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sunsents · 3 years

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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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ktheist · 3 years

Text

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses. Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fics #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios

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mandareeboo · 3 years

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SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not.

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me.

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky.

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster.

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs!

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly.

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong.

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

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𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓

____________________________

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌!𝕭𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖞 𝖝 𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙!𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕬𝖀

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: When the Queen falls sick and passes away, King Bucky must marry another, preferably the princess of an alliance kingdom nearby, in order to keep peace and order among the lands. However she is the most god awful human being anyone has ever met. Her guard however well she was definitely not what the king expected.

cw: brief talk about buck being tortured, suggestive infertility with reader, graphic details about death, talking about a violent accident to the reader during the battle, that battle, loki’s death too sorry (loki x reader past)….

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: smut 18+ (‘bathtub’ sex!, oral!fem, praise kink, cockwarming; blink and you’ll miss it, loss of virginity but who cares lmao, unprotected sex but reader can’t have kids… sorry), digusting amount fo fluff hahaha part 4?

𝕬/𝖓: tbh i saw this bathroom pic on pintrest and it was huge like all made of stone and gold with stain glass windows and the tub was like a giant jacuzzi and honestly that's what i imagine the reader’s bathroom to be in this but feel free to imagine something else lol

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2.7k (big boy lol)

part one | part two | part three | part four |

_____________________________

flashbacks in italics*

Bucky separated from Charlotte and practically sprinted to you. You looked behind you to find Bucky saying goodbye to his friends; them all winking at him. You scoffed and continued walking to your bedroom.

Usually during these big parties the king throws, you reside upstairs to bathe the world’s longest bath. You can’t normally take these because you're always needed for service whatever it may be. You left your door open for Bucky to easily find you knowing he was trailing close behind.

You turned the corner to enter the bathroom you had and glanced at Bucky who was still down the hall. You decided to tease him a bit and began stripping your dress, letting him see only your bare back and barely the side of your breast.

Bucky walked into your room and shut and locked the door immediately stripping away his coat and shirt along with his shoes as well. He slowly walked to the door of your very large bathroom and pushed it open slowly to see you walking down the steps of your bath filled with hot water.

Seeing your entire nude body from the back making Bucky’s breath hitch in his throat. The water raised to the middle of your back and it was hot enough to see a bit of steam. Oh how Bucky wanted to ravish you and be the reason you're wet and not the water.

“You gonna stand there and stare or would you like to join me?”

Bucky stumbled and nearly ripped his pants off his body trying to get to you. You turned back forward and waited until you heard the splashing water and felt his hands circling around your waist pulling flushed against his body.

His face went to your neck and he kissed and nipped at the flesh making you hum in content. You’ve never been naked with a man before let alone bathe with one but something about Bucky’s hungry eyes and hands roaming your body made you feel powerful. You had him wrapped around your little finger and you loved it.

Bucky loved it too.

“You are so beautiful, my love.”

Bucky’s hand traveled down your stomach towards your center. A place that no man has ever touched before. You almost forgot about-

“What’s this?”

“Stop,” you grabbed his hand and pulled it away. You wanted to cry. You completely forgot about what you had.

You wadded to the edge of the tub completely embarrassed and scared of how ignorant and stupid you felt.

“Hey, hey. What happened? Did I do something?” Bucky whispered to you, running his hands up and down your arms.

“No! It’s just, it’s ugly. I’m ugly,” you cried.

“What? Darling you are not ugly. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. How could you say such a thing about yourself?”

Bucky stopped for a minute and took the time to really look at your body now. He hadn’t realized until now but your entire back, shoulders, and arms with littered with painful scars; memories of the scary battles you partook on behalf of the kingdom.

You sniffled and covered you breasts with your hands and arms as best as you could before slowly turning around to show the front of your body revealing a large, dark, and ridged scar across your entire abdomen.

“It was the last battle before we retired.”

“Loki!” you screamed.

Smoke and fog from canons and the cold infiltrating your nose and lungs. You coughed and searched through the bodies and dirt that littered every inch of the battlefield.

“I was with my partner and my love, Loki.”

“Loki!” you kept searching and shouting his name. You could hardly see through your thick metal helmet and ripped it off your head. You had to find him.

“Loki! Where are you!” you screamed.

Suddenly, a large man, a man like an ogre, came charging at you. You dropped your helmet and grabbed your sword and shield ready to take the fucker down. The rebels were at their peak of resistance and this battle had been your worst.

Your men were dropping like flies and you couldn't hold them back much longer. And now you lost your best knight and your lover too. Loki Laufeyson.

You fought however. You were going to win the war.

You gabbed your sword and cut the giant. He lunged forward and smacked your shield; you're still standing however. You danced around each other until you heard the familiar cry. Shouts and grunts you’ve heard a thousand times.

You turned and found Loki fighting another only feet away from you. The man took your turn away for advantage and lunged at you once again, completely impaling you with his makeshift sword. You were nailed to the ground literally screeching in pain.

The man held your neck, cutting your airway, you could barely reach your sword to get him off you but your struggles were cut short when you looked to the side and found Loki being choked. He was lifted off the ground eyes turning red and skin turning blue.

“They killed him,” you whispered to Bucky.

His neck was snapped in front of your eyes; his body collapsed to the ground limp.

Your ears were ringing and everything went silent. You grabbed the sword and cut the throat of the man above you moving his body off you. You screamed and wailed for the loss of your love, your everything.

“I was there for so long, his eyes staring at me with no life,” you broke down.

“Hey, hey, hey. I got you. It’s ok,” Bucky held you.

“It was so long ago; I moved on,” you said once you calmed down, “But it still hurts when I always have this constant reminder about what happened. What I could’ve done; I could’ve saved him.”

“You couldn’t have done anything more then what happened. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

“And all these scars and scratches remind me everyday of what I went through. It makes me want to ripped my skin off.”

“I know baby girl. I know exactly how that feels.”

You looked at him confused. He was a king, he had everything. How could he understand even the sheer amount of grief you went through?

He took a step away and you saw it. The scars that littered his body and the one across his chest and left shoulder. The scar shaped into a star on his left arm only to have come from branding by the rebels, Hydra they called themselves.

