#when i told my dad how much this letter reminded me of his own writing he was like - you mean overly complicated? wordy? flowery?

[hepatosaurus]

The other day I rediscovered this letter from my paternal grandfather to my grandma, written a few days after my aunt (their first child) was born in 1940. He died several years before I was born so I never really know what to call him when I talk about him (grandpa? granddad? probably not granddad, that was my mom's dad), and honestly I don't have a good idea of what he was like, personality-wise. But his voice in this letter is SO MUCH like my dad's, it's kind of eerie. and nice, to feel that sense of recognition in the writing of someone I never knew. :)

Anyway, I think it's a pretty special letter, so I wanted to archive it here so I don't forget about it again. (And that last paragraph - damn, Johnny!!!)

(text under the cut)

1:20 PM

11/8/40

Hullo -

Probably seems silly to try to write you after you're tired of seeing me perched at your shoulder, but there might be more of a chance to "see" you alone this way than going to visit you in a semi-unprivate room (even with the post-election bedlam that's raging around here).

True called a little while ago suggesting a plan for your homecoming. Didn't go into it too much but I did mention that we had better find out when you were going to finish your stretch before arranging for your parole. Seems that Mrs. Lape is having kaffe klatch on Wednesday.

Hope you're feeling as well as you looked last night. So far as I could see you were my same old boss once again and it was good to see. I suppose it's rather foolish to mention how much the dog, cat, canary, and goldfish all miss you - oh, yes, and me too.

Stayed home last night. I think it was the first time I've really sat down in the house since Sunday night. When I looked around, I thought I was in strange quarters. Mrs. Peterson waylayed me on my way out this morning to ask about you. Acted very concerned.

Tuesday night, dad asked me if I would stop down to the house again tonight. I don't know yet whether I will or not. To admit being completely mercenary, I might go down just to see if there is a present available. Nice thing to say, huh?

Has it penetrated that square skull yet, that the status quo no longer exists? I don't think I realize it entirely although it's beginning to seep in gradually that the word daddy means somebody besides Mr. Richard F. It is a very attractive feeling to me. How do you like?

I'm afraid that the noise I mentioned earlier has me licked. I haven't the faintest idea what I've written you so mebbe I'd better stop trying and wait til I see you tonight.

One thing that I have already found out is that when one love is divided into two parts - very unmathematically - neither part is smaller than the original shipment. Sounds screwy but mebbe it can be enlarged upon in pusson sometime.

See you a lot

Pop (Pap? unclear)

#see you a lot :) #when i told my dad how much this letter reminded me of his own writing he was like - you mean overly complicated? wordy? flowery? #and...yeah! kind of!! #but i get the feeling they both put a lot of care and thought into their writing. maybe too much! but it's there. #family #from the archives

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Brodie flicked through the mail, instantly recognising the scrawling handwriting of a certain redheaded little boy. Scaring a few birds in the process, he bellowed up the stairs: ALEEEEX!] Alex: [breathless] Is it for me?! Brodie: Nah, but I could do with some help carrying this super heavy envelope upstairs. Alex: Who do you think you are, Johnny Zest? Brodie: I’m better than that guy, c’mon…

… Hi Alex! Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to you, I promise I didn’t forget! I guess I just didn’t really know what to say cos I’ve sorta not felt like myself recently. My mom says I disappear into my own world sometimes so I sorta did that again and found it hard to think of anything fun to say. I don’t think I’d mind if you wrote to me about the less fun parts of your life though n’ my dad says you shouldn’t really keep everything to yourself all the time cos it ends up hurting so I thought I’d write anyway n’ just force myself not to worry about being boring or whatever. Your letters and your life always sound so exciting compared to mine though so sometimes it’s hard not to!!

I got in a fight at school which sounds like it should be an exciting story, but it wasn’t really. There’s this kid called Levi in my class that always picks on me (don’t worry though, I don’t care about that) and I couldn’t be bothered listening to him anymore so I hit him a couple times, I thought he’d hit me back but he just freaked out so I sorta felt bad about it afterward. He still makes fun of me but he doesn’t get up in my face as much so that’s a plus. Who says violence doesn’t solve anything? Hahaha I’m kidding! It wasn’t nice of me but maybe he should know better than to push people around so much.

I’m looking forward to summer so I can wander off a bit more and maybe it won’t rain so much! My mom doesn’t really like it when I go too far but as long as I’m back before curfew she tries not to freak out about it which is nice of her cos she knows I like to explore n’ stuff. I shouldn’t complain about my family cos I love them n’ stuff but I like being on my own sometimes and it’d be nice to have a bit of peace now n’ then. I’ve got SUPER good hearing so it’s hard to find anywhere quiet in my house, especially cos there’s always something crazy going on. My aunt Alma is sorta similar to me so she’s been helping me block out the noise with this meditation sorta thing, I guess it’s hard to explain but it’s not as lame as it sounds, it’s kinda fun to see how long you can stay in your own brain without people interrupting you. That probably sounds really weird but maybe you sorta get what I mean?

I finally have a treehouse now too!! It reminds me of your watchtower in some ways, but I guess it’s no way cooler than that, even though I know you’re bored of it by now. I wish we could hang out in it together cos it’s super awesome! Mom n’ dad don’t really bother me when I’m up there n’ my brother n’ sisters can’t manage the ladder yet so it’s all mine! It’s right at the bottom of the garden and looks out over the whole Bay too! Mom said she might let me sleep in it once it gets a bit warmer! It’d be cool falling asleep to the sound of the waves.. I hope it doesn’t end up making me need to pee all night though haha!!

Wren’s been obsessed with watching me play on the computer recently and I keep tryna teach her how to play herself but her little fingers can’t really reach all the buttons on the keyboard too well and she gets stupid mad when she dies so she just makes me play instead. She’d kick me if I told anyone but she’s a bit scared of some of the monsters too lol!! Mom told me I shouldn’t let her watch those ones but they’re the only ones she WANTS to watch and she jumps all over me until I give in so idk what they expect me to do other than lock her in the pantry, but I got told off for that so I guess I shouldn’t do that again haha (Wren thought it was funny though so it’s all good!) It’s a shame you don’t have a computer in the tower otherwise we could play together! Jude n’ Jacob aren’t really into that sorta thing so I usually just play on my own. Do you have a computer back home??

Oh! I got another badge for my swimming lessons too! I’ve almost got em all now which is neat but I sorta wanna avoid getting the last ones cos anyone that gets them all or has good attendance n’ whatever get an award at the end of the school year. They save em all up to give out at some stupid last year disco thing they put on before summer for the last year kids n’ it’d be so cringe to get called out in front of everyone like that. Some people think it’s gonna be amazing like my friend Jude, but I’d rather not go at all. Mom n’ dad keep saying it’ll be fun n’ everyone else is excited about it too but how fun could something be if you’re technically at SCHOOL? Bleh! I know you said you hate it sometimes, but being homeschooled sounds awesome to me lol.

I keep tryna bug my parents to go camping again so we could maybe see each other but they won’t take me out of school for a holiday n’ dad’s too busy with some work project so I guess we’ll have to keep writing to each other instead! Maybe if I keep annoying them about it we can come back in the summer! I hope so anyway but I guess I don’t wanna piss em off TOO much just in case my plan backfires or something.

I still feel really bad about not writing sooner but my dad said better late than never so hopefully you’re not too upset with me! I’ll try my best to write faster next time so you don’t have to wait as long. I’m looking forward to hearing about everything you’ve been up to!! Love Robin c: ps. my dad’s friend finally helped me fix that old polaroid so I’ve sent you some random pictures I took to test it out! I’m still getting used to it but the next ones will be better, I swear!

… the treehouse! it even has cool lights on it!! the back of our house! it’s so big it’s hard to fit in a picture.. it sorta looks fancy but it’s not really n’ dad said it was cheap cos it was a shithole a rare Byrd! (grumpy too – dad tried to take his dummy off him lol) he’s not supposed to be on my bed… the Bay! Jude says I sound girly for saying it’s so pretty here but I don’t care I could take a million pictures of this place n’ never get bored (I’ll stop now though cos mom says these polaroid things aren’t cheap for this model.. oops lol!!)

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #alexandra sampson #brodie sampson #robin finch #IN SPIRIT #sdkjdk #he finally wrote baaaack 🤸‍♀️ #i love his letters sm #and alex's #but i don't wanna write a million of em lmao #let's just assume they're gonna resume writing to one another fervently from now on ok? #cos we're gonna leave these guys n robin be for a while #let robin work on his 'meditation' in peace n all that #maybe check in on some other folk 👀 #might take a lil break first tho idk #only a tiny one probs #q'ing this like.. a week ago so who knows #been super busy training at work recently n with life so hooooo boy #x.x #NEWAY #<333 #ily guys

[leonw4nter]

My Daddy Forever, You’ll Always Be

ID!Leon + GN!Child

Dad suffered a lot. Uncle Chris or Aunt Claire tells me just how much he suffered and how he continues to suffer. No one had to tell me that my dad pushed all the suffering back and didn’t feel into them just to take care of me, even when the scrape on my knee was nothing compared to the fracture in his collarbone or the swelling of his eye. I do my best to be there for him, reminding him to celebrate birthdays or find happiness in the mundane like coloring books but I guess even that isn’t enough to fill the mom-shaped hole she left in his heart. No one’s going to fit in there, not even me, and I don’t think dad wants anyone to fill it in and that’s okay because I have a mom-shaped hole in my heart too, even if I only know how mom looks based on pictures in the frames and photo albums dad loved to look at.

On every birthday he has, we always prepare two candles– one for him and one for mom, even if they don’t share a birthday (they’re six months apart). Dad always sadly sighs when he blows out her candle; I think he hates doing that. I hate observing that though they were born a few months apart, they’re even more apart now that one of them is still on Earth while the other is in heaven now. Despite the fact that I sort of killed mom by being born fussy, Dad still loves me and does his best to be present in my life. He knows which dresses to buy and doesn’t mind wearing make up, even when the lipstick is smeared or if some powder got into his eyes. Sometimes I think he’s trying to make up by treating me well because I look like the splitting image of my mom and he’s trying to suppress the guilt every time he sees me but I don’t mind; he lost a woman who’s been around in his life longer than I have been. He lets me sleep in his and mom’s room sometimes, letting me sleep in what he said was her side of the bed. If we both couldn’t sleep, he could talk about anything and everything but her. There was one time where I told him that my classmate’s mom remarried after her dad died in service and that she was happy and I asked him if that would make him happier.

“Marriage is how you know that your love persevered through tough times. A second marriage is proof of how you were willing to give yourself another chance to love. I don’t think I can marry again because I know I won’t be able to love someone else as much as I fiercely love your mother,” was all he said before I turned to face him, his chest shaking slightly and tears streamed down his stubbly cheek. I apologized to him and quietly promised that I won’t ever make dad cry again and that I would do my best to make sure dad stayed happy.

Dad isn’t very keen on writing; he’d much rather install a tile and get dirt underneath nails he maintained than write on several pieces of paper back to back but I notice that he began buying stationery in order to write letters but those letters were never sent. He keeps them in a womens’ shoe box and occasionally takes a letter out to read as he quietly cries to himself. On the night of what would be five years since mom left us, I woke up in the middle of the night to find dad’s side of the bed empty. I got up and saw him sitting on the floor as he hugged the shoe box close to his chest.

“Will we ever see each other again? How long until you’ll come back to me and our daughter?” was what I heard as he continued to cry. I have heard Dad cry but never as gut-wrenching as this. I continued to watch him cry, tears of my own spilling and I felt bad for him. Aunt Claire told me that dad never showed fear when he was at work, shooting and defeating the bad guys but whenever he looked at me, there would always be a small tinge of fear in his eyes. She said that he just didn’t want me to see the world the way he saw it, whatever that meant. I couldn’t take it and I ended up sobbing, maybe as hard as dad did. He heard me and got up, walking over to where I was hiding. He lifted me and hugged me tight, pressing kisses to my hair and repeatedly apologizing for being a little too loud when I was sleeping. If only Dad saw that he had nothing to apologize for but how could he see that when the splitting image of his wife is me and my face reminds him of what he gained and lost on that day?

I hope Dad doesn’t beat himself up for losing what he had left of mom. I hope he doesn’t feel sad whenever he sees another dad with his wife bonding with their daughter in a park. I hope he doesn’t cry whenever it’s his birthday and he pokes a third candle into his cake. I hope he doesn’t consider himself a bad father because I would rather live a short life with dad than a long life without him. It made me sad how dad would never see me in a wedding gown and would probably never walk me down the aisle or have our daddy-daughter dance; after we watched the movie Father of the Bride and seeing dad get all emotional about it, it kind of made me a little happy to image dad being so excited for me. I hope he will be kind to himself and let himself experience happiness. I hope that God would let me be reborn as dad’s best friend so I can help him get through what he went through. He would’ve been a pleasure to walk to school with. Hmm. Maybe he’d be the type to remind the teacher of homework.

