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#i dont know how to word stuff so i just tag posts that remind me of her and post random scenarios and the fact that i love her

artsyunderstudy · 2 months

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Spicy Sunday

Thanks for the tags this morning @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @emeryhall @hushed-chorus and @forabeatofadrum !!!

I dont have new words yet. Between work and family, I just haven't had time to focus on it, but I am hopeful to have the last chapter of Fragile Bones wrapped up soon.

Always feels a bit like cheating to post stuff from fics that are already on AO3 but whatever I wanna participate in post-EGF spicy Sunday. With two spicy offerings. One from my EGF and one from Fragile Bones. Way more than 6 sentences.

Your Fragile Bones are Mine

The shirt still holding my arms together above my head goes tight as he claims my mouth again, and I think he’s braced his hand between my wrists. He’s pressing the taut fabric into the pillow. It causes my wrists to snap together, even more tightly bound. Heat blooms inside me, between my legs, in the yawning space of my chest. “Baz,” he whines into my mouth. I can’t touch him, I don’t have my hands, so I kiss his cheek and then drag my teeth over the spot. “Baz, I want you.” “I’m here.” His mouth is wide and wet. The rhythm of it is a frenetic push and pull. I latch on and I bite at his lips. His hips are rolling over mine, deliberate, long thrusts, and I can feel how hard he is through the fabric of our trousers. How much he wants me. I try to brace my feet on the mattress so I can meet him. I want him, too. I’m sure he knows. My Simon. I missed him so much. “I need you,” he repeats between hungry kisses. “I need—”

Past SIMON I need to find him.

The Art of Letting Go

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly. I touch the back of Baz's head, running my fingers through his hair to untangle it. He nods slowly. I take an unsteady breath. “Do you want a bath? Tea?” He shakes his head, just as slowly. I keep petting his hair. It’s a moment before he finally speaks, and his voice is wrecked. “No, I just—” he groans softly and nuzzles in closer. “I need to come. Please.” “Anything you want,” I murmur, kissing the side of his head before laying him carefully back against the pillows. He’s all loose muscles, soft and pliant as his arms drop away from my shoulders. I comb his messy hair away from his face. I made a mess of him, so I grab the edge of a sheet and wipe him mostly clean before leaning in to lick the rest of it off, trailing my tongue with open kisses. He sighs pleasurably at the attention. “Look at you,” I tell him again, reverent and hushed against his skin. He's the most precious thing I've ever had under my hands.

Tags under the cut!

@shemakesmeforget @stitchyqueer @rimeswithpurple @imagineacoolusername @martsonmars @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife @aristocratic-otter @urban-sith @letraspal @palimpsessed @whatevertheweather @nightimedreamersworld @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @raenestee @moodandmist @shrekgogurt @whogaveyoupermission @onepintobean @ebbpettier @captain-aralias @fatalfangirl @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @mysterioussheep @c0nsumemy5oul @facewithoutheart @j-nipper-95 @alexalexinii @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @best--dress @messofthejess @mooncello @orange-peony @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @youarenevertooold @that-disabled-princess @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @theearlgreymage @blackberrysummerblog @nausikaaa

#snowbaz #snowbaz fanfic #artsyfic #six sentence sunday #spicy sunday

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tortor-sauce · 2 months

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18+ POST LOOK AWAY 👹🔞 if you’re not 18+ PLEASE DNI with this post!! 👹🔞

(sketch and drabble and headcanons)

(jel/reth/oc stuff)

GO AWAY LOOK AWAY!!!!! IM WARNING YOU 🔪

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I CANT EVEN TAG THIS I DONT EVEN WANT PEOPLE TO SEE BUT I HAVE TO SHOW SOMEONE AND TALK ABOUT IT OR I’LL EXPLODE!!!!

i’m too shy to share the whole picture IM SORRY—i just wanted to capture a few headcanons into a single shamelessly horny drawing of the three of them together. also, my thoughts are completely unorganized and this post is mostly just me rambling!

small disclaimer, if you don’t agree with or like my headcanons, that’s totally valid but please don’t tell me so 🙇 i kindly ask you just move on from this post. thank you!

okay. so i feel like both reth and jel are service tops HEAR ME OUT—like, they’re both just a couple of pathetic lover boys who are so head over heels in love with you. the fact they practically always gift you something when you flirt with them in-game (jel gifting silk and reth gifting soup) i feel is their attempts at spoiling you and taking care of you in their own way. they just want to see you happy and make you cum your brains out a thousand times until you can’t think straight anymore 🥺

and in general, i feel jel would love to shower you in compliments and words of praise and practically worship your body. while i feel reth is the type to show you how he feels and relish in watching you come undone with him. but personally 👉👈 i feel jel and reth align more closely as switches because they’re both so.. so soft and need to be spoiled and loved so deeply (no innuendo intended)

with that said, i think jel is a more intimate and passionate lover while reth is a bit more unhinged and rough. that’s not to say jel doesn’t have his sadistic bouts. i feel it stems directly from his obsessive nature and grows into a desire to watch you submit to him and his whims, sort of in a controlling way. but it makes him so happy when you do. the need to know you belong to him, both your heart and body, is honestly really important to him. i actually feel he has control issues due to a number of reasons but that’s a different discussion—💀 and he rewards you so thoroughly for showing him how much you love him. god, the aftercare? he’s so gentle and attentive and treats you like the most precious thing he’s ever held.

