#spent three hours on the floor this morning cause I just couldn’t move

[ghostickle]

Have had health issues my whole life that make moving hard and it took till 21 for me to cave and just buy a cane

[mountttmase]

I Bet You Miss Her

Note - Hey guys 🩷 just a cute little baby fic today and thank you to the anon who sent the request in, I hope it’s okay for you 😘 feedback would be appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5K

Warnings - angst and fluff

Mason always loved a pre-season party, getting everyone together after weeks apart and excited for the season to start usually meant he was in his element but this year was different. You weren’t with him this time.

That didn’t mean he didn’t see you everywhere he looked. That when he watched one of his teammates wrap their arm around their significant other he didn’t feel a pang of emptiness because you weren’t by his side. He knew he should be there with you and he knew this was all his doing but being here hurt more than thought it might.

He felt lost. His arms limp by his sides as he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands now they weren’t wrapped around yours. His eyes glued to the floor as he knew he’d still be looking for you even though you were miles away and as he stood with Licha and his family he was trying his best to act normal and not let his inner turmoil spill over.

‘So Mase, where’s y/n?’ Muri asked, a bright and friendly smile on her face as she wrapped her hand around Licha’s bicep and the sound of your name sent shock waves through him. He’d been expecting it for a while but he wasn’t sure if he wanted your name brought up in conversation or not. On the one hand he was desperate for someone to bring you up so he could imagine you once more and have an excuse to talk about you but he also knew the memories would just be too painful just like they always were.

‘Oh uh, she’s on a work trip. She’ll be back in a few days’ Mason lied smoothly. His lips pressed into a tight line as he fiddled with the last button on his shirt but thankfully she bought his excuse.

‘Ah amazing, she doing so well for herself. I bet you miss her though’ she pouted and her sympathy just made him feel worse somehow.

‘Yeah, yeah I really do’ Masons whispered and it was like the words hit him in his soul. Gulping back a lump that was rising up his through far too quickly for his liking before raising his glass to his lips in a final attempt to disguise his emotions.

Today had been a lot.

It was officially three months since the breakup and Mason couldn’t have felt worse if he tried.

Nothing had caused the pair of you to break up, nothing big at least. The move from London to Manchester had been tough for the pair of you and you knew he was finding it hard to settle. The constant injuries meant he spent more time with the United staff rather than his teammates that he should have been bonding with and unbeknownst to you one of them was having more of an effect on him than you knew.

What started off as bickering as you were both on edge became bigger arguments as the season wore on. Mason spending longer hours with his new friend on the physio table and at first you didn’t mind because it gave you a chance to cool off but soon enough it got to the point of no return for him.

You always figured the fighting was a phase and something to move past but the morning of a big away game, his first start since October the year before, he’d told you he couldn’t carry on and felt it was best if the pair of you ended things there so it didn’t get any worse.

You were blindsided, it never being in your head that he would end things as you knew you loved him enough to work through it but as soon as he left for the game you packed your car until it was full and made your way back home to London later that evening.

It felt like he was taking the easy way out. Not giving you a chance to fight or say anything back, just telling you he was done and running away so he didn’t have to face the consequences but if that’s what he wanted then that’s what he would get. Driving back to your best friend's house who was ready to welcome you with open arms whilst you cursed his name all night. Confused as to how you’d even got here but you were hoping that when he returned home he’d feel just as awful as you were.

The game went terribly, Mason not really ready to play the amount of time he had been given and even though he wasn’t really to blame the loss hit harder than most. Not speaking a word to anyone unless he had to on the flight home and once he was back in his car he finally let his emotions get the better of him. Slamming his head onto the steering wheel before letting the first few tears fall.

This felt like rock bottom.

Mason knew you were gone as soon as he got home. Your car was gone and your house keys left in the dish on the console table told him as much when he walked in, but he could also feel you were gone. Your presence had been sucked right out of the home you’d built together and Mason felt awful instantly. He’d known since he stepped onto the plane yesterday morning that he’d made a mistake and all he wanted after an awful 12 hours or so was for you to make him feel better like you always did.

He tried every way known to man to try and get a hold of you but nothing seemed to be working. Even contemplating sending a messenger pigeon if he thought that might have worked but after five days of nothing from you he knew you were done. He’d made his bed and now he just had to lie in it no matter how uncomfortable it was.

In the end he figured he’d just wait for you to come to your senses and reply as you must be missing him just as much as he was missing you but the call never came. Just days that turned into weeks of waiting and waiting and soon enough the inevitable questions as to your whereabouts came.

Muri wasn't the first person to ask after you and she wasn’t the first to have been lied to by Mason. Everyone who mentioned you he managed to fob off with a different excuse and at this point you’d been on more girls trips and work trips than he could shake a stick at. He was running out of excuses though and he’d told his mum you’d been ill for so long that she was threatening to come and look after you herself but Mason always had it covered.

He was surprised he’d managed to get away with it for this long without someone coming back at him, thinking word must have gotten back to you eventually but no one ever questioned him and his spiral of lies just kept getting deeper. Too embarrassed to admit he’d let go of the best thing to ever happen to him so he kept going until the excuses no longer sounded plausible.

Where were you? Oh, yeah she’s at the dentist, she’s gone back home to visit her family for a few days, she’s already got plans she can’t cancel he lied but before he knew it he was paying for his sins.

It was 11pm a few days after the pre-season party and Mason was just about to get ready for bed. Switching his tv off and taking his snacks back to the kitchen but that’s as far as he got. The sudden sound of pounding fists on his door startled him and he froze in fear for a moment before he quickly pulled up the doorbell app on his phone. It was clearly a little slow to alert him to someone being outside but was met with a sight he thought he’d never see again.

He was running to open the door in a flash, pulling it open so quickly you almost fell inside as you were still aggressively slamming your fists on it and once you’d gathered yourself Mason swore he’d never seen you so mad before.

‘Why are you telling everyone we’re still together?’ You demanded, your voice loud and hard and he felt his tummy drop as the seconds went by. A deep feeling of regret but also love for you swimming through him and he didn’t quite know what to say.

‘Wha… what are you doing here?’ He asked, trying to avoid the question a little bit he knew it was for nothing. You were beyond furious.

‘Work trip, funnily enough’ you laughed but he knew there wasn’t an ounce of humour in it. Clearly word had gotten back to you and at this moment he didn’t know if he was happy about it or not. ‘Now answer my question’

‘I- I don’t know-‘

‘‘Keep my name out of your mouth, Mason. You broke up with me, remember? You don’t get to do this’ you cut him off, ready to turn around and leave as you had nothing else to say to him but as soon as you looked away his helpless voice ran through the air.

‘Baby please-‘

‘Don’t’ you snapped, holding your finger up so he would stop talking. Your voice now cold compared to what it just was and Mason realised in that moment he’d rather have you angry at him than whatever this was. ‘Just don’t. You don’t get to call me that’

‘Don’t go, I fucked up but we can fix this’ he pleaded but you didn’t come here to talk. You came to tell him to leave you alone and you weren’t prepared for this at all.

‘No we cant-‘

‘Baby please-‘

‘No Mason! Why are you doing this to me? Have you not put me through enough?’ You shouted as you turned back to him fully, your emotions getting the better of you as you tried and failed to hold in a sob and your hands were now balled up into fists as you were so frustrated with the boy in front of you. ‘I’m trying to move on with my life but I’ve got people asking me about you all the time and bringing you up cause you’re still living in some weird fantasy land!’

‘Please baby, please don’t cry I can fix it’ he whimpered as he moved closer to you but made sure to take a step back so he didn’t get too close.

‘There’s nothing to fix! We’re done!’

‘No we’re not. Don't say that okay, you’re mine’ he sobbed as he ran his fingers through his hair erratically. ‘What do you want from me, huh? What is it cause whatever it is I’ll do it now. You want me on my knees? You want me to beg for you back cause I don’t care I’ll do it’ he told you, lowering himself onto the ground in front of you but all it did was make you sob harder. ‘I don’t care that you hate me, I don’t care that you think we’re done. I love you and I'm not giving up on us ever when I know we can work this out’ he cried. ‘Why won’t you listen to me’

‘Because you’re a coward, Mase! You broke up with me before an away game so you could run away. You didnt fight for me then and you don't get to fight for me now’

‘Please’

‘No’ you told him, hoping that could be the end of it so you turned in your heel and ran away. Knowing that he’d be delayed by a few seconds if he wanted to get up and chase you but by the time you’d got in your car and looked back he hadn’t moved from his spot. His chest now pressed to the floor as he’d slumped forward with his head hidden in the crook of his arm and you could see his back moving erratically up and down from what you presumed was him crying.

There was something in you that made you stop, something that made you want to get out of your car and run back to him. To stand him up and hold him and tell him everything was fine and you were still his but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

That didn’t mean you didn’t think of him over the next few days. Hours spent in your friend's box room as you didn’t have the heart to find your own place yet but the sound of his voice and the memory of him being so heartbroken was etched into your brain and you couldn’t seem to move on from it.

You’d never seen him so distraught before in all the time you’d known him. On his knees in front of you begging for another chance and you’d just ran away and left him sobbing on his drive after pouring his heart out to you.

You hated the way he still occupied your thoughts. Before things had gone wrong you believed he was your forever and would have done absolutely anything for him but all that had changed and right now you didn’t think you could ever fully move past this unless you sat with him and spoke to him properly. No matter how much it hurt.

Mason was absentmindedly watching whatever was on tv when his phone alerted him to someone being outside. He didn’t hear a knock or anything moving outside so he quickly opened the app to put his mind at rest when he was met with your face. Your hand rising and falling as you thought about whether or not you should press the bell but Mason wasn’t about to give you a choice and shot up from the sofa to pull the front door open

You weren't expecting him to suddenly be there, a hopeful look on his face as he tried to control his breathing and you felt your heart leap at the sight of him.

‘You’re back’ he whispered, watching you wrap your arms around yourself as you looked down at the floor and all he wanted was to wrap you up in his own arms. To kiss you and promise you he’d never hurt you again as he hated how you looked so fragile and nervous but he was taking you being as a positive sign.

‘Yeah’ you breathed, nodding lightly. ‘I was just about to knock, I um… do you think… do you think I could come in?’

‘Of course you can’ he nodded, pulling the door open wider before shutting it behind you. Watching you glance around the house you used to call a home before you stood playing with your fingers. ‘Can I get you anything? You want a drink or-‘

‘No, I think it’s best we just talk and get this over with’ you told him. walking right by him to get to the sitting room and the familiarity of the place hit you immediately. Nothing had changed, he even still had the same pictures of the pair of you in the frames by the fireplace and you felt your tummy drop at the sight of them. They felt like they were from a different life at this point and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to be like that with anyone ever again.

Mason sighed before joining you, his shoulders slumped as he thought maybe you’d come here to listen to him and let him put things right but from just that small awkward interaction he knew you were done. He was just praying to anyone and anything he could change your mind somehow.

‘I’m sorry’ he mumbled as he took a seat opposite you but you weren’t here to listen to that again.

‘I don’t want an apology Mason, you’ve said that a million times now. I want an explanation’ you told him calmly. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing… and everything I guess’ he sighed, running his hand over his beard before scratching the back of his neck. All of his tells to let you know he was nervous. ‘Things were rough for a while, I think we both can agree on that’ he said and you nodded lightly. Things had been hard but never once had you thought about ending things with him. ‘It was just a hard year for me… and then were was Jason’

‘Jason?’ You asked, confused as to who he was talking about as the only Jason you knew was Mason's physio and he’d always been sweet to you when you’d seen him so you were confused as to why he was being bought up now.

‘Yeah, he’d been on at me for months about ending things with you’ he confessed and you felt your heart sink. ‘It's my fault, I saw him most days and we got pretty comfortable around each other so I said some things that looking back now I shouldn’t have. It was just guy talk you know? I didn’t mean anything by it at first, we were just moaning about our other halves but then he broke up with his girlfriend and he was going on about how much lighter felt now he was single and maybe I should do the same so we could be single together’

‘What?’ You breathed. Not knowing if this was a joke or not but you knew Mason and you knew he was open to everyone so it was no wonder he took advice from some he thought he could trust.

‘I know, and I know it doesn't make me sound any better. I get that. But we were arguing over stupid things and I had him in my ear constantly like I just lost it’

You didn’t know what to say. You understood a bit better now but it still didn’t make things easier.

‘But I knew it was dumb, maybe in the back of my mind that’s why I did it when I did cause you’re right. I was a coward and I wanted to run away but I knew It’s not what I wanted as soon as I got on the bloody plane to leave. I didn’t get chance to talk to you or do anything until later that night and I tried to call you but I never heard from you’

‘You didn’t even really give me a chance to fight for us. You told me what you wanted and left as quickly as you could. I didn’t exactly feel like giving you a chance to explain anything after that’ you told him quietly and he nodded knowingly. His face crumpling as he tried and failed to hold it together and you couldn’t lie and say the way he was wasn’t having an effect on you and his watery eyes were like a dagger to your heart.

‘I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve never stopped loving you’ he sobbed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye so he could stop crying but it only made your eyes sting in return. ‘That day when I finished things, well I didn’t just hurt you. It's like I tore my own heart from my chest and I’ve never been able to numb that ache. Why do you think I lied and told everyone we were still together?’

‘Cause you’re certifiably insane’ you whispered. Your heart leaping at the way he let out a little chuckle as he wiped his eyes and when your eyes locked you felt your resolve crumble further.

‘Well yes, there’s that, but I couldn’t admit what I’d done to anyone cause I was embarrassed’ he gulped. ‘And I didn’t want to admit it to myself half the time. You’re way too good for me, I know that. Fuck everyone knows that so why would I want to tell everyone I’d thrown away the best thing to have ever happened to me. I know exactly what they’d say and how dumb I felt even just thinking it to myself so I made out you were just busy or something’ he shrugged. His confession melting your cold exterior slightly before he was scratching the back off his neck again. The cogs turning in his brain as he tried to make you believe in whatever way he could.

‘Mums been asking after you loads, I kept saying you were sick or had an appointment. She even sent me those special immunity tea bags to give you like they’re in the cupboard and everything’ he laughed and you felt your heart warm at how kind his family were. You’d missed going to visit them but didn’t want to reach out and have things be weird but now you were glad you hadn’t as clearly they were none the wiser

‘Does she know now?’ You whispered but he just shook his head awkwardly. The bridge of his nose turning a bright red out of embarrassment but your heart was hammering as you always found that to be one of his cutest tells and it was like you had to restrain yourself in your seat so you didn’t reach over to grab his face and kiss him.

‘No, she still thinks we’re together. I'd actually like to keep it that way’ he told you and even though you knew it was coming you weren’t ready to accept what he wanted to say. At least you didn’t think you were.

‘Mason-‘

‘Please’ he pleaded. His big brown eyes melting you even further and even though you promised yourself you’d be strong he was making it difficult. ‘Please, y/n. I said it the other night and I’ll say it again. I really would do anything for another chance and I’ll get down on my knees again if you want me to’ he told you and the tiny smile on your face must have given him the courage to push forward a little bit. Sliding off the sofa before getting himself settled between your thighs and resting his hands on them gingerly. You felt your heart thump as he looked up at you through his lashes and you knew you were putty in his hands at this point no matter how much you didn’t want to be.

‘I’m the biggest idiot known to mankind and I let you go when I should have held you closer. I know I can make you so happy, we were happy once were we?’

‘Yeah, we were’ you agreed quietly cause deep down you knew you really were and you knew I wouldn’t take much to get back there.

‘So we can do it again, right?’

‘I don’t know Mase’

‘Why? What’s holding you back?’ He questioned and at this point you didn’t even know. Only a few seconds away from just agreeing with anything he said as the hopeful look on his face was destroying you but you knew you had more to say.

‘Cause it hurt’ you whispered. ‘I hurt when you left me, it still hurts now’

‘It hurts because it matters’ he whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear and the gesture made you shiver. ‘And it matters because we still love each other. If you didn’t care anymore then it wouldn’t hurt’ he told you and you hated but loved the way he had you on strings. ‘Please baby, please. I can’t be without you anymore it’s killing me’ he told you, his voice wobbling as he looked down into your lap.

You couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to cup his jaw so he’d look at you and the tears rolling down his cheeks broke your heart. You knew he was right, it hurt because you still loved him but looking at him so devastated between your legs hurt more than anything else.

All you wanted to do was make him feel better and you knew there was only one way to do it. Leaning down and pulling him up slightly so you could drop a sweat kiss to his lips and you knew he was surprised as he froze for a beat.

You both sat there for a few moments, foreheads touching with your eyes closed as it hit you what was happening but the smile on his face made you giddy so when he lent back in you let him take the lead. Kissing you gently as he gripped your thighs, almost making sure that you were actually there and he wasn’t dreaming but you were holding onto him just as tightly before pulling back to catch your breath.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever get to kiss you again’ Mason whispered but you couldn’t reply, Mason pulling you down onto the floor next to him before rolling himself half on top of you so he could kiss you again but the pair of you giggling didn’t help. ‘Is this really happening?’

‘Trust me when I say this, but I came over here with the intention of just putting things to bed and going back home’ you told him. Watching his face drop as things turned sombre. ‘But you’ve just made me realise I am home’ you told him, watching him pout slightly as he was so emotional. ‘I’ve been lost without you Masey, and yeah what you did sucked but I know you’re sorry yeah? I can see it all over your face’

‘I really am’

‘I know you are, and it’s okay. I forgive you’ you whispered and it’s like you felt his body relax under your fingertips.