NOTE - Sorry for dropping this short and mid ass fic, I just had to hop on my computer and write this one bc I came across this one wedding tiktok where the dad sees his daughter who's getting married for the first time and I cried then suddenly remembered I wrote an angsty fic where Leon's kid dies and I decided to add this as the kid's POV. I was too sad okay I just HAD to write one up but looking back at it, now that I'm not that sad, it's actually... ehh. A for effort, I guess. Anyways, that's it and thank you SOOOOOO much for reading my fics, it means a lot to me :) I <33333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are from @saradika , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #biohazard #leon kennedy angst #dad leon s kennedy #leon kennedy dad #leon x reader #angst #light angst #resident evil angst #resident evil infinite darkness #infinite darkness leon #yall i chose mislabelled this as “death island” at first so yeah im sorry for the confusion :')

[ninacytosis]

For the time lost

Summary: Zuko wants to erase every reminder of his past mistakes, and Katara will take him on a journey to, quite literally, heal both of their scarrings.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, Katara has burns scars from Aang's first attempts to firebend, Katara tries to get over her resentment towards the FN, Zuko doesn't hate Azula.

Dear reader: I hope you enjoy it! <3 Let me know if you want me to continue posting.

Find chapter two here.

Also if you prefer reading in ao3 here's the link.

┊┊┊┊☆┊*🌙*┊☆┊┊┊┊

Chapter One

“Dear Zuko:

I hope this letter finds you well. Since you didn’t respond to my messages from the previous weeks, I couldn’t help but do a little investigation on my own. Aang told me he last visited the Fire Nation a couple of days ago, and to his surprise, you weren’t there. Honestly, this got me even more curious. What are you up to, Fire Lord? What juicy secret are you keeping from us?

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that my dad made some octo-fish soup this weekend. I bet you have never tried it, well, maybe on your finding-the-avatar days you stopped by and tried. But that doesn’t seem like you. One day Sokka and I will cook you some, but only if you tell me why you’re being so distant lately!

We’re always here for you, Zuko.

Hugs,

Katara”

Zuko read the letter while waiting for the water to boil. He had never heard of octo-fish soup to this day, but he wasn’t opposed to trying new dishes. In fact, most of his favorite dishes weren’t even from the Fire Nation. After trying the Omashu noodles, who could blame him?

 “Dear Katara,

I hope you enjoyed that soup and the company of your family. Knowing that you spend good quality time with your family brings me so much joy and relief because all of you deserve it. I hope that every good memory makes up for every bad one, though unfortunately, healing doesn’t work like an exchange, does it?

As the Fire Lord, certain duties demand my presence in the other nations. So, as much as I wish my lack of responses were due to a secret vacation of mine, they are more like business trips. Might as well call me the Fire Businessman now. (Don’t let anyone read this to Toph because she most certainly will call me that.)

It was nice hearing from you. Send as many letters as you please. Even if I’m not home, I’ll promise I’ll read them. By the way, how are your little waterbenders doing? I’m sure it was harder to handle Aang, you know, back in our teaching-the-Avatar days.

Best,

Zuko”

He sat down and frowned at the piece of paper. It’s not that he wanted to hide things from her, or his friends. But it was almost embarrassing to write and send a letter describing his last weeks. It was a path of emotions he was unready to walk through. She would probably forget it in a couple of weeks anyway, and then he would be able to tell her everything.

“Dear Zuko,

Or should I say, Dear Fire Liar?

Even though I don’t have a lot of time in my hands, I still managed to get some information about your mysterious “business” trips. Sokka’s been of great help, for once, and a little bird told him that people from the Northern Water Tribe have spotted you in very weird places. But being honest, I still don’t know what is it that you’re hiding so hard. You got yourself an Ice Lady?

On another note, it’s very exciting to see both of the Nations exchanging goods and, you know, not trying to slit each other’s throats. I always wanted the war to end of course, but it was very hard to imagine a future so full of prosperity. It’s hard to grasp sometimes.

I hope I’m not getting overly emotional but it makes me think about my mom a lot. She never lived in a world without war in it, isn’t that fucked up? Some days I feel a strange guilt running through my body because I get to move on and she will always stay there. This seems like I’m getting all over the place. I don’t usually say this stuff to anybody, but I know you would get it. And today seems like a good day for letting it all out.

When I’m down, I like to think that she sees the world through the eyes of Sokka, or dad’s, or even mine. It’s silly, I know. But it makes me feel closer to her.

Well, enough about me. Tell me more about your trips, about your uncle’s new place. I’m dying to know. Maybe next time you should try doing business in the Southern Water Tribe and pay us a visit. We all miss you!

Hugs,

Katara”

Zuko took a long breath. No amount of tea would cure the unmeasurable shame that he felt reading Katara’s letter. He knew how empathetic she was, and how much he loved her family, and he could never forgive himself for what his family did to the world. Every day he looked at himself in the mirror and was reminded of a past he could never erase, his face became no longer his once his dad put his palm on it.

His sudden state made him forget about Katara’s little quest. He was not only full of shame but also full of passion to help others. Every reminiscent of the war also reminded him of the resilience of people during difficult times. And every time Katara changed the subject, Zuko needed to excruciatingly tell her how much her strength motivated him to be better. And after writing that letter, he decided it was time to invite her to the palace.

#atla #zutara #zutara fanfiction #zuko x katara #it's my first fanfic pls be kind :) #also i'm not a native english speaker so plsss forgive me if the dialogue sounds unnatural #or if the grammar feels off #FTL :)

[muertawrites]

I don’t even know if your requests are open or closed,, so if they’re closed you can just ignore this☹️

So,, hear me out — it was present day, 2022, and Eddie and Y/n’s grandchild(ren) find photos of Eddie and Y/n in the 80’s, and Eddie and Y/n’s child, their mom, catches them looking at their parents photos, and when Eddie and Y/n find out about this, they offer to show their grandchild(ren) more photos.

I need some Eddie fluff,, sO😭 YEAHHH. anyway,, have a great day/night ily/p — 🦔 (call me hedgehog anon😁bc i love hedgehogs fr)

i am screaming. i am crying. i am puking up blood at how unbearably ADORABLE THIS REQUEST IS how dare you make me face my romanticism and sentimentality

i'm going to write this as just a headcanon bc if i think about it too hard i might actually shatter my own heart. i'm also gonna tweak the family setup a lil bit.

so like

let's talk about eddie in his 50s

that man's a silver fox. kept his long hair and totally metal wardrobe. aged to perfection. still a massive ball of unchecked chaotic good. owns a music shop and rides a motorcycle.

and of course he's still head over heels in love with you. every day he wakes up next to you and is like "that's my person. the most beautiful person in the entire world. i am so lucky <3". like he still gets butterflies around you. you've been married for 20 years but he still writes you notes like "will you go out with me yes or no"

and hey let's talk about that marriage!

it was not planned

you were perfectly happy living in a domestic partnership and not getting the law involved

until you both royally fucked up and he got you pregnant

and this poor man was terrified when you found out. not because he didn't think he could be a dad, but because he was afraid you were gonna leave him. you told him you didn't want kids and he went and did the big dumb and didn't use a condom. but he reminded you repeatedly that it was your body and he didn't care what you did, he would still love you and support you and be there through all of it.

but you actually decided... hey. if i'm gonna have a baby, eddie's the only baby daddy i could ever want. so you told him you wanted to be a family.

and he immediately proposed.

so fast forward to today. it's 2022, and your now full-grown baby is headed off to college. she's nervous as hell. so you pull out the shoebox full of photos of you and eddie when you were her age to help reassure her.

the first ones are just goofy ones, back from before you and eddie started dating. pictures from the road trip you guys took when he drove you to college, standing in front of his van packed with your stuff. pictures from parties you went to together, drunkenly laughing with plastic cups in hand. polaroids and letters you sent back and forth to each other, unable to talk about anything more than how much you miss each other.

the next ones you show her are of your pregnancy and her birth. eddie kissing your growing bump. standing with his arms wrapped around you in front of the house you bought. sleeping in a chair in the hospital with a bundle of blankets in his arms, thick tufts of black hair peeking out the top. uncles dustin and steve huddled around her, staring at her with massive grins on their faces. wayne sitting with her at his kitchen table, eddie at his side and both smiling adoringly down at her.

then there are the ones from her childhood, the ones she remembers. sitting on eddie's lap while he teaches her guitar. getting carried on his shoulders at her first metallica concert. giggling at the funny voices and faces he made while reading to her. asleep in the back seat of his van, curled up with the stuffed dragon she's had since she was a baby.

eddie making devil horns with her to celebrate her spelling bee win.

you braiding her unruly curls for her middle school graduation.

you and eddie hugging her in a sandwich on the night of junior prom, forcing her date to take the photo (not pictured is the very long, very menacing lecture eddie gave the poor boy, even though he was just taking her as a friend. it worked though - he got her home an hour before curfew.)

"... you didn't want a kid, right?" she asks. "how did... how did you do it?"

you sigh, pulling her in close.

"it was terrifying," you admit. "but... i had your dad. we had each other. and we had everyone else in the family with us, too. none of it has ever been easy, but it's all been so much better because we're surrounded by people who love us, and we love you more than anything. and that's what you've got to focus on. the good things will make you strong enough to kick the bad things in the teeth."

"hey, that's not how i taught her to fight," eddie chimes as he enters the room. "kicking teeth is too difficult. you gotta go for an uppercut, jam the fucker's nose into his skull."

he grins and flops down onto the couch beside her, kissing her forehead.

"ready to head out, padawan?"

she nods.

"yeah. i'm actually... i'm really excited!"

as you watch her bound into the back seat of eddie's jeeep, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you tightly and pressing your back to his chest.

"we made a pretty cool little human," he muses.

"yeah," you agree. "yeah, we really did."

#eddie munson #eddie asks #muerta's works #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #🦔 anon

[garbinge]

Minimum Wage

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 02 these April Prompts: “Minimum Wage”

Summary: You left the Galindo name and life behind, but it always seems to come back after you.  

A/N: Just something short, there’s something so intriguing to me about a Galindo sister who just ~hates~ the family business. 

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angsty, very angsty. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini (Not sure how many individual Mayans fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

Part 2 

“Come on, can I please drive you home?” Nestor pleaded with you as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the run down diner in his slacks and suit jacket. 

“I told you, that’s not my home.” You said as you passed him with two plates in your hand. 

Carefully, you placed them on the table farthest from the door and asked if they needed anything else, taking out your guest check ready to take notes. After writing down their updated drink order you retreated back behind the counter and poured two more cups of coffee. 

“I have strict orders to not leave until I get you to agree to come home.” Nestor was now a step or two closer to the counter now. 

“Well, you better make yourself comfortable because my shift isn’t over for another 2 hours.” 

Your eyes didn’t even bother to meet him as you said it, but you took one of the coffees you just poured and left it on the third seat from the corner on the diner counter for him before you moved to take more orders. 

The lunch rush died down, with only a few minutes left of your shift, you made your way back to Nestor, pouring him what was probably his 3rd cup of coffee since being here.

“I’m not coming home.” You said as the liquid poured. 

“I know.” Nestor said nodding and not making eye contact with you. 

Your eyes jumped from the mug to his eyes. His hair had grown a little since you last saw him, his grip was firm  around the coffee mug, you took in his outfit fully, you never envisioned Nestor like this, that it would ever get to this point. 

Being Miguel’s younger sister, you grew up with Nestor. While Miquel would hang out with the eldest Oceteva, you would be stuck with the younger, both of the big brothers being forced to bring the younger siblings with them. Over time your relationship evolved from being stuck with Nestor to actually enjoying your time together. You started hanging out more on your own, you invited him over and you’d hang out for hours, sometimes days if your dad was out of town. 

It was sickening to you, to see how much things changed again. Nestor always felt like yours. Not in a possessive way but in a way that only you knew him, his secrets, his flaws, his mannerisms, his favorite things, his pet peeves. That was all information that only you knew, and now there was a whole new set of secrets, of flaws, of mannerisms that Miguel knew and you didn’t. That broke you. 

“Then why are you here?” You asked him genuinely. You believed that he truthfully knew there was no chance he was going to be bringing you home. Because just like he felt like yours for all those ways you knew him, you felt like his for the same reasons. 