more on reth, while not as sadistic, i feel he’s still plenty controlling when he wants to be. the poor man has hardly any control in his day-to-day life and the fact you allow him an ounce of control? over your body of all things? yeah, that shit drives him mad (positive). gets a bit carried away and leaves marks on your body, hickeys, scratches, bruises, the like. but hey, at least it’s a pretty reminder of how much fun you had together. plus, if anyone sees they’ll know you belong to him. but he definitely teases you about it the following days by making sly comments and even running his fingers over the more sensitive marks.

so, in my polycule i envision moments where two will actively spoil the other. so for instance like when maddox and reth want to spoil jel and shower him in the love and affection he deserves, he gets all shy and blushy but relishes in the moment. he pays them back tenfold once they’re finished, but not that same night. maddox and reth make sure he’s completely worn out so he’ll finally get some damn sleep for once. reth is the same in that regard; he gets all shy and blushy but he enjoys being spoiled for once. not having to care about anything or anyone else and focus fully on himself and his pleasure. and the two know this and want to show him how loved he is. lowkey i imagine jel bringing him to tears, crying tears of pleasure and from overstimulation but that may be a personal thing of mine. 💀 and as for maddox? they both know exactly which buttons to push. i imagine them sort of egging each other along. i mentioned earlier i think jel has a sadistic side to him, well i think the same of reth albeit not nearly as prominent. like, the fact he teases and flirts so much could be for a number of reasons, but how lovely it would be if it were only to watch their reactions each time. with that said, maddox happens to be very reactive and discovering that fact in bed, like, awakens something inside of him to tease more, to push as much as maddox will allow him. and yes, he notices the way jel reacts to it too. it only makes him want to tease him for the fact as well 🥴 WHICH is why i drew him with that expression LMAO normally i would’ve imagined him with a much softer and kinder expression but i think he’s quick to lose himself in the throes of pleasure which causes him to act a bit selfish at times. but like i said, i see him as a service top so really his ‘selfish’ moments are him just spoiling maddie and jel and showering their bodies with so much love and attention.

i have so many more thoughts but this post is getting long and i’m getting embarrassed so i’ll stop there for now.

IF YOU READ THIS IM SORRY LOL BUT THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME///////

#palia nsft #i started drawing jel then i blacked out #brain worms sorry

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aziraphales-library · 1 month

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Hi! I was wondering if you knew a fic where Muriel and Crowley are just like,, hanging out? Or if the soho gang (nina and maggie) comfort crowley or something? I really liked their dynamic in season two so I was wondering if there were any fics like that. thanks so much!!

Hello! We have a #crowley & muriel tag with a couple of posts. Here are some fics to add where Crowley spends time with Muriel, Nina, and Maggie...

The recovery of a bog body by Joseph_Amadeus (G)

On the third day of sitting in his car at the bottom of the Border Mires Crowley receives a prophetic vision — Dorothy Zbornak of The Golden Girls appears next to him, all gray curls and no-shit-taking attitude, and reminds him, as kindly as she can, that one shouldn't turn mourning into a way of life

Muriel And The Art Of Bookshop Maintenance by cosmic_day (G)

Muriel has taken over the bookshop, and is doing their best to run it, with helpful advice from Maggie and Nina, and occasional visits from the depressed demon who seems to come in a package deal with the bookshop. And for the first time in their life, they’re reading a book, a book called The Crow Road. All of it is new, and exciting, and wonderful, but it is quite a lot for one 37th class scrivener to handle.

Angels Like These by slapsticks (T)

They shifted back as Crowley stood up, smiling, "You know what? Forget about–all of this, Constable, I think I'll be going now." He declared, shoving the teacup into the startled officer's hands. "You know me, I've got errands, that terrible demon-y stuff," The cup and saucer clanked together as Muriel struggled to hold them. "But – you just arrived," They protested, almost sadly. "I'm..." The words died on their tongue. "Mhm, yeah-huh," Replied Crowley, hardly listening, or at least trying not to, sauntering towards the doors. "Nice seeing you – now, goodbye, for the forseeable future." "The forseeable future?" "For the forseeable future, Inspector!" in which crowley begins to form an unlikely bond with nina, maggie, and muriel ! birthday gift for my good buddy pal bro frank who basically wrote the last couple interactions with me and inspired the whole fic . i might be too dedicated. I Dont Care. happy birthday bro

In Nothing Else So Happy by Ducks Have Ears (NR)

"I count myself in nothing else so happy, as in a soul remembering my good friends." Richard II, Act 2, Scene 3 - Shakespeare Crowley had only ever had one friend and he was beginning to realise that maybe one friend simply wasn't enough. (Part two of the Crowley & Friends series)

That's What Friends Do by Barbarian_MP (NR)

Nina had found him, coming around the corner on her bicycle and at first not being at all surprised to see the car parked in front of her shop. The car seemed to be in that very spot on the daily. Little early for it to be there, sure, but maybe it had been there all night. She wasn’t all that worried about it until she noticed the car’s owner was inside, unmoving.