“Many, many years ago, I was taken from my parents by the rebels. They want goods or something, I don’t remember too much. They burned me and scarred me for information about my father merchants and traders. It went on for weeks. Until they left me for dead and moved on to different kingdoms I supposed. My father’s army found me else I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that,” you cupped his face.

“But I’m here now stronger than ever and I know you are too.”

“It’s just, it’s hard. I have no one.”

“I know it is. And no you don’t have no one because whether or not there’s a marriage I’m still gonna be here for you and so is Natasha, Steve, and Sam. I’m pretty sure they love you more than they love me,” he chuckled as did you.

“We are here for you now even if it doesn’t seem like it, you have us.”

“Bucky,” you whispered.

“Yes?”

“James….”

“Y/n….”

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you with passion and lust. You hands cupped his face leaning further into the kiss. His hands were placed on your back pulling your body flushed against his own; he could feel your breasts pressed against his chest.

“You are so strong,” Bucky pulled away and said between kissing your neck.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He moved back a bit and sat on a stone step pulling you to sit on top of his legs. His hands moved all over your body touching every inch of skin you had still kissing your neck and collarbones. Your hands raked through his hair and he hummed at the feeling.

His hands roamed to your ass lifting you slightly. He waited for you to continue but when he saw the hesitation in your face he let go of your body.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Nothing, it's just… When I was with Loki we decided to wait to, you know. But then he died and I’ve never loved another. Until you. I’ve never…”

“I understand. We don’t have to do anything, we could just bathe,” he smiled.

“No Bucky. I love you, so much. And I don’t know what our future holds. What if I never see you again after tomorrow?”

“Hey, we’ll be together. I promise. Nothing’s gonna take you away from me.”

He kissed you again this time if felt a little different. Like he was also scared that he was gonna lose you.

You stood up a bit and wrapped your hand around Bucky’s cock. You pumped it a few times eliciting moans from him that was music to your eyes. You could spend eternity like this if you had the chance.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t tease me,” Bucky moaned.

“But you sound so lovely,” you smirked.

Bucky grabbed your hips and sat you over his cock not yet pulling you down; almost like a warning that he can plow into if he wants. And boy is that something you want.

You looked into Bucky’s eyes as you slowly but surely sank down onto his dick. You hadn’t actually seen it yet and feeling it in your hand you expected him to be pretty big but now sinking down on him, he was fucking huge.

You tensed up a little bit feeling yourself being stretched by his cock.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. You’re so beautiful,” Bucky praised, “Take your time, darling.”

“You’re so big, James.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s starting to feel better.”

You slowly moved up to sink down again; beginning to feel less pressure and pain and way more pleasure. You moaned a bit before covering your mouth in embarrassment about your lude sounds.

“Don’t do that; I wanna hear you. I wanna hear how good my cock makes you feel.”

“It feels so good. Oh god,” you moaned.

You sped up the pace and your stomach felt like it was tightening in itself. This feeling was a whole new thing, but damn did it feel like heaven. Bucky started to join you in small thrusts up to you groaning in pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

“Keep talking Bucky. Please,” you moaned; Bucky’s words bringing you closer to the edge.

“You like it when I tell you how good your pussy feels? You want me to tell you how gorgeous you are? How perfect?”

“Yes!” you sped up chasing that high that you desperately wanted.

Bucky grunted and grabbed your hips rutting his hips into you making you scream in pleasure. Your head tossed back and your toes curled, you felt a wave of euphoria come over you as you climaxed for the first time. Bucky grunted loudly and pulled you into a feral kiss as he climaxed hard.

You slumped forward in fatigue on Bucky, his hands rubbing softly up and down your back. You stayed in silence for a minute before you moved to look up at Buck.

“That was amazing,” you whispered, making him laugh.

Bucky lifted you and sat you on the dry stone counter kissing you softly. He dried you with towels and took you to your bed kissing your body up and down; kissing each scar.

“”What are you doing?” you smiled at him.

“Oh baby, I’m not done with you,” his voice low with lust, making you incredibly aroused.

Bucky kissed your large scar on your belly and whispered how he loved you and how beautiful you were. Your heart fluttered at his words, tears pooled in your eyes. You could feel Bucky’s breath against your inner thighs and your head shot up.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you were confused as to what he was doing.

“I wanna taste you, doll. Is that ok? I promised it’ll feel good,” he assured you.

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.

Bucky licked up your folds and your hips jerked at the new feeling. He brought his hands up and spread your legs open for more room. His tongue moved up and down brushing your clit making you squirm underneath him.

Bucky inserted a finger and pumped it in and out of your pussy, following with another soon after. Your body thrashed under him; another orgasm approaching fast. You moaned and cried at the intense pleasure that Bucky was giving you, the best feeling you’ve ever felt.

“Oh god Bucky, that feels so fucking good,” you hands entangled themselves in his hair.

Your back arched off the bed, your cum dripping down Bucky’s chin. It was truly a beautiful sight. Bucky lapped up everything you gave him and wiped his chin with his hand before kissing you. He positioned himself above, his hips settled between your thighs.

“You think you can be a good girl and give me one more?” Bucky positioned himself at your entrance.

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl.”

“Good,” Bucky thrusted fast into you, making you moan loudly.

“That’s baby, let the whole damn kingdom know who’s fucking you this good. Tell me, say it to me.”

“You’re fucking me so good! You feel so good, ah!” tears fell down your cheeks from immense pleasure.

“God, I love you, Y/n,” he buried his face into your neck, nipping at the skin. He was getting closer to another orgasm and his thrusts were getting wild and animalistic.

“I love you Bucky,” you said to him, bringing his forehead to yours. Hands scratching at his back.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again!”

“I love you, James. So much.”

You and Bucky both climax together, shouting ecstasy. His body rolled over to the side, his cock still inside you, pulling into him. Your head resting on his lightly sweaty chest. His hands scratched lightly on your back making your skin break out in chills.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked you.

“Yes. I'm perfect.”

“Good. I was scared that maybe I pushed you too far.”

“No, I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

There was a brief moment of silence; you almost fell asleep.

“Tomorrow I’m going to ask the king for your hand instead.”

“What?” you head rose quickly.