You left home the minute you turned 18, similar to how Nestor fled to the Navy, you fled to here. You got a minimum wage job, a few of them, and made it work. You had a decent place, you paid your bills, you changed your name, completely separated yourself from the Galindo business. It came as a shock when you heard Nestor had done the complete opposite as you when he returned from the Navy. You had written him letters, you two talked frequently, and he never mentioned once about his plans for after. He just stopped writing. Then showed up to the diner one night very similarly to how he did now. 

“To see you.” His eyes now met yours. That look, it broke you. It was hard to stare at him and really look at him, it reminded you of everything you could have had, everything that was supposed to be yours but was robbed by his decision to go neck deep into the Galindo Cartel, by your brother who was dragging him in even deeper. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Your words left your mouth before you could think. “What’s the point of this, Nestor? I’m not coming home, you’re not leaving. Why put ourselves through this shit.” 

“Because I miss you.” He said without hesitation. 

It sounded like a pick up line, but you knew it wasn’t. Nestor wasn’t going to play a game with you, things were too complicated for that. If he wanted a quick fuck he could get that easily, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, he had access to money if it really was finding itself to be a difficult task but you knew that wasn’t what he was here for. 

“I miss you too.” You closed your eyes before turning and putting the coffee pot back. “But this, this isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I don’t care about anyone. I care about you.” Nestor had planned this out, he didn’t come here on a whim, it was on Miguel’s orders, yes, but he didn’t come here without thinking through his words. It was something the Nestor you grew up with never did, but Navy Nestor always did. With every letter he sent you, there was thought, intention, the service matured him in a way that your pining over him turned from a childhood crush to the man you wanted to marry. The man you knew would be a good husband. Protective. Funny. Thoughtful. Smart. Aware. But he took all those traits and gave them to Miguel instead. 

“You care about Miguel.” 

“And you don’t?” He retorted back to you. 

“He’s my big brother. Of course I do, but I can’t spend my time worrying about him–caring about him, he made his choice just like I did.” You lifted your hands up in defeat. 

“You work minimum wage at 4 jobs.” Nestor didn’t mean for it to come out harsh but it did, he just meant to put things into perspective for you. And he did. 

“And yet, I’m happier than I ever was then.” Your words also didn’t mean to come out harsh but, it did. 

“You gave up everything.” Nestor phrased it weirdly, it wasn’t so much a statement but it wasn’t so much a question either, somewhere in the middle of both. 

“Yea, you did.” You said staring deep into his eyes. 

It got silent, things got tense while you took a deep breath and kicked off the counter behind you. 

“In another life, maybe we chose each other.” You hoped the statement offered some type of closure, you knew if you didn’t end this now it would never stop. “But in this one, we made our choices clear and we have to live with that.”

Nestor nodded, he stood up from the seat and reached to his back pocket for his wallet. 

You lifted your hand up and shook your head. “On me.” 

Nestor hesitated, it didn’t feel right but he also knew it was barely a dollar worth of coffee so he nodded and turned to exit the diner. The bells from the door jingled as he opened it, the breeze hit you along with the realization of the situation.

“Nes.” You called out his nickname as he turned to look at you. “I wish things were different.” You wanted to leave him with some kind of peace, but deep down you knew it was also for you too. 

“Me too.” He nodded his hand still keeping the door open. “I’ll see you.” 

With that he closed the door, letting his hands fall into his pockets while he retreated to his black escalade that was parked in the lot. 

Your eyes looked down behind the counter, where your duffel bag sat, packed with all the things you needed to start new again. Having your own life where your brother knew where to find you wasn’t ideal anymore, you couldn’t live with one leg still connected to the Galindo family, so you knew this was the best thing moving forward. You’d find new jobs, you already had one lined up, it was a promotion too, not a minimum wage gig but something that paid more and was way more stable with the hours. The life you wished you would have had with him, but you were going to make for yourself at least. 

“No,” You shook your head as you mumbled under your breath. “You won’t.” 

Part 2

#mayans mc #mayans fx #nestor oceteva #nestor x reader #nestor x galindo!reader #galindo!reader #galindo reader #galindo sister #nestor oceteva x reader #angst

[welovemysty]

There is a subreddit called "Kids are Effin' Stupid." It is filled with photos, videos and anecdotes about children doing dumb things. A recent story reminded me of an episode of my own stupidity when I was a kid.

I didn't study for a weekly spelling quiz and tried to cheat off my neighbor. I thought I was sneaky, but Mrs. Campbell caught me. She took my test and wrote a big, red "F" on top. She wrote and underlined "cheating" underneath the failing grade.

At the end of the day, she gave the test back to me and said I had to get my parents to sign it. I didn't want to show the test to mom or dad because I knew that I would probably get a spanking. Instead, I forged my mother's signature that night and returned the test to Mrs. Campbell in the morning.

I assumed I had gotten away with it until that evening. The doorbell rang after supper, and it was my teacher. I forgot that she lived only one street over. She told mom and dad about my cheating and my pathetic attempt at forgery.

When Mrs. Campbell left, my dad said, "Young lady, we're going to have a serious talk," and mom said, "I'll get my hairbrush."

If I had simply studied for the quiz, I wouldn't have been in that mess. If I had not cheated and just accepted a poor grade, my parents might have simply admonished me to do better. But no, not only did I not study, but I cheated, and I compounded my sin by trying to hide it.

I got the worst spanking of my young life that evening. Dad pushed me into the living room and sat on the sofa. Mom came in and handed her hairbrush to him. He placed next to him on top of the damning quiz. He hauled me over his lap and quickly bared my bottom by pushing up my school skirt and slipping my panties down. He put his hand on my fanny and said, "I'm giving you eight spanks for not studying," and he swatted my naked cheeks in a rapid, rhythmic fashion.

Daddy has big hands, and he spanks hard. I was sniffling before he started and crying by the last smack. Then he picked up the brush and rested its cool, smooth surface on my now warm behind. "Now I'm going to paddle you eight times for cheating." The first eight spanks seemed like a vacation compared to the vicious sting of mom's hairbrush on my already sore bottom. I was squirming and hollering, but dad held me firmly and delivered all eight swats to alternating cheeks.

"And now you're getting eight more for forging your mother's name."

Those last eight licks were the worst. Dad didn't spank quick like before. No, he was slow and deliberate, every swat much harder than the previous set. Each powerful spank was delivered directly to my little bare sit spots. I would definitely feel this spanking every time I tried to sit down for the next day or two. I was no longer hollering - I was screaming and struggling to get off of his lap. I was no match for his strength, and he held my tiny body down while he completed my punishment.

When the paddling was over, and my wretched bottom was on fire, dad stood me up in front of him. He held me by both arms and began lecturing me about truth and honesty. I don't think I heard any of it because I was crying my eyes out and trying to rub my backside. He must have asked me a question because he suddenly turned me to my side and gave my behind two more stinging spanks, and he yelled, "Are you listening to me, young lady?" All I could do was nod my head while I continued sobbing.

Mom made me write an apology letter to Mrs. Campbell before I went to bed. I'm certain I slept on my side that night because no matter how soft my mattress was, I would not get any rest with my bruised and throbbing bottom directly touching the bed.

[helga-heason]

Letter #8

Dear Selina,

I hope this finds you well. I’ve been running around Gotham for the last week or so in a way Gordon has termed ‘like a bat out of hell’ - and I suppose he isn’t wrong - because of this weird new alliance that the Danger Twins (the Joker and the Riddler) have formed. I’m writing this in a brief moment of serenity. Arkham is quiet for the first time in my living memory, but that’s… Not good. If it’s quiet, those two are up to something. Knowing now what the Riddler is like, he probably has a good deal of schematics in his cell for ridiculously convoluted and messed up death traps - that the Joker is probably helping him with.

I fear that I may end up going too far in my search for answers; chasing my own tail down a road best left untravelled, breaking my wings in a box too small to contain them. No-one knows how deep the rabbit hole goes, but once you find that out, you’re beyond the point of no return. There’s no way back when you know how far the rabbit hole goes. I feel like I’m already dancing that thin line, caught in the nail-biting anguish of a bleeding city and the anger and hatred of the Gotham poor; of the rogues who take matters into their own hands. I see now that I cannot do this alone, but who would work with me? The few other vigilantes that operate in this city are afraid of me, and why shouldn’t they be? I’ve spent the past few years hammering fear into the hearts of the petty criminals. That sort of thing can’t be undone in a hurry. I can’t ask you to join me. Not again. Not when you have a life where you are now. Not when you almost died last time we worked together. Not when some sort of affection for you threatens to break the Batarang off my chest with how hard my heart beats.

It’s not really a thing for me to go and check up on people, but I did a few days ago. I went to check on both Bella Reál and Oz… And the mayor was so much more pleasant. She has an odd thing against Bruce Wayne - I mean, who doesn’t - but she’s a surprisingly good conversationalist. She has aspirations and dreams and goals to help this city. If only the council would stop blocking her efforts… Even I have a thing against Bruce Wayne… And I am Bruce Wayne! I spent a while talking with Bella about various different things, and she asked me if it was possible for me to work with a few of the scattered Gotham vigilantes and Gotham PD to try and clean up the city and start removing the corruption, bit by bit. I snorted and said that I’m not the kind of person you employ, while the other vigilantes probably don’t work for free. She said that was fair enough, sounded pretty wistful, and said it had been a nice conversation and she hoped we could have another at some point. I agreed. And, don’t worry, neither of us meant it in a way that would be considered socially inappropriate.

Oz, however… He’s an annoying bastard, alright? For some reason - somehow - he is even more of a pain in the ass when you’re there on a social visit. I told him I wasn’t there to ‘bust his balls’, and he took it as an invitation to immediately start mocking me over the fact I have a cat. He said I was pining over you so hard that I’d somehow materialised a cat into my life who is oddly similar to you. He’s out of line… But he is somewhat correct. I didn’t materialise her, I found her outside of your old apartment, though it’s true that I did decide to take her in and adopt her in your honour. Because, yeah, I’m pining. I told Alfred about this conversation with Oz and he said, in what you’d probably call a ‘disapproving dad tone’, “oh, my heart, it bleeds.”. I’ll remind him of this next time I catch him trying to teach Robin how to shake hands - or paw, in her case.

That tomcat won’t stop sniffing around the Batcave. Robin isn’t in the slightest bit interested as far as I can tell, but the tomcat is insistent. I considered the possibility that it was just super… Horny, but for a whole month? I think it’s just obsessed with someone or something. What it’s obsessed with, though, is beyond me. If not Robin, then what? Robin is doing great, oddly. I’m really not the most competent pet owner - for god’s sake, I can’t even look after a plant without it dying - but Robin is… Thriving. Maybe all she needed was someone just as lonely as her to keep her company. I admit I wasn’t too keen on her at first and only took her in because it didn’t feel right to leave her to starve, but… She has definitely grown on me. Not to be dramatic, but I’d die for this cat. It’s nice waking up to her pressed against my side, on the very rare occasion I sleep or when I pass out. It almost feels like it’s her way of telling me that it’ll be OK, that at least someone is here for me and that she has faith in me. God, I’m not even 33 yet and I’m super sentimental. Over a cat. Over a goddamn cat. Once again, I blame you for this.

I think I’ll leave it here. Asylum staff are coming back from a check around the building, I’ll have another meeting with them and Gordon in a few minutes. I hope you’re well. Please don’t come back. Please. For your own safety, at least until we’ve gotten this sorted out.

Yours, always, the Bat(man) - and Robin the cat.