The F-Word by haleinedelail (T)

Post Series 2, how the living f**k is Crowley ever going to find solace or comfort? Whiskey? Coffee? Cursing? Antisocial behavior? Yes, all of the above. But HOPE is a puzzle that we all must put back together multiple times throughout our lives, and demons are no different. He will find it again, but it might take a village to get all the pieces together.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley & muriel #crowley & nine & maggie #crowley #muriel #maggie #nine #mod d

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yourlocalstranger123 · 1 year

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Request is closed(dead)

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

—EVENT—

!¡Masterlist!¡

RULES + info about me

NEW IMPORTANT RULE: PLEASE TELL ME IF UR A MINOR OR NOT IN YOUR REQUESTS, I DONT WANNA TRUAMATIZE ANOTHER ONE 😭 (bc either I forget to put all warnings/correct tags or put some smut or slightly sus pictures.) ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Edit: advanced apologies. I absolutely do not know how to lock my NSFW fics. And I might not have put specific warnings like, I put some bad words in it. I'm really sorry, I'll still try my best, tho.

Edit: Hello! Sorry if you found one of my posts, and it didn't have credit to the pictures. Sorry, sometimes I forgot while writing to put credit, and since every time I post, I delete the pictures. Storage problems 🥲

I'm so very, VERY shitty with my Grammer 💔

Please be very specific with your ask bc I'm a dumb little shi- I mean a bit...behind in my brain. Like what theme: angst, fluff, etc.

I prefer if you ask for part 2 in the requests and saying which writings, but doing in the comments is just fine.

I DO NOT PROOF-READ OR STUFF LIKE THAT. AM VERY SORRY 🥲

Draft limits: 10.

I usually make the reader doesn't have a gender/specific gender or just do both genders. I also like dom reader so ahem...so like yeah, if you wanna do like (???) x reader and you don't want a dom one then tell me :D

(Again, I do mostly dom reader but can do sub reader <3)

I do some stuff like yandere, obsession behavior, etc. But reminder: I do not support this in real life. Just in fiction. I hope you understand, I'm not like bad or anything 😅

I've seen some people who like a character but they are like younger than 18 and either they don't know it or they look older for their age. So I'll allow it as long as the character isn't too young, like under the 15's, and I'll gladly age them up for any reason, although in some cases , I might decline so I apologize for that.

What Fandom I do

I can do anyone or something. Oh, even manga/manwha/manhua

But the fandom I'm mostly familiar with is:

1. Genshin

2. Obey me

3. Honkai star rail

4. Hazbin hotel

5. Jujutsu kaisen

6. MHA (I'm not actively in it, but I still kinda know most stuff in it, and I'd still do any requests from it).

But again, I can do anything. Well, anything I'm able to do properly.

(Unless you ask me about a character that exists, but I don't know them. Might take a while BUT!! I'll still do it because you guys are my lovely requesters ♡)

What I do not allow

I honestly don't know yet. No one has requested anything I don't allow. (Except for my friends, but I forgot what they said so...)

Warning:

This is an like idk, a blog that has 18+ things. If you don't feel comfortable, I'm sorry. I have some fluff in here, but uh... yeah- anyway, my super close (and some what hºrny) friends have access to my account, so if there's a post about anything weird or something, I swear it's not me. (I hate to admit it, but they're scary, and if you're reading this, my friend, please stay from me. I have holy water, you demonic, spawn of Satan, and uhhhh scary chihuahua lookin thing. <3)

. . . Anyways I welcome you with open arms.

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craske · 3 days

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I don't want to sound pretentious when i say all this (and this ended up being really long??), but i really do think you don't need to uphold your online presence so consciously, or even at all. There's nothing wrong with being "inactive" because trying to show up for everything is some sick standard social media made up. Maybe it might be difficult to uphold an idgaf personality, but i can say from my experience it could be better to try a little bit at a time. I can say that they really do mean it when you can have quiet admirers, from my experience all the more. Maybe they're too shy to put silly tags when they reblog or just put a like on your post. And I don't think you have to worry too much about sticking to one piece of media and be afraid the people following you won't like you anymore for posting different content. At most, I just believe they won't really care enough to unfollow you or stop engaging entirely. The most important thing to me is that you stick around doing the things you actually want to do, even if you're just showing up every month or so, or black out for a year or more. Because the people who do care will be overjoyed to see you whatever you post or share, especially when you come back after a long time. It really is discouraging when you don't see that actively, maybe because we're so used to seeing numbers that relate to our worth. But i like to imagine we're waving at each other from a distance or smiling through a window, as horrid as online landscapes can be nowadays. I know i'm running my mouth here but i just wanted to share my experience because i um. 🙋 also think youre really cool and awesome and i love whatever work you do and the fact you share it is an amazing thing enough i feel privelaged and youre humor is funny and whatever new stuff you post is just introducing me to things i'll also think is cool down the line and i really do wish i can share my appericiation more and evolve from being a quiet admirer /inhales/ 👍 i would say this is a sort of love letter from the gas station but i also mean it as kai 👋 i hope you're doing well in uni or that it gets better soon or in whatever it is youre doing now. and whether or not youre online, i hope youre doing the things you enjoy 🫶

okay i needed some time to figure out how to respond to this ask because theres a lot (in a /pos way dont worry) so ill start off with saying that i really really and i do mean it Really appreciate what you said here. Especially lately, ive been struggling with being active online outside of small spaces where there are just me and a few other people. might be me feeling overwhelmed when i say something into the void with a high chance of no response, though i wont fault anyone for that. i myself know interaction is scary so i do get it. ever since i started using the internet ive stuck to my small online bubbles so yeah interaction kind of intimidating online

and though i agree it does feel discouraging to sometimes see no feedback or much of a reaction, i try not to be bummed out about it myself because im also a silent admirer of many artists online. so like ive said before i do understand that sometimes people are shy and dont interact directly and theres no pressure really to change that. just the idea that there are people that like what i make is really nice, even though i suffer from the same issue that maaany other artists have and i need to actively remind myself of that.