“I mean it. I spoke with Charlotte before I came here and turns out she too loves someone else.”

“Henry,” you whispered.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I’ve sent letters to the duke’s home a couple times. She spoke a lot of his son; a good man. I didn't realize she may actually have fallen in love with him.”

“She did and I’m pretty sure like me, she went to tell her one true love that they love them. Very much. More than anything in the whole world.”

“You sap,” you laughed.

“I mean it. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“And if the king says no? You’re supposed to marry his daughter, not his knight.”

“I know, but I’ll make him say yes. I swear,” Bucky kissed you.

“Good night, James.”

“Good night, my love.”

======================================

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:

@velvetcardiganbucky

@chipilerendi

@heavenhatesme

@austynparksandpizza

@ahahafudge

@onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles

@smoochesfroggos

@thegeekybibliophile

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fluff #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #king!bucky #knight!reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #royal au #marvel smut #bucky barnes angst

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pixie88 · 3 years

Text

Rem’s Birthday BBQ

Chapter 5 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: Remy set Laila up on a date, but Laila and Harry aren’t happy about it. How will the birthday celebrations go? Yes, Laila’s embarrassing moment has happened to me haha! I hope you like it.

If you would like to be ADDED or REMOVED just let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff, Mild NSFW & Adult Language.

Word Count: 2106

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

"A date?" Laila questions him "Yeah, with one of Alec's mates" Rem seems super excited about this "What friend?" Harry asks, looking over to Alec "Freddie, I didn't think he'd be Laila's type, but Rem seems to think that he is" as soon as Alec tells him its Freddie Harry chuckles "Freddie?! Really?! Good luck Laila!" There is almost a hint of jealously in his voice.

"Come on, Harry he's not that bad!" Alec tries not to laugh through his lie "She'll fall asleep before they have even ordered drinks. He has no chat when it comes to girls" Laila looks over to Rem "So you're setting me up with a bore?" Rem shook his head "No, he is actually really funny! Ignore these two! I just want you to find someone...it's been 8 years since Josh...you need to get over him at some point!"

A sadness still came over Laila each time someone mentions his name "Rem! Look, it's your birthday and I don't want to fall out with you over this, so here is your present I'm going to walk away from this conversation before I say something I regret!" She gets up leaving before anyone can say anything.

"Auntie Laila!!!" Carly collides with her "Come on, we are all on the zip swing" Laila parents had a huge back garden surrounding their house, so her dad built a park for the grand kids. All the kids loved the zip swing they would take turns on having a go and pulling the seat back each time.

Having 3 older brothers Laila had a total of 11 nieces and nephews. Chris had Lilly - 11, Luna - 9 and Carly - 5, Max had the twins Isla and Arya - 10, Nate had Alfie - 5, Issac - 7, Blake - 11 and Zeppy the oldest at 18.

"Auntie Laila" Alfie zipped past on the swing as he hit the end the swing flies up nearly dropping Alfie off backwards "Wow, be careful Alf!" Laila watches her nephew run back to the start with the swing in tow.

"Where are your parents?" she looked round at the kids "Nanny and Grandad had us stay over last night. We had a camp out in the living room" Carly tells her "Why don't you have a go?" Carly pushes her towards the swing "Yeah, Auntie Laila!" Alf cheers her on "But....!" she hesitates but the kids aren't taking no for an answer.

Laila gets on, gripping the swing for dear life "3...2....1...Go!" they count her down, she zips along the line, then as it hits the end.... the chair flies forward up into the air and Laila's grip loosens, she fell backwards onto the grass the swing above her with no passenger "LAILA!!" she hears a familiar voice shout within seconds she knows whose voice it is as he stands over her "Are you OK?" Harry looks down at her as soon as he asks, she bursts out a laugh "Other than dying of embarrassment? Yeah, I'm OK" he starts to laugh with her as he helps her up off the ground.

"You went down before the seat did!" he laughs, "I didn't expect it to throw me off," she looks over to the kids who are laughing at her, "Should we get you a drink?" he puts his hand on the small of her back leading her to a table.

She sits as Harry grabs them a drink "Laila, are you OK?" Terry looks at her worried "Dad, I'm fine," she laughs, "Still, I better go and tell them to be careful" he leaves her alone at the table walking over to the kids.

Harry hands her a Pimms can "I wasn't sure what you wanted but thought you can't go wrong with Pimms right?" he sits down next to her with a beer in his hand "Actually, I don't like Pimms" she lies, "Oh! I can go and get you something else?" he's about to get up when she giggles and pulls him back down "I'm joking!" She laughs, he narrows his eyes at her with a grin "That was just mean!" he laughs, "Erm...Its looks like you have a date this Friday!" She scrunches up her nose at the question "Argh...I need to find a way to get out of that one!"

"Oh?" he's sips his beer trying to sound neutral "I know Rem means well..." he has to ask. It's now or never right?! "What was he talking about earlier? When he mentioned someone called Josh?" He watches as her walls slowly go up.

She turns to him "No judgment?" He nods just wanting to listen to her "OK, Josh was someone I met in college, we were together for over 4 years. Engaged, but then he got sick...." she takes a deep breath gearing up to say the words "He passed away...." she looks down at her hands in her lap.

He wished he never asked now, he takes her hand.

She looks up at him "It took me a while to date after that and I'm not trying to give you a big head or anything, but you are probably the first person to have made it to a second date," he tries to hide his smirk, but it breaks out "Must be my amazing dates" she shook her "About that... do you do normal dates" she raises a questioning brow at him.

He chuckles "I...to be honest with you, I've never done dates as extravagant as I have with you.." Laila tuts at him finding it hard to believe "Honestly, it's the truth. You have this thing about you that makes me just want to impress you"

She lets out a little laugh, "I love the big wow dates, but I prefer simple ones," he smirks at her "Now she tells me! What if I was to do a movie night and dinner at mine? You would be happy with that?" She pretends to think for a second "It depends on your cooking skills" she winks, he howls "My cooking skills are fantastic actually!" she shoves him "Of course they are!"

