life had decided to try anything strange, the blame would have been on you, and therefore our entire school. What would that do for both your’s and the school’s reputation?”

If he’s on the trip? You won’t be getting forgotten <3 Even you were to get distracted for a moment, he’s grabbing your hand and making sure you stay caught up with the class. Sits with you on the bus, and makes absolutely sure that you’re safe and with him!!

Akane Aoi <3

He worships the very ground you walk on. We all know how he treated Aoi? Well, now that’s how he treats you- maybe a bit less exaggerated and dramatic, but all that love and more is there!

So, he’s admiring you, and sees that you keep opening your mouth in an attempt to speak- only to have someone interrupt you, not even acknowledging that you’re there??

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s up?”

“O-oh, I was just trying to ask them something…”

“Oi, you heard her. Shut up for a moment and let (Y/N) get her question in.”

Most are somewhat aware of how scary Akane can be, so they’ll certainly listen whenever he’s there. Heck, people occasionally keep an extra eye open if they know he’s around- making sure they don’t unintentionally look past you.

If you dislike his very direct method, he’ll try to be nicer to others about it. But, he can’t help but get defensive- like our other boys, he admires you so much, and enjoys talking with you so much, that- by this point- others are simply missing out?? Like, it’s basically their loss for treating you like that. And it’s his mission to shower you in love and admiration to a point where others do the same- platonically of course, and boys better rethink anything that isn’t strictly “wow (Y/N) is cool, it’s cool that she’s taken by Akane.”

Cos, as we all know, if someone even says “oh, (Y/N) probably makes a cute girlfriend” it’s game over. RIP unknowing student, he had no mercy bashing their skull in </3

“Akane, it’s really fine, you know? Things like this happen been happening since... forever. I’m just not easily noticed, I suppose. I’m used to it!”

“Hmm... well, get un-used to it. You’ve got the most beautiful presence and voice of anyone I know! And, I want the class- for everyone- to be able to acknowledge that. You shouldn’t have to repeat yourself constantly, nor be ignored like that. Not on my watch, at least.”

You won’t be getting forgotten. He’s ahead of Teru, ahahahaaaa!!! If he isn’t on the field trip, he’s telling someone who will be to keep an eye out for you “or else <3”. The person wouldn’t even bother to question it- just nod and keep an eye out for you constantly. They even offer to have you sit with them! How sweet! Glad to know they value their skulls!!

If he’s on the trip, like the others, he’s keeping an eye out for you constantly. He’ll hold your hand the entire time, stopping as you pleased, but keeping an eye out for the group. He wants you to see what you want, so you will- all while staying with the class, or at least close to the class. If he, for some reason, were to lose sight of the class, he takes comfort in the fact that you wouldn’t be lost alone.

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”