about sticking to one fandom its a very recent but big issue to me because ive been DEEP in the persona pit for like 4 years, and i certainly built an audience around that. i know there will always be people that stick around no matter what but despite that theres always that nagging feeling that maaybe things will crumble. obviously thats not true but human mind fucking SUCKS

as the final note ill say it again that your message means a lot to me and i thank you a lot for it <333 im soo flattered by your words and they made my past two days, thank you soo much

#as for uni im almost done with it!!#wowzers masters degree i will kill myself tho bc idk what to do after it #but thats an issue for the future me i guess!!!#anyway again thank you so much your message was really sweet and meant a lot to me #im sorry i dont reach out much like i said interaction online is soo scary and also insanely difficult lately?? it sucks #as the twitter users say thank you oomfie <3 #ask #k4ik4yk04 #long post

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elegyofthemoon · 1 month

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im posting this before i forget and also sorta leave for the night cuz i gotta sleep a little early

• Posted stuff today ☺️

• I decided to do a bit of the writing tag game on my other account and it is WILD to see just how much i wrote the past few months??? im kinda proud tbh. I may be a little discouraged from posting these days but it's honestly really nice to see myself posting as much as I do - and esp to see how much ive written during all this time. this is aside from all the logs i do bc thatd just add further to my word count, but hdhfjdjd really despite the horrors, i'll always have writing. or well, writing's just been such a huge part of my life that if i cannot write then I'm not myself anymore. njdjrjd and my friend nick has mentioned this too that i dont seem like myself if i dont have a wip and all that jfjdndd

• i hate to say the rafayel birthday event made me embarrassingly happy but it really did 🙈

• speedwriting a fic. much shorter than something i wrote earlier but like !! idk i havent felt that surge of inspiration that was fun lmao wish that happened more often

• getting another message from a job i applied to that might be interested in hiring me. the positive is this ones a little more interesting than the one i did a recent interview with but same general position. still very 👀

• my friend finished london holiday and might start second key real soon and im so fucking sorry to him about the person i'l turn into when he starts liveblogging at me about it BUT ALSO im actually really happy and excited about it .3.

• OH FOUND OUT THAT MY SISTER WILL BE HOME EVEN FOR THE LITTLE BIT WHEN I GET BACK!! i thought i'd miss n entirely when she's back which made me sad but she'll be there for at least a day when she's back so !! i will beat my jet lag to hang out with her if i have to >:(

• n sending me something that reminded them of me was really sweet 🥹 it made me very happy tbh jfnfnddjj i was kinda shocked

•also saw new artist drawing characters from anti entropy that genuinely made me very happy 🥹🥹

• ngl thinking about tomorrow after the exam has me excited. i still have one more exam to go, but for once, i feel excited by the idea of saying goodbye. i dont really care anymore how i do for either exams, but it's one more step out of this life and one more step into the new one. i think thats exciting and im excited for it. i wish i could say the same about doing the practical exam but that one i just know ill go home dreading so ✌🏼 but tomorrow! lets have fun after the exam and visit the bakery ive been wanting to go to and finally get that silly plush ive been eyeing 🤧 let's give this life a nice farewell and send off before i go

#happy logs

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blueeandyellowmakesgreen · 1 year

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Quick! Tag your top favorite byler blogs (as many as you want) and tell my why you love them in one line to spread positivity on the dashboard and make someone's day!

OH HELL YEAH

just wanna say im sorry if i forget people, and this *will* be a long list and be used as a way to gush about my mutuals B)

ANYWAY

@aemiron-main

thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom with your banger theories and analyses!! you made me consider things i never thought and not to mention someone who is amazing at art and overall a swell guy! love seeing your energy on my dash and keep doing what youre doing 💙

@will80sbyers

love your presence on my dash, and youre actually one of the blogs i first followed! youre overall just seem to be a a really cool blog along with theories, byler reminders and posts that make me kick my feet. and also thank you for spreading the bi mike agenda because youre SO real for that

@andiwriteordie @astrobei @blackdeathmamba

how do i explain in words how your fics make me FEEL. you guys are amazing and so creative and you just GET the characters so well and thats number one in my book!! its always so enjoyable along with a perfect balance of heart wrenching moments. i really appreciate the hardwork you guys do in your fics and im here to tell you its shown!! keep doing what youre doing 😁

@nnilkyway

yvie and i met in a discord server i made because i was Raging after vol2 and we just clicked! their theories and analyses on certain aspects of chars like mike with his playlist is so fascinating! their takes and scenarios make me scream always, hes also overall just extremely talented and hilarious, and i really am proud to be friends with him! please go check their art out, it is simply a staple for the byler fandom and you will love everything you see ❤️

@mlchaelwheeler

initially a scawy Big blog i followed, but ended up being one of my favorites simply because of their presence and scenarios. extremely funny, good asf takes, and their tags always make me feel so validated 💙💙💙 thank you also for paying attention to my succ liveblog JSJSJS

@strangeswift

ABBY MY BESTIE ABBYYYY whats not to love??!?!!!? their scenarios and fic drabbles they post are AMAZING and overall such a sweet and welcoming person!! she was essentially my first interaction here in bylertblr and i couldnt be happier that it was!! i love exchanging compliments and thinking and talking about byler in the dms with you, and i hope we get to interact more in the future 🥹 ily girlie

@nancysglock

your scripts. your takes. your posts and scenarios overall make me lose my MIIIND. and overall you just give this really cool vibe, like youre so cool to me and it makes me so happy we’re mutuals!! i love what you do and keep up the great work on your stuff!!