‘Are you sure? I feel like I haven’t said half of what I wanted to’ he gulped, almost as if he couldn’t believe you’d forgiven him so quickly but you didn’t see the point of prolonging everything.

‘That’s okay’ you whispered. ‘You’ve said enough for me, life isn’t always about big apologies you know? I’d rather you make up for things with actions not words’

‘And I will’ he confirmed before leaning down to kiss you again. You tummy flipping at how gentle he was being with you and even before things had turned sour you couldn’t remember the last time you kissed like this. The last time he made you feel like this but you knew the feelings had never died, other stupid things had just gotten in the way.

You pulled back soon after, the pair of you just looking at each other in awe as you shared tiny kisses and soft stares before you felt his hand on your waist. You’d missed his touch and the feel of him made you wonder what else you’d missed in your months apart.

‘You won the fa cup’ you giggled, your eyes burning again as you thought back to the pictures of him looking so happy with his team mates. A nice end to a hard year he’d suffered and even though you’d been mad at him you knew how much it meant for him to win a domestic trophy and you couldn’t not be pleased for him.

‘I did yeah’ he laughed, tears springing to his eyes once more. ‘And we didn’t get to celebrate it together’

‘We’ve got time to, it’ll just be a little late that’s all’ you shrugged and he nodded down at you enthusiastically.

‘We do’ he breathed. Kissing your forehead before cradling your face so he could look at you properly. ‘And you’re going on work trips?’

‘Yeah, a week or two after I went home I got promoted’ you smiled, rolling your eyes lightly as the pair of you knew it was something you’d been working towards but in your mind it was still a little way down the line.

‘I’m so fucking proud of you’ he told you sincerely, pecking your lips quickly before looking at you again and the smile on his face melted you. ‘Looks like we’ve got a fair few things to celebrate then’

‘I think so, and you know how I like to celebrate’

‘Chocolate cake?’ He questioned, an eyebrow raised but he knew he was right. It was always your little tradition and how you celebrated the small wins.

‘Chocolate cake’ you confirmed with a smile and his bright eyes made you melt.

‘I’m gonna get you the best chocolate cake I can find, yeah. Only the best for my girl’ he smiled before his face dropped a fraction. ‘You’re still my girl aren’t you?’

‘I’m still your girl’ you told him, stroking his cheek as he looked at you softly. ‘Even though I was mad as hell I was always your girl Mase. And I always will be’

‘You and me against the world, sweetheart’

‘Of course, but I have a condition’ you told him, watching him raise his brow at you questioningly. ‘If you get upset again, please talk to me so we can work it out’

‘I will baby, I promise’ he told you sincerely and you knew he meant it. ‘I don’t ever want to be without you again, yeah? I fucking hated it’

‘Me too’ you laughed, pulling him down into a soft kiss that you couldn’t help but smile into as you felt him melt. ‘Now what’s happening with that chocolate cake’

‘Come on, we’ll get it together. Not letting you out of my sight now’ he told you, helping you up from the floor so you could make your way to the car, your heart finally home with your forever person.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed if you feel like leaving some feedback it would be much appreciated 🩷

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter One

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6k

A/N : This is a little something I've been toying with for a while. It's only going to be a short thing (3 parts) over the next few weeks. There's no upload schedule but it'll probably be posting on Fridays anyway 😅 Also I've been ill all week so that's my excuse for typos

Master List

Chapter One

“Remind me why I hired you?”

His voice was a cold snap that caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Even on his birthday, your boss was an asshole.

Your hands trembled as you tried to restack the files that you’d clumsily manage to drop all over his office floor. The contents of the files had spilled out and you already knew that it was going to take you hours to make sure the correct paperwork ended up back where it was supposed to be.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he added a moment later. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because your other assistants keep quitting,” you muttered under your breath.

It was humiliating, scrabbling around on his office floor, the carpet scrapping your bare knees as you tried to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

“What was that?” He asked.

It was reasonable to guess that he hadn’t heard you - you were certain he would have been a lot angrier if he’d heard you. Still, you hated yourself for letting it slip out. As much as you hated the way your boss treated you, the pay was good. Too good to quit.

“I said I’m sorry Mr Russo,” you answered softly, managing to grab the last of the files and get back to your feet. “I’ll get these sorted and have them on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying late.”

“What?” The word spilled from your lips before you had the chance to stop it.

“Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than fixing your fuck up and doing the job I pay you to do?” Mr Russo asked.

As a matter of fact, you did have somewhere else to be and something that was more important than fixing the potential Anvil candidate files that you’d managed to dump all over his office floor, but you couldn’t tell him that.  

There was only one person who knew how you spent your nights, and it certainly wasn’t your boss. No, if Billy Russo knew where you went after your days at Anvil, he’d see to it that he had your resignation in his hand by the end of the day. And you were sure the same could be said of your night job.

“No, Mr Russo,” you answered, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”

“Good answer,” he said as he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He moved towards his office door, stepping past you as if you were just another piece of furniture, a spare chair in the way. “And don’t even think about leaving that unfinished. I’ll be in at 5am so you’re not going to have the opportunity to sneak in early tomorrow to finish up.”

He didn’t even wait for a half-hearted ‘yes, Mr Russo’ before leaving for the day.

You glanced at your watch, doing the maths in your head; you should have been finishing in ten minutes time, at five o’clock, which would have given you three hours to get home, eat, and then get across town to work your night job.

The Red Ribbon was New York's most exclusive gentlemen's club - though to call it a gentlemen’s club was somewhat outdated as, these days, it catered to the needs and desires of wealthy clientele regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation. But, it had been considered a gentlemen’s club since the 1950s, and the verbiage was surprisingly hard to shake. 

The club offered something that few similar establishments did; total anonymity for both guests and workers. There were no cameras in The Red Ribbon, no phones or recording devices were allowed. And everyone wore masks. The only way to tell the staff from the clientele were the red ribbons worn about their necks.

You’d been working at The Red Ribbon for the last six months. At the start you’d tended bar, not wanting to get too hands-on with the customers - not because you had any strong feelings or moral objections about those that did, but mostly because you didn’t think you’d be any good at it. You’d never been the sort to consider yourself graceful, much less sexy, but you could make a mean espresso martini and you were great with pointless smalltalk. 

The money was good, but it wasn’t good enough, not when you had debts and financial obligations. 

At The Red Ribbon, the hosts made the most money, each getting assigned to one of the private rooms and being tasked with taking care of the customers' needs for the whole night. It was ultimately up to the host what taking care of the customer entailed though boundaries were firmly established before the host set foot in the private room. Every host had their own limits, some were happy to touch and be touched, some took it further still, and others preferred a hands-off approach.

If there was one thing The Red Ribbon was known for beyond the total anonymity it offered, it was the level of security. Everyone who set foot through the doors knew better than to cause trouble or push the boundaries of any member of staff.

You’d made the switch from bartender to host slowly, filling in whenever someone was out sick or when you needed a little extra money. You were slow to warm to it but, to your surprise, you found that you actually enjoyed it. Though you stayed firmly in the no touching or being touched camp, the tips you made in one night were still more than you made over a whole week tending bar.

But, when that money still wasn’t enough to cover your debts, you took a day job.

And that was how you’d ended up spending an evening hunched over a desk at Anvil, trying desperately to match paperwork with the correct file for a boss who’d made it pretty clear that he didn't like you and thought you were too inept for your job.

By the time you were done, you barely had the chance to make it home and shower and, instead of eating a proper meal, you ate a Snickers bar on the subway.

The Red Ribbon had a special entrance for staff that used old prohibition tunnels and a hidden elevator to get you into the building and up to the top floor. 

New York was stunning from fifty floors up and, some nights, you’d find yourself in the locker room just staring out at the skyline as you changed into your uniform. But tonight you didn’t have the luxury of time.

You stood in front of the schedule, checking which room you were in and which mask you’d be wearing. While bar staff and servers all wore the same elegant black and red masks  to obscure their faces, hosts wore individual masks that corresponded with the room they’d be working. Tonight you were in the rabbit room, so you plucked the ornate rabbit mask from its hook on the wall.

Of all the masks, the rabbit had always been your favourite because of the detailing on the ears and the way it just sat right on your face.

You always got such a rush from pulling a mask on and heading out into the club. Under any other circumstance the thought of walking around in a revealing black bodysuit would have been embarrassing, but once you had your mask on, you felt almost powerful, like a superhero with a secret identity. With the mask, you weren’t you, you were whatever part you were playing and tonight you were Bunny, and Bunny could be whoever you wanted her to be.

The last part of your uniform was the red ribbon that you tied around your neck, the very thing that distinguished staff from customers, and gave the club its name.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror, making sure that you looked ready to handle whatever the night had to throw at you, before finally stepping out into the main area of the club.

Once you passed the threshold, everything about you changed; you held your head high and walked through the club like you owned the place. Here you weren’t the quiet little PA who had to keep her mouth shut in case her boss decided to fire her. Here you called the shots.

The spring in your step became even more noticeable as you climbed the stairs and headed onto the walkway that led to the private rooms, each situated above the dancefloor with views of the whole club. 

“Hey, lil Bunny,” an all too familiar face said.

You grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Rocky, one of the club's security guards, a man, who in any other circumstances would terrify you.  He was a huge behemoth of a man, truly deserving of the title Built Like a Brick Shit-House. To the patrons, he was the one they didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but to you and the rest of the staff, he was safety incarnate.

“Hey, Rocky,” you said, bumping fists with him as you came to a stop in front of him.

He’d taken something of a shine to you on your first night at The Red Ribbon - he later told you it was because you reminded him of his sister who’d died only a few years before. Since then he’d always kept a close eye on you.

After bumping fists, you kept your arm outstretched so he could fit your security bracelet for the night; a very ornate looking panic button that you could use discreetly if you needed Rocky to deal with a problem customer. 

“You let me know if you need anything,” he said softly but seriously.

And, with that, you were on your way again, slipping into the rabbit room with a few minutes to spare before your guest arrived. You did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was tidy before turning on the music and checking the bar and, finally, you lowered the lights.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men were shown into the room, each wearing plain black masks that covered the top half of their faces, and each dressed to the club's high standards. Though, just from looking at them you could tell that some were more comfortable in suits than others.

“Welcome to The Red Ribbon, I’m Bunny and I’ll be your host for the evening and I’ll be running the bar for you, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get you your first round,” you announced and, with a flourish of your hand, you waved them towards the sofas.

You took drink orders and made a point of saying a little personal hello to each of them, knowing that it’d help win you tips by the end of the night.

As far as groups went, they seemed decent enough, not exactly what you’d call reserved by any stretch, but they seemed to be happy to talk amongst themselves while you tended bar, not expecting anything more of you.

After about half an hour, one of them broke away from the group and headed towards the bar. You couldn’t help but watch him, taking in the perfect way that his suit fit his tall, slender frame. 

He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and flashed you the sort of smile that you were sure had panties dropping all across the five boroughs on a regular basis.

“What can I get you?” You asked.

“Another scotch would be great.”

“Sure thing.”

You were acutely aware of the way his eyes followed your every movement as you  grabbed a bottle and fresh glass with ice. Your skin felt like it was tingling under his gaze - he wasn’t leering, it felt more like he was appreciating. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

For a second you wondered if it was a line - it certainly sounded like a line - but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you think he was actually being serious.

“What makes you say that?” You asked in your playful voice, deciding to indulge him.

“I’d remember seeing you.”

He wasn’t shy about drinking in the sight of you. At any other time you might have felt disgusted, but it was part of the job and you probably would have been more offended if he  wasn’t checking you out.

“Hmm, and what exactly is it you think you’d remember?” You retorted playfully.

He grinned at that, a laugh rumbling in his chest. And his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

“I’m not sure it’d be considered polite if I was to get... anatomical,” he joked.

“It’s my ass, isn’t it?” You offered offhandedly, breaking any tension or sense of shame.

His grin grew wider, though there was a hint of surprise on his face too, like he hadn’t quite expected you to be so forward.

“Now that you mention it, you do have a very nice ass,” he agreed, “in fact that whole thigh-ass area is perfection.”

You could feel warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, and you were glad of the low lights and the mask on your face. While you were used to comments on your body and what men wanted to do with you while working, there was something different about this. This felt like flirting. Honest to god flirting. And it had been a long time since anyone had tried to flirt with you.

Out in the real world, his comment would have turned you into a shy mess, but behind the bunny mask... well, let’s just say that Bunny wanted to play.

“Oh, a thigh man as well?” 

“I’m a man of refined tastes,” he shrugged.

His grin had you wishing you could see the rest of his face. You were already trying to picture what he might look like behind the mask but you were certain that your imagination was not doing it justice.

“And what else does that taste extend to?” You asked, leaning across the bar a little more as you slid his drink towards him.

His fingers briefly covered yours - rougher than you’d expected - before you slowly pulled your hand away. For a split second, you felt your breath catch, and there was a flicker of something on his face that made you think he’d felt it too, that moment of electricity when you’d touched.

“Are we still talking anatomically? Because I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your tits for the last five minutes.”

Again, it wasn’t the sort of comment you’d put up with in any other situation but, then and there, in a place where you held all the power, you liked hearing it. The fact that he’d been allowed into The Red Ribbon meant that he was someone, that he was rich and powerful, so for poor, boring you to be the object of his desires gave a thrill like no other.

You let slip another laugh, propping yourself against the bar with a hand beneath your chin, eyes fixed on Mr Tall, Dark and Playful.

“Only the last five minutes?” You said, almost sounding distraught.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Bunny,” he remarked, leaning towards you as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip.

“I get the feeling that you like trouble.”

“You have no idea...”

It would have been a lie to say that the temptation to carry on the flirtatious conversation wasn’t increasing with every passing second; it was fun, you were actually enjoying it rather than just being subjected to it. But he wasn’t the only person in the room who wanted your attention and you had a job to do. 

“Looks like your friends want some attention too,” you said, nodding your head towards the group of men still sitting at the table. One of them was waving you over, obviously in desperate need of another drink.

“Animals, the lot of them,” he said, almost fondly. “I should have known they had selfish reasons for bringing me here on my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” You asked and received a nod in response, before shaking your head and muttering; “another Sagittarius...”

“Another?” 

You looked at him, almost embarrassed that you’d let it slip out and that you’d blurred the line between your real life and Bunny.

“Just a guy I know,” you shrugged.

“He break your heart or something? Need me and the guys to pay him a visit?” He offered playfully.

Another laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but think about how strange it felt to be able to genuinely laugh with one of the customers. After months of perfecting your customer service laugh, you’d never expected to find yourself actually laughing at some off-handed comment. Especially when the comment was about a stranger going to beat the shit out of your boss for being mean to you.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

“I’ll bet you can, Bunny.”

“Well,” you said, definitively, changing the subject and taking your thoughts away from your terrible day-boss, “happy birthday. I think you deserve something fancy to drink.”

He grinned as you turned away to fish a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and grab enough glasses for him and his friends.

“This place is really somethin’ else,” a second voice said. “I know you said the girls were pretty but... holy shit.”

Tall, Dark and Playful gave a laugh.

“Prettiest girls in New York are all right here,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

“Careful boys, my ears are burning,” you joked as you turned back to them.

“It's a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation wherever she goes,” he said.

“Didn't expect to hear anyone quoting Dorian Gray tonight,” you answered back, amused.

He looked almost surprised by the comment, his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve read Dorian Gray?” He asked. “You like to read?”

“Does that surprise you?” You asked, your mask hiding the way your eyebrow rose. “Do you not think girls like me can read the classics?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s -” he glanced at his friend beside him, then to the group sitting at the table. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but from some of the hand gestures being made, you could guess that it was something filthy, “- it’s just that I'm not used to being around people who can actually read.”

He got a rough punch in the arm from the guy beside him for that, and you started to laugh again. 

They continued to talk while you popped the champagne and started to fill glasses for the whole party. You placed one in front of the birthday boy, and one in front of his friend, before loading up a tray and taking the rest to the party at the table.

“Champagne to toast the birthday boy,” you said with a cheeky smile, earning a round of cheers from the men.

When you returned to the bar, Tall and Dark’s friend passed you, heading back to the group, leaving the birthday boy all alone.

“Not gonna drink with your friends?” You asked.

It was hard not to feel curious - it was part of the job, the masks, the hidden identities, there were always so many unanswered questions.

“I’ve never been one for birthdays,” he answered with a shrug, but still shot you a smile before lifting his champagne flute to his lips.

“Hmm so the mysterious, handsome stranger has a tragic backstory,” you said playfully.

“I don’t know if I’d call it tragic,” he said, his shoulder ticking upwards uncomfortably.

“Should I ask?”

Probably not, you thought. But some part of you wanted to know, wanted to prod and poke until you had him all figured out.

“My mother abandoned me a few hours after I was born,” he stated flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

You didn’t expect him to laugh when he looked at you again, his head shaking. “Don’t look so shocked, it was a long time ago and I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I just -” the confidence of Bunny slipped for a moment, leaving only you; the clumsy girl with a heart that often felt far too big, “- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve joked...”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it. Besides, the way I figure it, she did me a favour. You want soft kids, coddle them and treat them well.”

“Wouldn't know anything about that,” you said with a wry smile. “My parents definitely didn't coddle us.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That all I'm getting?” He asked, smiling that playful smile again.

“Getting personal defeats the point of the masks, don't you think?” You retorted, leaning to top up his drink.

“I suppose,” he answered, pausing for a beat before continuing, “I guess you could tell me anything and I'd have to take your word for it.”

“You don't strike me as the sort of man who's trusting enough to do something like that.”