#bruce really loves robin #so do i #bruce hates bruce #the danger twins #bruce's letters to selina #the batman #the batman 2022 #batcat

[septembersghost]

Hi! I just wanted to say that as someone who also struggles with depression /anxiety disorder, suicidal ideation, self-esteem issues and CFS (plus ADHD on top of that lol) I understand how hard and frustrating it can be to go through everyday life, and painful to the point where fiction (TV shows, music, books) becomes the only source of solace and comfort. No matter what anyone might say, our attachment or love for them isn't somehow less because they are imaginary. You're valid, ad your feelings are absolutely valid too. I'm sorry to hear you're struggling with insomnia and isolation as well, and I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I wish him to recover soon, and also hope that you and your family will be okay. You're a very brave, a very strong, kind and sweet person, you also have a brilliant, insightful mind and I'm honored to know you (even if it's just in a virtual Tumblr space). Your blog has become my source of comfort too, in time of especially trying and anxiety-filled days. I'm wishing you all the best and sending you lots of hugs and lots of love ❤️ May September bring you joy and peace. Be safe.

sweetheart 🥺😭💕 this is incredibly kind - i teared up reading it, and my mom asked me if everything was okay, so i let her read it and she cried too! good tears though ;___;

thank you very much for your thoughtfulness, and for sharing your own struggles and understanding with me so openly. it's hard to fully explain sometimes what it's like living with certain conditions to people who haven't experienced them, but knowing others get it and that we're not alone is a source of solace, even though i wish you didn't have to go through that and that it could be alleviated for you. 💙 and of course the physical difficulties impact the mental ones, then vice versa, it's such an interconnected cycle. it's especially difficult to grapple with those things when they're "invisible" - no one can see you're hurting or ill, but that doesn't mean it isn't real and often exhausting.

what you told me is the same i would say to you - you are completely valid and worthwhile and deserving, and your thoughts and feelings matter, and your love for fiction and art is absolutely real and consoling. the tag i use, "the consolation of imaginary things," is only half a quote. the full quote is: the consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation. those comforts are SO important, not only because they give us escape and something to love, but because they make us think, they exercise our empathy, and even when we might be isolated in other ways, they provide us connection to one another. the grace of having a link to someone like you is entirely because of a story that we love! that's amazing, i truly believe there's a magic in that. it's so wondrous that we can meet and know one another - even if the space is virtual, it's real too! we're expressing ourselves and writing instant letters to one another. i consider that a constant blessing in my life.

i'm so grateful and touched by your lovely words and well wishes, and it's an honor to know you too. if my silly little blog can provide you any comfort, it makes it infinitely more meaningful to me. there is such a sense of joy in that and it reminds me how worthwhile it is to be here. you all certainly bring light to my days! i wish the same joy and peace to you, and i hope september wraps you up in warmth and contentment and happy moments! please remember you're welcome to stop by any time and that i'm sending love and the biggest hugs back your way.

#🥺💗 #i have a reply on a post from you that's weeks old at this point that i meant to respond to and i've just been overwhelmed/scattered #but i LOVE to read your thoughts and replies <333 #snowstormserenade #letterbox #people are too nice to me #things to remember

[deyadee]

I haven’t been able to write any posts on my phone recently because I cracked the screen and I just LOVE when companies need to actively fuck up older equipment to force you to buy new phones and shit. I’ve had this phone since my 16th birthday, so yes it might be old but it worked fine for half a year after cracking the bastard. It started with not being able to type specifically the letter E but then it spread across half the fucking keyboard so I can’t type E, D, S, R, X, or C. I have to use the fucking voice command for goddamn everything on it now and it makes doing anything a four fucking hour process. I feel even more lonely than usual because I can’t even go on the discord chat with my two only online friends. 

Anyway, I don’t know what I’ve posted about and I what I haven’t so I’m just going to bitch about everything in order of what I remember not posting.

I spent nearly two months meticulously planning on going to a pride street fair with the cute girl at the front desk and surprisingly she said yes. So over the course of a few weeks I would show up pretty much every day I could find out she was there and ask if everything was still good to go on the meetup. I was so excited, I finally felt like I was worthy, like I finally had a friend or that I wasn’t a complete waste of human meat for once in my pathetic ass life. So, after everything was planned out down to the last detail I showed up the day before we were supposed to go to make sure we were still good... and that’s when reality had to prove to me that no matter what I did I am not destined to have even a fleeting day of happiness. 

She told me that she might not be able to go because of last minute car trouble and just remembering that tomorrow was her mother’s birthday. She said she try to work it out and text me early in the morning the next day. Now, I can understand the car trouble but who the hell forgets their mom’s birthday until literally the day before? SHE LIVES WITH HER MOM. I’m not good with dates either but it all came off as kind of flakey. She did seem genuinely sorry that she couldn’t go but it still had this underlying feeling of “Oh thank god I don’t actually to spend a fucking whole day with you.” I tried to smile and pretend it was alright but when I got home I just fucking broke down. Of course this had to happen. I try to reach out and make a connection, try to make myself not feel like a complete fucking social outcast from people my own age and this is what happens of fucking course. But I still got up and got ready the next day, still grasping to the pathetic delusion that even in the last second something might fucking go right. I called off work two months ahead of time. I planned all this out. This piece of shit event had to be at least somewhat fair to me right?

She said she couldn’t go. So my parents offered to drop me off so I could go by myself. And boy, is it really fun to look around and see all the happy fucking couples and people having fun with their friends while I’m creeping around trying to pretend I’m on the same social level as all these people. I was overwhelmed at first but got used to it, and anytime I got near anyone who wasn’t trying to sell me some stupid shit I was looked at either like I was a hideous sweating fucking pig parading herself around for all to see at the church picnic or like I was some creepy dude in his forties trying to sniff girl’s hair. I bought some earrings and hung out, but it just was a subtle reminder that I’m not like other girls of my age. I’m not getting a partner, going out to events, and figuring out how I want to make a difference in this shit world- I am an ugly repulsive wall of blubber leeching off of her parents and drowning her self-pity in children’s media and whatever shit I can shove down my fucking throat. 

I felt a bit better afterwards because my dad asked me to go with my family to this restaurant to meet this family that goes to my little sister’s dance studio. He particularly wanted me to go because he said the dad was annoying and said all this shit about how shitty and rude LGBT people are for whatever reason and how he’d “beat the shit out of them if they ever tried that shit on him.” So I of course was like “Yes, I would love to.”

Which, nothing was more funny than when I walked in, wearing a rainbow shirt, rainbow hat, rainbow scrunchie, and asexual/gay pride bracelets and just saw him nervously look me up and down. I noticed he tried to avoid any conversation whatsoever with me, and how any time my dad would say anything about me he’d look away. It was even more fun to give his daughter (who was really sweet btw) a pink bottle of bubbles that I got from the pride street fair. 

That happened a while ago, but why did I particularly want to make a post today? Well it was a bit of a story.

I just remember seeing a cute redhead with glasses and knowing I had to talk to her. We spent all night talking and though she was a bit more of a hipster than my kind of style, it was like we were meant for each other. I couldn’t look away when she was in the room and the hours we spent together felt like seconds. At the very end of it all we sat at the foot of my bed, holding hands, and we leaned in towards each other and... I woke up. 

It was all a dream. All a fucking dream. She felt like the greatest thing to happen to me. It felt so real. When I woke up I genuinely thought we were going to spend another day together. Until I realized that I need to turn off my alarm and go to work. She never existed. I was never even slightly appealing to even the lowest common denominator, let alone someone like her who felt like she was ripped right from a movie... which I mean basically she was. I kept trying to think about her, but more and more details were slipping away. I couldn’t remember her name. I didn’t know how we met. Yet, I couldn’t feel sad because I could still feel her warmth on me, her cold hands. The feeling she left within me. Even when I knew she wasn’t real I couldn’t stop smiling. Even now I can’t even process that she doesn’t exist. I’d rather believe her to be dead than to think we never crossed paths. She made me feel like I was the most special person in the world. That every tiny detail of this fucking shithole world isn’t built just to make us suffer. She made not even question that life was worth living, that every horrible thing that happened was worth it as long as we had this moment to be together.  I can’t even think of other people now, all I can think of is her. I miss her, yet she’ll never come home.

I heard this story on one of the thousand Youtube videos I watch everyday where this guy got knocked out and lived an entire life with having a wife and two kids until he noticed that this lamp didn’t look right and he eventually realized everything in his past seven years of life was fake. He went through a deep depression knowing that his family never existed. I wouldn’t say mine is anywhere near as extreme but, I can’t help feel like I actually spent that day with her. I still feel that comfort she left me with like everything in the world was alright. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, and now I’m scared I’ll never feel it again. But this is still not why I made this post.

I tried to ignore it for the rest of the day and about ten minutes before I got off of work I had nearly forgotten, when this group of three girls came up to checkout. They had streamers, plates, table covers, regular stuff for a party so I asked what kind of party it was for. They said “Oh, we’re just grabbing a few things to surprise our friend for her 21st birthday we’re gonna take her out!” and something in me just cracked because all I could say was “Oh that’s great.” and try to check them out as fast as possible. These girls in front of me were 21. These cute girls having the time of their lives on the beach with their friends is what the average girl would be doing at this point in their lives. So what am I doing? Obsessing over a girl I had to dream up to cope with a lack of affection and attention. Working at a fucking dollar store. Still no college classes. Living with my parents. Still not a fucking clue what to do with my life besides wallow and cry over the fucking waifu I never had. Guess my fucking neckbeard status is complete. I’m fucking sitting in my bedroom, typing for nearly an hour and a half now, full on fucking weeping because I’m fucking pathetic and so goddamn irredeemable in every fucking way that I’m dreaming of girls. It’s so fucking fun to be idealistic and want to hope that things will get better and that all people deserve love and all that hippie shit but I just have to face it. “Certain girls are meant to be alone” 

Why can’t I build an endless dream where I can be confident? Where I can have her, and she can have me? Where I can finally be happy and not just questioned why I too lazy and too much of a pussy to just fucking do it already? I’m an atheist, but I’d rather take my chances in possibly finding an afterlife with her than staying here for another forty years until I die of a heart attack from eating myself to death and reluctantly marrying some shitbag abusive stain of goddamn man because I think I have no other fucking option. I’d rather die now just to have the chance to see her again than suffer a slow miserable death that the average hideous woman calls a life. Give me strength to take me there. Give me just one last moment with her again. I can’t do this anymore.

[theartofjournalling]

I swear twice and let my guard down and then I am to blame

The trick is to remain calm and not swear and keep your cool under all circumstances

If you can

You can win under pressure

The game they play is sadistic

You can insult as much as you like and shatter their values and reputation but if you raise your voice or swear you’ve immediately lost

Play their game and you can succeed and destroying them at their own medicine

You must remain calm and charming and civilised and you can say the most atrocious things, as long as you are charming in your delivery.

The way my parents work is to avoid conflict

Avoidance constantly

Aloof

Escapism

Even when I suggested counselling they told us we couldn’t as if the domestic and emotional violence were to surface, then, they might put your mother in jail, and then you’ll be forced out of the home, and so until I earn enough money, I have to keep my mouth shut and tolerate it all. Oh but it wasn’t bad, he reasons:

Maybe it wasn’t but a compiled a list anyway

Here’s all the bad:

14 Ways mum was horrible

1 left me in Hong Kong for 2 hours because she left chocolates behind in the hotel. I was 8, and could have easily been kidnapped. When security approached me, I lied to him that my dad was over there, as I was concerned I’d be kidnapped.

2. Every Saturday without fail I was lost in Southland. Mum would leave me behind. I followed random people thinking they were my mother because my mum would walk off so fast. No care for her son walking off shopping.

3. Emotionally Cold, calls me a worm for hugging her. Very seldom offers physical or emotional love.

4. Every time she offers a gift she uses it against me later on. “I bought you this and this is how you treat me.” Now I hate gifts

5. Stone walls me for months. Doesn’t speak to me.

6. Holds grudges that doesn’t end

7. Threw scissors at me drawing blood

8. Screaming, saying I’m gonna kill us all now while driving. I see black and white.

9. Fights with dad and brings up his sex life, that he liked dominatrix when I was 7.

10. Took photos of her half naked when I was 4.

11. Used to key cars that stole her spot in the car park. Write on the windshield with lipstick. Would road rage, frequently as a kid, swerving her car into other cars. Terrible example of road rage to me as a kid.

12. Possible affair with Kevin. Every weekend Kevin was there. She was flirty with other guys All the time, especially on the dance floor. My friends would call me slut mother due to her promiscuity.

13. Very secretive. I know very little about her or her past. She says, I don’t need to tell you anything about my history.

14. She lied to me that Elaine was my half sister. I found out by myself by working it out logically when I was 16.

Here’s all the good:

Good

1. When it comes to material gifts and love. She is abundant

Made me breakfast every morning and dinner, washes my plates, clothes. Threw me a surprise 21st birthday. Touring the world, many vacations paid for.

2. When I was sick, she said, how I wish it was me who was sick and not you and hugged me

3. She accepted me being gay crying over the letter I wrote her.

4. She loves me and cares for me, always liking my Instagram posts.

5. Buys many tickets to my shows for her friends to watch

6. Is a great source of inspiration in her confidence and self assuredness and charisma

7. Is highly functional and knows what she wants. Not someone to mess with. Knows her self worth.

8. Highly critical. Good and bad. It’s made me have very high standards.

9. Scratched my hair until her hands were sore to get me to fall asleep

It just reminds me to never get involved with them on any matter, period.

Also, you should be able to handle criticism.

Perhaps you should ask what is the celebration regarding.

Why do you get so volatile. Chill Mason.

I write about myself so frequently as Mason

I actually have to take a second to remember what my real name is

Kinda scary

[justauthoring]

(the) depths of us [1/?]

summary: your entire life, you’ve never been enough. it’s all you’ve ever been told by the ones most important to you. you’re determined to prove you’re more than. pairing: bakugo katsuki x f!todoroki!reader, shoto todoroki x f!todoroki!reader (platonic) a/n: okay, okay. i finally did it. i finally posted the first part. it took basically a week to write this because i kept losing inspiration and doubting myself and everything in between but i think im finally happy with how it turned out. i have so much planned, so i really hope you all do enjoy this and continue to want more.

please just let me know! i want to hear what everyone thinks, what ideas you guys might have! any and all feedback is much much appreciated.