(also fun fact remember that anon that asked you about your process in scriptwriting? that was me <33 seriously love what you do)

@wibble-wobbegong

i think st writers should just hire you because not only do you get mike’s char, you get ALL of his relationships with others. you analyze them to such an intricate degree and break them down in a way that never made me consider certain things before. im currently giving you a badge of The mike truther, along with others. also i just generally love your tags and your presence is energetic and positive!

EDIT: MORE ADDITIONS BC HOLY SHIT I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TJEM

@new-ronantics

eevie your art your posts your takes oh my god it makes me shake in my boots in the best possible way thank you so much for your contributions everything you do and say is QUALITY and youre gen one of my faves here how the hell did i forget im so sorryturhdjejfjs

@strangersynth

if you saw my tags in your mike theory videos you know damn well what i think of your blog

if you dont? im losing my mind. it made my jaw drop. your edits are so creative and groundbreaking!! showstopping, cinematic, smooth, and thought provoking!! its literally one of the most creative and cohesive ways to present a theory while keeping your audience engaged!! im sorry i just. I LOVE YOUR EDITS SO MUCH I THINK ABOUT IT EVERDAY IM SHAKING IT IN A PRINGLES CAN

#maybe ill add to this.. who knows #byler #byler tumblr

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mymp3 · 1 year

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another P3 FES update!

spoiler talk under the cut :

(start with the tags at the bottom and then read from here. yeah, i know, im crazy. i got too excited and now the post is messy. forgive me.)

anyways, dec 31st.

imagine forgetting something so integral to your being for the year that youve started fighting shadows, and being shown it in the most intimate way ever.

like, of course he's not gonna kill him. its thanatos, its ryoji, it's death, how could he have forgotten? he loves him.

AND ISNT THAT SO FUCKING SWEET 😭😭😭

but its so so funny i was like "eh, i dont get it too much rn" *is thanatos* "oh i get it".

i think its just bc everything started slotting into place, and oughhh i love when you get to that part in stories. because it becomes a different picture.

minato has always been alone, but he also hasnt been. humans and family members that pass him from house to house, because "he's too weird", and reminds them too much of death. gets to always have a comforting presence with him, nothing any human could offer, because at least death is there for him.

death is there for him because death LOVES him. death loves him so much. he accepts him for everything minato is percieved to be, and minato loves him tenfold in turn. he's been made fun of, shunned, misunderstood, and hated his whole life for something that was never any fault of his.

his "humanity" was taken from him, ryoji embodies minatos humanity. he's his kindness, expressiveness, his outgoingness. and yet, minato retains his kindness. minato, sweet minato, who made death human, is still unwaveringly kind.

and this is what i think is so amazing and integral to them, specifically as them. theyre foils, it wouldnt work if minato was suddenly happier or more peppy, or ryoji was sad and depressed. it only works if theyre them.

minato loves every bit of death, no matter what he calls himself. he's been apart of his life for as lonf as he can remember. they're one another in all ways you can entangle them.

death though, is terrified of this. he wants to keep minato safe. he ruined any chance he had of him having a normal life. he gets mistreated because of him. how could you love him? dont love him. please dont love me, kill me, i want you to be happy. i dont want you to suffer. and minato looks, smiles, and tells him there'd be no universe in which he'd kill him.

they're soulmates in the traditional since of the word, they make each others souls whole. know and love each other inside and out. and minato knows hed never be alone. hes not afraid of death, it brings him comfort.

^ WHICH IS WHAT RYOJI NEEDS TO STOP.

Its so sad too, because ryoji fits the role of eurydice too well for comfort. theyre not going to get to be happy together and im so fuckinf scare.d.

THOUGHTS DONE!

sorry for the long ramble, will report back with more when i get some major story stuff again o7

#compendiumnotebook #i havent played in the past 3 days bc stuff came up #but most recently ive been grinding in tartarus to get minatos ultimate persona #and... guys i got him #oh my fucking god #the tomb chain and wings #holy shit i love enviromental storytelling 😭😭😭😭#the way you make it is literally just.#its them.#put together #nothinf crazy #just them #holy shit 😭#anyways i maxxed out his stats and now im lvl 90+ in january while the rest of sees are lvl 70 #so sorry sees.#other than that i wanna talk abt ryoji #so before knowing his name i would always see him in my notifs and on my tl and with minato all the fucking time #and im like holy shit dude who is this #but i didnt really look too much into it #in fact i avoided him as much as possible bc i dont like spoiling myself #so my sister and i were referring to him as 'scarf boy' for the time being #when he appeared we went fucking crazy 😭😭😭#like 'i hear theres a new boy transferring ' HOLY SHITT SCARF BOY!!!#its funny especially though bc i didnt get it #i was like... so this is the gay boy everyone puts him with.. hm hm..#and hes just hanging out with junpei #i wanted to talk to him so BADLY #jump forward to december 31st and everything switched #i saved and played through the bad ending first #im really happy i did. because i think it made the truth that much more impactful.