It was something you could see in his eyes, the way they took you in and watched every little flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“Then why don't we play a game?” He offered. “We each get to ask a question, and you get to call the other out if you think they’re lying. And if I catch you in a lie, you have to tell me something true.”

Your eyes narrowed a little, trying to get a measure of him. Normally you were reasonably good at reading people - though maybe a lot of that came from working various PA and secretarial positions, needing to be able to anticipate your boss’ shitty moods.

“Okay, you’re on,” you agreed, “but a few ground rules; you’re not allowed to ask about who I am or anything that might identify me.”

“Sounds fair.” He lifted his champagne and took a slow drink but his eyes never left you. “What are you most afraid of?”

That caught you off guard. It was more serious than you’d anticipated.

“You could ask me almost anything, but that’s what you want to know?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they’re scared of,” he said, shrugging.

You took a second to consider your answer.

“Jellyfish.”

“Really, Bunny, you’re gonna lie right outta the gate?” 

“Okay, fine,” you said with a huff, hating that he’d caught you out already. “I guess I’m most scared of dying alone, but jellyfish are a close second.”

“You think you’re gonna die alone?” He asked.

There was something in his voice that seemed to suggest he didn’t get it, or maybe it was that he thought it would never happen. Little did he know that you - the real you - didn’t exactly have the best luck with men.

“That’s two questions. Don’t I get a turn?” You asked, deciding to dodge his question.

Tall and Dark relented and gave a wave of his hand.

“What do you hate most about New York?” 

“Hate?” He repeated.

“Everyone always loves the same things about the city, but most people hate something different,” you explained.

You watched him closely as he considered his answer, looking for anything that might tell you if he was about to lie to you.

“The subway. It stinks of piss and there’s always too many people.”

You had to give him that one for obvious reasons, though he didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who used the subway all that often.

“When was the last time you used the subway?”

“That’s two questions, Bunny,” he chided playfully.

“Fine. Your turn.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“What? You think that this wasn’t my career goal?” You said, barely holding back a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of phases; I wanted to be a vet until I lost my first hamster, wanted to be a doctor until my brother broke his arm, and I wanted to be a lawyer but I have a conscience...”

The birthday boy laughed with you, smiling at you, obviously happy enough with your answer because he didn’t call you out, making it your turn again.

“What’s your favourite place in New York?” You asked.

“Right here,” he said. “Right now. With you.”

“Yikes, what a line,” you said, smirking at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Normally I don’t need lines.”

“No?”

“People - women - usually make their minds up about me pretty quickly, and it’s rarely because of anything I have to say,” he explained.

You watched as he lifted his glass and drained his drink. Without needing to be asked, you refilled his glass. There was a pang of sadness in you, for him, for what he obviously had to go through.

“You must be pretty rich then,” you said, managing to keep the playful tone.

“Oh filthy rich,” he confirmed.

“Emphasis on the filthy part.”

He smirked at that.

The longer the conversation went on, the stranger it felt; it didn’t feel like work anymore, and you almost wished that it wasn’t. But moments like this didn’t happen to you out in the real world. He probably wouldn’t even look at you twice if he saw you in the light of day.

“Anyway, I call bullshit. There must be somewhere you like better than here, even if you are enjoying my company,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded with an almost rueful smile, “there’s a baseball field in Brooklyn. I used to go there when I was a kid to watch other kids play...”

There was more to it, even you could tell that much, but it seemed personal - far more personal than you were prepared to get with him.

“You like baseball?”

“Liked,” he said, correcting you and adding another layer of uncertainty. “And that’s two questions.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to playing games when I’m tending bar,” you said, topping up his glass again before glancing towards his friends. “And, on that note...”

Again, you felt his eyes on you as you moved around the bar and headed to his friends, checking that everyone was having a good time and taking orders for fresh drinks.

“Think you’ve made the birthday boy’s night,” one of them said.

“Yeah, normally he slips out of his birthday parties after the first hour,” another commented, and they all laughed.

And, as you made your way back towards the bar (towards him), you couldn’t help but wonder what his birthdays were usually like.

“Hope they weren’t giving you any trouble,” he said as you slipped behind the bar and put the empty glasses you’d gathered to the side so you could start getting fresh drinks.

“No, you’ve all been perfect gentlemen,” you said, smiling at him, your face obviously showing some degree of relief because he quickly commented on it.

“Are there times when guys aren’t gentlemen?” He asked.

There was something in his tone, a hint of - what? - protectiveness, or anger maybe. 

“Sometimes, but that’s what Rocky is for,” you said, nodding your head towards the door.

“The big guy?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t fancy my chances with him.”

Filling a tray with the fresh drinks, you went back to the table and passed them around before heading back to him again, taking up the spot on the opposite side of the bar from him, leaning your elbow on the bartop.

“So,” you said, almost decidedly, “want to tell me why you’re spending your birthday night out talking to me and not with your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a split second.

“I thought it was my turn.”

“It is,” you conceded, “if you want to keep playing, but I think you might enjoy your birthday more if you spent it with friends.”

“We could be friends.”

“Friends don’t check out each other's asses, handsome.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking out my ass?” He said as a grin tugged at his lips.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “Something about men in well tailored pants drives me wild.”

The birthday boy let out another laugh, and it was such a happy sound that he drew glances from his friends, all of them wondering just what it was you’d said to manage to get a response like that from him.

He grabbed his glass and got to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Bunny,” he said before heading towards his friends.

Over the rest of the night, you found yourself watching him, always coming up with a teasing or playful remark whenever you went across to get them fresh drinks (oh, you wanted a drink, I just thought you wanted to stare at my ass again and I know how much you enjoy watching me walk away).

And he watched you, too.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps under his attention and you quickly came to love the sensation. Never in all your time working at The Red Ribbon had you felt such a connection with a guest, and you probably never would again.

So, when they all finally stood to leave, you felt a pang of regret - you shouldn’t have sent him back to his friends, you should have kept him with you so you could talk more.

Each of the guys said their thanks, each dropping bills into the tip jar by the door on their way out.

One of them stopped and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. I dunno what you said to him but I ain’t seen him like this in a long time.”

Your heart stuttered, not sure what it was you could have done to inspire such a change in a man you didn’t even know.

You noticed him linger as the door swung shut behind the last of his friends and, at any other time, that would be cause for concern but something told you that you weren’t in danger. Not from him. 

“Something else I can help you with?” You asked, as playful as ever.

“Plenty,” he said, his smile dropping a little. “But everything I want would break the rules, and the last thing I want is to get banned when there’s a chance I might see you again.”

It was sweet how oddly accepting he was of how things were, how they had to be. It made it harder to watch him walk away knowing that you might not see him again. You’d never felt such an instant connection with a stranger before, especially not a stranger who’d seen this side of you, a stranger who knew what you did for a living and didn’t judge you for it.

Against your better judgement, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly. You lingered close, watching the way the corner of his lip ticked upwards and heard the slightest catch of his breath.

“Well, here’s hoping you can tell who I am the next time you see me,” you offered in little more than a whisper.

Slowly, cautiously, his hand lifted to your face and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was the barest of touches, so light that he might not have even touched you at all, but you felt a warmth spread across your skin nonetheless.

“I’ll know, Bunny,” he said with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna find you again.”

“Promises, promises,” you joked, wanting to keep the mood light, knowing that the odds of seeing him again were small. And, with that thought, you found yourself leaning forward again, this time pressing your lips to his for the briefest of seconds. “Something to remember me by.”

Then you stepped back, creating space between your body and his, a silent signifier that the night was over.

“I will find you,” he said again. “I always get what I want, Bunny, one way or another.”

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said, avoiding answering his comment.

He gave you one last look, drinking in the sight of you from head to toe, and you felt your whole body warm in response. Then he left, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the promise that you’d see him again. 

It should have worried you; the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d been looking, and the fact that he wanted to find you again. But it didn’t. Instead of worry, all you felt was want, even if you knew that the man behind the mask might be someone completely different. Even if you knew the man behind the mask probably wouldn’t be interested in who you were when you weren’t playing Bunny.

Later that night as you laid in bed, your vibrator between your thighs and his dark eyes in your mind, you wondered what he was doing. Your eyes closed tight, picturing him standing over you, watching as you fucked yourself. He’d smile that playful smile down at you and slowly grip his cock - and, fuck, his cock was probably as perfect as the rest of him.

You longed to know what he looked like beneath the mask and beneath the expensive clothes.

You wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by him, for him to kiss you and hold you. For him to fuck you.

No matter what you imagined as you slid the vibrator in and out your body, your thoughts continued to return to one thing; his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, wanted to make him laugh and see them sparkle. You wanted to see them darken with need as he fucked you and took what he wanted from you.

I always get what I want, he’d told you. And he wanted you.

A loud moan tore from your lips as you came, your whole body shivering with pleasure at the thought of this strange and alluring man getting what he wanted from you.

Then, with a heavy sigh, you sank back on your bed and curled up, the usual feelings of insecurity quickly filling you again.

He’d probably forget all about you; everything he’d said had probably just been to try and get something more than you’d been prepared to give. He’d probably already forgotten you...

Little did you know that, across town, Billy Russo was fisting his cock to thoughts of you without knowing it was you he was thinking of, his hand stroking up and down his length as he stood in the shower. He jerked off to thoughts of your body, your laugh, your smile. He pictured all the ways that he wanted you, his Bunny, all the things he wanted to do.

Your plump and pretty lips would look good wrapped around his cock, and your plush thighs would no doubt feel amazing wrapped around his head as he feasted on your cunt. 

He licked his lips for what must have been the hundredth time since you kissed him and was, yet again, disappointed that there was no lingering taste of you.

As he came, he knew that he had to have you. He would find you again, and he would make you his if it was the last thing he did.

A/N : I feel weird when I don't post on a Friday, so here's a new thing 😅 like I said at the start, this will just be a short, sweet thing (3 parts and done), but hopefully it'll be a lot of fun and a little bit more playful/light-hearted compared to Love, Sick Love. (And I promise no cliffhanger ending to this one 😅) If you've played TellTale's The Wolf Among Us, that's where I got the ribbon idea from (well that and that old ghost story... but no ones head is going to fall off in this, I promise).

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged. I'm not going to full commit to posting every Friday for this because I work in retail and, as you can imagine, it's hectic at the moment, but I want to try and post at least once a week since this is only going to be a short story.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Also I can't remember if anyone else asked to be tagged in all future Billy stories, if I've missed you please shout at me.

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx

[lvnleah]

— first christmas together | leah williamson 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

Your apartment was far from perfect. The paint on the walls was uneven, evidence of your attempts to “save money” by doing it yourselves, and the living room was still half-empty, a mismatched collection of furniture scavenged from secondhand shops and Leah’s old apartment. But it was yours—and for the first time, it felt like home.

You’d spent the morning unpacking the last of the boxes, not out of any real sense of urgency, but because Leah had insisted you couldn’t decorate for Christmas until everything was in its place. She was still holding onto the illusion of order, even as you both knew it was a lost cause.

It was your and Leah’s first Christmas together in your own apartment. You’d been together for just over a year now and finally sold both of your apartments to move in together. The move-in day just happened to be two weeks before Christmas. 

By the time the tree arrived—a slightly too-tall one you’d bought from the lot down the road—it was already dark outside. Leah dragged it up the three flights of stairs with dramatic sighs and muttered complaints, though she refused to let you help. 

“You’ll scratch the walls,” she’d said as if you weren’t already living with a dozen scuffs from the move.

Now, the two of you were standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the tree like it might suddenly decorate itself. A single strand of fairy lights sat tangled in Leah’s hands, and the floor was littered with an odd collection of ornaments you’d hastily picked up from the bargain aisle.

“I told you we should’ve gotten a smaller tree,” she said, eyeing the way the top scraped against the low ceiling.

“And I told you I don’t do small Christmases,” you shot back, biting back a smile.

Leah rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She handed you the lights, stepping back to cross her arms over her chest as she watched you attempt to untangle them. “I’ll let you handle that since you’re so full of festive cheer.”

It took you the better part of an hour to get the lights on the tree. Leah was no help, of course, alternating between criticising your technique and distracting you with kisses whenever you got frustrated. By the time you were done, your arms were scratched from the branches, and Leah had somehow managed to sneak off to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.

“Looks good,” she said when she returned, handing you a glass.

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even looked at it.”

“I don’t need to. I trust you.” She wrapped her arm around your waist and placed a kiss on your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you turned your attention to the box of ornaments. Most of them were cheap plastic, but a few stood out—family ones Leah had brought from her mum’s house. She picked up a delicate glass bauble, turning it over in her hands with a soft smile.

“This one’s one I made as a kid,” She laughed, holding the clay ornament in her hand. “It’s my handprint. I was like six, mum insisted I take it with me.”

“It’s cute,” you smiled, leaning into her side, “Maybe one day we’ll have a few more ones to join yours on the tree.”

She placed a kiss on your temple, “Can’t wait for that day.”

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, sipping wine and laughing whenever the tree swayed under the weight of too many decorations. By the time you were done, it was an eclectic masterpiece—half childhood nostalgia, half chaotic bargain-bin sparkle.

Leah stepped back, tilting her head as she admired your work. “Not bad,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Not bad?” you repeated, feigning offence. “It’s perfect.”

She grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re right. It is.”

There was only one thing left to do—the star. Leah picked it up from the box, holding it up for you to see. It was homemade, a wonky creation of glitter and papier-mâché that must have been decades old.

“You made this, didn’t you?” you asked, unable to hide your amusement.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Year six art class. Mum’s kept it ever since.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, and you meant it.

Leah gave you a sceptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it over to the tree. “Hold this steady,” she said, climbing up with the star in hand.

You stood behind her, your hands on the back of the chair as she carefully balanced on her tiptoes to place the star at the top of the tree. It leaned slightly to the left, but Leah didn’t seem to care.

“There,” she said, stepping down and turning to face you. “Now it’s perfect.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the room bathed in the soft glow of the fairy lights. Leah slipped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer as she rested her head against your shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, pretty girl,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Le.”

It wasn’t the most extravagant holiday you’d ever had—no fancy parties, no perfectly coordinated decorations. But as you stood there together, the scent of pine filling the air and the warmth of Leah’s embrace grounding you, you realised you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. This was your Christmas, and it was everything you needed.

[givemea-dam-break]

5 Times George Missed Lucy + 1 Time He Admitted It

a/n: this was co-written by the phenomenal @ikeasupremacy i quite literally had the time of my life writing this with you, and i think we broke our own hearts quite a few times during the process. we really, really hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: big sad (i beg, listen), language, spoilers for the end of the hollow boy words: 5k+ taglist: @neewtmas @waitingforthesunrise @wellgoslowly @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @flashbackwhenyoumetme @ettadear @ella23116 @mirrorballdickinson @magicandmaybe

5. More Chores

The basement was too cold, but George persevered with the chores. If he turned the thermostat up, Lockwood would probably have him beheaded, meaning he had no choice but to grin and bear it.

It was meant to be early spring for heaven’s sake, but he was stuck in the depths of the Earth to do the cleaning, while Anthony Bloody Lockwood was off frolicking in the sun with Holly to Satchel’s and Arif’s and God knows where else! Probably buying doughnuts or something! The favouritism at Portland Row was blatant that day.

He carefully laid Lockwood and Co.’s dozens of chains out across the hardwood floor, with some oil and a rag sitting on his desk, ready for Lucy. While she oiled them, he’d polish the rapiers and make sure they had enough salt bombs and lavender bundles. Not the worst job by far, but he would’ve definitely preferred to be outside or better yet, in the air-conditioned, cherry-blossom windowed Archives.

Heaving a sigh, he stepped over the thick iron links and trudged to the bottom of the stairs that led up, up, up into the kitchen.  

“Luce!” he called. “Need you to come oil the- ”

Oh. 

How stupid. Within a moment, his shoulders had sagged as he remembered; Lucy was gone. He suddenly became very aware of how alone he was in the house, the gentle hum of peaceful silence suddenly the disconcerting emptiness of a black hole.

Lucy had been gone for at least a week now, so how could he forget? He’d cleaned everything once without her already! She had been careful not to disturb anyone when she left, but George was a notoriously light sleeper. He had wordlessly sat in his room the morning she crept out, knowing she was gone for good as soon as he heard the third step creak. He heard everything, but he didn’t move an inch. He just listened as she crept out of the house that morning. Even though he didn’t do anything about it, he knew just as well as anyone that she was gone. And she wasn’t coming back.

A self-pitying laugh tore through his lips, resounding in his solitude, a moment meant for him alone. She had left them. Her absence was impossible not to notice, filling him with something distinctly empty. Hollow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A bittersweet nostalgia for something that hadn’t really left. Call it cheesy, but she’d started actually accepting him for who he was, and then she left.

She left.

For a moment longer, he lingered there, staring up at the spiralling stairs with a half-glare. Daylight glared back at him, causing him to squint and furrow his brows in frustration while the sun tried its best to burn his eyes right out of the sockets.

As he stared into the sun for whatever self-inflicted reason, a single quiet thought made him soften his gaze in defeat. He had nobody to be angry at but himself.

Turning with a dejected sigh, he rested his gaze upon the rapiers and the chains.

Once more, he’d have to do them both. 

4. Food Gone Cold

Silence. Terrible, uncomfortable silence.

George stared down at the food that he’d spent the better part of an hour making, and a pit formed his stomach. There was Lockwood with his meal, Holly with hers, food left over, and an empty plate. Just sat there. Waiting. It haunted the dinner table more than any Source ever could.