"Friday come over and I'll show you!" she knows exactly why he has chosen to do it on that day "Have you forgotten? I have plans," he knows she's baiting him, "We both know you don't want to go on that date and I wasn't lying earlier when I said you'll be asleep before ordering" for a split second she could see a hint of jealousy in his eyes as she decides what to do "I'll let you know" she smirks, teasing him.

Later everyone is a little tipsy now and Nate drags Laila up to dance "Nate, No!" he isn't listening to her "Come on, every family gathering, we always get up and dance!!" all the kids that haven't fallen asleep are up dancing too. Pharrell Williams - Happy is playing everyone that is still at the party is up dancing except Alec and Harry who are watching from the sidelines.

"Grandad, you dance like an old man!" Carly laughs at Terry doing the robot, Remy dances his way over to Laila "I'm waving my white flag!" she shook her head at her oldest friend "Rem! I'm sorry I snapped a bit earlier," she hugs him "Hey, you made up for it as soon as you came flying of the zip swing. That was priceless! But one thing I did notice Harry seem to run to your rescue pretty quick?" Remy gives her a look he always give her when he knows there's more to the story.

She can't keep it a secret from him anymore, she looks round Harry isn't within earshot, but his eyes are glued to her, "If I tell you something you can't tell anyone! I mean not even Alec! Pinky promise?" Rem rolls his eyes "Laila, how old are we again?!" she huffs at him "OK, I pinky promise! Now what is going on?" she checks one more time "Harry and I have been on a couple of dates" Remy's face lights up "W...what!? You and Harry?! When did this start?" Rem has 21 questions for her.

"It started after your stag weekend. He came to the salon for a haircut and it went on from there," she whispers to him, "Do you like him? Have you....you know?" He winks at her, she can't believe he just asked her that "Rem! No! We haven't! I do like him" Rem pull her in for a hug "Lulu! I'm happy you've finally gotten yourself back out there!"

She blushes "Lulu, you haven't called me that in years!" She laughs. "Called her what?" They hear behind her, turning they saw Alec and Harry joining them "Lulu, I used to call Laila it growing up"

"Well, Lulu you won't mind if I stole my Remy for a dance?" Alec spins Remy, she laughs, "No, of course not. I'm happy for you to take him off my hands! His dances moves are awful" she laughs.

Alec and Remy start dancing together with everyone else.

"Lulu huh?" She turns towards him "Oh, no! Don't tell me you're going to start teasing me about it?!" He laughs, "Nah, I might start calling you it myself. Oh, by the way your dad offered to let me stay the night" she looks at him confused "He did?!" Why has he done that? "I told him I couldn't have more than one beer because I was going to drive Alec and Remy home, so he said we could all stay"

"That's my dad for ya! I'm staying the night too" her dad had already told her that she could stay a few days ago "We could be sleeping next door to each other again?" He winks. "Just keep the snore session down, yeah?!" she laughs, "I do not snore!" he protests "OK, if you want to believe that!" She teases him more "You are so irritating, but I like it. I really want to kiss you!" she smirks "Sorry, but you'll have to keep your lips to yourself!" He huffs.

Its after midnight Remy, Alec, Harry and Laila were the last ones to head the bed "Night Lulu and Haribo!" a drunk Remy sways into his old bedroom with Alec. "Which room did your mum say I was in?" Harry whispers trying not to wake everyone "The guest room next to my old ro...." his lips crash to hers, the kiss is electrifying making every nerve ending stand on end.

They stumble into her bedroom onto the bed. His lips trail down her pulse line, his hand glides up her leg, slipping under her playsuit and brushes against her centre "Harry?" he pulls away to look at her. "I want to....its just..." he strokes her face and smiles as he collapses on the bed next to her "It's fine. We can take it slow" she felt relieved he understood. "Not too slow we can't cuddle?" he lets out a soft chuckle "I do like to cuddle" he wraps his arms around her.

"I am sorry! It's been so long since I've been with someone in that way," he kisses her forehead "Don't give it a second thought. I can do slow" he begins to stroke her hair making her eyes drift.

~*~*~*~

"Laila! Are you awake?" she heard her mum call out, followed by a knock on the bedroom door, she looks around the room realising where she is.

With Harry is asleep next to her "Laila?" her mum calls out again.

Shit! She can't have her catch Harry in here! Laila tries to wake him "Harry! Wake up!" he begins to stir, she silences him with a finger to his lips.

When the door handle twists Laila pushes him off the bed and he falls to the floor with a thud "Ouch!"

"Laila, Are you..?" Laila smiles at her mum "Mum?! You alright?" Laila tries not to blush.

"Yep, I just wondered if you wanted breakfast?" Laila nods "Great, what about Harry?" Laila is shocked by her mum's question "What? Harry?" she asks, "Sweetheart, if you're going to get him to hide behind the bed at least make sure his feet aren't sticking out the bottom or did you forget he's nearly 6 foot? Well, I suppose we are all the same size when we're doing the horizontal tango" she winks as turns to leave the room "I'll take his silence as a yes to breakfast" she closes the bedroom door.

Harry pops his head up smiling at a very red Laila....

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 6.

@secretaryunpaid @lem-20 @aussieez @khoicesbyk @irisofpurple @shewillreadyou @txemrn @pixiezilla6

#atb #fiction #fictionalstory #always the bridesmaid #always the bridesmaid fic #pixie 88 #pixiezilla6

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shiishki · 3 years

Note

okay wait, i changed my mind. you should answer all of these questions as well, if that's what you want from me >:)

oof there's a lot of it, that's what i get for wanting to be ✨aesthetic✨

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

vowels (and the importance of being me) - hunny

honeypie - jawny

pretty young thing - michael jackson

mirrors - justin timberlake

sunflower - red orange county

paradise - rude-a

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

a therapist.

ok someone else.. uhh,, my grand grandma because i only have scratches of memories but i dunno if that counts since she passed away...