“You’re thinking of going to U.A.?”

Raising a brow at the clear, distinct surprise on your sisters face, you let out a small shrug. “I am going,” you correct, poking at your dinner with mild interest. “I already received my acceptance letter earlier this evening.”

Fuyumi’s eyes practically bulge; “why didn’t you tell me!”

“I--”

“--Tell you what?”

Eyes instantly brightening with excitement, distracted from your sister for a moment, you let out a grin at the sight of Natsu poking his head into the dining room. It’s been a while since you’d last seen your brother, and you practically leap to your feet without a seconds hesitation at the sight of him. “Natsu-nii! You made it!”

“Well, duh,” he grins down at you, all wide eyed and goofy looking just as he always is when it comes to you, his precious little sister. “So,” he continues after a small pause, “did you get in?”

“I did--!”

“--You told Natsu but not your only sister!”

Turning to Fuyumi, you pause, a bit of guilt festering in your chest. Avoiding her gaze, you fiddle with the tips of your fingers, biting your lip. “I wanted to surprise you,” you shrug, voice quiet. “Besides, I thought you’d tried to talk me out of it is all.”

Her face falls, and she slumps back down, “I... I just didn’t think you’d wanted to go there.”

Meeting Natsu’s gaze, before letting out a small puff of air and taking your seat in front of Fuyumi once more, you reach across the table to set your hand in her own. Her gaze flickers to your own, and upon meeting them, you send her a soft smile. “I didn’t, I guess,” you shrug, “at least, dad made me feel like I couldn’t. You guys know how it is...”

They don’t say anything, but you can see it in their eyes.

“But then, I thought about it, and I realized I could do it if I really tried.”

And at the looks they send you, you falter.

“...Right?”

“O-Of course!” Fuyumi all but sputters as Natsu nods eagerly, a little too quick but it’s endearing enough for it to bring a soft smile to your face. And then, Fuyumi’s squeezing your hand tightly, pulling your focus back on her solely as she smiles gently; “you can do anything you set your mind to, Y/N/N.”

“Ah!!” Natsu suddenly calls, voice booming as he wraps a tight arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side. “I can’t believe both of my younger siblings are going to go to the prestigious U.A.!”

You let out a small giggle, shaking your head.

“That reminds me,” Fuyumi pauses, pressing a finger to her lips in thought. “Does Shoto know?”

Your smile falters, a frown falling over your features as you glance down to your lap. “No,” you mumble, “I hardly see him, and when I do it’s really only pleasantries. I doubt we’ll be in the same class anyways,” you shrug, “he might not even notice I’m there.”

“He would be proud of you, Y/N, you know that.”

I do know that, you frown, doesn’t make it any less awkward.

Waving her off, you shake your head; “I’ll tell him eventually. Or, at least, he’ll find out eventually,” then, pausing, you frown. “Dad doesn’t know either, so just kind of... don’t say anything.”

Natsu and Fuyumi glance at each other, but otherwise nod.

You all knew how he’d react if he ever found out. He will eventually, that you know, but you’d like to put it off for as long as possible. You’d rather avoid his rage for getting in the way of his precious star-in-the-making, Shoto, for as long as humanely possible.

You know, in your heart, he at least, would’ve never be proud of you.

You’re the defect.

-

“You’re the pretty girl who saved my life in the exam!”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden voice, and the sudden shadow falling in front of you, having only taken one step into the classroom at that point. You’re both pleasantly surprised and somewhat taken aback at the sight of a familiar face. It was hard not to remember such bright red spiky hair, and not to mention his wonderfully expressive eyes.

His sharp teeth shining brightly in his smile were a give away too.

Letting out a soft, somewhat embarrassed smile, you rub at the back of your neck. “I hardly saved your life,” you let out a quiet laugh. “I’m sure the school took precautions against any severe--”

“You stopped that point zero enemy from falling on me,” he cuts in, grinning brightly as he holds his hand out towards him. “I’m Kirishima Eijirou, it’s nice to properly meet you.”

You weren’t expecting such a warm welcome. Honestly, you were expecting to kind of just stay in the shadows, avoid attention -- it’s something you’re pretty good at, considering most of the time the attention wasn’t on you anyways. And it was where you were most comfortable. Hidden, quiet and just watching; observing.

But you’d be lying if you said that this boys welcome wasn’t both incredibly kind and warming to the heart.

Maybe he naturally had that kind of effect on people.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduce, purposely avoiding your last name. You didn’t really like to mention that you were related to the number two hero whatsoever. Especially not here. “Just Y/N.”

He grins brightly, “I can’t believe we ended up in the same class. I’ve been wanting to properly thank you since then.”

He steps back, allowing you room to enter the class. Your cheeks flush lightly at his words, brushing a strand of your hair neatly behind your ear, moving to reply as your eyes move to flicker across the entire classroom. Your intention is to see who else in your class, really, but your attention is instantly stolen when you notice a familiar head of distinctive red and white hair.

You’d recognize that hair anywhere.

And his eyes are already on your own, meeting your surprised ones with his lips parted slightly. Honestly, from what little you’ve seen of your brother, he doesn’t often express his emotions (not that you blame him) and this is the most reaction you’ve seen out of him for as long as you can remember. The slight widening of his eyes, the parted lips.

He obviously hadn’t expected to see you here. Which, was fair, given that you hadn’t told him despite Fuyumi practically ordering you too. You barely spoke to Shoto anymore, so how were you supposed to bring that up?

“Oh, hey, Shoto. I know we barely know each other despite being twins, but just so you know, I’m also going to U.A. Not through recommendation like you, but I passed the exam. Though you should know. Okay, bye.”

Yeah, awkward.

What’re the odds that you’d end up in his class of all things though.

So much for telling him on your own.

Your lips part to speak, to say something, though you’re not really sure what, but then he’s turning his head, as if uninterested, and simply moving back to looking out the window.

It’s hard to ignore the pang of hurt that hits you.

“--Y/N... ouch, you’re so hot!”

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. Turning your head, you blink at Kirishima’s own concerned gaze on you, his gaze flickering from you to his slightly burning hand. You’d forgotten that you’d literally been in the middle of a conversation with him.

Flushing, you shake your head; “I’m sorry,” you call, touching his hand gently, “I get really warm when I’m upset.”

And at the look he sends you, you sigh. “I’m okay,” you adamantly shake your head, and though he looks like he wants to argue, he doesn’t. And you’re quick to change the topic of conversation. “And besides, you don’t have to thank me. You were pretty amazing too, if I remember correctly you came second for the exam, didn’t you?”

His face turns red; “y-yes but that’s only--”

“--Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends.”

The voice is quiet, but it’s enough of a shock to pull yours and Kirishima’s attention towards it. Your head turns, noticing three people gathered by the door to the classroom, and, in front of them, on the ground, is a man huddled up in a yellow sleeping bag. Looking entirely too... creepy.

“This is the hero course,” he continues, unperturbed by the gazes he receives. He moves to unzip some of his sleeping bag, pulling out a juice box and slurping from it before continuing, moving to a stand. “Okay, it took eight seconds before you were quiet,” he calls, stepping out of the sleeping bag. “Time is limited. You kids are not rational enough.”

“He looks really tired, doesn’t he?”

Pausing at Kirishima’s whispered words, you slowly nod. He does look extremely worn out.

“I’m your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you,” he introduces himself. “It’s kind of sudden, but put this on and go out onto the field.” You eye the blue, red and white outfit in his hands.

Slowly, you blink over at Kirishima, whose face mimics your own.

-

You’re confident enough in your skills not to come in dead last.

You’ve spent enough of your life doubting your own skills, and expecting to always lose in the face of others. And you’d made a vow to yourself when you decided to enter U.A. that you wouldn’t let your lack of confidence get in the way of what you aspired to do.

Your powers might not be what expected of a child of the number two hero Endeavor, nonetheless when paired with a ice quirk like your mother. You might be a defect in the eyes of your own father. Maybe sometimes in the eyes of your own siblings. But your powers were enough, more than enough, and you didn’t come here just to get a little scared at the first test of your strength.

Still, this is the first time Shoto’s seen your powers since you were both four years old and they manifested for the first time.

He might not even remember.

And, despite everything, in comparison to his powers, yours were... nothing special.

Standing next to both a pink haired and pink skinned girl, you can’t help but, almost unconsciously, glance behind yourself to where your brother stands. He’s barely paying you any mind, which in of itself isn’t that surprising. He’s not even really watching what’s happening, and instead is probably thinking of himself, of what he’s going to do.

You may not know your brother very well anymore, be connected to him in any possible way, but you take inspiration in knowing how he’ll probably use his quirk. After all, you’d watched him use it enough times as a little girl to know.

Taking a deep breath in, you ignore your own nerves, the many pairs of eyes closely watching you, and instead focus on yourself. However, you’d be lying if the smile and thumbs up that you notice Kirishima sending your way doesn’t do anything to help build your confidence.

“On your mark... get set...”

The marker goes off, and instantly you send what should be ice out through your hands and feet. But just at the point of contact, the heat in your body melts it to nothing but water. It’s a defect, true, but you’ve mastered your power and learned to turn it into something that you can use.

And in this moment, the melted ice that escapes your feet helps you slide along the dirt path in no more than five seconds.

Mina finishing just a little after you.

“Woah! A water quirk!”

You blink, Mina running up to you with a bright smile and twinkling eyes. “That was so cool how you used it,” she continues to gush, not giving you the time to say anything in response. “I would’ve used my quirk like that, but... I was scared of melting the ground...” And to demonstrate, she produces acid from her fingers, a steam enveloping seconds after.

Your eyes widen. “Woah,” you cry out, grabbing her hand and pulling it close to get a better look, “acid!”

She lets out a laugh, just as the marker for the next contestants rings off. Distantly, you notice a blond boy soaring through the hair with explosions protruding from his hands, and a green-haired boy running quite a few steps behind him.

“I’m Ashido Mina,” she greets, extending her hand towards you, teeth shining. “And thank you,” with a light flush, she rubs the back of her neck.

“Y/N,” you smile at her, “but you can call me Y/N/N if you’d like.”

She laughs with a nod, shaking your hand vigorously and warmth blooms in your chest at how friendly everyone’s been so far. You’ve always been so awkward and shy when it comes to introducing yourself, which was part of the reason why you’d expected to just keep to yourself when coming to U.A..

But, you don’t really mind maybe making some friends. Especially given you’ve never really had any.

As Mina falls next to you, and Aizawa moves to explain the next test, you nod to yourself when you are able to do what you feared you wouldn’t be able to. You’ve spent many months training your quirk, learning how to use it, albeit on your own, and that had made you afraid. Sure, you’d been accepted into U.A. and that has to mean something...

but how would you do when actually there? When faced with what was expected of you.

It may have only been the first test, but you were proud of yourself nonetheless.

The test continues on that way. You don’t excel in any that brings all the attention on you, but you don’t fall last every time. And it was certainly an interesting experience enough to see everyone’s quirk.

When the fourth final test comes, the ball throw, the green-haired boy from before, that you’d learned was named Midoriya, is the last to step up. He’s yet to show his quirk, which you know has not only you but quite a lot of your classmates curious on what it could possibly be.

Only, when he’s about to throw and you’re sure he’s about to use his quirk, as you see these glowy veins appear across his entire skin, it disappears just as quick and he only throws about forty-six meters.

Your teacher, who turns to be an underground hero called Eraserhead, which you’re sure you’ve heard here and there, ends up cancelling Midoriya’s quirk -- using his quirk. Explaining that he won’t be able to use his quirk if all that ever happens is he ends up hurting himself and breaking his arms, treating him harshly as he all but spits the words.

He tells him that he can’t become a hero.

You find it harsh. Cruel. Taken too far. And maybe it’s the part of you that remembers how many times you’ve been told in your life you’ll never become the hero you want to be.

“You’re just a defect.”

“Not worth my time.”

“You’ll never be a hero worth caring about.”

So, when Midoriya shocks the class by forcing all of his power into just his finger, somehow breaking his body in a controlled way, and rivaling the distance of none other than the blonde boy, Bakugo, you can’t help but feel a surge of inspiration in response.

Maybe even a little pride despite barely knowing him.

To have those words said directly to his face and still be able to come out on top is nothing short of amazing in your eyes.

-

“Okay, I’ll quickly tell you the results.”