When would he stop doing this? Lately, every single meal he cooked ended up with four portions, even though there were only three of them there. He could already see the concealed remorse on Holly’s face as she thought about stuffing yet another spare portion in the fridge in hopes that someone would eat it later. Usually, no one did.

The thought of it apparently made Lockwood “sick to his stomach” and, well, George couldn’t say he was nauseous, but he had definitely lost his appetite when he saw the leftover food in the pan, regardless of whatever it was that he’d made.

Worse still, he should’ve realised the moment that he’d set it down that it was wrong. After Lucy had left, they’d begrudgingly swapped the thinking cloth out for a new one, folding it up carefully and placing it on top of the fridge, scribbling back on George’s stray research from the last, any pending tasks from the last one, and new doodles had taken residence everywhere: George insulting Lockwood; Lockwood’s loopy handwriting forming a shopping list or writing reminders for everyone. Hell, even Holly had started adding to it, normally with little smiley faces or cartoony flowers, but it was something at least. 

Then there was Lucy’s spot.

No one dared sit in her seat. It felt like an action that they would be scolded for, by either Lockwood or some incorporeal voice that was haunting them, like a strange shared conscience between the three of them. Maybe it would even be Lucy’s voice, scolding them like she did when, every day for a week or two, Lockwood would sit in her place just to annoy her. She would jokingly tell him off every time, and force him off of the seat in a light-hearted push-and-shove. A sweet memory came to mind of Lockwood falling off the chair, and they had all doubled over laughing until their ribs pulled and their cheeks ached, the kind where anything sets you off again. A sweet memory indeed.

And, so, there was a portion of the thinking cloth that was entirely blank. Not even George’s messy and rushed research passed the invisible line that marked Lucy’s section. Maybe a mark of respect, of not wanting to let her go, of fruitless ambition and silent mourning.

Even the biscuits. The biscuit rotation was all messed up. With Lucy around, they would know who had last taken a biscuit on their little mental rotation, a fine-tuned seventh sense (after being a Sensitive, naturally), but every time George reached for a custard cream, he mentally hesitated as a ghost of Lucy’s voice went to whisper in his ear, “Have I had my biscuit yet, George?”

He wanted to say something; he was desperate to end this stifling, choking silence that plagued them all like a hand to his throat, a gag in his mouth. What could he even say? Jokes often ended up turning sour nowadays. Holly had the (albeit little) decency to give George a polite laugh at the predicament, but on the other hand, Lockwood would simply sit and stare at the empty plate as if he could summon Lucy back to her plate if he just thought about her hard enough.

George had already tried that. It didn’t work. 

3. Patience Lost

Lockwood was like a cat, George observed. When he had a goal, he was a machine; a well-oiled, slit-eyed, prowling machine. He waited for his prey, and he attacked just as gracefully. He was always waiting, watching for his next move, the next opportunity, with careful focus, and George could see why Lucy liked him. It was a skill neither he or Lucy possessed, yet one they both admired. All the same, he thought Lucy was bonkers for it.

When Lockwood had no purpose, he was a cat stretched out in the sun, ambling with no real purpose and slinking around in his suit and tie, waiting for the next thing to do. George generally found this habit of his incredibly pointless anyway, but with Lucy gone it was just worse. For the last year, Lockwood had the goal of thinking about Lucy.

If she were here, Lockwood would be moving. He’d be yelling at her from the foot of the stairs to turn her music down before marching up and doing it himself. He’d be prancing around, animatedly talking about the latest gossip from his magazine and how it was so important that they knew what colour of dress Penelope Fittes wore to a meeting with Steve Rotwell. Green meant it was about new gear, purple about the future of their agencies, blah, blah, blah. George had no mind for it.

But now? Lockwood slouched in his armchair in the library, flicking through a magazine, entirely devoid of emotion. His freakish poker-face had come out strongly as his eyes darted from line to line, occasionally lifting a finger to flip the page he was on. A cold mug of hot chocolate sat abandoned by his side that George had, yet again, accidentally made out of pure muscle memory.

Lucy always drank a hot chocolate with him. 

George was now completely out of his book. His eyes remained on the pages, reading the sentences over and over again, but they weren't what was running through his head. What would Lucy be doing right now if she were here with them? No, he couldn’t let himself linger on that thought. He tried to bring his attention back to his book.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might ngo fda bfgn tj Sorgfn. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg npt wutg hwt bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She’d have complained that the fire was dying down and added a log to it, her frame sinking into the seat near Lockwood yet again to continue her new crochet project of the week, as the calming click-clack of the plastic needles against each other melded wonderfully with the crackling of the (now revived) fireplace. A song would be stuck in her head, and she’d quietly hum along to it, none the wiser that George and Lockwood could both hear her. 

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg not with her bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She would have called them all boring for just sitting there, and gotten out the chess board to entertain herself. She was always freakishly good at that, George recalled with a slight smile. There were quite a few times where Lockwood had gotten so frustrated at her that he resigned and stormed off into his bedroom, leaving George to get absolutely throttled by Lucy every time. Every. Single. Time.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. The woman was sentimentally attached to not the wedding band, but her husband. Her source, as the agents soon found out, was not with her bones, but the husband’s. This was a revolutionary discovery for many reasons, one being the realisation…”

George gave up on the book, gently closing the hardback cover with a soft thump.

At the time, nothing could’ve annoyed him more, but George was bored of winning chess games now. Lockwood was somehow even worse than he was (and that was saying something), meaning the games lasted forever. Neither of them had the patience to sit for hours going back and forth. Lucy did.

That was the refreshing thing about games with her. It wasn’t relevant if the game lasted fifteen minutes or two hours, just sitting there with her gave the game an entirely more interesting feel. Especially when she swore under her breath after a bad move. George was a sore loser, and a gloating winner, but Lucy always took her losses humbly and her wins even more so.

Unless she was playing Holly. When Lucy won against Holly, it was as if the Heavens had shone a spotlight onto her face with how proud her smile was.

Lockwood missed that smile, and in some (pretty fucking irritating) way, George thought he did too.

It didn’t matter now. He’d have to deal with Lockwood’s doubled pawns and forgotten rooks, which was much less preferable. They would have to bear the silence of nobody humming as they crocheted, painfully watching a chess board gather dust, and having to live in the house that was no longer a home.

2. Ducks in the Wash

George could hear Lockwood rattling around in the basement incessantly, and he could only sigh. This all over again?

Surely there were no more socks missing - every single wash, Lockwood checked, and every single time he came back empty handed. It wasn’t like the washing machine was going to gobble them up. (And there was definitely no need to lift up the whole washing machine.) However, Lockwood always folded the washing better than George. That was the one reconciliation about the whole thing, thank goodness. Once George heard the telltale thump of the washing machine being on solid ground again, he assumed Lockwood was folding the clothes. Feeling less worried that Lockwood was going to break the washing machine this time around, he unpaused the telly and kept watching Pointless, or whatever crappy gameshow he had chosen to put on that day.

It wasn’t long before Lockwood came trudging up the basement stairs and through to the living room, a pile of neatly folded clothes in his arms. But it wasn’t the neatness of it (usually they were folded haphazardly until Holly came along and fixed it up) that had George pausing the telly once more. It was the bright blue thing on top.

“Lucy’s,” Lockwood said, not even trying to conceal the miserable look on his face. “She left a sock.”

George wondered if Lucy had noticed that it was missing. Unlikely. She had so many pairs of socks, all the same shade of tell-tale royal blue, she could probably provide a few dozen to each family on Portland Row and the next few streets over and still have enough for the next two wash cycles. Besides, it was such a small thing that she’d never notice. She’d never. Never. She wouldn’t have. It’s just a sock. She’d probably lost another one and she had perfect pairs again.

But, an irrational part of George couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you going to call her?”

There wasn’t really any need to call her. She’d survive without one bright blue sock, even if there were cute little silicone ducks on the sole of this one to keep her from slipping. But George found himself wanting to hear her voice through the phone, strangely enough. The way she said “Hello?” in her Northerner accent on the phone, her little inquisitive chirp, even though she usually knew who it was, always used to make him laugh, and he was sure it would now.

It was clear Lockwood wanted to call, what with the twitch of his fingers, and the way he longingly stared at the ducky sock. It was easy to read him after a while of knowing him, and as he observed Lockwood, he saw a strange, stone-like look on his face. He knew that expression. The barrage of emotion he was holding behind a facade of stoic presence. The way he didn’t blink while he looked at the piece of fabric in his hand, not once. His eyebrows furrowed so slightly it could even be mistaken for natural.

George knew that expression. He saw it in the mirror every day.

“No.”, Lockwood muttered breathlessly.

He placed the washing down, balanced precariously on the back of the sofa, threatening to tip over. George had bigger things on his mind than the laundry, observing it as it teetered in the balance, but his mind was in a different place as he watched the washing basket lean forward.

He simply remained on the sofa, entirely sunken in his armchair, feeling as frozen as a marble-cut statue, and staring at the sock in Lockwood’s hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, as if it held some piece of Lucy that was finally attainable now that they had found it - something that could connect the three of them once again. For a moment, he wished that you could have Sources for a real person.

It’s just a sock, George told himself. There was nothing outright special about it and there never would be.

So what was their deal?

What had them reeling over a sock of all things? Was it because they could both easily imagine Lucy’s laughter as she tried to skid over the kitchen floor, only for her socks to keep her from sliding? Those stupid ducks on the bottom of her socks? Was it because of all things to have been left by Lucy accidentally, this was it? This was the last thing they had of her in the house? A literal sock?

Then again, it wasn't unwelcome. It simply brought with it a reminder of the gaping hole in their household, and dragging behind it the ugly emotions of guilt, and the hurt of a betrayal.

“I’ll wait to give it back to her,” Lockwood murmured in the same tone.

But they both knew the time would never come. Lucy wasn’t coming back, no matter how tightly Lockwood held onto the sock now, knuckles turning white. No amount of socks stolen by the washing machine would bring her knocking on the front door, or bursting through and demanding them back. The sock would simply sit, gathering dust and harbouring feelings that had no need to be felt. 

But George still agreed, holding onto whatever tiny shred of hope he still had that she would come back. George knew as well as anyone else that it was fruitless, but even he didn’t have the heart to extinguish the hope that their paths would cross again.

It felt like something was destroying him though. He had gotten to a point where it was getting unbearable, the pain of all the reminders of her everywhere, it gnawed at him and ate away at his focus, at his time, at his brain, at his happiness. He should’ve put into words, and he knew that inside him, but that would destroy all the work he had put into coping with it; for both Lockwood and Holly. Lucy was an unnamed ticking bomb, ready to cause an explosion at 35 Portland Row anytime soon, and George was reaching his limit of how many more reminders of Lucy he could take.

The washing fell over. Once upon a time, Lucy and him would have laughed together over the thought of watching Lockwood fold it all again. They would’ve giggled until their cheeks were on fire, their ribs felt tangled in knots, shrouded by the ecstasy of simple delights.

“Lockwood? The washing’s just fallen over.” George called, entirely monotone.

1. Someone Familiar

The early spring air clung to George as he stepped through the front door, shopping bags in hand. Really, London had no excuse to still be so cold, but, alas, he still shivered as he kicked the door shut and placed the bags down. The warmth of the hallway was incredible, and he could’ve just stood there forever, feeling his skin grow warm. It was only when he eventually tugged off his jacket that he heard the laughter.

He peeked into the living room, where Lockwood sat in his armchair, and Holly on the sofa beside someone else whose hand she held and squeezed. The sight filled George with warmth. Holly’s last relationship… Well, it had ended badly, and she was a wreck for a little while, so to see her happy now felt like something, finally, was going right. George was genuinely happy for Holly, and for everyone. They really needed something to go right, all of them did.

He hadn’t realised the ache in his chest until his eyes lifted to the girl whose hand she held.

How did he not notice? The bobbed brown hair, the wooly jumper and denim skirt, it was…

“Oh, George!” Lockwood said, grinning as he set his mug of tea down. “You’re back! Hope you don’t mind, Holly brought her girlfriend over for a bit.”

George tried to move, but he found himself stuck in place, simply staring at the back of her head. Surely he was dreaming. None of this was real. It couldn’t be her. No, he was still sleeping soundly in his bed and his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. It was a lie. This couldn’t be real. A dream. A nightmare.

But- But, still, however he hated to admit it, there was hope in him. She had come home. She was back. She was here. She had finally come back to them after all these horrible months and he would never let Luc-

“Lucy” turned and flashed a grin at George, and he felt a little pang of nausea in his throat. This girl, she wasn’t Lucy. He’d mistaken her just because of an outfit and a haircut. How stupid of him. As he scanned her up and down, within a matter of seconds he had noticed the pristine white trainers she wore rather than plasm-covered, chunky black boots, her jumper was purple instead of blue. Her eyebrows were prominent, pointing upwards and giving the face an inherently sharp aura about it, combined with long features that he could never even imagine on Lucy’s round face.

He saw it all clear as day, all of it. The freckles Lucy lacked and the blue eyes she didn’t have, the mascara-caked lashes and the pointed chin.

“You’re George?” she asked in a high-pitched tone that Lucy would’ve definitely later made fun of. “Hol’s told me all about you.” 

Lucy would make fun of the nickname too.

He felt insanely stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should’ve realised sooner - she had been introduced as Holly’s girlfriend for Heaven’s sake! There was a higher chance of Lockwood and Kipps dating than there was Lucy and Holly. But, he would’ve preferred Lucy over whoever this was. He didn’t hold anything against this (probably lovely) girl, who just coincidentally managed to look uncannily like Lucy from the behind, but George couldn’t help but bite back a sob.

The bittersweet lemon-curd hope now tasted rotten and acidic in his mouth. The taste of his idiocy coated his tongue and twisted his insides, and he hated every moment of it. He hated that for a moment he’d believed it to be her, that he had been ready to smile and accept her back without a word’s notice. He hated himself for having hope, and he hated Lucy for leaving, and he was entirely ready to be sick to his stomach.

He was impressed he managed a nod in her general direction, before abandoning the shopping bags on the floor and storming upstairs. Up, up, up, until he found himself in the doorway of the attic bedroom. The door was forced open, and he stared inside the stripped down room, the same way she’d left it, with her Blu-tack stains still on the walls and a leftover Polaroid of the three of them to the right of the bed. He couldn’t help but stare at the photo, as a tonne of weight settled on his shoulders as he stood unsettlingly alone in the attic bedroom. The weight of Lucy’s memory, perhaps. Because that’s what had made him feel so terrible these last few months, wasn’t it? It was never just throwing away the food, or being bored with a chess game, or seeing a sock with ducks on it, or any of it. Everywhere he looked, he saw Lucy, but he didn’t have her at his side, bickering with him and making her little remarks, lifting his spirit a percentile at a time, and dropping him down to ground level after he finally felt valued and appreciated by someone, after he found a friend who made him laugh until he couldn’t anymore, even though he absolutely hated her sometimes.

He had never hated Lucy Carlyle more than that moment.

He flung his clothes off the vanity chair, mad that he’d even had the gall to put them in this room, and sat on the bed, trying to arrange his thoughts. 

It was like cutting himself open to admit that he missed Lucy. This girl he’d detested for months; this girl he’d slowly learned to appreciate, and even cherish. He looked for her in every room of this house - the little crocheted coasters she had made, her abandoned mugs in the cupboard with awful sayings on them, the honey jar in the kitchen that only she had used for her tea.

Hell, even whenever he took out his favourite mug, because she had accidentally chipped it her first week there, and George had sworn he would never talk to her again after that, decreeing it on the Thinking Cloth with so many swears that he lost count.

Every moment of regret, of sadness, of longing he had felt since her leaving seemed to add up and show itself proudly to him now, sending him into a rabbit hole of falling into emotional turmoil. The solitude of the basement every month, the quiet of the evenings without the click clack of a crochet needle, the way his socks were never mixed up with hers anymore, the way nobody stopped him from researching until 5 in the morning-

Fuck.

George sprinted to the little bathroom and unloaded the contents of his stomach into the toilet. When his quaking body had finished purging the contents of his (again) too-large breakfast, he crumpled onto the floor beside the bowl. The sour taste of bile was heavy on his tongue, and it slicked along the sides of his throat.

He looked up at the abandoned room around him. Just the sight of its sorry state was enough to tempt him back into throwing his face over the toilet bowl once more, but he resisted. He leaned his head against the cool tile behind him, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes, the mucus in his throat mixing awfully with the vile taste in his mouth.

Lockwood had come upstairs at this point, the door being thrust open as he rushed to George’s side. His expression was pained, as he looked at George with concern in his eyes, but a resigned light to them as well.

“You’re okay,” was all he said.

0. Confession

Moonlight streamed through the attic window, splitting across the clothes-covered floor in beams of silver. It was a peaceful kind of light - the sort that would have Lucy standing by any window in the house, staring longingly up at the sky. She always spoke about how she missed the stars, stars that glittered for her back home but were now hidden by the dozens of ghostlamps scattered across the city, and the haze of pollution in the city.

As George sat on the edge of her bed alongside Lockwood, he wondered if Lucy was looking up at the moon now, too.

Oh, the horrible feeling of knowing they shared a sky but not a roof.

Lockwood heaved a sigh, playing with the polaroid in his hand. He’d plucked it off the wall not long ago and had taken to staring at it, occasionally brushing his thumb gently over where Lucy was. Maybe he thought it was like a genie’s lamp, that if he rubbed it three times some otherworldly being would come and grant their wish of bringing her home. 

No genie appeared, no wishes were granted, and Lucy didn’t return.