*rummages through ancient scripts* uhh ok someone who isn't dead.. uhm,, tommie? yeah I'd like to meet them if i could meet anyone on earth

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

ok, the closest german, english or polish book? nvm i have english

"suddenly was. So I just said thank you a few times too, and Mum" ironically this is one of the normal lines in this book

4: What do you think about most?

the fact that I'll have to do something after school. and I don't know if i want to go to college or get a job bc i have no legitimate idea on what to do with my life. it gets overwhelming, just the lack of knowledge about the actual experience.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with, tho i sleep with just shorts in summer

7: What’s your strangest talent?

not sure if it's a talent, but i can fall asleep anywhere

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls are pretty. boys are pretty

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

by me, yes. no one else has written a poem about me specifically. nvm, tommie wrote one and it shall rest on my wall, or desk, i need to find a place for it

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

uhh i think last month?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don't think so, but i am hella afraid of the possibly gigantic, terrifying things in the ocean depths that humans haven't discovered yet

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

yep, beloved legos as a lil child

13: What’s your religion?

i can't ever remember the name, but i believe gods (from all religions) exist in some way or form. so i believe in different pantheons and etc.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

walking my doggo, skateboarding, thinking about how to make the lives of my characters worse

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

uhmm the arctic monkeys? or the strokes

17: What was the last lie you told?

i know what i want

18: Do you believe in karma?

yes, the rule of three specifically

19: What does your URL mean?

i don't know. it's something me and my sis came up with and that's just my whole identity now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

uhh greatest weakness.. i can't finish things. strength is that I'm very stubborn so maybe I'll finish that thing out of spite

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

i grew up thinking crushes were like unicorns. my ex was odd enough to argue with that i didn't love her if i didn't have a crush on her. but I think if i had to guess.. selena gomez, especially in the role of alex russo in wizard of weverly street

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

i write angry letters. sometimes they're sad letters. i write a lot of letters. except i never send them out and no one made a movie about them :}

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

jars and witchy bottles, books? scented candles

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

phone calls are stressful enough as is, i don't need you to see my reading off what i frantically wrote to not stumble over my words

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

i think so, yes, but that won't stop me from becoming better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

hate flies buzzing right by my ear, love cat purring

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if I'd been born in a place where it was illegal for me (nonbinary) to live, in a time when others thought of me as a curse?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

they be chilling.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm, doggo, left arm, pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

fresh air and doggo, because doggo is with me and I can't live without open windows

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

i dunno tbh

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

which one is less homophobic?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

every gender is my opposite gender. selena gomez and justin timberlake

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

to make it easier for people down the line

36: Define Art.

make thing, thing goes woo

37: Do you believe in luck?

yis

38: What’s the weather like right now?

it's nice actually, very sunny, slight breeze

39: What time is it?

12.59 am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

i don't, but i once crashed into a fire department vehicle with my bike. bike ded.

41: What was the last book you read?

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

i legit ass don't know what gasoline smells like.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

many variations of my name, aka. Luce

44: What was the last film you saw?

i think it was Robin Hood: King of Thieves, but it might have been that half of spider-man homecoming i managed to watch with my poor internet

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

oh man i dunno... it's not an injury, but i was very sickly as a lil kid and almost died :)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

once, years ago

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

hmmm horizon zero dawn i think

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

proud pansexual ^^

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

not really, i don't think they're big enough to be actual rumors,, meh

50: Do you believe in magic?

yis

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

meh. they suck, i know they suck, that's it.

52: What is your astrological sign?

cancer ♋

53: Do you save money or spend it?

i attempt saving. attempt

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

for my own money, sweets. i bought lizards for my cats so they can brush their teeth from my dad's amazon acc

55: Love or lust?

luv

56: In a relationship?

nope, i buy my own cookies

57: How many relationships have you had?

1, kinda toxic toward the end, very stressful, don't recommend

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nu ><

59: Where were you yesterday?

on the fields walking my doggo

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yep, a pastel pink hoodie in my closet uwu

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

yis, thicc warm socks

62: What’s your favourite animal?

cats

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

cuddles and food.

64: Where is your best friend?

bold of you to assume i have a best friend.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

tommie-hildebrandt, kageyuji, nekomas-kuroo, joyful-soul-collector

66: What is your heritage?

I'm a demon boi from Poland tho that's not a thing to be proud of, i mean, look at the economy. awful.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

sleeping, trying to sleep.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Pinkton. or Satan.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

this is such an odd combination of words i had to look it up. yea.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

a friend who won't laugh at me when i ask them to order smth for me because I'm too anxious to.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

excuse me? i am saving the doggo wtf. f u boss, I'm gonna sell my tragic story to the news.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i tell my parents. b) live the hell out of them uwu c) nope uwu.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

history maker - dean fujioka :]

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

3332

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

communication, trust, some more communication.

77: How can I win your heart?

let's not pretend to be something else to please each other, and bring some bitter chocolate.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

maybe. it could. i don't have a say in it since my sanity is held by tape.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

eat the pizza. stop caring about others not liking me/parts of me. just living for myself uwu.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

uh i dunno how the american sizes work and i don't wanna look it up so, 39, 40 fits too.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

demon boi

82: What is your favourite word?

socks.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

the bloody organ that sits in your chest and pumps blood into your body so you don't die.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

uhm im not sure if that counts as a saying, but fake it till you make it

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

blinding lights - the weeknd

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

oh a normal question people use for ice breaking, sea blue and pastel variations of it.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

like my wallpaper? or the actual picture that sits on my desk? or how my desk looks like atm? it's ugly, a lot of papers and pens and schoolbooks.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

donald trump. or the next asshole who'll try to take the rights of the lgbt and poc away

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

this. this is the question.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

yo there's a pizza somewhere in the refrigerator, want me to heat it up? we can have a sleep over and talk about our feelings :3

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

telekinesis! or shapeshifting! i could do such fun things with telekinesis ^^ yeah I'd totally eat some radioactive veggies

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

that time my "friends" got me into shoplifting, half-hour is more than enough to punch some sense into my brain and develop good music taste

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

can i save this one? i don't think i have an experience horrible enough to be erased haha

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

sleep as in.. uh no thank u. but I'm down for a sleep over with sam smith ^^

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

just me? what about my pets? my fam? it's lowkey illegal for me to go just anywhere without them owO

uhhmm, greece. imma become part of the greek pantheon out of pure spite. and maybe toronto canada.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

not any that i know of o.o

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

i think i may have but i honestly don't remember

98: Ever been on a plane?

nope, i dunno if i like planes, but I'd probably sleep if i were on one.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

yeet.