Biting your lip, you sway on your feet slightly. You’re positive you didn’t come last, but... you can’t help but wonder where you did fall.

“The total is simply the marks you got from each test,” Aizawa explains, “It’s a waste of time to explain verbally, so I’ll show you the results all at once.” Pressing a button on his tablet, a screen appears before your eyes, your own instantly scanning for your name.

You elect to ignore the fact that your last name is on display for everyone to see, positive everyone will be more focused on their own score, and let out a slight breath of relief when you realized you’d came about in the middle. Ten isn’t bad you think. It’s not overly high that all the attention will be on you, but, it’s not horrible that there isn’t room for improvement.

It’s one of the best scores you’ve ever seen.

Moving your attention to the top three, you’re not surprised to see Shoto up there, nor the name Momo. From your brief introduction of her, that high of a score, being first nonetheless, makes perfect sense to you. However, you are surprised to see the name Bakugo so high up.

You’d noticed that he’d done well in most, if not all of the tests, but you guessed you just hadn’t paid that much attention. At least, until now.

Your eyes flicker to your left, blinking at the sight of him right beside you. Lips parting, you blink, only then realizing he’s turned his attention back on you at the feeling of someone staring at him. You move to smile, but his eyes narrow and a nasty growl leaves his lips as he scoffs at you, turning his attention back ahead.

Okay, then, rude.

Turning your attention back to the scores, you remember Aizawa’s threat, and look to see who came last.

21. Izuku Midoriya

Instantly, you frown, turning to the boy, lips parting to say something, wanting to, but not knowing what.

“By the way, I was lying about the expulsion.”

What?

A creepy smile curls onto Aizawa’s face. “It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks.”

An eruption of “what?!” echoes, and Momo merely frowns; “of course that was a lie. It should’ve been obvious if you just thought it through.”

See? Number one makes sense.

“That was a little bit scary, huh?” The electricity boy, Denki, calls, letting out a small laugh.

Kirishima instantly flexes his arm, shaking his head; “I’ll take on the challenge any time.”

If you remembered correctly, he came in eighth.

“Nice job, Kirishima,” you call, moving to stand beside him with a small smile. “Eighth is amazing.”

He flushes; “thanks.”

“With that,” Aizawa calls, putting the attention back on him, “we’re done here. There are handouts with the curriculum and such in the classroom so when you get back, look over them.”

-

“Oi, Y/N!!”

Blinking at the familiar voice, a smile curls onto your lips at the sight of Kirishima, followed by Denki -- who you haven’t gotten much of chance to speak to. Of course, it was only the first day.

“Hello Kirishima,” you bow at him, coming to a step, before turning to Denki, “Kaminari.”

They wave off your pleasantries, and fall in step with you. “We’d thought we’d walk you home,” Kirishima grins.

“Consider it our first date,” Denki winks at you, smirking proudly.

You laugh, “with Kirishima?”

He flushes, and both you and Kirishima let out a laugh.

“You guys don’t have to, though,” you call after the laughter fades, “seriously. We just met, and I usually walk home alone--”

“Todoroki-san doesn’t walk with you?”

You blink at the red-head, shoulders slumping. “You noticed then?”

“You introduced yourself with just your name,” he shrugs, “so when I saw it there I couldn’t help it.”

“He’s my twin,” you explain, biting your lip.

Kirishima blinks at you, owl-eyed.

“Oi, oi,” Denki calls, bright eyed and blissfully unaware; “doesn’t that mean your Endeavor’s daughter?”

Trying to hide the feeling that runs through you, but unable to stop the frown that mares your lips, you glance down at your feet. “I just don’t really like to mention it, is all. It’s not really a secret, truly,” you turn to Kirishima, already knowing what he was going to ask. And then turning to Kaminari, you smile gently; “and yes, Endeavor is my father but I’m not really close to him. Him or Shoto, honestly.”

“Why?” Denki asks bluntly.

Thumping him on the back of the head, Kirishima frowns; “dumbass, don’t just dig into her personal life like that.”

Letting out a small laugh at their antics, despite only knowing each other for a day, you wonder how you got yourself wrapped up in both boys’ attention so easily. With a shake of your head, you set your hand on Kirishima’s shoulder, smiling; “it’s all right, Kirishima.” Then, turning to Denki, you shrug; “it’s always been like that. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

There’s a pause, and you grin, holding up your pointer finger; “besides, before he went off to college, my brother Natsu-nii used to always walk me to and from school.”

Both boys ease slightly at the warm smile that curls onto your lips.

“Well,” Kirishima calls out, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “it’s bound to be an interesting year nonetheless. There’s a lot of interesting quirks in our class.”

“Oh!” You grin, “which reminds me, Kaminari!” He blinks at you in surprise at your bright eyes on his own. “Your electricity is so cool! And, Kirishima! Your hardening quirk was just as amazing as I remember it being from the exam.”

Both boys flush, as your blissfully unaware, smiling all the same.

“Your water quirk is pretty cool too, Y/N.” Denki mumbles, slightly embarrassed.

Hardly anyone compliments his quirk, especially because of the limit it has. It felt nice to be praised, especially by such a pretty girl like you nonetheless.

Holding your hand before yourself, you create a small burst of water in your hand, frowning. “It’s just water,” you shrug, “not that special.”

You hardly think they’d find your quirk so wonderful if they knew it’s defect.

“Hey,” Kirishima argues, grinning at you; “that water saved my life in the exam!”

“I-I told you,” you shake your head adamantly, “I didn’t save your life.”

Kirishima just crosses his arms over his chest; “you definitely did.” And his voice is so sure, you find it hard to argue against.

“W-Well, what about Bakugo’s,” you hastily change the subject. The first name coming to mind being his, as you remember his explosions. “His quirk was pretty cool, I think. Unique too.”

Both of them shrug; “he’s a little... stingy, isn’t he though?”

“Says electricity-boy,” you snort. Though, you don’t necessarily disagree.

“Hey!” Denki calls out, flustered. “Don’t call me that. Call me... call me, Kaminari-kun.” He pauses, clearly proud of himself. “Yeah, Kaminari-kun, okay?” And his eyes practically implore you.

“Dude!” Kirishima huffs, “stop flirting with her!”

“What!”

“You know what!”

Letting out a laugh, you shake your head.

Yeah, it was bound to be an interesting year like Kirishima said. But you were already looking forward to it.

-

Part two?

#mha #mha imagine #mha x reader #bnha #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki imagine #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki imagine #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki imagine #imagine #imagines #my fics

[kkusuka]

I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see."

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female! 

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics, 

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much 

Gojou Satoru 

Words: 700 

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill. 

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out. 

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser. 

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then. 

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year. 

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people. 

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness. 

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips. 

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-” 

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming. 

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’. 

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!” 

Fushiguro Megumi 

Words: 700 

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago. 

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in. 

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused. 

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more. 

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses. 

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least. 

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist. 

You would figure it out in due time!

 ❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel. 

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding. 

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved. 

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first. 

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster. 

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue. 

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!” 

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face. 

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too. 

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-” 

“Dear Lord, what did I get into” 

Itadori Yuji 

Words: 600 

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something. 

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him. 

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you. 

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed. 

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile. 

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!” 

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die. 

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction. 

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back. 

But he didn't have a say anyway. 

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door. 

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You look great-” 

“You look crazy beautiful-” 

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one. 

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car. 

“You are the worst two humans in existence.” 

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #itadori fluff #itadori yuji x reader fluff #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yūji #itadori x reader #itadori x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[wpdarlingpan]

How would yandere Damian Wayne react to his beloved having a fondness for books? Will he get jealous that she keeps gushing about non existent fictional characters? Lol I have a feeling he will 🤣

I absolutely love this idea, it was fun to write.

Trigger Warning: Abuse

(Not on Damians end but Y/N’s father)

Nothing descriptive and very brief.

~*~

Damian had met his beloved at school after she was the only one who didn’t chase after him. She didn’t even seem to notice he was there. He was determined to change that.

The first day they talked he introduced himself, waiting to see her reaction to his last name but gained nothing more than a polite introduction from herself than she returned back to the book she was reading before he interrupted her. If she hadn’t got immersed back into the book than she would have seen the surprised look adorning the young Wayne’s face.

From there on he was determined to know everything about her. He used the bat computer to find out that she lived with her father in a nice house near his own. Her mother died during child birth and she had no siblings. Damian wished he didn’t have ‘siblings’ even if he never called them that. Well... maybe Grayson. But Todd could go along with Drake.

He decided to go to her house to check in on her and his excuse was to gather intel, but what he saw was not what he was prepared for. Damian saw Y/N’s Father yelling at her as if she had nine something terrible. Damian watched as the man cursed out his young daughter making Damian scowl and tighten his hands into fists. But they suddenly stopped fighting so Damian left as he had school tomorrow and he wanted to talk to you then. If he had stayed a second longer he’d have seen her getting locked into the cupboard under the stairs without dinner.

But luckily for her she had books. She read hunger games, Harry Potter, and many more. Even twilight even though she absolutely despised the ‘Bella’ character. But they all had love. She loved to read about love and the feeling of euphoria it gave people.

“Maybe one day.” She thought to herself.

The next day Damian Wayne talked to her again. He made more progress but it was hard to keep her away from her book.

It continued for weeks and then to months. He had slowly broke down her barrier and she finally stopped ditching him to read a book.

After 3 months of talking and Damian following her around daily to make sure she was safe he finally asked her on a date.

She met him at the park during sundown. When she arrived there was a picnic blanket with a basket on it and a couple of cushions. She saw someone walk up to her from where they were sat by a tree and they gently grabbed her hand and led her to the set up.

“Do you like it?” Damian asked nervously. He knew that this date was what determined his future plans. She was his beloved even if she didn’t exactly know yet. If she didn’t like the date or found out she didn’t like him the same way he loved her than she would learn to with force and time or she could love the date and he will spend every moment of the day with her after he asks her to be his.

She smiled widely, liked it? She loved it! It was exactly like something out of a book. A grand romantic gesture.

He smirked at her smile and he just knew he was already successful in gaining her feelings. He noticed the shiny glint in her eyes.

“I love it Damian. Thank you.” She spoke smiled at him and leaned over to give him a hug making his heart spike with happiness.

They had a wonderful date and it resulted with a 2nd and 3rd one. Then he dropped the question and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything but yes.

Even as she noticed that some of the few friends she had distanced themselves from her after she agreed to be Damians girlfriend after the 3rd date.

Even when some of her romance books began to disappear, which is what really made her sad. Once she told Damian with tears in her eyes that a. Few of her books were missing he gave in and hid them in her room for her to find the next day.

That’s when something happens. Y/N’s father was killed in a police shooting after he had assisted the Joker himself on a robbery. Worst part was Y/N found out over the news.

Damian was very happy with the news of the death fo his beloveds dad. He found out about the abuse after he snuck in to her house the second time and heard a lock click with no Y/N in sight.

Damian told his father about the girl and Damian played his fathers weaknesses against him he told him that she was abused and that she needed help. She needed to be safe. That thing that convinced him finally was that Damian told Bruce that she was the one and Bruce’s eyes widened greatly before he moved into a smirk. Of course his son had found his beloved, Bruce was a Yandere too of course, where else would Damian have got the tendencies from? His mother Talia or his grandfather Ra’s? They both would be caught dead saying the four letter word.

That’s how Y/N was adopted by the Wayne’s.

That’s how she ended up staying in the room next to Damians.

That’s how she ended up being with him 24 hours a day, since he got his classes switched so he was in all of hers but when it was questioned it was for academic reasons.

Y/N was sad though. She had no friends other than Damian. Her father was dead, her mother was dead, she had no family. No matter how bad her father treated her all she could think was that she deserved the pain.

A month after the shooting Damians Yandere side began to progress. She wasn’t allowed out of the Manor without being accompanied by him if she was allowed to leave at all.

She had been taken out of school alongside Damian by Bruce at the request of his son who didn’t like that boys and girls were looking at his beautiful beloved.

He was obsessed with his love.

A few months after living in the manor, meeting everyone, and adjusting to Damians possessiveness and rules she was doing okay. She wouldn’t dare go against Damian after he had guilt tripped her after she said she wanted to be alone for awhile and take a walk. Damian was glad that she was so easily manipulated that she didn’t even attempt to fight his love. He had to protect her form the cruel world he had experienced first hand. Her kindness, innocence, and trusting nature would get her killed in Gotham. But there was nothing to worry about because he was there to protect her. He always would be.

But she grew slightly distant from Damian after she began reading the books in the Wayne Library. There was a whole room stocked shelf by shelf with books.

She had been in there reading a book where the main character was trained with a sword and was a Assassin but he fell in love with his target. That’s where Damian saw her after he had been searching for after he began to getting annoyed after being away from her for so long.