George remembered the day that photo had been taken. Lucy had taken the last jam doughnut, the one he had wanted, and they had argued the entirety of breakfast. Holly had trotted into the kitchen, polaroid camera in hand, grinning about how she’d found it in a charity shop and had to buy it. She wanted her first photo with it to be of her friends, the agents of Lockwood and Co., but no matter how much she and Lockwood tried, George and Lucy wouldn’t stop arguing. So there was Lockwood, smiling, albeit awkwardly, between George, who looked like he was about to implode with anger - anger he now saw as an overreaction, even if she was a thief - and Lucy, whose cheeks were flushed pink, as she waved the half-eaten doughnut in the air. The camera caught the moment some of the jam in the middle had dribbled out onto her brand new jumper.

“I thought it was her, too, at first, you know,” Lockwood said after what felt like years of silence. “Holly’s girlfriend. I thought it was Lucy as well.”

With a shrug, George said, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“You miss her, and that’s okay.”

“I do not miss her.”

But it was a lie. That’s all George had been doing since she left, wasn’t it? Lying to himself and to everyone else that he didn’t miss her.

He had hated Lucy for so long. From when she had first joined the company and the few months that followed. Then after she left them, giving some bullshit excuse and a secret escape. But he had never allowed himself to miss her, not really. He had only burdened himself with the memory of her, looking for her in anything he could find but not allowing himself to grieve the girl who hadn’t even died.

His fingers hurt from clutching the duvet cover so hard. “Maybe I miss her a little.”

Lockwood’s laugh was breathy, filled with tears he wouldn’t dare shed. “You can give up with the pride, George. She’s not here to make fun of you.”

“But you are.”

The words resonated between them both, and for a moment George truly realised how alone they were. Yes, Holly was there daily, mourning Lucy’s resignation in her own detached way, but George and Lockwood… Lucy had been everything to Lockwood, and somewhat less than that for George. They were a trio. George couldn’t even remember the agency before Lucy, so now it felt like a machine missing a cog - it didn’t function properly, and wouldn’t until it was put back into place.

“I’d never make fun of you for this.” Lockwood’s smile was nowhere to be found. Not in the corners of his lips or the dark of his eyes. It was as if it had been torn from him the minute Lucy stepped out the door for the last time. “I miss her, too.”

Of course Lockwood did. Missing Lucy was second nature to him. Any time she’d gone off on a case by herself he had missed her. Hell, he probably missed her when she went to bed a few floors above him. But this was unfamiliar territory for George. He wasn’t used to missing people. Not his parents who still lived in London, who occasionally visited and checked in on how things were going. Not his siblings, who were also still nearby muscling on with their careers. He’d never experienced loss like Lockwood and Lucy had.

Was that why it felt like he had been hit by a ten-tonne brick? He hated this feeling more than he’d ever hated anything.

“She’s not coming back,” George said, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “We’ll cope. We have to.”

But, staring at the room she once lived in, straining to try and feel any remnant of her presence, he wished that the genie would finally appear.

[massivedrickhead]

If you’re still accepting prompts could you do number 2? Maybe one of them is sick and needs looking after? 🥹👉👈

Someone asked for a part 2 of the prompt I posted yesterday, and this felt like the perfect prompt to use

Hope you enjoy!

2. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

-

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

Chloe glanced at Aubrey, who had been sitting beside her in silence for the better part of three hours, but she didn’t speak. Her mind was somewhere else.

“Baby, can I get you anything?” Chloe asked, crouching on the bathroom floor, her hand rubbing up and down Beca’s back.

“N-no,” Beca replied, before throwing up again. Beca’s cheeks were streaked with tears and her whole body shook as she continued to heave, though there was nothing left in her stomach to come up.

“Not even some water?”

“It won’t stay down.”

“Chloe?”

“No,” Chloe said. “I’m fine.”

Aubrey sighed but didn’t say anything else. Chloe hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, or even moved since Beca had been taken into surgery that morning. She knew pointing it out wouldn’t help though. She knew nothing short of an earthquake would move Chloe from this spot. 

“She’s going to be okay,” Aubrey said. 

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “I know.” She has to be, Chloe thought. She has to be okay.

The surgery was all part of Beca’s treatment plan, but it was the part that caused Chloe the most anxiety.

The fear that something could go wrong while they were in there, or that they’d discover that things were much worse than they’d thought, had been plaguing Chloe for weeks. 

While Beca had spent the last few weeks suffering from exhaustion, headaches, vomiting, and little to no appetite, Chloe had been driving herself crazy with endless late nights Googling every possible scenario.

She spent her days alternating between working and taking care of Beca, and her nights glued to her phone, trying to prepare herself for what might come next.

Aubrey had temporarily moved in to help with Beca while Chloe was working. She’d dropped her hours to part-time, but she couldn’t stop altogether because they needed the money now more than ever.

The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Beca’s full-time job needed to be taking care of herself. 

Beca had managed to stay at work for a few more weeks, but one day she’d tried to get out of bed and found she couldn’t, and things got worse from there.

“Bec, are you okay?” Chloe asked, surprised to find Beca still in bed long after her alarm had gone off. She put a hand on Beca’s forehead and frowned when it felt clammy and cold. “You don’t look too good.”

“I can’t… I don’t think I can go in today,” Beca said, closing her eyes against the harsh morning light, hoping it would be enough to drive away the pounding in her head. 

“I’ll call Theo and let him know,” Chloe said. She kissed Beca on the forehead and drew the curtains in their bedroom, plunging the room back into darkness. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water?” Beca asked. She sounded so tired she didn’t even sound like herself anymore. 

“Of course,” Chloe replied. “I’ll get you an ice pack for your head too.”

“Tell Theo I’ll be back tomorrow,” Beca said, as Chloe headed for the door. “I just need a day.”

Chloe paused, her hand resting on the doorknob.

“Let’s see how you feel tomorrow.”

“She should be out by now,” Chloe said after another hour had passed in silence. She was chewing on her lip, her eyes glued to the clock on the wall. “They said four hours.”

Aubrey looked up from her phone and glanced at the same clock.

“They said four to five,” Aubrey said. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Chloe wanted to snap. She felt like she was itching for a fight. Desperate for something to distract herself from the pit of nerves in her stomach. 

But before she could speak, a doctor approached them, and Chloe felt like she’d started free-falling. 

They both stood, and Aubrey’s hand found hers and squeezed, but Chloe didn’t feel it.

“I, um, I have some money set aside,” Beca said, the night before her surgery. She had her head on Chloe’s chest, and Chloe was playing with her hair. 

“What are you talking about?” Chloe asked.

“It’s for, like, funeral expenses,” Beca said. She felt Chloe tense beneath her, but she carried on talking. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but we have to.”

“No we don’t,” Chloe said, her throat so tight she was surprised the words made it out. “You aren’t going to die.”

“I might-”

“No.”

“Chloe,” Beca said, her voice stronger than it had been. Chloe had almost forgotten what it used to sound like when it wasn’t strained and tired. She couldn’t remember the last time it didn’t sound like every word took a monumental effort for Beca to get out. “I might die tomorrow. I know my odds are good, but it’s a possibility.” She sat up so she could look at Chloe, and her chest got tight at the sight of tears flowing down her face. 

This is what she’d wanted to avoid. This was why she’d tried so hard to keep Chloe away.

“I set aside some money,” Beca said, needing Chloe to hear what she had to say. “It’ll be left for you in my will, and it’s to cover the funeral, or whatever you need it for. I don’t want you to have to worry about that on top of everything else if… If I don’t make it.”

Chloe sniffed and sat up too, wiping the fallen tears from her cheeks.

“Okay,” she said. “But you aren’t allowed to die.”

Beca smirked, and for the first time in a long time, Chloe saw the Beca she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “I don’t plan on doing it yet.”

The doctor was speaking to them, but Chloe couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She could see their mouth moving, but none of the words made it to her ears.

“Okay, we’re ready to get Beca prepped now.”

Chloe opened her mouth but Beca shook her head. “No goodbyes,” she said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Chloe swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Beca replied. 

Chloe bent down to kiss her girlfriend and prayed it wouldn’t be for the last time. 

They broke apart, and Chloe studied her face. The shape of her nose, the colour of her eyes, the line of her jaw. 

Beca took hold of her hand and squeezed. She could see fear in Chloe’s eyes, but she hoped Chloe couldn’t see it in hers. 

Beca nodded, and let go of her hand.

There was nothing either of them needed to say now.

There was a whooshing sound in Chloe’s ears. Aubrey had tears in her eyes, and Chloe felt her chest get impossibly tighter.

“Chloe?”

“Don’t,” Chloe said. “Please don’t say it.”

“Chloe, she’s okay,” Aubrey said, confused at why there’d been no expression of relief on Chloe’s face. Confused at why Chloe had gone so pale, or why her grip on her hand was now so tight it threatened to break Aubrey’s fingers. “Chloe,” Aubrey repeated, her voice stern and much louder, and Chloe seemed to finally register it. “She’s okay.”

Chloe turned to the doctor and waited for it to come from them.

“Beca’s doing well,” the doctor said. “Everything went to plan and she’s been taken down to the ICU to recover. Are you okay?”

“I… yes, I’m fine,” Chloe said, suddenly feeling lightheaded with the relief. She dropped back into the seat and let her head fall into her hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened.”

“The past six months catching up to you is what just happened,” Aubrey said, sitting beside her and rubbing a hand up and down her back. 

Chloe shook her head. “I’m just tired,” she said. 

“No, you’ve been prioritising someone else’s health, and now that they’re finally out of immediate danger, your body is letting you know that it’s your turn now,” the doctor said. “Beca’s going to be in hospital for the rest of the week, I strongly recommend that you use this time to take care of yourself.”

“But-”

“Visiting hours in the ICU are between 2 pm and 4 pm, and 7 pm and 9 pm every day. You can spend those hours at the hospital if you would like, but the rest of the time you need to spend taking care of yourself. Beca’s still going to need you when she gets home from the hospital, and you won’t be much use if you’re in this state.”

Chloe finally seemed to hear what the doctor was saying, and she looked up at her. “She’s really okay?”

“I promise, everything went exactly as we’d hoped. She did great in there. Once she’s recovered from the surgery she’ll continue her treatments as planned, and we’re very confident that she can make a full recovery.”

It felt like a damn had broken inside her, and Chloe started crying tears of pure relief. “Thank you,” she sobbed. “Thank you so much.”

“She isn’t awake yet,” the doctor said, “but you can go and sit with her if you like?”

“Please,” Chloe said, hastily wiping her eyes. 

The doctor led them to Beca’s room, and it took everything in Chloe’s power not to immediately dissolve into tears again. 

She took a seat at Beca’s bedside and gently took hold of her hand. She got a strong feeling of Deja Vu, though she knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t the first time she’d sat at Beca’s bedside but she hoped it would be one of the last. 

Beca was full of tubes and wires, but underneath all of that, she looked peaceful. Her heart rate was steady and rhythmic, and her chest rose and fell with each breath she took.

The room was dimly lit and quiet, and Chloe felt calm for the first time in a long time.

When Beca finally woke up, she saw Chloe sleeping in the chair beside her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She was sore, tired, and still felt loopy from the morphine, but she was relieved to see Chloe beside her.

She couldn’t imagine having to do this alone. She couldn’t imagine how she’d have survived the last six months alone.

She was so grateful that Chloe was still there beside her, and even more grateful still that Chloe had fought to get back in her life. 

“She’s been a real pain in the ass,” Aubrey said from her other side, causing a grunt of laughter from Beca. 

“Knew she would be,” Beca mumbled, turning her head to look at her. “Thanks for staying with her. And thank you for, you know, everything.”

“Of course,” Aubrey said. “We’re in a sisterhood for life, remember? You’re just lucky I managed to convince the other Bellas that a reunion at your bedside wasn’t the best idea.”

Beca grunted again and grinned. “Good idea. Don’t think my stitches could handle a group hug.”

Her eyes were already itching to close again, but the soft sounds of their conversation had woken Chloe up.

“You’re awake,” Chloe said, the words leaving her like a sigh of relief.

“For now,” Beca replied. “Not sure how much longer though.”

“How do you feel?”

“Sore,” Beca said. “Tired.” She closed her eyes as Chloe brushed a hand through her hair. “Did it work?”

“It did,” Chloe said. “A complete success. They said you did great in there.”

Beca smiled but didn’t seem to have the energy to open her eyes. “I had the easy job,” she said.

“Can I get you anything?” Chloe asked. “Is there anything you need?” Chloe didn’t know if Beca was even awake to answer, but she felt like she had to ask just in case.

“No,” Beca mumbled, sleep pulling at her again. “Just you.”

[echoingalaxies]

Content/CW: branding, injury and blood, past torture, medical whump, team whump, post rescue

Words: 2608

This isn’t a chapter of anything. It’s more like a scene from the middle of a (mostly) non-existent story. Since I don’t introduce the characters properly here, have a little guide:

Josephine: head medic / Otto: caretaker / Laurent: whumpee / Frankie: field medic / Riina: team leader / other mentioned names less relevant

-----

“Are you sure?” Josephine looked hesitant. She had her arms folded across her chest. “It won’t be pretty. Maybe we should wait until morning, when the others get here.”

Otto ignored her question.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sleeping boy behind her, his body moving slowly with deep, steady breaths. It was slightly assuring to see him be so calm, momentarily unaware of all the agony he must’ve been put through, but Otto couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling caused by Josephine’s secretiveness.

Laurent’s broken fingers were now in a cast. The wounds on his arms had been bandaged. His previously long, beautiful hair had been buzzed nearly as short as Otto’s. The rest of him was covered under a light blue blanket.

That was what Josephine was preparing him for. To reveal whatever horrors were hidden underneath.

Otto had been the first one to inspect Laurent’s condition during the car ride home, but hadn’t had the opportunity to see under his clothes. They’d been glued to his skin by dried blood, but Frankie had assured him Laurent wouldn’t bleed out on them during the half an hour it took for them to safely return home.

Not a second went by Otto wouldn’t have praised the angel that Josephine was in his mind, for she had been there waiting for them when they’d brought Laurent in, dressed in scrubs and ready for action. Otto had spent the following hours sitting in the hallway right behind the hospital room door, his mind replaying images of Laurent’s beaten face like a never-ending slideshow. He had gotten himself through two panic attacks. Frankie, Hayden, and even Riina had stopped by every couple of hours to see if he had been let in yet, staying for a minute to console him each time, offering him food and water.

Otto had denied. Nothing mattered to him until he’d know Laurent was okay.

Whatever was under that blanket, whatever Josephine tried to protect him from, he had considered during those past hours.

“Otto.”

“Just… just let me see, Jo.”

Josephine gave him a look, disapproving his demanding tone, but stepped back to stand right next to Laurent’s bed, and with a final nod of confirmation from Otto, pulled aside the blanket.

Otto had experienced a fair share of pain in his life. The tendon on his calf had once been sliced, he’d been stabbed, yet neither of those things had been as efficient to bring him to his knees than the sight currently in front of him. His knees hit the tiled floor with a hard thud, but he instantly scrambled back on his feet, trying to get away, take back everything he’d thought about how he could take it.

He had noted Laurent lying on his side, and assumed there must have been injuries on his back. The guess had been accurate, but the specifics of what those injuries could have been like was where he’d been gravely mistaken. He’d assumed scars similar to the ones on Laurent’s arms. Bruises or stab wounds.

But this…

Rows upon rows of identical burn marks covered Laurent’s back like a pattern printed on a fabric, all the way from his neck to his pelvis, shaped like a coat of arms with something pointy in the middle. The skin surrounding the burns glowed fiercely red from infections.

Otto didn’t need to take another look to know what it was. He’d know the symbol from anywhere.

After Laurent had been taken three months ago, the team had received an anonymous letter, only containing this very same symbol, pressed on the paper in blood. The laboratory had confirmed the blood belonged to Laurent.

Riina hadn’t talked for four days after that, and anyone who had tried to talk to her had had a knife thrown at them. Everybody else had expressed their devastation in slightly healthier ways.

They had fought these people enough times. They had lost team members to them. Now, once again.

Otto’s skin crawled.

The Crowns, and their family crest, forever burned deep into Laurent’s skin, dozens of times.

“Otto?”

Otto’s vision was blurred by fury. He squeezed his trembling hands into fists, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. He took a reluctant glance at Laurent again, and noticed Josephine had pulled the blanket over his shoulders once more.

Good. Never let those repulsive marks see daylight ever again.

“Otto, I need you to breathe.” Josephine’s voice was coming from somewhere afar, and when there was a sudden touch on his forearm, though likely intended to be comforting, Otto flinched away. The initial shock was now rapidly making room for rage unlike he had ever known.

“Breathe?” He must have been yelling, because Josephine was shushing him, but Otto couldn’t contain it. Had there been something within reach he could just grab and break – there were supplies on Josephine’s medical cart, but no one was allowed to touch them if they wished to walk out alive – he would’ve smashed it to the ground.

He had no idea where to put all this anger.

Otto pointed at Laurent’s covered back. “Look at him! There’s… there’s like a hundred of them! He looks like a fucking Louis Vuitton bag!”

“It’s terrible, I know, but you have to lower your voice,” Josephine said. If she was feeling any distress about the situation, she didn’t show it. “If you need to lash out, by all means, I understand, but do it anywhere but here.”

As if on cue, Laurent let out a small whine, and Otto fell silent in an instant. He held his breath until Josephine, who was by Laurent’s side in a second, gave him a thumbs up signalling Laurent hadn’t woken up. She marched back to Otto and grabbed his arm, this time with way more force, and dragged him out of the room.