#that was long #probably because my stubborn ass wanted to make pretty formatting #shiishki.rambles #shiishki.interacts with tommie

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izzyrenee13 · 3 years

Text

Morpho: Clint Barton x OC

LIZA’S POV

2012

“Explain to me again, what exactly do you want this reactor to do?” I asked my lovely father as he showed me the blueprints to an underwater reactor he was going to build, presumably soon. He and I both knew I understood his plans, but just wanted to hear him say it again, and so he did. It was no question, I shared my fathers brain, his wit, but I was more skilled than he was. That was his own fault though, since I could walk I was in various combat training classes, having high ranks in most, I was a trained marksman and I could hack the most secure buildings in the world. I also had my powers, I forget about those sometimes though.

As he finished his explanation of the reactor, my phone rang, usually I’d ignore it but Phil Coulson doesn’t call people unless it’s important. “Hey Dad, I have to get this.” I stood up from the computer in the lab, my tone slightly worried. He nodded and went back to checking the prints a millionth time.

“Agent Stark.” I answered, a standard greeting for any SHIELD calls I got.

“Stark, we need you to come in.” Phil sounded panicked, and Phil Coulson never panicked.

“Phil, I’m in New York, with my dad, can’t work wait until my week off--” I was cut off.

“Barton’s been compromised.” That sentence was all it took to cause anxiety and panic to course through my body. “And please, ask Tony about project TAI. He’ll know what to do.”

So I did, and not even an hour later, I was in a Stark Industries helicopter, landing on the bridge of a SHIELD helicarrier. As I got out of my ride, I was greeted by one third of my crew, Natasha Romanoff, and Doctor Bruce Banner. “Nat!” I was a mess, ever since Phil told me Clint had been compromised, I’d been crying, just pulling myself together the last ten minutes of the flight. I ran over to my red headed best friend and threw my arms around her. I was one of, maybe two, people in the world she would hug. “Have you seen him?”

She hugged me back, “No. I haven’t, but we’ll find him and we’ll get HIM back.” She pulled away from the hug, “Agent Stark, this is Doctor Banner,” She introduced me to the man, who just witnessed me be vulnerable. I instantly put on my ‘Agent Face’ and greeted him.

“Agent Elizabeth Stark, your work on anti-electron collisions is...unparalleled.” I stuck my hand out for him to shake, internally I was fangirling. On top of being one of SHIELD’s top agents, I had degrees in Thermonuclear Engineering, Physics, and Literature.

“Thank you, Doctor Bruce Banner,” He shook my hand, “Stark as in…?”

“Yes, Doc, my father is Anthony Edward Stark, and my does he know it.” I giggled slightly. The three of us started walking along the bridge, coming up on a quinjet that had just landed. Out stepped my favorite awkward man and America’s first super soldier. “Phil, I see you’ve called in..” I trailed off, knowing what he was doing, why he was bringing us here.

“That I have Liza. That I have.” He smiled and gave me a side hug. It wasn’t a secret how close the “three assassins” were, especially me and Clint.

Nat approached us from talking to a fellow agent, “They need you inside, they’ve started running the face trace.” She directed at coulson.

Third Person POV

Captain America was on the ground fighting with Loki, while Black Widow and Morpho were in the quinjet, manning the jet and trying to get Loki to drop the sceptre. Eventually, with Iron Man’s help, they contain Loki and head back to the helicarrier from Germany.

All of a sudden, Loki is in the hands of his brother, Thor. A fight ensues, and Morpho wonders if she should teleport down to help contain Loki, but decides against it.

Morpho freezes when she sees Hawkeye for the first time since getting that dreaded phone call. Morpho and Black Widow fight Hawkeye until he gets knocked out, Morpho staying with him and eventually taking him to the medical wing after the fight, which got the Hulk to come out, ended.

A day later, Thor, Iron Man, Hulk, Captain America, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and Morpho are fighting Loki’s army of the Chitauri. Black Widow is about to close the portal when Iron Man cuts in, “No. Wait.”

“Stark, these things are still coming!” Captain America warns.

“”I’ve got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute and I know just where to put it.”

“Dad..that’s a one way trip.” Morpho stands in the middle of the street, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I know. I love you, my little butterfly.” He says as he disconnects his comms and flies the nuke into the portal.

Liza’s POV

Once we had fought, and fought, we had finally sat down to eat some shawarma at this little place in Queens. We were all just talking amongst ourselves, I was currently going off on my dad for trying to sacrifice himself, while casting an illusion to hug Clint, Nat and Bruce, we all needed it. As soon as my illusions dropped, Thor cleared his throat.

“Lady Liza, I have an announcement to make that will interest you, most of all.” He started, “There is a reason I was on Midgard, other than my little brother. I was to come find my long lost sister Tyr, tell her of her origins, and bring her home so the Allfather and Allmother can explain their actions.”

“I love you Thor, but how does this involve me?” I questioned, being genuinely curious about the whole predicament. There was no way in heaven or hell I was Tyr...it would explain my magical abilities and why I healed faster and whenever I got sick I was only down for a couple of hours, but no..I couldn’t be.

“Liza, You are Tyr. I was sent, with an image of who and where you are. Heimdall has been keeping tabs on you for years. I understand if you do not wish to talk this over here, but rather somewhere more comfortable.” Thor slightly explained and I simply just nodded, everyone, including myself in a state of shock.

That night we all decided to stay at the Triskelion Barracks, where everyone had a room connected with one big common area. We were The Avengers now, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, we needed a place to stay after long world saving missions, though my father was already in talks with Fury, to change Stark Tower into Avengers Tower.

Thor, Clint, my dad and I were all sitting in the common area waiting for a more lengthy explanation from Thor, Clint and my dad being there for moral support. I looked at Thor, “Please, explain how I’m a norse goddess.”

“It was merely 25 Midgardian years ago, my mother Frigga got pregnant, unexpectedly, as she had not been pregnant since she had me, roughly 28 Midgardian years ago. When my father heard the news, he was ecstatic, but made a political decision for the unborn baby my mother was carrying.” He started, looking at me to make sure I was following, “He decided to send Frigga to earth, have her meet and sleep with Tony Stark, later convincing him she was pregnant with his baby, then she was to leave him, aged 18, to care for the baby until she was ready to take on her royal status.”