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showcontrols · 2 years

Text

hm. rambling about smth personal for a bit bc i need it to be down in words. long post under the readmore

so i know my reactions can come across a little. dramatic sometimes. particularly when reading (angst) fic. but during the reading - and often, writing comments bc i tend to do that while reading - i am experiencing the same amount of emotional response im trying to convey in words. the character having a panic attack makes my own breaths speed up to the point where i have to take a break for bit. grief feels hollow, like a stone on my chest and numbness in legs. joy - fluff - sappy gooey stories makes me flap my hands and pace back and forth for a while bc i need to get rid off the excess energy. one time i read a fic that was considered to be mediocre but nice i guess by the people who recced it to me but the general detachment and melancholy portrayed made me go through the rest of day with a fuzzy head.

is that normal? having a visceral reaction to even small bits of writing? i don’t know. i tend to mouth along with the dialogue of the pov character, gestures and all, and that feels like i put too much of myself into whatever pov im reading from. but i know this whole thing extends to outside of writing, that i can come across as too emotional and sensitive. got a response from someone recently about how i was so overly excitable and ‘could you tone it down, it’s not even that good lmao’ and i will admit that my immediate, instinctive response was to go fuck you?? partly out of anger at how the op was dismissing their own writing and partly bc. im not hurting anyone, i think. (did not actually reply to that btw, i just deleted my comment and then went and laid down on the floor for an hour.)

it put me off commenting and leaving long tags for a while bc i was worried about how it would look. am i being too hyper here and bothering people. is this too repetitive. i mostly interact in mcsrblr so its not really a problem there, i know these people. they know me and have seen the number of dumb stuff i do, over the past year. and yeah i felt and still feel pretty dumb about the tagging thing too bc its tumblr! its the site for being weird and ranting in tags.

idk. it’s not A Problem im just. aaaa. maybe im overreacting to this one too. left a bunch of comments one after the other on manda’s fics recently and she was really nice and happy about it and that reminded me of why i initially started leaving semi-regular comments i guess.

and to clarify: im not saying people have to accommodate me, or anyone on this. if you dont want to deal with it then obviously you have the tools necessary for you to block people and such or not interact at all.

there’s no real solution to it i think. im not even sure if it’s a problem in the first place but it’s just been bothering me for a while. incredibly embarrassed to post this but i need to get it out before it starts poisoning the rest of me so here we go

#spri.txt #yes im supposed to be asleep. classes start so freaking early tomorrow #needed to get this out of my head first tho. been thinking about this for A While

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musashi · 2 years

Note

Ooh, question dump time! I hope you don't mind these being a mix of fandom and sickfic/fanfic stuff, haha

1) I know they haven't been released yet and we just have promos to go off on, but do you have any thoughts on Scarlet & Violet so far?

2) Which of the starters is your favourite? Are you planning on using that one when you get the game?

3) What about all the other pokémon we've seen? Do any stick out to you? Do you think any of them will make it on your team?

4) I've noticed you put some Godot posts in your kin tag, so I'm curious about what he's like- what's his personality and role in the games he's in?

5) Also, the above but for Dahlia Hawthorne?

6) You've mentioned you're not particularly picky on sickfics you read, but what would you consider the Best Sickfic™? As in, what tropes, dynamics and symptoms do you enjoy the most?

7) What are some other fanfic genres you like?

8) You've spoken about making physical copies of DTE before, so do you have any other fics of yours you'd like printed out? I think it'd be fun to have a physical copy of your Sicktember fills from this month

9) If you have any for her, what pokémon does Maya have in your AU?

10) What's been your favourite Sicktember fill to write? Out of the ones you posted, do you have a specific line or description you're particularly proud of?

If you'd like me to elaborate a bit more on a specific question, I don't mind sending another ask clarifying what I mean!

OMG THESE ARE SO MEATY THANK YOU TAHNK YOU THANK YOU I DONT MIND QUESTIONS ABOUT ANYTHING IN ANY ORDER I LOVE. TO TALK WAH THANK YOU

1) I know they haven't been released yet and we just have promos to go off on, but do you have any thoughts on Scarlet & Violet so far?

we've gotten like... a weirdly scant amount of promotional material for this game, so i actually don't have a lot of thoughts beyond the typical 'OMG POKEMON IM SO EXCITED TO PLAY POKEMON' fdghdfhgf. i can't say any of the designs have stuck out to me yet but thats also cause we just haven't seeeeeen any like even the leaks have been quiet? its so weird. but i am excited :]

2) Which of the starters is your favourite? Are you planning on using that one when you get the game?

honestly i think sprigatito is my favourite because... it reminds me of jessica dfgjkhfsghgf she loves cat pokemon and grass types and when i saw the grass kitty i was filled with so much indescribable fucking joy on her behalf i could not contain myself. i'm using fuecoco myself but grass kitty is everything to me...

3) What about all the other pokémon we've seen? Do any stick out to you? Do you think any of them will make it on your team?

nothing yet. i like the little poison fucker but not enough to bother using him.