The hallway was empty, but despite it being late at night, Otto could hear noises from elsewhere in the building. He could vaguely make out Riina’s voice from her office two stories above, screaming at someone. He could hear Frankie and Hayden from their bedroom at the end of the hallway.

He was envious of all of them. He wanted to shout. He wanted to be the one in bed with his lover instead of witnessing his suffering.

“I swear I’m going to kill them,” Otto spat the second Josephine closed the door behind her. “I’m going to rip them apart, all of them.”

“Yeah, you’re not going to make it to the next mission’s team with that attitude.” Josephine leaned her back to the door. She had dark circles under her eyes, and Otto realised how exhausted she must be, having worked relentlessly to treat Laurent, for hours in the middle of the night, mostly alone. Frankie might have been helping her for a moment at some point. “Riina has asked to see him as soon as he wakes up to gather information about the captors before creating a plan.”

“But we already know who did this,” Otto said. He let out a hollow laugh. “They’ve literally put it all over him. We’ve known it was them even before.”

“Sure, but Laurent might’ve heard a lot of valuable things we need to take into consideration before going after them.”

“I wanna go.”

Josephine looked at him almost pitifully. “You’re too close to this, love. Riina barely let you join the rescue crew, so she won’t let you join the searches. And not that I have a say in it, but I think that’s for the best. Laurent’s going to need someone around when he wakes up.”

“He’ll have you –”

“Someone he knows,” Josephine said. “I joined after he was taken. He’s never met me. He’s going to want a familiar face around. Someone to calm him down as I have to poke at his injuries. We’re short on anaesthetics and won’t get a new supply until the end of the week, so you better be there to hold his hand through all the pain we won’t be able to help him with.” She paused, eyes fixating on Otto’s poorly bandaged shoulder peeking from under his torn shirt. “You need any? I’ll gladly give you some since we’ve still got some.”

Otto shook his head. He had completely forgotten about his own injury. The pain in his body was secondary to the one in his mind. It couldn’t compare to a single thing Laurent had been through. “It’s fine. Save it for him.”

Josephine didn’t look pleased. “Can I at least take a look?”

“You should go help Laurent inste–”

“For heaven’s sake, Otto,” Josephine groaned. She straightened her back, suddenly standing almost as tall as Otto did. She took a keychain out of the pocket of her scrubs and began to unlock the door opposite to the hospital room. “I’m not asking anymore. Let me fix you before you die from an infection, because if you always keep acting like this, some day you will. In you go.”

She pushed the door open and pointed inside. Otto stood still, glancing between her and the hospital room door.

“Laurie –”

“Is asleep and will manage a moment alone.”

Josephine crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. Otto still wanted to refuse, but he knew if he did, Josephine would likely sneak into his room to stitch him up in his sleep. As kind-hearted as she was, she’d rather tie her patient to a chair to finish a procedure than let anyone walk away from her hurt.

“Be quick then.”

He had been to Josephine’s office a few times before. It was where she stored extra medical supplies, and performed minor procedures that didn’t require space for the patient to lie down.

“Why on earth didn’t Frankie take care of that?” Josephine asked as Otto sat down on the stool. Otto glanced down. He had bled through his shirt and the bandages he had quickly wrapped around his shoulder and upper arm while still on field. It had been a dumb, avoidable injury. They hadn’t come across a single soul while rescuing Laurent – Otto had managed to cut himself on the rusty, crooked fence around the mansion.

“I didn’t let her.”

Josephine let out a long sigh. She flicked her hair over her shoulders and tied it on a low ponytail, and ordered Otto to take off his shirt while she washed her hands. Moving his arm up and down, Otto realised how much in pain he actually was. He bit his cheeks to stop himself from gasping.

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Josephine said, starting to peel the bloodsoaked bandages off Otto’s skin. “This is deep. You have to let people take care of you next time.” 

Otto felt a pang of shame. Josephine was clearly worried, and he hadn’t meant to stress her out any more than she already was.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as Josephine began cleaning the wound. “And… Thank you for helping him.”

From the corner of his eye he could see how Josephine half-smiled.

“Do you only ever think everything through him? Did anyone ever tell you you’re allowed to think about yourself once in a while?”

Otto didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to for Josephine to know the answer. Her face turned serious again, and she slightly shook her head.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Patching up someone unconscious is easy. I can’t tell what he’ll be like when he wakes up. I pray they haven’t broken his soul like they did to his body, but either way he’s been through hell on Earth.”

Otto thought back to the dungeon they had found Laurent in, hazy but conscious, shackled to the ground. The memory of Laurent crawling away from the team like he didn’t know them, like he was afraid, hurt like a knife. Laurent had passed out almost as soon as he’d been carried to the car. From fear, pain, or exhaustion, or possibly a combination of any, Otto didn’t know. His cries and pleads to not hurt him still echoed in his head.

“It isn’t over yet,” he said in a lifeless voice. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep next to Laurent, his lively and loving Laurent. He wanted him to be okay.

Josephine frowned, taking notice of Otto’s tone. “This isn’t your fault. You know that?”

Otto shook his head. He shut his eyes, trying to breathe through the guilt.

Josephine gave up cleaning his shoulder and kneeled in front of him, squeezing his hands.

“Look at me,” she said, waiting patiently until Otto’s eyes found hers. Her hands felt cold against his skin, and he could feel her steady pulse from her fingertips. “Those Crown people – they’re to blame. That Michael guy I replaced, he is to blame. Not you. You didn’t know.”

Otto winced at the mention of the old medic’s name.

Josephine tried to be sweet, but she was wrong. She was new, only been with them for two months, and she didn’t know everything. It had been all his fault. He’d trusted the wrong person. He’d made enemies, he’d been their target, and Laurent had sacrificed himself to protect him.

Otto sniffled, hanging his head. “I trusted Michael.”

“I’m sure all the others did too.”

Josephine held his hands until his breathing evened out and he managed to give him a convincing enough smile affirming he was okay. He let Josephine finish patching him up without protesting. He even accepted a pill, not stopping to ask what it was.

Half an hour later, he flicked on the lights to his room. His and Laurent’s room.

He had tried to plead with Josephine to get to sleep in the bed next to Laurent’s in the hospital room, but Josephine had been unbending. Deep down Otto understood her reasoning, but as he lay down on their bed, alone for yet another night, he gravely considered sneaking in to sit beside Laurent until morning and deal with the consequences later.

The alarm would wake him up in a few hours. The team would have an early meeting regarding the previous day’s operation, then assemble a crew of a few of them who would go and seek out the people responsible for what had been done to Laurent.

Laurent would wake up and be heard.

The crew would prepare.

Otto would not.

Josephine had been right. He needed rest. He needed to be there for Laurent. The medicine Josephine had given him had been a great help in calming the storm inside of him, and with most of the rage gone, staying behind and getting to take care of Laurent had started to sound like the best possible thing. Isn’t that what he’d been praying for months? To be with him again? Why had he been so eager to leave his side at the first given chance?

Otto hugged Laurent’s pillow against his chest. It had been so long since they had been together. He just had to wait for a bit more, until morning, when they would finally get to talk again. Otto would hold his hand. He would never let him out of his sight.

Yet before all of that, there was one more night to tackle, undoubtedly either entirely sleepless or full of nightmares.

The Crown crest might have been permanently burned on Laurent’s skin, but Otto felt like it’d also been carved on the insides of his eyelids, because it was all he could see when he closed his eyes.

[sophxr88]

Little [M.S}

Chapter One

January 16th 2024

“He’s got rights, Y/N” My best friend, Abby sighed, taking a seat on the floor in front of the baby bouncer. Maya squealed and reached her hands out towards Abby, as she pushed with her legs to move the bouncer up and down.

“Thanks for the reminder, but we’ve come this far without him and we can manage a lot longer” I sighed, keeping my back to her and holding my phone in my hand.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but-“

I turned around, meeting her eyes as she gave me a sympathetic look.

“Drop it” I snapped, shooting her a warning look. “I’ll make the decisions for my daughters future”

The subject of Maya’s dad has always been sensitive. It was a topic nearly everyone I know seemed to have an opinion on and they didn’t hide it. Since I found out I was pregnant, I’d had the same conversation over and over again and my patience was wearing thin.

I know everyone had our best intentions at heart, but it didn’t make it less frustrating when people believed they knew what was best.

“I never said you can’t…I just think he deserves to know he has a daughter, and Maya deserves to know her Dad” I didn’t say anything, I turned my attention to Maya, taking her out of the bouncer.

You wouldn’t know she was his. She missed out on the blue eyes and her hair could still change. She had my striking green eyes and a head of thick dark hair. The pregnancy was full of worry of people finding out who her dad was.

“I’ve told you anyway” I sighed, turning to face Abby, who was still on the floor. “Even if I wanted to get in touch with him, I wouldn’t know where to start. I deleted his number and every trace I had of him”

Him. Even saying his name threw up memories I tried to forget. Memories that hurt to think about, never mind remember.

“I have his number somewhere” Abby said, reaching for her phone before I stepped forward, catching her attention quickly as she drew her hand back.

“Can we drop it? Please?”

Abby hesitated before nodding, agreeing to drop it before turning her attention back to the show on TV while I fed Maya.

I spent time thinking of the relationship they’d have if he was in her life, the kind of Dad he’d be, but in reality, it would probably be more difficult than people made out. His career had blown up since we split up and most of his time was spent doing one thing or another.

It wasn’t as simple as some separated parents had it. He spent every week in a new country, a new time zone, new people to see, new people to impress. Not the life of a Dad, that’s for sure.

***

I yawned and rubbed my eyes before glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was half three in the morning. I groaned and lay there for a second, listening to the cries coming from the baby monitor. Maya had been waking up at this hour for the past two weeks and it was exhausting.

Without her, I’d be a lost cause. She depended on me for everything, but she gave me everything I needed without trying. Looking at her made my heart swell with more love than I thought possible. I loved people before, but this was much different.

Being a single parent was the hardest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever experienced. On one hand, I got to experience everything with her for the first time, and we had an undeniable bond, but the lack of help from a partner wasn’t easy.

“You don’t have to be a single parent!” I could hear Abby shouting at me.

No, I didn’t, but it was a decision I made for the best.

Night feeds weren’t bad. I’d sit there in the dark and wonder how time passed so quickly. I imagined her all grown up, causing havoc in the house, her first day of kindergarten, her first day of school.

One day, she wouldn’t need me at all. She’d be in the big world without me. The thought of her not needing me anymore made me sick and made me hug her tighter as she stared back at me.

I rocked her back and forth, humming to her before laying her in bed next to me. At five months old, she was stubborn, she inherited that from me. My body longed for sleep, but I knew I’d be wishing for these sleepless nights again.

I rested my hand on her belly, making soothing motions as she gurgled away. I closed my eyes for a second, telling myself I just had to rest them for a minute. The two weeks of broken sleep decided otherwise.

“Morning, sleeping beauty” I heard Abby, standing at my bedroom door, holding Maya.

I frowned, blinking as I watched her open the curtains and let the sun shine into the room.

“What time is it?” I groaned, letting myself wake up properly before sitting up and meeting her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s almost ten, Y/N. Did you forget? January 16th?” She furrowed her eyebrows as I racked my brain.

“Oh, lunch in town with David!” My eyes widened when I remembered the plans we made. “I didn’t forget, it just…slipped my mind, shit we’re supposed to be there in an hour!”

I pulled myself out of bed and into the bathroom to make myself more presentable. Abby called out that she dressed Maya and got her ready to leave.

We arrived fifteen minutes late to the cafe we arranged to meet at, but with a five month old, I’d call it a success. I was thankful the subway was empty, I learned pretty quickly after having Maya that taking a stroller on a packed subway wasn’t easy.

We waved to David when we spotted him. He stood up when we got closer, helping me manoeuvre the stroller so it was out of the way to greet us properly. He took Maya out of the stroller and put her on his knee, much to her delight.

David became a huge part of my life when Maya was born, him and Abby had history, they me when Abby got a job in the company he worked at and they hit it off.

David fell head over heels for her, resulting in a romance and ending in tears, mainly his. He proposed and she gently let him down with a simple ‘not yet’

He loved her more than words could describe. I don’t think he’d ever give up on her. Her answer was ‘not yet’ not ‘never’ . The day it became a ‘yes’ , I knew he’d be waiting for her.

Abby was clueless. She loved him, but she had no idea about how he’d go to the end of the earth if she asked him to. He’d do anything for her. I longed for what they had.

“I can’t believe she’s gotten!” David said, shaking his head in disbelief. He spent the last ten minutes making faces at Maya, making her laugh while she played with the toy I brought with us. “It’s crazy!”

“Shes growing too fast, soon she’ll be packing her bags and off to college” I smiled, stroking Maya’s cheek. She was my greatest achievement.

I turned my head when I heard my phone vibrate from where I set it on the table, frowning when I saw the No Called ID. It was probably someone trying to sell me something.

I gave up, pressed the green button to answer and held it to my ear.

“Hello?” I sighed, waiting for an automated voice to answer, but I was met with a sharp intake of breath.

“Y/N” the voice on the other end whispered. “Is that you?”

My blood ran cold when I realised who the voice belonged to. My jaw dropped as I searched for the words, my breath catching as I felt everything I’d known to crash in front of my eyes

[adamsart]

I started to pull this rubber hose and it was supposed to pull right out but the more I pulled the more it felt like my foot was in a camp fire eventually I tapped out and it was two more days before I could be seen my doctor was on vacation and couldn’t even get the on call to return a call. So every 4 hours my mother would change the pillowcases and bed sheets that would be drenched with sweat and I would pound enough pills to knock me out. Monday morning rolled around and i showed up to my doctors office as they opened. When he unwrapped my foot it was completely black cause the hose he had stapled in acted like a tourniquet and cut off the blood flow. He closes the office door and opened a cabinet with these mid evil looking tools and he went to work scraping off all of the dead flesh without any warning or pain meds or anything. My foot looksd like a pound of raw hamburger looks at the butcher. It was a discussing healing process over the next three months. Dr bruse told my mother at this point that he didn’t think there would be one day for the rest of my life that I didn’t experience pain in my foot and her response was whatever you do don’t tell Adam that. She didn’t want me to expect it. But the pain was there even without hearing it because my foot had so much bone loss and bad joints that walking on it was Really hard the pain became frustrating and unbearable. Surgury #2 involved me getting my second metatarsal cut in the middle of the shaft and two screws were put behind the cut and two screws in front of the cut the screws stuck up out of the incision on my foot then they shot another pin up the middle of the toe to keep everything strait. Lastly they affixed a backwards vice on top of the screws coming out of my foot and I was given a tool like a small little Allen wrench and 2 times a day I was to crank this screw on the vice torture device and it would stretch my toe out the pin leaving a gap in the bone that would eventually regrow bone and move my joint from the middle of my foot back to where it belonged. When I would stretch the bone I would crank the vice 3 times and 10 minutes later the pain would peak to the sounds of fraying rope. Tendons shrink up after that much time. During this period I would go almost a week without sleep and I was taking as many pain meds as I wanted. My pain doctor cried when I showed her what I had to do. She couldn’t believe that devices like this still existed. This surgury took 8 months to heal. Since I was out of work and had to still pay bills I fell back on my drug dealing I was selling my copious amounts of pain meds and also selling herb. My wife hated me for not working but she spent every dime I put in the account. Which was more than she made monthly. As I was healing up from this surgury was also when Christine decided she would never be happy in Utah so she left me in Utah to pack the entire house and pay for everything on a broken foot by myself while she found us a nice apartment in California. Sacramento to be exact. So I had to sell most of my pain meds to pay for the move which cost me 5,000$ and a friend to drive the moving truck and I pulled a trailer with my truck. By the time I made it to Sacramento I was exhausted In pain and almost out of pain medicine but I made it. After I pulled into the address I was given is when I discovered the awesome apartment that Christine spent our savings renting was on the third floor of this building. And she had the balls to bitch about the boxes not being organized like she would have done it and she didn’t even help carry anything just expected that I should do all of the work and she’ll put shit away. I think this was kinda my final straw I knew at this point I hated this person and that she was always going to be abusive and she was never going to forgive me for breaking my foot. So my first day in Cali I had to have my wife call to find me some pain meds until I could get into see the doctor which I was made to feel like a junkie pos for even asking her to ask her friends for me.

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

Admittance of Non Guilt | Jae-min | Trial 4.4 | Re: Accusations

It was fine, everything was fine, but Jae-min was clearlÿ not, he had let his anger get the better of him, made some bold assumptions, and now was put even further on the hot seat because of it. Ah once again faced with the consequences of his own actions, so he took a few breaths, mostly because Erik A and Byrne were managing to calm him down, before he decided to speak again. The clear look of rage and disdain on his face was extremely present, he wanted nothing more than to be petty and to continue being difficult, it would satisfy him to no end. But there were some words that did actually land, from Kenshin surprisingly. In his moments of anger and disdain he was able to remind himself that because of him being a piece of shit, Erisu could get hurt, and even if he forgot that in the moment, he couldn’t do so now. Still fuming, he spoke up through grit teeth.

“I didn’t fuckin’ kill Erika L, and you’d be wrong to assume so…”

He puts is hands into his pockets, honestly in his moment of stress he forgot about the evidence he could use to clear himself, which only caused more moments of quiet, but he eventually formulated his thoughts.

“I bought the bed sheets favour, which means I couldn’t have bought the favour from AION.”

He took a moment to cross his arms in contemplation as he spoke, he hated this, he didn’t want to admit this, and the fact he felt pushed to was only making things harder for him. He was prideful above all else, and this broke down that pride. When he got his memories back and was forced to face what he had done…

Taking a moment he decided to explain, but he would be brief.