“What are you reading My Beloved?” She had gotten used to the nickname and would slightly blush at every use of it. It was another thing that seemed like it was straight out of a book, he was her knight in shining armor.

“It’s called His Mission, His Love. It’s about this dashing guy who can sword fight and is a very skilled Assassin. He falls in love with the girl he was supposed to assassinate for his group of assassins. But he failed it by falling in love. I haven’t found out what happens yet. He sort of reminds me of Finnick from that other book I told you about, Hunger games remember? Well he wields a trident and it looks super cool and...” she was cut off from Damian snatching the book from her hands and shutting it without even marking her page making her lose her page.

“Hey!” She cried out as he tossed the book across the room. He scowled when she yelled at him which result in him standing directly in front of her as she sat on the couch and he leaned down to her height the grabbed her chin making her face towards him instead of that insufferable book he had tossed across the room.

“You don’t need that book got it? You have me, and you only need me.” He spoke looking into her eyes as his face was only inches apart from her own.

“But...” she began to say. She loved books, it was nice to image the love. But she couldn’t exactly say she didn’t know the feeling for herself now after dating Damian. He had done so much for her to keep her safe and well after he father died.

“I can sword fight, I’m a assassin, I am even more handsome and richer than any character in those terribly pointless books. You don’t need them when you have me.”

She looked at him weirdly and that’s when he realized that in a fit of jealousy - over a book character- he admitted by secret he hadn’t told her yet.

“Assassin? Fighting? What are you taking about Damian.”

He rolled his eyes at her but explained.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m Robin. My fathers batman, Graysons Nightwing, Todd is Red Hood, and Drake is Red Robin.” He watched as her eyes widened making him begin to lose himself in the beautiful eyes he loved so dearly.

“Really?” She said in disbelief but it did make sense. But that’s when she suddenly blushed at a thought and by the fact it took her so long to blush Damian was thinking that she was thinking back to her book character again as her eyes darted away from him coincidentally to where the book was.

“What are you thinking about My Beloved?” he demanded in a cool tone that was laced with jealously. He grip on her chin tighten a little more and his other hand laid on her waist.

She murmured something he couldn’t hear which was very surprising as he was so close to her.

“Repeat what you said but louder. Please” he spoke waiting for her to say she was thinkjnt about the assassin from her book but he wasn’t prepared for what she would say.

“I used to have a crush on Robin, he is my favorite.” She spoke then closed her eyes willing the blush that adorned her cheeks to disappear.

This would be the first time that Damian let out a huge smile and a slight laugh of disbelief.

“I pictured him... or well you as the character from my book because of the similarities.” She spoke still lightly dying from embarrassment which worsened when he scooped her up from the couch and into his arms before kissing her face multiple times while she laughed at the feeling. Then he sat down o the couch with her in his lap, not letting go as she tried to climb out of it.

“Stay here My Beloved. Why don’t I tell you real stories?”

And that was how Damian got jealous... over himself.

And how Y/N found out the identity’s of the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and most of all Robin.

And it all started because of a book.

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #Yandere Damian Wayne x reader #Batman #Yandere #book #love #Robin #Nightwing #red hood #red robin #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #richard grayson #timothy drake #yandere x reader #Yandere character x reader #dc #comics #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #possessive #obsessed #love obsession

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

[spice-chan]

Cure Me

King!singledad! Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

Prince Matsuki makes an interesting friend. he could have never foretold who she is to his father...

TW: curses, sickness

Thank you so much to @stargazingaloneatnight for sending this lovely request ! I totally got carried away though, so it’s going to have a second part. 

Thanks a lot to @patt-writes-stuff and @reddriot for being amazing beta readers !!

Wordcount: 4.4 K

..........................................

At the ripe age of 18, you were married off to the woodcutter in your village. 

You weren’t enthusiastic about it, but you didn’t dissent. After all, in a small village, all the people of close age were expected to marry eventually. It was either him, the farmer or the butcher. A prince isn’t going to come and sweep you off your feet.

You moved to the isolated cabin near the woods where your husband resided, and you lived there with him for a year. You wouldn’t exactly describe it as harmony, but it was peaceful enough for you to be content. He respected you and you respected him, but you yearned for something more.You yearned for love, for the overwhelming feeling that would envelope you whole, that would elicit shivers from your spine, and down to your very toes. 

But you had to get those foolish fantasies out of your head; after all, your husband was now all you had. Until you didn’t have him anymore. 

His body was found, squashed underneath a large tree that fell the wrong way. 

Guilt and loss reigned in your mind and heart. You wondered, should you have appreciated him more ? Should you have cherished the little moments instead of wishing for something better? 

It was a lonely existence for a while after that, until a red eyed, spikey haired little boy ventured to your isolated abode. 

………

Loneliness was a disease that feasted on your open wounds until they were gaping holes, bleeding and gushing, but you were unable to stitch them back together. Who wants to be lonely, truly? So all Bakugo did was cover the open wounds with his hand, growling protectively as he shielded himself. And he couldn’t stitch together the hole in his chest, even when his hand was stained red as evidence of his pain. 

He thought he loved her. He convinced himself he loved her. The only woman and person who seemingly managed to stand him and understand him. He tried so hard to be good to her. Tried to act better when he saw the gleam of judgement in her eyes. Only to wake up one day with a letter telling him “don’t look for me” and “I’ll be somewhere better. Away from you and that spawn. Good luck with him, though you’ll probably have enough soon and throw him somewhere far, the sound of his cries is annoying.” 

Him. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say her son’s name. 

It’s like he was a disposable piece of trash to her. Katsuki’s teeth gnashed whenever he remembered the way she spoke of her own son, his son. 

“DAD!” screamed a little boy, the carbon copy of his dad, running to his father's lap where he ducked down and hid between them. 

Bakugo growled playfully, bending his back to look at the excitable little boy, who held his finger to his lips. 

“What do you think you’re doing, squirt?” 

“I’m hiding from Shitty Maid.” 

Katsuki quirked his eyebrows at the foul language that came out of his son’s mouth, but his response never made the light of day as a flustered and heaving maid entered the dining chamber, her eyes frantically searching. 

“My king, I’m so sorry ! Have you seen Prince Matsuki come here ?” she questioned breathlessly, the prince having evidently tired her out. 

Bakugo clicked his teeth rather impertinently. “No, you shitty maid, I didn’t see him come here,” he replied and resumed eating, seemingly unperturbed by his son being ‘missing’. 

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I’ll resume my search for him. Sorry to have disturbed you!” she exclaimed before picking her gown and scrambling out. 

Bakugo stared beneath his chair pointedly, his carbon copy only giving doe eyes as a reply. 

“Why are you hiding anyway?!”

Matsuki crawled out from underneath the chair and stood up, dusting his knees. 

“She wants to teach me eti-etiquette or whatever,” Matsuki grumbled. “I’m going out to play with my friends.” 

Etiquette? How useless. Is that what they are teaching his son? 

Bakugo clapped his back, glad to see his son not be a pushover. “Don’t be late, squirt.”

“Ok, dad!” Matsuki jumped and enveloped Katsuki’s muscular frame in a hug with his tiny arms, warming Katsuki’s heart as he ruffled his son’s spiky hair. 

……..

Matsuki couldn’t find his friends. 

He ventured into the woods in search of them, sporting a scowl everyone should be familiar with. His tiny, handsome face scrunched slightly as he looked around the place curiously. His feet padded on, scrunching on crispy fallen leaves in their wake. 

He walked for a while, marking trees as he went along to ensure he didn’t get lost, but eventually, a sugary sweet scent had his tiny legs move faster on their own accord in search of it. The closer he seemingly got, the more powerfully the mouth watering scent assaulted his nose. It smelled cozy on this chilly day, like a warm cup of milk by a warm fire as snow fell outside.

He reached a clearing. The thick, intimidating trees that loomed over him shrunk away until there was none left. 

No trees, but he found a small cabin with a window cracked open. 

He boldly marched up to it, his mouth set in a straight, determined line. A fisted palm knocked once, twice, and thrice on the worn out wood, to ensure that it was heard. 

His nervousness set in when the handle turned and a lady emerged at the threshold. He steeled himself. His daddy told him that if he wanted something, he should work to get it. 

You smiled at him warmly when you spotted him: a young, unfamiliar boy. He looked out of his element, but his strange red eyes stared at you despite how he seemed to be unused to such situations. His eyes reflected the embers of a brave soul. 

“There was a nice smell coming from here,” he admitted, his tiny face scrunching into a scowl that seemed more adorable than anything.

“Well, yes, I baked cookies,” you responded mildly, your voice never too high but quite clear. The boy’s eyes widened, his red hues glistening in child-like excitement.

“Cookies?!”  He jumped, and clutched your gown. 

“Can I have some ?” Puppy dog eyes stared up at you, pleading and cute. You haven’t encountered a child in a long time. You stopped going to the village as often, and eventually, they stopped visiting too. Your mother died after she contracted something, her old body unable to fight it off, and your dad ran off somewhere to ‘adventure’. 

“Sure.” You moved from the threshold. “Come in.” You gestured with your head to your small cottage, a humble place, but a reminder of your lonesome existence. 

He brightened up considerably, his mouth twisting into a sweet smile. He would become such a handsome young man once he grew up. It made you wonder how beautiful his parents must be. 

You pulled a chair for him at the table, and went to put some cookies on a plate for him. 

“YUM. That’s so delicious!” He spoke between mouthfuls, some tiny crumbs flying out of his mouth in his excitement. 

“Thank you, but be careful. You might choke if you speak while chewing sweetie,” you chided him lightly. Matsuki didn’t recognize this tone, it sounded equal parts stern and caring. He nodded and continued munching down. 

“Would you like to drink something? I have some orange juice, and uh, water. I could make tea, but I don’t think kids your age fancy that you rambled, suddenly excited about having someone keep you company for the first time in a while. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but upon remembering your words, he opted to chew for a few more seconds then swallowing his cookies before bellowing out,“Yes! Orange juice.” 

How adorable. 

You poured two glasses of orange juice and joined your little companion, munching on some cookies of your own. Before long, he finished all of them and leaned back on the chair, mouth letting out a sigh and hand patting his stomach as a show of overindulgence. 

“Good?” 

“Yup! You’re a very nice lady. Way nicer than my dummy maid,” he grumbled, you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned, but one thing did grab your attention. 

“Maid ?” 

He nodded, slightly confused at your question. 

“Don’t you have one ?” You quirked an eyebrow and looked around your tiny cottage. Did it look like you have one? 

Oh God, you hoped this boy wasn’t mistaking his mother for a maid. With that in mind, you asked him, however, his face fell in sadness and the fire in his eyes dulled a little. 

“I don’t have a mother. The maids always talk about how sorry they are for me. I hate it. None of them even care about me,” he spoke in a quiet voice, tearing at your heart with his down turned face. 

“But at least I have my daddy,” he spoke up, brightening a little. You smiled at that, reaching towards him and ruffling his fluffy yet spikey blond hair. 

“That’s good. Keep cherishing your father, at least the two of you have each other.” You wiped some crumbs from around his mouth with a napkin, speaking to the boy in a lonesome voice; unintentionally mothering him. 

He smiled and nodded;unintentionally accepting. 

The boy was either mistaking some people in his household for maids, or he was some rich merchant’s son. On that note—

“Did you tell anyone you’re coming here? They might be worried about you,” you asked cautiously, but then your eyes widened as a new wave of worry hit you. 

“Oh my God, what if you got lost? Do you know your way back?” 

You sighed in relief when he nodded, flashing you a smile with his teeth on display, one of them missing from the front, making it all the more endearing. You narrowed your eyes at him, prompting him to elaborate. 

“I always come to play around here with my friends. It’s really close to home!” You oo’d. However, it was now his turn to panic. “Oh no, I forgot all about them !” He looked outside, seeing the sun shining proudly in the centre of the sky. 

“I think I can still catch them,” he declared determinedly, and hopped off his seat. His tiny legs carried him to the door, his pale hand grasping the worn down doorknob, but before twisting it, he turned to you, his smile of youth gracing his face again. 

“See you later, nice lad !”

.……..……

“No way! You wanted to be a pirate? But they’re so nasty!” he exclaimed, scrunching his nose at you in disgust. You shrugged, shoulders slumped. 

“I thought it’d be a fun time. I found it in a book and dreamed that one day, I too can embark on an adventure and find hidden treasures,”you explained with a dreamy, yet nostalgic look in your eyes, akin to one looking back fondly at a long gone memory. It’s been nearly a year since you met the mystery child. You’ve been...noticeably happier. 

His cherry red orbs made your day, along with an innocence that was very hard to maintain in these tough times, although that's probably because his toughness differs from yours. 