4) I've noticed you put some Godot posts in your kin tag, so I'm curious about what he's like- what's his personality and role in the games he's in?

diego is a double-sided character~ he has two distinct "eras" of his life by his own admission. in earlier days he was mia fey's partner in law and her mentor as a defense attorney. he's very calm and collected and has a distinct kind of poeticism with words, usually incorporating motifs relating to coffee into the things he says because he's a coffee autistic who makes his own blends fdghfg. he was deeply in love with mia and her passion, in the anime dub the word he uses when he describes how he felt about her is captivated and it lives in my head rent-free. they dated for at least a little while, but diego was lethally poisoned shortly after one of their cases together and fell into a years-long coma. he survived, but mia was murdered while he was comatose.

diego came out of the coma with a major vision impairment and with his hair having gone white. when he found out that the love of his life had died while he was asleep the guilt of not having been there to protect her ran so deep that he threw nearly every trace of his prior self away. he renamed himself godot, which takes components from his first and last names diego and armando, as well as being a waiting for godot reference--mia was waiting on him, and he never showed. he switched sides to become a prosecutor and swore to ruin phoenix in court because diego could not handle blaming himself and so he forced all the anger he had onto blaming phoenix, the only other person mia really had in her immediate life.

eventually he realizes that mia poured so much of herself and her love into phoenix, and phoenix so adoringly leaned into her every word, that within phoenix lives mia's undying flame. once he sees mia's spirit living on through phoenix, he realizes what a fucking shithead he's been.

post-coma diego is pretty similar to who he was before but with a cold, simmering kind of anger that shows itself in occasional moments and especially around phoenix. also his weird poeticisms have ramped themselves up and 90% of what he says in court or otherwise is completely incomprehensible. i can't even really describe to you the way diego talks. he is basically just the "i don't sleep. i just dream." meme amped up to 11.

diego views the poisoning and coma as a death and rebirth. he refers to his surviving as crawling out of the depths of hell to get vengeance.

5) Also, the above but for Dahlia Hawthorne?

she poisoned diego.

lmao.

dahlia is a merciless, abusive, cold-hearted killer. i could go on and on about how she is, like many criminals, a neglected child from a broken family and how every single thing she's done has such clear reasoning behind it but quite frankly i have so much less to say about her. she's just a vindicative, vengeful, cruel fucking murderer who steals and lies and cheats. she sucks. she tries to poison literally everything that even slightly inconveniences her and barely succeeds, ever.

how to even summarize her... dahlia was one of two daughters of morgan fey, but their dad divorced morgan and fled the fey clan pretty much the second it was clear that morgan would never surpass or live up to the power that the main family had. he took the kids with him and he apparently sucked really hard, hard enough that dahlia fuckin SNAPPED and decided to just start fucking killing people at like age 14.

she did some of that and that's how she ran into cousin mia. mia tried exposing her shit in court but dahlia poisoned the decisive witness and he literally died on the stand. it traumatized mia and she didn’t stand trial for like almost a full year after that. to rub salt in the wound dahlia poisoned diego pretty soonafter when he was questioning her. she got away with all these crimes until mia found her tied up in another case some time later, dahlia dating one phoenix wright who was the prime suspect in a murder on his college campus. obviously she did it and tried to not only frame phoenix but poison him, too--the most she could do was coerce him into swallowing glass but he’s phoenix so he survived. .

mia managed to get dahlia for that murder but after she was executed in prison she continued to do ghost crime. namely her mother and her teamed up to possess the shit out of someone and try to kill maya, the last surviving member of the main family. mia ends up giving the most powerful fucking reason you suck speech to dahlia alongside phoenix and they fucking exorcise her spirit in one of the most glorious goddamn scenes in the whole franchise.

dahlia sucks. she has no redeeming qualities. her story is a tragic one at its root but i revel in how shamelessly evil she is about it. a long time ago im sure i would’ve felt ashamed about being kin with her but now i mostly just use it to antagonize my phoenix & mia kinnie friends.

6) You've mentioned you're not particularly picky on sickfics you read, but what would you consider the Best Sickfic™? As in, what tropes, dynamics and symptoms do you enjoy the most?

i actually answered this!

7) What are some other fanfic genres you like?

i’m pretty sure besides sickfic the literal only thing i read is smut. sometimes i’m in the mood for a slowburn/fluff but only rarely. i moreso read fic based on the characters featured than any genre, i tend to scroll through whole character tags until i reach the beginning.

oh i have a physical copy of down! the PDF’s are here.

DTE has been an undertaking because i also wanted to edit the grammar and tighten up the dialogue a little bit~ and also, its too long, so it’s split into three books. i have the first two all ready to go, just struggling to make the cover for the third dfghdf.

i was planning on making my sicktember fills a physical book, yes!! if anyone’s interested in that i can post the PDFs here haha. haven’t worked on them yet but i plan to very soon.

9) If you have any for her, what pokémon does Maya have in your AU?

i actually haven’t touched maya or the AU in ages ghdg...... i think we were all very adamant that she inherited mia’s chikorita who is named charley though

10) What's been your favourite Sicktember fill to write? Out of the ones you posted, do you have a specific line or description you're particularly proud of?

my favourite was my day 21!!! i talk about it more in the author’s notes but i had been fixing to write it for a very long time. it’s based on true events!

i’m proud of all my writing, so i think that questions too broad for me~ i know it’s like, hip and cool to hate your art or whatever but i absolutely refuse to give my perfectionism a voice this late in life. left that behind me.

sorry i don’t have an answer for you there! i love it all!

#wendy answers #cottagebore

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homosociallyyours · 2 years

Note

hi megan! hope it's okay to ask you this, I usually just filter and mute or blacklist words here in this site, block people I don't like and until now I still receive threats from bls, harries, etc. I'm quite new to the fandom, and I'm just confused on why people hating on me, just made a momrry thread and here gos the threats in my anon. Been blocking the anons but they still keep on rolling... I just dont know what to do... any advice?