“The blankets, lighters, pliers, and anything else in and around the tech room was all me, the blood too, from a cut to my own hand.” He holds it up as he moves his sleeve aside slightly to show what is normally hidden, revealing a wound across his palm. “So with that said, if you’re so sure that the tech room is unimportant to what happened to Erika L, you can be damn sure I didn’t kill her.”

There was another moment as he thought to himself on what more to say.

“The only person I saw awake in the morning around when I was, was Eiri- er uh, Kokone. She was heading towards the north of the lower floor when I was entering the eatery, this is after I got back from the workshop around 4:30 when I bought all those lighters and stuff. I spent until around 4:50 in the eatery and didn’t see a single person there the whole time. Afterwards, I spent about three hours in my room, from 5am to 8am, mostly just going over my plan. Erisu entered at 6:30 to get a book and watched me work out for 30 minutes before leaving as she said.”

He thought to himself for a moment.

“Around then is when I saw Erika L leaving the eatery and heading to the north side of the floor, I also saw Adrik leave their dorm at the same time and head to the workshop. I lost sight of Erika L after getting to the second floor around the library and offices. This was all around 8am, a little after but not too long after.

After that, I was in the tech room from around 8am to 10am, alone, with nobody entering, and I didn’t hear anything of note either.” He sighed.

“Hope that’s enough, so can we move on before I hate myself over this too much.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week.           It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles.            Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.”           Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.”           “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself.           “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?”           Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled.           Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human.           If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes.           “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off.           “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.”           She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?”           “You don’t even know what day it is!”           “Who does in these times?”           Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?”           She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

          With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water.           You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport.           She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork.           “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?”           He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.”            “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.”           He nodded. “Yeah. It does.”           Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?”           “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth.           Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival.           “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.”           She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.”           “You’re allergic!”           “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.”           “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -”           “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.”           With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working.           “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?”           He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.”           Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?”           “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.”           “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.”           “There’s no need for that, Harry.”           His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!”           “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.”           He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.”           “Harry –,”           “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart.           With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry.           “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs.           She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.”           The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces.           “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?”           Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.”           Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.”           Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him.           Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits.           The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much.           All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin.           “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?”           “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.”           Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them.           “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’           “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else.           Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek.           “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “           But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.”           “Then what?”           He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks.           “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?”           “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.”           “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking.           “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“           “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.”           “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?”           “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!”           That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?”           “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.”           Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…”           Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.”           His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?”           “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.”           “How can it confirm something that’s not true?”           “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.”           Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.”           Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!”           “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.”           She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world.           The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh.           “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.”           It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss.           His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!”           Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?”           “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?”           She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?”           “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.”           Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.”           “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk.           “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.”           “That I don’t regret.”           Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers.           “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face.           She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.”           Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.”           “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf.            His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.”           Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.”           And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks           Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’.           “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!”           Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​ @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub​

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :/// 

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

[secretlittl3whore]

Out Of Bullets

summary: Y/N has always had a crush on the man who beat her record on the range. So what happens when he returns from a mission to find that the little lady has taken his words to heart and gotten better?!

Warnings: it’s smut y’all. P in v. Unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it). Fingering. Virgin sex.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem/reader

Totz my first smut! Critiques appreciated! Luvs y’all!

————————————————————

The compound was pretty quiet during the twilight hours, and that was the absolute preference of Y/N. She did love people, don’t get her wrong, but there was something about her boots echoing off the empty hallways that brought solace. She continued her path to the shooting range, but almost turned around when she heard that distinct sound of bullets flying towards the paper targets.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned. Then she caught a glimpse of a figure and couldn’t stop herself from drooling at the sight. He must’ve just returned from a mission, cuz he was still clad in his tactical gear. Holsters still attached and filled with weapons. Her eyes traveled downward resting on his thighs. Even those pants couldn’t hide those delicious features. A fire pooled deep within and subconsciously y/n started to rub her thighs together trying to create some sort of friction.

Did she hate him for beating her in everything? Yes, but that didn’t mean she hated him. No, every fiber of y/n’s being wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her within an inch of her life. Not caring if someone walked in and saw, though someone definitely would eventually see cause of all the damn cameras Stark installed.

Almost as if he had heard her lustful thoughts, the man turned to look at her. He nodded a greeting and then went back to his drills. Must’ve went bad, y/n thought to herself.

She came to a stop beside him and watched him empty his clip before turning to her.

“Good morning Buck,” she stated cooly. Bucky just stared. “Bad mission?” His nostrils flared. Bingo.

“Sam is...fuck. He never has a fucking plan. Just jumps in.” He roared, gloved hands coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. Y/N stayed quiet, knowing to let him rant and not interject till he was finished. She learned the hard way that by doing so, he would shut down and not talk. Y/N prided herself on being a confidant. “He’s going to get someone killed!”. Absentmindedly he started twirling a vibranium knife in his gloved fingers before sinking it into the target that he had just been shooting at. Y/N closed her eyes quickly, knowing her pupils had blown out and stifled a small moan. Could he be any less sexy when he was mad?! Bucky took a deep breath, a sign that he was done ranting and y/n could talk.

“We both know that he’s stupid and reckless.” Bucky let out a gruff laugh, “and that’s why you are his partner because you balance him. The missions are most always successful with you two. It’s just going to take a few to get the rhythm right.” His eyes narrowed at y/n. She spoke truth, and he hated it. With a smug smile, y/n dumped her bag onto the other half of a table.

“Looking for a challenge or you done for today?” Bucky’s eyebrow raised quizzically and he smirked.

“A challenge? Have you been practicing what I showed you?” Y/N grinned and shook her head,

“No.” But that was a total lie. Before he had gone on the mission three weeks ago, they had spent around 6 hours in the range. It was grueling but he pushed her through drills and training. Since then, she had been in the range every day from twilight till noon practicing. Something flashed across his eyes, but disappeared just as quick. There was no way he could know she was lying...could he?

“You first doll.”

By the time y/n was nearly out of bullets, a small crowd had gathered in the viewing box. She was sure that she could see a certain redhead watching intently as y/n performed drill after drill. So focused on the target that she was missing the fact that his eyes hardly ever left her. How they softly caressed her figure and imagined stripping her, being inside her. Watching y/n go through these drills smoothly caused his dick to strain painfully against his pants.

Y/Ns gun clicked and that was it. She was officially out of bullets. She turned to Bucky and caught his eyes immediately. Had they always been that dark? She shook the thought out of her head and went to retrieve the targets. Bucky joined her silently. As they pulled down their targets he briefly dragged a digit along her hand, the leather feeling strangely cool against her skin. It caused a shiver and immediately a blush formed red hot across y/ns cheeks. No stop it! She told herself, it was an accident. Wasn’t it? Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his profile. His eyes were still dark and he looked almost like he was in pain. Turning back to her target, she grinned widely. Her splatter of shots were centralized around the winning position. No outliers. She had certainly improved, and he had definitely noticed.

“I think you might have actually won this one.” He said through gritted teeth, enunciating the last word almost painfully. Y/N couldnt stop herself from celebrating out loud!

“Fuck yes! Told you I’d beat you Sarge!” There it was, that flash across his eyes, but this time it didn’t disappear as quickly. Y/N gulped as the man stared at her with such ferocity that she actually felt small.

“Want to try that again?” He asked, his voice quiet. She looked behind him and notice that the entirety of the audience had disappeared, almost as if they had never been there.

“I’m out of bullets.” Y/N said softly, her eyes.

“Did I say drills?” He said darkly, leaning in closely. She tried to sputter out a response but his lips captured hers in a gnash of teeth. Her response was immediately, letting that winning target float to the floor out of sight out of mind as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck.

Their lips moved with each other rhythmically. She felt his tongue on her lip and she welcomed him in, his taste intoxicating her, sending her head spinning. He pulled away suddenly, earning a small whine from her lips.

“Doll, I need you.” He said almost in a whisper as he leaned his forehead against hers. She almost gasped when she felt it, his dick pressing against her leg. Eyes darting she found the locker room and grabbed his hand, leading him quickly towards it. She found that small medical bay and locked them inside, pressing him against the door. Y/N leaned upwards to kiss him,

“Let me taste you.” She said seductively. He groaned throwing his head back against the door. She took that as a yes and dropped to her knees, making quick work of his pants. Her release was almost ripped from her when she released his dick and it slapped against his stomach. For a minute she paused. He was huge! Thick and glorious. The tip pulsating red and precun dripping. Was now the time to say she was a virgin? Would that make him stop? No, she had done enough research to know how to please a man...she hoped.

Languidly, she kitten licked along his shaft, taking in his scent and the taste of his skin. Bucky’s breathing quickened and she could hear the whirring of his vibranium arm as he clenched his fist. She licked a long stripe on the underside before taking his tip into her mouth. His breath hitched as she sucked.

“Doll,” his breath strangled, “doll you’ve got to move.” Fear struck, but she fought it and started bobbing her head. “Fuck, yes like that doll.” His flesh hand came to rest on her head, threading into her hair making a makeshift ponytail. He started taking over her movements. Y/N hollowed her cheeks like she learned, but it didn’t help when she felt him touch the back of her throat. She gagged painfully and pulled backwards roughly. Bucky stared down at her, eyes full of concern as she coughed harshly.

“Fuck doll. Shit I’m sorry. You just felt so good.” He cooed as he leaned down, grasping her face. She offered a small smile,

“I’m sorry.” Bucky grimaced, kissing her forehead softly.

“No y/n, it’s my fault. Nat said you were a virgin and I should’ve remembered...” he stopped dead in his tracks at the look upon y/ns face.

“She told you?!” She gasped. Bucky started scratching his the back of his head against he sat against the door, dick still hard and angry at being left without attention. She wasn’t angry at the fact that he knew, more so confused at all the conversation came up...or did Nat just offer that information freely l, that devious Russian mink.

“Ugh, yeah, she um...I’m sorry.” He made a move like he was gonna to get up but Y/Ns hand shot out and grabbed him by the vest.

“Don’t go. I...” she paused to collect her thoughts, Bucky looked at her sadly, pondering at what her response would be. “I still want you.” Bucky’s eyes snapped to hers,

“You do?” He asked surprised. Y/N chuckled at his response and leaned in towards him,

“I wouldn’t have sucked your dick if I didn’t.” The darkness returned to his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long doll, are you sure?” She kissed him ferociously,

“Yes James,” Bucky groaned at the sound of his real name dripping from her lips. So low and sultry. He wanted to have her saying it over and over. He pulled y/n onto his lap, straddling her legs over his hips. He captured her lips as he kicked his pants off, but not before grabbing a certain leather strap.

Y/N’s whole body was on fire. This man’s smell, his taste, the feel of his skin, was so intoxicating she felt drunk and high at the same time. Was that even possible?

Suddenly her legs felt cold and then something warm was pressed against her ass. She pulled away and looked down, no he fucking didn’t. Looking back up, y/n noted a shit eating grin as he embedded the knife in the door behind him.

“You owe me new leggings.” She murmured, reaching down to unzip his vest. He shrugged it off and then took his shirt off. She couldn’t help but letting her hands explore the new territory, even taking a moment to trace the area where the metal met flesh. Y/N placed small open mouth kisses after the trails of her fingers, the scarred skin and metal creating a tingly texture against her lips.

“I’ll owe you a new shirt and bra too.” Before she could protest, they too were ripped from her body, that knife now embedded in the wall behind her. She tried glaring at him but couldn’t help but laugh at his grin.

“You are trouble Sarge.” He rutted his hips into her at the pet name and y/n bit back a moan. The movement caused his dick to slip underneath her and now it rested against her stomach, the red tip pleading with her for attention. She sighed and gripped him softly, before pumping. Bucky’s head hang low against his chest as his hands came to rest at her back. She hissed at the metal’s coldness but didn’t stop pumping. His breath quickened as she quickly spat into her other hand before switching them.

Bucky threw his head back against the door, eyes slammed shut and mouth agape, taking small uneven breaths.

“Doll...doll please,” he begged, his metal hand coming to clasp hers, stopping her actions. “I...want to feel you.” Y/N gulped, she was much smaller than this super soldier, he was going to rip her apart. Slowly she raised herself on her knees and Bucky gripped himself, pumping slowly. “Are you ready?” He asked gently. Despite the pounding in her ears, she nodded, but he didn’t move his dick forward. Instead she felt his flesh fingers touch her lips.

He gathered the wetness on his fingers and then gently circled her clit. Y/N felt her whole body shake and she leaned forward to grip his shoulders. As he leaned forward to capture her lips, he entered her with a single finger. Y/N threw her head back and let out a moan. Bucky took the opportunity to latch his lips against her neck, kissing, licking, biting, ensuring that she was marked. A second finger was entered and she could feel him working in and out of her. Breathing quickening, hands gripping, Y/N felt that she was going to explode. Then his thumb began playing at her clit.

“Ah...Bucky...I....” she moaned and he stopped. She groaned when he removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. Licking plump lips, he smiled deviously at her,

“Delicious,” he whispered. Leaning his forehead against hers he gently placed his hands on her hips. Guiding her onto himself, slowly, allowing her to get used to the feeling. Y/N felt tears on her cheeks, she felt full but also a dull burning pain. He kissed her cheeks, licking the tears away. And he was fully inside. He groaned at the feeling, burying his face within her neck.

They stayed like this for a moment before y/n felt a surge of confidence and, as Nat told her, started to rock forward. Bucky moaned against her neck, bringing his flesh hand to grab her ass while his metal tangled within her hair. Y/N quickened her pace, enjoying all the noises she heard from him.

Gripping y/ns hair tightly, he started to rut up into her, creating a rhythm. Y/N bit back a moan. He trailed his lips up to her ear,

“No doll, don’t hold those back, let me hear you.” As he said that, he hit a certain spot and Y/N saw white, moaning loudly. Such a promiscuous sound, she felt embarrassed, but as he continued at that angle, she forgot all embarrassment.

The feeling started in her stomach and started to grow. Her breath quickened and her heart started pounding again.

“Please, please, please” she moaned over and over again. “Buc...James...I, shit, I...”

“I got you doll, just let go. Cum for me.” And she did. He felt it on his legs and smelt it. God she smelled good. He continued his pace, going quicker now, chasing his own release. He pressed hard into her as he groaned her name against her shoulder, biting down on her clavicle.

Y/N leaned her forehead against his, eyes hazy. His blue orbs looked back at her and he chastely kissed her swollen lips.

“That...that was better than I imagined.” She whispered finally. Bucky chuckled,

“Oh so you’ve imagined riding me y/n?” She knew he was teasing her but she still blushed crimson. “You’ll have to tell me what else you’ve imagined and you’ll have to tell me which is better.” Oh she definitely knew now, which was better, but she couldn’t deny that she was excited to feel him inside again.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.

Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.

Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)

You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.

Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.

It didn't feel... Right?

The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...

You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.

The room was beautiful mind you.

But it wasn't yours either.

You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.

Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.

Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.

Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.

You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...

But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.

You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!

You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.

"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."

Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.

"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"

Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"

"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"

"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.

Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.

"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.

No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!

Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!

"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"

"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.

Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...

They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.

Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.

"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"

Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.

They never liked it when you were upset.

You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."

"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."

"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.

That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...

The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...

"Okay."

What.

That worked?

You just had to ask?!

You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.

Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.

Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.

Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.

Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.

That what caused them to kidnap you...

"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.

Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...

"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.

"What...?"

"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.

After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.

"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.

Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.

It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.

It was everything you had missed...

The sunlight...

The trees...

God, it was perfect...

Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...

Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.

A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.

Sam? He looked so... Different now...

The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.

"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.

"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...

"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.

"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."

"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...

The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.

"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."

It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...

[potter-imagines]

Best-friends to Lovers (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: can we get like... a lil fred weasley, you guys are good friends and you don’t usually go back for the holidays, and Fred invites you back to the Burrow to spend the break there and y’all like totally fall for each other 🥺

Warning: None (I switched it up just a tiny bit to where they’ve already developed some feelings but they finally admit them sooo hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 4.5k

It was a flurry and cold winter night, the kind of night when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. You despised the freezing temperature, but Fred was far too convincing and a midnight walk with him was something you couldn’t find the words to turn down.

For the first time in the five years you had spent at Hogwarts, and the five years you had been best friends, you had finally accepted the twins offer on spending Christmas at the Burrow with their family. It was a turn of events in your typical holiday plans which were mostly spent alone at the castle. Your first two years at school you had traveled home for Christmas. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly a ‘jolly’ time either. Family time came few and far between. The sparse time you did spend around your family had grown… awkward. Being the only witch in your family didn’t help much either. As the years dragged on, you felt like a stranger in your own home. Your parents spent their entire year with your younger brother, so he had undoubtedly grown to be the favorite and the prized child. They still loved you of course, it just felt forced to engage with them at times.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when you walked into the Weasley’s home and were engulfed in a warmth you had never known. Molly Weasley was the first to greet you, popping out from the staircase with a shimmering grin. Before you could register what was happening, she pulled you into a bone crunching grip rambling on about how good it was to meet you. Arthur hugged you as well and teased about how much the twins would talk about you, especially Fred. Fred would turn bashful but he didn’t deny it.

Ginny showed you around the house, beating Fred and George to the chance. Molly set up a mattress on the floor next to the youngest Weasley’s bed, something Ginny was over the moon thrilled about. She had been longing for a sleepover with you for years now. Ever since her first term, she followed you around like a little puppy. So your first night at the home, Ginny coerced you into a slumber party immediately.

The twins, mainly Fred, weren’t too happy at this. They were the ones who invited you yet their little sister was stealing all your time. Fred was bitter when you hurried off from dinner to go join Ginny upstairs, not even bidding him a farewell.