“Hold the FUCK UP.” Tony started, “You’re telling me, Carrie wasn’t Carrie, that--my whole relationship was a lie?” He was fuming. I was just as shocked as he was. No matter what though, Tony Stark was still my father.

“I’m sorry, but yes, I hated my father’s logic and wanted to stop him, but I could not.” Thor was genuinely sorry, and I grabbed my dad’s hand to assure him I needed the rest of the story. “As I was saying, the baby girl was to be named as Tony wished, but her Asgardian records were to have her as Tyr.”

“Okay, that explains my powers and extreme strength, but uh-- What-- what am I the goddess of?” I inquired, curious.

“Oh yes! How could I forget, Tyr is to be the Goddess of War, Justice and Law!” He was excited. “I do have a question for you, little sister.” It felt weird to me, Thor calling me a sibling.

“Shoot.” I faked a smile, overwhelmed at the information I had dumped on me, the fact I knew I’d have to talk with this alone with both Tony and Clint, so many things.

“Loki and I leave for Asgard tomorrow, so he can get the punishment he deserves, please come with us, meet your Asgardian family.” He looked hopeful. What would it hurt to meet my actual creators?

“I’ll go.” I answered. With that he stood up and excitedly wished a goodnight to the three of us left.

“Hey, Clint, Can you give my dad and I a couple minutes? I’ll come talk to you when I’m done.” I started and Clint went to his room, leaving Tony and I.

“Dad..” I started, and when I finally looked at him, I saw THE Tony Stark crying.

“You--you’re not--I didn’t make you.” He stuttered over his words.

“I do not give a flying fuck who my biological parents are. You’ve been my dad for almost 25 years now. You. Are. My. Dad. Always have been, always will be. I’m 24, you’re 42. We have the rest of our lives to be father & daughter. I won’t leave you because of this new found ‘family’. You and Pepper and Happy and Nick, you guys are my family. That won’t change.” I went on a small tangent.

He pulled me into a hug, gave me a kiss on the cheek and muttered a ‘thank you’ into my hair. He felt reassured, I knew his anxiety would get the best of his brain after that revelation. He got up and went to his room after that, and I made my way to Clint’s room.

I knocked on the door, he opened it and I instantly walked to him, gave him a hug and started crying. I was exhausted and overly emotional, I wasn’t as closed off as Natasha so me showing Clint my emotions wasn’t weird.

He just held me and listened to me rant about everything that had been dumped on me in the last two days. I almost lost my best friend, found out I was a goddess and I’m not technically human. I kept coming back to almost losing Clint. I couldn’t lose him. He was my rock, my person. I was in love with him, and god damn it, one day I’ll tell him, just not right now.

Once he got me to calm down, he walked me back to my room, and once we got there, “Stay. Please. I leave for another realm tomorrow and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” I asked my best friend. We’d cuddled and slept in the same bed multiple times, platonically.

So he did, we both crawled into my bed, I laid my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. I wished I could stay like that forever. Slowly, we both drifted into sleep.

The next morning after everyone had woken up and got ready, we headed to Central Park to have a send off. Thor and I had taken Loki out of SHIELD custody and were heading to Asgard. Apparently, my magic was the only magic in this realm that could counter Loki’s.

Thor was addressing the group, but really the information was for me, “We’ll be in Asgard for about a week, which is roughly three weeks Midgardian time.Time moved weirdly between the realms as one year here is 53 on Asgard.”

With that, Thor, Loki and I stood on a bridge overlooking a little river, holding a contraption that held the tesseract. I said my goodbyes and gave everyone a hug, spending a little more time on my dad and Clint. When I walked over to my brothers, we twisted the contraption and were off to Asgard.

(BONUSSSSS: THIRD PERSON POV)

Clint and Natasha were walking away from the group when the assassin turned to the Archer, “So when are you gonna tell Liza?” She asked.

“Tell her what?” He looked at his best friend, a quizzical look on his face.

“Oh god, you don’t think I’m stupid do you? Even the Iceman can see it, You’re in love with Elizabeth Stark.”

“I--uh-- what--- I don’t”

“Just tell her before it’s too late.”

_________

A/N:

GAHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT.

Also, if I decide to incorporate movies into this book, it’ll happen like this chapter did, the plot skimmed over in third person. I’m not sure if any other movies are gonna be canon in this, but this one in particular was important to the plot.

-Izzy

Masterlist

Taglist: @hawkeyesbabe

#Clint Barton #Marvel #Avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #Tony Stark #Natasha Romanoff #Happy Hogan #Nick Fury #Fanfiction #Captain America #Thor

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cloudy-coyote · 3 years

Text

Necessity

(A/N): Hi! It’s been a while. Hope you like the chapter!! Leave a comment if you do (if you want to) image is not mine i found it on google. Also learned all my information about police procedure from tv lol so I’m sure it’s a bit inaccurate my apologies.

xoxo.

Ch. 6 Inconclusive

"Wait, are you guys going?"

"Well, we have a theory," Sam answers.

He's at the couch, picking up his discarded jacket. Dean doing the same.

"A theory?" She repeats.

"If we're right, we know where your necklace is."

Of course. That waitress must've taken it. Where else would've it gone? But, does that mean the necklace killed her? She feels a cold shiver run up her spine.

Even though the police radio said homicide, not animal attack, she's not an idiot. She can put two and two together. The necklace has to be the source of all this chaos.

Eva's nearly died 2 times. She thinks of Marlene in this exact moment. She visions her bright, blue eyes now lifeless. The idea that that could've been her—Eva, dead on the ground. The thought deepens in the pit of her stomach. It slithers down her throat and makes her nauseous.

She looks to Sam. His large hands unlock a little metal box. He shuffles around in the masses of what looks like ID cards.

She looks to Dean. She sees his cold eyes trained on the disengaged pistol in his hands, loading it.

And then she finally looks to the room. She observes the same mess of papers scattered around. But she also notices nothing else. No guns, no other people.

She'd be dammed if she didn't go with them. What's she gonna do all by herself? Sit and drown in silence? She knows for a fact that the moment she's alone, there will be nothing to stop the fears, thoughts, doubts and miserable heartbreak from flooding her mind. Not to mention, she'd be dead meat if she was attacked again. Screw the aching bones and pulsing wounds.