He pouted, running a hand through his tamed locks. “Well, why can’t you?” 

He stared up at you expectantly, oblivious to what he was expecting. His red orbs burwith ith the flame of innocenand and didnuldn’t dare blow it out. 

“I don’t know.” 

Even for his young age, he was perceptive. Bbut before he could question your downtrodden face, you stood up, coughing loudly. It went on for a few seconds, and Matsuki watched worriedly as you cupped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking from the force. 

After you stopped, you breathed for a few seconds, face flushed and stamina depleted. But again, before he could question anything, you stood up, stretching. The sun hit your face, which looked noticeably paler, but you forced a smile anyway, and held your hand out for Matsuki to grab and follow suit. 

“Let’s go inside, you wanted me to redo your hair, right ?” He grabbed your hand with renewed vigor, hopping off the wood and trekking with you back inside the cottage. 

He said his maid had to slick his hair back because they had guests over and he ‘had to look more presentable’, which you internally scoffed at. His hair was amazing as it was. 

You’d never seen a texture so amazing. It was soft as silk, but it appeared spikey. Like a porcupine or something, looked thorny but had a soft side? 

You brought some water and wet his hair, before drying it with a towel. You could already see some results. You brought a hairbrush and began to hum softly while brushing his semi dry blond locks. 

You towelled it once again, before patting him across the back. Your head felt light, and a light pain began to creep in. You probably need some water. 

“THANK YOU! It was so ugly before.” He pranced about, happy that his hair no longer looked like some ‘sappy extra’. You wonder where the child got those interesting phrases. You stood up to get a glass of water, but the moment you stood up, the world swirled, spinned, and blurred. And then it all faded to black. 

You hit the floor with a loud thump, and Matsuki sprung to his feet and frantically ran to your side. 

His small hands grabbed your arm and shook you, his face growing warm and throat getting clogged up, before tears burst forth. They dampened your sleeves, continuously flowing like a waterfall, but you still remained almost lifeless on the floor. Matsuki was young, helpless, and alone. 

And he did what any young, helpless and crying child would do. 

He ran to the person he loves —his father. 

……………

Bakugou heard the sound of Matsuki running before h, felt the wind, tornado like, as the doors of his room were pushed open in a manner so excitable he’d consider it rather insolent had it not been his own son. 

 His reprimands were stuck in his throat when he saw the flushed face and bloodshot eyes of his shis heart aching at the sight. 

“What’s wongh” he asked softly, the tone rather unusual coming from him. Then again, his son coming to him crying was something very rare.oo., Matsuki took after his  and and he was a very brave and strong boy. Something that Bakugou lamented about, at times. Being his carbon copy wasn’t that much of a blessing when it came to the matters of the heart. 

Matsuki found his dad sitting at his desk, he ran to him and clung to his legs, crying uncontrollably. 

It took Bakugou a second to overcome his awkwardness and emotional constipation. He scooped his son up and sat him on his lap, wiping his tears away. 

“Hey squirt, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. If it’s someone that upset you, God help them-” 

Matsuki tried to halt his hiccups, failing for a few seconds while he hugged his dad, he patted his back comfortingly. 

“Dad, my friend…” he began, but his eyes watered as a fresh batch of tears threatened to burst. 

“What happened to your friend, Matsuki?” 

Matsuki sniffled, wiping his eyes before continuing. 

“So, she’d been sick for a few weeks, but today when I visited her, she fell and wouldn’t wake up,” Matsuk explainedd, clutching into Bakugou tightly. 

Bakugou hummed, nodding solemnly. 

“Can you take me where your friend is?” 

Matsuki nodded, but Katsuki was dubious about the nature of this pursuit. His distrustful nature was shining through.If this ‘friend’ was outside the protective barrier, then Katsuki didn’t know what to really expect. So before leaving his room, he donned his protective amber around his neck, a magical jewel chosen by his dragon when he was younger. All shifters choose an enchanted jewel to guard their existence and warn them of dangers. He made sure to pick up his son’s, looping the necklace around his neck, the jewel dangling and shining. 

He needed to give his son a talk about this. 

…………

They walked in the forest for a while before reaching a small, worn out looking cottage. Bakugou arched a blond eyebrow, more curious than ever. He’d think it was a ploy with more sinister intentions, luring both prince and king but… he’d never seen his son more shook up over someone, they must mean a lot to him. He couldn’t bear to delay this. 

They reached the door, the wood creaking as Bakugo opened it. His ruby eyes started searching for you, and when they caught your figure on the floor, they began gleaming. 

He felt the breath knocked out of him when he saw you, asleep (he hoped) like an angel with your hair looking wild but still adding to your charm like a halo. You looked so soft, so precious, and it felt like his life only began this moment when he caught sight of you. 

His heartbeat was so strong, he could feel it in his very eyes, who were overwhelmed with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, ones he didn’t spare a second glance at, extras, unworthy of his time. But for some reason, the beauty of you rooted him in his spot and halted all rational thoughts. He was only broken out of his reverie when Matsuki shook him. He felt a rush of love, devotion, and ease like he’d never felt before. It all made sense, the sense of loneliness, of being lost when his path is clear in front of him. Of finding every potential romantic partner lukewarm at best. 

“Dad. Can you help her ? I don’t want her to be sick anymore.”

And in that moment, it dawned on him. 

Katsuki found his soulmate, but there’s a chance he might have already lost her. 

He ran to you checking your vitals, and thankfully, everything seemed fine. He put his forehead against yours, cursing when he felt a scalding fever. 

“What happened ?” He picked one of the numerous questions buzzing in his head. 

“Well, she did my hair like I’d asked her, but the moment she stood up, she fell down! I tried waking her up, but she wouldn’t. She’d been coughing a lot the past few weeks too and looking tired,” Matsuki explained clearly, now comforted by having his father share the weight with him. 

Katsuki looked around at the rather shabby place. Fit for a commoner. Not you. 

He was baffled at having a mate. Only the most legendary, wise and favoured dragons did, the dragons that made it to history scriptures. Things no one considered him to be. Things he was succumbing to not being. Things she convinced him he wasn’t. Sure, he could fight deadly wars, bring nations down to their knees, but violence did not warrant a soulmate. 

He scoop you up, closer to his chest. Heyouyou tightly, heart physically hurting at the thought of you being in pain. He just met you, what’s with him ? 

He stood up, nudging his son to leave. 

What a coincidence. An insane, crazy coincidence. 

His son, his only blessing in this shrouded world, was what led him to the one thing nobody thought he’d have. 

“Tell me more on the way.

Matsuki nodded. 

……………

Bakugou laid you on his bed, surrounding you with the softest materials one could ever touch. He pulled a chair besides you, lounging on it as he waited for a healer to arrive. 

You remained unconscious, but it seems like your temperature increased even more. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn’t register that Matsuki walked inside the room until he was addressing him. 

“Is she going to be alright ?” Bakugou didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, then again, he didn’t have the heart to lie to him either. 

“I don’t know.” Somehow saying it out loud hurts even more. 

A knock on the door broke the gloominess. 

“Come in.” 

Hope walked in, in the shape of a short, old lady with medical equipment. 

Recovery Girl inspected you, from temperature to heartbeat. And when done, she sighed. 

“Everything boils down to it being a simple fever, but in that case, she wouldn’t be unconscious,” she explained ambiguously. She took one of your hands, and andr fingertips were icy cold. 

She hummed contemplatively. She brought out a healing crystal, squeezing it in one fist, while she held your hand in the other. The idea was to transfer the healing energy from the crystal to you, only possible through a healing mage. 

However, when nothing seemed to happen, Recovery Girl opened her fist. She found a shattered crystal. 

“Oh my…” 

Bakugou growled, frustration willing up and tipping over. “The fuck!” 

Recovery Girl glared at him. Such language shouldn’t be used in front of a child. 

“Typical healing methods aren’t going to work.” 

Silence reigned over this time, willing the old lady to continue on, both his and his son’s hearts on the edge. 

“I believe she’d been cursed.” 

Bakugou scrunched up his eyebrows at the absurd explanation. Who’d curse you of all people ? He only just discovered your existence!

Yet for some reason, he felt like he’d rather die than let you, the one who could love him for all his flaws, the one who always brought a smile on his son’s face, suffer. 

“How?” The deity up there must be very cruel, to take you away when he just met you. 

“I don’t know, son. There’s a very strong, malevolent energy, enough to break a healing crystal. It’s going to make her body reject anything that could heal it,” she explained solemnly. 

“If you want this young lady healthy and well, we need to take different measures to heal her. Also, do you know who cursed, or where she could have incurred it? That will be very helpful.” 

Bakugou looked at Matsuki, knowing that he himself is clueless. 

“This is the first time I met her. Matsuki seems to have met her a while ago in her tiny ass cottage outside the protective barrier.” She looked like she had some questions, but instead directed her attention to the little Bakugou and asked him what matters most right now. 

“Do you know anyone that might’ve done this? Have you seen her interact with anyone that could possibly be capable of it?” She knew asking a child would likely be more fruitless then not, but she still wished to help you in any way she could. 

Matsuki shook his head. 

“I’ve never even seen her talk with anyone.” This only served to increase Bakugou’s suspensions. Could it be something to do with your affiliation with Matsuki ? And if that was the case, then there’s so many other things he must take into account too, because that would mean that there’s a traitor in their midst, or at least someone that had been tracking Matsuki for… what fucking ever reason. 

He sighed, feeling an ache beginning to form in his head. He touched your arm, wanting to reassure himself that you are alive. 

A gasp rang out from the occupants of the room when you opened your eyes, making them seem glowy when the sunlight reflected off them, giving you an ethereal, angelic radiance. 

The air left his lungs, while blood rushed to his cheeks, making them seem ripe as apples. 

“How is this possible?” 

This shocked him awake, out of his reverie and into reality. 

Recovery Girl glanced at the arm Bakugo was touching, humming to herself with a knowing glint in her old, wise eyes. 

“Well, my king, did you forget? The oldest, most powerful magic that dragons have been gifted::soulmates.” 

Bakugo blushed again, kissing his teeth and glaring at Recovery Girl. 

“What are you babbling on about, old hag?” 

“I believe you know.” 

He glared at the ground, childishly not answering. 

“Um...what’s going on?” A small, feminine voice asked. Bakugou turned to you, melting at the majestic sound of your voice. 

“That’s a good question.” That brat. 

Bakugou tried to stay in contact with you, afraid of making the burst of magic triggered by your bond slipping away. 

“Uh, you lost unconsciousness and Matsuki asked me to help you. Oh, and apparently you were cursed.” Bakugou bluntly spits the facts at you, not thinking ahead for your reaction. 

“A CURSE?” you shouted, coughing after due to hoarseness. The old hag shot Bakugou another glare, before sweetening up and looking at you. 

“We’ll explain after you rest a bit and freshen up, you’d been through quite a bit.” she said, deliberately not divulging any information yet. She didn’t need to be there for the grand explanation. She’d rather not be, actually. 

She stood on her weary legs, leaving the room unnoticed as you admired your surroundings, and as Bakugou admired you. Matsuki’s stare lacked the burn of fascination as he stared at his father grumpily. 

“The fuck you looking at her so weird for?” Matsuki seethed. You gasped and turned to him. 

“Matsuki!” He bristled in frustration, having forgotten how much you hated it when he cursed. 

“Sorry. He was though!” 

Bakugou, throughout the whole thing, glared at his son with blushing cheeks. He wanted to spank some respect into him so bad right now. 

You turned to Bakugo, gaze weighty in the seriousness it’s burdened with. 

“Thanks for helping me, I appreciate it. You’re Matsuki’s father, right? The resemblance is hard to miss. Well, I have a lot of questions, but firstly, what do you mean by cursed?” 

You felt as if a rock was pressed against your chest, gloom overtaking your features as you awaited his answer. Still hopeful that it was a joke, but the ancient dark magic was not to be joked with. 

“Someone cursed you. It’s the cause for your sickness, and it’s slowly sapping the life out of you. You’re only awake because uh...the magic of our bond is more powerful.” Bakugou rushed the last part, his heart beating, squeezing painfully when silence hung in the air after his not so confession. 

You purse your lips, the movement catching Bakugo’s attention, drawing him to your lips. Supple, kissable lips. 

“Our bond?” 

Bakugo nodded. 

“You’re my soulmate, it’s why—probably why Matsuki was so drawn to you.” Bakugo was looking forward to explaining more, before his door was busted open (a common occurrence these days it seems) by a panting soldier, who summoned the strength to salute stiffly. 

“Your majesty, we have received a letter from Celeane Siloh.” 

Well, what a great introduction to the family. 

...............

Kofi

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