Hi nonny,

Ugh! I'm sorry this is happening!! You're doing the right thing by blocking, but my best advice is actually to turn anon off for a while :/

I've found that doing that actually stops the bad anons for a bit-- I think once some of the worst harassers see they can't send you anon messages, they move on to someone else.

Encourage people to dm you or send asks off anon while you're not allowing anon asks (you can always offer to screenshot the ask and hide their name if they wanna have you publish it anonymously), and consider opening up anon for only brief periods.

Most of the worst people won't interact with you publicly, so you can get some peace!

If you're getting mean messages and comments publicly too, you might be ending up in commonly searched tags where people just aren't expecting to find momrry content and are therefore surprised & respond with hostility. If that's the case, you can always try putting only momrry tags in the first 5 tags you post (though that won't always fix it) or just block those people on sight since they don't seem to understand that's actually how Tumblr works!

You're doing the right stuff, and I hope you keep making momrry content!! Do what you need to protect yourself, and of course if you're getting messages that include death threats or suicide baiting, screenshot and REPORT, don't just block. Nobody should have to deal with things like that ♡♡♡

Anyway tl;Dr: turning anon off for stretches is really helpful and I highly recommend it!

*eta: a friend reminded me in replies that you can close your askbox completely if the hate doesn't stop-- hopefully it won't come to that, but just in case!*

#advice #♡#i had anon off for several months and it was so peaceful!!#also when i open anon messages in my email i cover the screen with my hand #so I'm revealing it line by line #i can usually get the tone of an ask from the first bit and if it's hateful i just block immediately and delete the ask from my email #so i never even have to read it #tho sometimes if i can tell it's ridiculous i will go ahead and read for a laugh #BUT!! your comfort is top priority-- do what you need to!!!

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sunsents · 3 years

Text

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

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Text

boyfriend vibes

warnings: cursing, sapnap being cute, unjustified hate for americanized greek food bc he’s a brat and silly (edit: he said he’s not picky but idc it’s lol)

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: don’t care idk it’s pretty short heh

A/N: you guys are getting fucking fed with two post in two days... slurp it up

let’s talk about boyfriend!sapnap

a topic that frequents my mind before i go to sleep

definitely the type to get bored and try on all your clothes no matter the size

“let’s be honest, these pants make my ass look fat”

and def uses your shampoo

maybe it reminds him of you, maybe it smells nice, maybe it suds so good he has to snap a soapy titty pic and send it to you

true to his name, he’s pretty sappy

has to have a part of his body on yours at all times when you’re together

watching TV? hand on your calf

out to dinner? arm around the back of your chair and just brushing your shoulder

baking cookies at 3 am? head on your shoulder, just resting comfortably

don’t even get me started on when you’re sleeping

he definitely likes being the little spoon

and honestly who doesn’t?!

he just likes being in your arms :.)

this dude bitches constantly about greek food in florida bc while he’s not generally pretty picky about it sometimes a gross food ruins his day

“this sucks, gyros aren’t supposed to have fucking lettuce” “king....chill” “i won’t fucking chill this sucks and i want to go home”

“it’s spahn-a-kopita not spOOnakopita you fucking carrot”

he enjoys nothing more on the weekends than laying outside on a picnic blanket and listening to music with you

florida is hot as fuck in the summer but he’ll suffer just to listen to you hum to his music and nod your head

makes him feel proud, honestly

you constantly are running your hand through his hair

tugging and smoothing it down back and forth

makes his cheeks red 0.0

one of his favorite things is getting ready with you

he watches you get ready in the mirror sitting on the (closed, dw) toilet and suggesting little details like jewelry or a shirt color

he’s also a fucking nerd about TV and movies

“did you know she was like 16 when he kissed her in the parking lot there?? pretty weird but it’s judd nelson so nobody cared i guess”

“omg that’s a reference to [blah blah blah nerd stuff]”

“DONT GO INTO THE HAUNTED HOUSE YOU INSOLENT FU—”

one time you tried to pick up one of his expensive mangas and he nearly flipped his shit

“i just dusted that babe!!” “i just wanted to look—” “okay look from afar and get your grubby little fingers off of it”

(idk why i’m writing him so fussy but he is a 20 year old male so)

he remembers all your birthdays, all your anniversaries, all your favorite foods, all your favorite colors and songs

he likes to show you how he cares

i get the vibe that his love language is acts of service

so he’ll buy a couple prints from your favorite movie and hang them up above your desk like “i thought it’d be a cute graphic wall :]”

maybe cook you your favorite comfort meal and make a cute little set up with candles and nice napkins

even if you two aren’t doing anything productive or necessarily important he always listens to what you have to say

definitely brings up interests you’ve told him about earlier bc he wants you to know he is listening and understanding

makes fun of your old instagram accounts and can’t even fathom why you decided that haircut was appropriate for eighth grade

his wallpaper is a picture of a selfie from your emo phase

“come on..... i love the bangs.”

both your lock screen and home screen are over-edited pictures of his minecraft skin crouching bc you know it he thinks it’s funny

one time he brought home flowers from publix and said “flowers for my flower ;)”

sappy piece of shit

fitting

A/N: ask or send me stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D leave me some stuff in the comments too!

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x reader #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnp x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap fic #sapnap fanfic #sapnap headcanon #sapnap one shot #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #bubblyhoneyfics

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grapesodatozier · 3 years

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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