George insisted his twin was being dramatic- they had an entire month for Merlin's sake! The feelings his brother developed for you, their best friend, was clear as crystals to George. They both shared a crush on you for the first year at Hogwarts but George’s feelings quickly shifted to a friendship, sister love. Fred on the other hand, well his crush only evolved further. George noticed it the second Fred started combing his hair before dinner and always placing himself the closest towards you. It was a topic they danced around for quite some time. He teased his twin for years until the idea came to him that Fred still felt this way towards you even after years. George had devoted his previous two summers to breaking Fred into admission. All he wanted was to hear his twin confirm his suspicions. Not that he needed that really, other people were beginning to notice as well.

One of them being your temporary roommate. Ginny was a top notch observer. During her second year, she started to catch on to the elephant that followed you and Fred into every room.

That first night, Ginny shed light on her theory by offhandedly making a rather large claim late that first night. While the two of you were chatting softly in the dark, the young girl declared out of the blue,

“I think my brother is in love with you.”

In an instant, your whole body froze over like water on a lake. You were thankful for the dark, it kept Ginny from seeing your wide eyed stare of shock.

“What?”

It was now you could see her small frame adjusting in her bed. Even with the lack of light, you saw her sitting up on her bed, propping her weight on one elbow. It could be assumed she had a devilish smile as she probed on.

“Fred… pretty sure he’s in love with you.”

“Why, what makes you think that, Ginny?”

“Quite a laundry list of things, actually. First, he never shuts up about you. Second, he’s always trying to be around you. Third, he’s always staring at you… bit creepy. Fourth, he’s told our nanna about you! Lastly, and most obvious, I heard him telling George right before school started.”

Laying back down, you fixed your eyes on the ceiling taking in her words. Does your best friend really share the same feelings for you? It was too good to be true, it couldn’t be true, you thought. This kinda stuff only happened in the movies and your life definitely was not a film gracing the silver screen. The butterflies went rampant in your stomach, fluttering about wildly. For a moment, you had forgotten Ginny was there, or that you were in her room, until she spoke again.

“So, what do you think of him?” She asked innocently. Tugging the fluffy blue blanket closer to your chest you replied,

“Pardon?”

Ginny wasted no time and reached over to flicker the light switch on her bedside lamp. A bright light broke through the pitch black darkness of the bedroom. You groaned at the act but Ginny spoke over your sounds of protest.

“Are you in love with Fred?”

Running your hand over your face, you let out a sigh. It was getting too late to be thinking about such heavy topics. You had a great friendship with Ginny, you really did, but if you couldn’t even deal with these emotions on your own, you really didn’t want to throw your thoughts on her.

Turning over on the mattress, you rolled your eyes.

“Ginny, I’m not even dating Fred.”

“But you want to.” She confirmed stubbornly.

“I mean… I-I don’t know, Ginny. Can we talk about something else, please?” You wanted to hide under a blanket and avoid the question for all of eternity. She had caught you off guard and although the feelings you felt towards Fred were strong, it wasn’t something you felt ready to face yet. It wasn’t easy being in love with your best friend- there was so much risk, so much to lose if things went south. You settled on keeping Fred as a friend rather than gamble the option of rejection and a change in your relationship forever.

Ginny perked her brow, opened her mouth as if ready to rebuttal, then deciding against it. The corner of her tip twitched to a smirk as she replied,

“Hmm, okay.”

The topic was dropped for the rest of the night as Ginny went to bed shortly after, but it wasn’t completely over. From then on, you began noticing the constant little redhead attached to your coattails. You noticed each time Fred shooed his sister off and demanded she find something better to do. He was edging closer and closer to his point of eruption. This break was supposed to be time for him to spend alone with you and finally confess his feelings. Not Ginny being your shadow and George tagging along for every outing.

Now on your walk almost a week later, your mind hadn’t stopped wandering to that conversation. Ginny hadn’t brought it up again, at least not vocally. During breakfast the next morning after your talk while you're placed between Fred and George joking around with them, she’ll send you knowing looks, giggling to herself. Harry started to pick up on this as well and you noticed Ginny whispering to him afterwards. It didn’t help that Fred would take any opportunity he could to make you laugh and be in your presence.

Last night you found yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Fred. A steaming mug of hot cocoa was clutched in everyone’s hand. After about an hour of talking softly and sharing stories, Ginny, Ron and Harry decided to call it a night and trudged up the stairs together. You waved to them as they disappeared up the wooden steps, the sound off their feet turning quieter with every second.

As the three of you sat closely, it felt like you were back at Hogwarts in the common room. George was gushing about a Muggle film you had shown him earlier in the day and Fred was silently listening in, a small smile kissing his lips. You were sat at Fred’s side, your backs against the couch and his arm thrown casually around your shoulder. George was laid on the smaller couch across from the two of you, rambling on to himself. As his talking continued, Fred slowly worked to move your body closer to his and nearly in his lap. He did it so naturally you almost failed to notice. The loud, booming tone of George simmer out within minutes. His voice seemed to sooth him into a slumber as his harsh snores suddenly cut through the air, having talked himself to sleep. This caused the both of you to start laughing. Fred’s arm gripped you tighter as his body shook with chuckles. The sensation sent an odd shiver down your spine. It felt… nice, really really nice to be in his arms.

Fred wondered if now was the time. It was the first chance he had gotten alone with you for almost a week, so there was a good probability he wouldn’t get another for a while. He needed to make a move, something at least! Fred hated not having the bravery like the Gryffindor he was to fess up and spit out the words to describe how he felt about you. Closing his eyes, Fred took a deep breath then peeked his gaze open once more. The nerves had calmed and for the first time, he felt ready and he knew he had to act on it. But as he looked down at you, all the confidence had vanished with one glance. His throat dried as your eyes met and a faint precipitation budded in his palms. All the words he had been rehearsing for a year now simply slipped out the back door.

You took note of the ghost white paleness that took over and immediately sat up, removing yourself from his arms to ask,

“You alright, Freddie?” The concern dripped from your words as you examined the face of your best friend. His eyes were lowered, glued to the flickering flames of the crackling fire.

“Of course, love. I’m sorry, was just thinking.”

“Aw, Freddie, we talked about this. You know thinking is no good for you- you’re brain can’t handle it, darling!” Fred’s heart leaped at the adorning pet name. Only recently had you started calling him more loving names, and it drove him absolutely mad. No girl could ever get his heart racing with just one word like you could. He loved hearing such names coming from your mouth, and directed to him. There was only one name he would die to call you and that was his.

“Can I take you for a walk, love?” The request came abruptly, completely out of the blue. Your eyes widen at his question. Any other time you’d say yes without a second thought. Although, it was late and the land was not a territory you were familiar with like Hogwarts.

Your eyes fell on the window behind the couch. Large white snowflakes swirled from the sky and coated the grounds. The heavy black winter jacket you packed was hung up neatly by the door, not having been touched for at least a day.

Turning your attention back to Fred, you realized his eyes were already trained on your face. At your glance, a hopefully smile reached his cheeks.

“It’s nearly midnight I… actually, why not? Sure. But if we run into any wolves, I’m sacrificing you to them, Weasley.” He laughed at your response and quickly jumped up. You set your hands to your side, readying yourself to stand when suddenly, Fred’s large hands attached to your sides and lifted you up to your feet. You stumbled trying to gain balance but once again, Fred was right there to help you.

Unexpectedly, his left hand extended out and intertwined his fingers in yours. Just as you had predicted, his touch was warm, addicting in a way. It set off a pool of security and protection. Instead of fearing what may lie in the open land outside his house, you trusted Fred.

The tall boy walked you towards the door and pulled your long coat from the hook then threw it around your body. You slipped your arms into the fuzzy material as he yanked his heavy jacket on. Watching the never ending snowfall outside, you worked your hands into the black mittens you had stored in the coat pockets. You hoped it wasn’t as bone chilling outside as it looked.

“Here, I think you might need this, love. You can use my scarf too if you’d like. Don’t want you freezing to death, that’d be hard to explain to George and the rest of our friends.” Fred placed an extra winter hat of his on top of your head. Heat slapped your cheeks at his movements. Fred was commonly sweet towards you but lately, he had been extra sweet. Small gestures here and there were adding up and raising a bit of questions in your mind.

You knocked Fred jokingly on the shoulder and remarked,

“Reckon they’ll send you to Azkaban for that one. I’m a saint, everyone loves me, Fred.” You teased him playfully before accepting his offer with a thank you. Instead of handing you the maroon and gold striped scarf, Fred leaned forward and wrapped it snug around your neck. Once finished, his fingertip tapped against the tip of your nose, grinning to himself.

“You’re not wrong about that. We should get going though. The killer trolls will rise from the ground soon!”

“Knock it off!” You scolded him in a hushed tone, careful not to wake his sleeping family as you chased out of the house after him. Running down the steps, you saw Fred waiting near the car for you. There was an open path behind the car, a makeshift road but the kids used it for a walking guide.

He motioned you over waving exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, darling! You’re taking forever.” Fred moaned on dramatically as he waited for you to catch up to him.  

“It’s freezing out here, be patient.” You waddled over to his side and stood close to his frame, egar for warmth. Fred took in your shaking body and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you towards his side.

Snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, conflicting your view. Despite the coldness of the winter air, the landscape was beautiful. There were miles and miles of open plains on all ends of the Burrow. In a way, they were isolated, but the atmosphere was live with activity. It was impossible to be bored when the Weasley siblings were around. There was so much to do, in an exploring sense. You had never felt so free, so open before. It was refreshing to spend time at Weasley's home. As the two of you walked together in the crunchy snow, Fred pointed to a large field, a makeshift pitch if you had to guess.

“Charlie and Bill taught George and I how to play Quidditch over there the summer after our first year. Percy hated playing with us! We’d all gang up on him- even if he was on our team- and try to knock him off his broom. I don’t think he’s played with us since! You would’ve died of laughter seeing how angry he got.” You watched as Fred’s features scrunched in laughed at the memory. His contagious chuckles infected you as you laughed along. It was a recollection you could imagine perfectly, even if you weren’t there. Percy was an easy target but he had done it to himself so there wasn’t much room for blame.

Shrugging your shoulders you said,

“I would say poor Percy but he turned me in for being out past curfew so, I’m proud of you, Fred.”

“Sounds like him, just try being related to him. He runs to our parents for everything! Every. Little. Thing. It’s infuriating.” Your cheeks began to sting from smiling so much, but when you were around Fred, it was a given. He had an affect on you that no one else seemed to earn. Even when you were on the brim of tears, Fred always found a way to bring a grin to your face.

But still, you thought about Ginny’s words and the change in Fred throughout your years as friends. Nights were lost tossing and turning over the thought of that prankster redhead who had occupied all your notions.

Lifting your hand up slightly, you grabbed for Fred’s gloved hand. He gladly accepted your gesture and squeezed on your hand as you continued to walk further from the home. Fred’s attention soon dropped as his consciousness drifted once again. Pursing your lips you drew him out.

“Freddie, what’s on your mind? You’ve been different since we got here. I mean, it’s not a bad different. It’s just… something is different with you and you’re my best friend so I wanna know.”

Fred’s eyes snapped up at your concerning voice and the startled expression met yours. This was definitely not a common act for Fred. Your mind raced at the possibility of what it could be but luckily, Fred didn’t make you wait long for an answer.

His pace slowed, but his feet still dragged in the powdered flakes holding your hand. You wanted to hear him speak so bad although you respected the time he needed and waited in silence as you continued to walk. It didn’t take long for Fred to shatter the thin air,

“Can I ask you a serious question? Like one that could change everything.”

“You can ask me anything, Fred. You know this. It won’t change a thing.” You replied seriously. Fred could hear the truthfulness in your words and it calmed him, only a little though. The looming fear, and reality, of rejection was becoming all too real. Even worse than rejection, Fred had a feeling if he didn’t take his chance now, he might never have the opportunity again.

“Do you see me only as a best friend?” The nervousness in his voice broke the peace of the air. Your feet halted at the cavalier inquest. Fred had asked quite the offhand questions before but this, this was new. Mentally attempting to connect the pieces, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Freddie…” The mummer was faint, almost failing to register from your lips. The Burrow was still in near distance and the moonlight provided enough light to search Fred’s face. You weren’t sure what to make of the inquiry exactly, but your heart race excelled in anticipation.

Fred Weasley shifted in the crystalline snow. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and his legs bounced in his stance. You knew him well enough to see the contemplation written across his features.

“Y/n I really really like you. I promise this isn’t a joke or some prank. If you don’t feel the same I can find a way to accept it but I don’t wanna lose you in my life. I just can’t hold it in anymore. It’s been five years of tortue now and… I just needed to get it out, love. I think I might be falling in love with you- if I haven’t already.” As Fred poured his heart out openly, the dripping snowfall ceased all together. It was magically in a sense. The loud slush was now quiet, almost like drizzling rain. His gingerbread eyes were studied upon you, waiting for any sort of reaction to surface. You just gazed up at him scavenging for the perfect words to spill your emotions.

“You’ve liked me for five years?” You asked, stunned. That was impossible. All this time you had spent crushing on Fred and admiring him, stuck in the friendzone, you could’ve just talked to him and been honest. Fred’s eyes darted back to his house then to you anxiously.

“Yeah. I’ve just been too scared to tell you. I don’t want it to ruin our friendship, that’s the last thing I could take.”

Your heart dropped at his words. It was funny in a way, he had the same fears as you. In the same way, you felt guilty for putting him through the same torture you had been going through the last few years as well.

With a surge of confidence, you snapped your head up to Fred and quickly remarked,

“Will it ruin our friendship if I think I’m in love with you too?”

The stillness in the air was unreadable at first. Your gazes trained intently on each other. The uplift gleamed in Fred when he took in your words. All his fears went away like the swish of a wand.

Half out of adrenaline, the other half out of want for years of desire, Fred took one step forward and closed the small gap of space between the two of you by pressing his lips tightly against yours. His hands rested on your face, and the small of your back to keep you steady. This you were thankful for this as his quick actions took you by shock nearly knocking you off your feet.

Your left hand drew up to his hair, finding a tight grip in his shoulder length locks, something you’d been dreaming about doing. The kiss intensified as you indulged in the lock and pressed closer to Fred. Your mouths moved together as if snogging was naturally with you two.

Your lungs demanded air after a few minutes and you slowly pulled away from Fred’s lips and leaned away to regain your composure. You could hear Fred panting at your side, also processing what just took place. Your hands never left each other’s and he suddenly squeezed yours to earn your attention. A genuine look crosses Fred’s face as he whispered into the cold air,

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend now or do you want me to woo you over on a date first?” His sweet words nearly melted your heart. As easy as you were to please when it came to Fred, this heartwarming exchange felt like the perfect night to declare as a first outing.

“I think I’ll count this as our first date, it was quite romantic.”

Fred rolled his eyes with a smirk. It made him happy that you weren’t demanding or the snotty type. He loved that the small things made you glow with happiness. Even with this, he was still mentally planning a date to take you on before break ended. Although you still had yet to answer his big question.

“So does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You had to swallow back a laugh as you realized you never officially answered Fred. Despite your kiss, he still looked worried you’d turn him away. Shaking your head with a smile you replied,

“Yes, I won’t make you beg anymore.”

Fred wasted no time snatching you by the waste and giving you a small twirl around the snow. A yelp sounded from your lips and you hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone sleeping at the Burrow. Fred chuckled at your protests and placed you down delicately. Placing his hands on either side of your face, the joyful Gryffindor snogged you lightly, but his passion still seeped through.

“Merlin’s beard, can’t believe it took my stupid arse five years to ask you out. I could’ve been kissing you years ago!”

“Guess we were both missing out. Feel dim for thinking I was going to ruin everything between us if I told you how I felt. But I’m so happy, Freddie.”

“Here, darling,” His gloved hand jerk back to the house, “We oughta head back, now. Mum will kill me if she finds out we were out this late! She thinks you’re an angel so you’ll be fine but I’ll be six feet under by dawn. I can’t wait for morning, though. I can finally brag to everyone that you’re mine, love.” His lips pressed against yours again, desperate to relive the spark and it did not disappoint. Kissing Fred felt natural, like you melted into the embrace. Your lips molded in sync, matching up like magnets. His tongue drew a line across your bottom lips as he kissed you deeper.

Coming back to earth you detached from Fred with a light ‘smack’ noise. Neither of you could wipe the childlike grins off your faces. His plump cheeks turned crimson in the night. Unable to shake off the excitement of the night’s events, you leaned into Fred’s body, giving him a tight hug. He returned the embrace instantly and left a long kiss to the top of your head.

Leaning away, you planted one last kiss to Fred’s cheek then held his hand as you two walked towards his home. The light at the top of the Burrow, assumingly Fred and George's room was turned on. Brightness shone from the window and you pointed up at the sight. The house was only feet away and you started to wonder what George would think of the news.

It could be assumed he wouldn’t be shocked. George spent the last year making comments to you here and there, prying in on you and Fred. Ginny of course wouldn’t be too blown away either, but what about Ron and Harry?

Fred already knew what their reactions would be. He knew without a doubt all of your friends would be thrilled, but no one would be too taken aback by your new relationship. It seemed the only two students who were oblivious to your shared feelings, were Fred and yourself.

“You think they’ll be surprised to hear we’re dating?” You wondered out loud. Fred swung your hand in a back and forth motion as you approached the front porch of the house. Your question obtained a chuckle from Fred as he shook his head,

“Not one bit, love.”

[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.