"Here we go," She grumbles to herself as she rotates her body to the end of the bed.

Slowly, and very reluctantly, she lowers her legs to the ground.

"Woah woah woah," Dean puts a hand out, halting her in place.

His green eyes were aimed straight at hers. The look emitting almost a parental scold.

"And where do you think you're going, missy?"

She narrows her eyes. She knows what he's trying to say, and she doesn't want to have it. "Umm...with you guys?" Her voice drips with sarcasm.

"Oh, I don't think so," Dean laughs, "Take a look at yourself."

"What exactly am I looking for?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're crippled...or that you're frickin' kid,"

"First of all, I'm 18. Second, I'm fine. "

"Oh really? Why don't we just toss you out the car and see how fast you can run with those broken legs?"

The tips of her ears turn a furious red. She does not have the energy to put up with this after what she's been through all night---or actually, all day.

These last 24 hours she's been through hell and he wants to leave her here? Are you kidding me? Does this man only think for himself? I mean, it's not like she's asking to run in guns blazing fighting whatever type of monsters they fight. She just doesn't want to be by herself!

The elder Winchester holds his ground. His face was slightly entertained due to her silence. He took it as a win. She wanted to smack his stupid confident smirk right off. But, she couldn't for the life of her, calm down and come up with a smart retaliation. The only thing she could think about was his bullish ignorance.

"Uh-Dean," Sam cuts in.

Both Eva's and his brother's eyes reluctantly glance toward him. He stands by the coffee table, gently cleaning out his own pistol and loading it.

"Just a few minutes ago she was on our asses for leaving her at the hospital. Just a suggestion, but maybe we should take her with us?"

"You're not even wearing your fed suits. I wouldn't look out of place!" She adds desperately.

"Sweetheart, you're not goin' anywhere outside these motel walls, capeesh? "

"No! No capeesh," She exclaims, "She has my necklace, I deserve to go. I mean, this is my life we're talking about here! That--that could've been me on the police scanner."

"Exactly! That's why you're staying here, where it's safe."

"No, I'm staying with you two, where it's actually safe."

"Well, sweetheart, doesn't really sound like you're asking," His voice a dangerous tone, his eyes narrowing.

"Never was, sweetheart." She spits back.

Just as Dean takes a threatening step closer to her. About to hand her ass to her, and then some. Sam jumps up from the table.

"Listen, Eva, it's fine. You're coming with us, just stay in the car, okay?" His hazel eyes connect with hers. She nods at his offer, happy with his understanding.

He turns to his brother.

"And really, Dean? Arguing with a teenager?"

"She started it!"

"Right, and I'm the kid."

Dean's hand turns the keys and the soft hum of the Impala shuts off. Sam gives his brother an I.D, Sturon Hometech Security. He's quick to stick it in his wallet.

Eva looks out the window as the boys begin to discuss some details. It was a fairly long drive here. So by the time they arrived, there was a multitude of civilians piled around the street. They were held off by officers and police tape of course, but she could hear the nervous chatter from inside the car.

She saw that the street was eerily dark. The only illumination coming from the blue and red flashers. You could see little dots of yellow in the horizon of porch lights being flicked on, a single lightbulb brightening up the patio. This incident seemed to have shocked the neighborhood for sure, she could tell that much.

The cold, night air blows harshly against the glass windows. And despite there being nothing open, with the car off she begins to feel a chill.

"-You think you could turn the car on for me?"

Sam pauses, mid-sentence. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze toward Eva.

They didn't know what to expect walking in there. Everything from this case is becoming less and less predictable. And realistically speaking, it's becoming less and less 'huntable'.

He'd hate to say it, but his fears of dying are weighing out his usual feelings of compassion for helping victims. Not to mention, neither he or Dean know what the hell is going on with these "psychic visions". Or why this Demon came after all the children like him. To say the least...he's on edge.

Sam answers before even giving Dean the opportunity to open his mouth.

"Sure," He turns back to the girl. His eyes were stern and his tone was short, "Stay in the car."

The last thing he needs right now is for her to be wandering around. Her life is important, of course, like any other human's. But her relevance to solving this case... that's much more critical. They lose her, they lose any chance of ganking this thing. With a harsh tug of his hair, he takes in a deep breath and leaves the car.

He's...tense, she thinks to herself.

She nods slowly to Dean, indicating she'll stay inside. Dean turns the engine on and leaves the car without a word. The abrasive shut of the door stinging loud in her ears.

She releases a big sigh, welcoming the overwhelming scent of leather, "Silence, again."

As soon as the boys leave the Impala, they're met with the cool, midnight wind.

"So, what were you saying?" Dean looks to his brother. They make their way towards the crowd and blaring police lights.

He clears his throat, "Earlier, I was looking into local missing persons and I read about this guy named Viktor Judoc,"

"He went missing on April 5th, 1994. Which at the time I didn't think anything of it until I realized that was the same day Eva was attacked, only a whole different year,"

"And get this," he reached into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, "He was a professor at Bartley University, last seen in the history building during a heavy storm."

"Well, it sure does match up."

"Also, Eva said there was no record of her family or herself existing here. I think that professor might be our only overlap."

"Whether or not he is, it's some type of lead."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Sammy with a guy named Viktor, we're bound to find out some nasty business," Dean snorts. He looks back again to his brother and sees him sigh heavily.

"Look, we'll figure this out, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam laughs dryly.

The absurdity of not only the Demon but, now with Eva, it's seeming hopeless at this point, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

They approach the cluttered townspeople. All gossiping and whispering their fears.

"Did you know her?" He hears one woman mutter to a young man. Dean weaves through the crowd, Sam not far behind him.

"Pretty damn well, I'd say. Considering I'm her boyfriend."

Sam turns his head swiftly. Looking for the man's face. Her boyfriend?

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the older lady frowns, "Why aren't you up there talking to the police?"

Sam's eyes land on him. He notices his coal-black hair sat in natural curls. He sees a great, big tattoo on his neck. But, due to the night sky, he can't really tell what the design is.

"I will...soon. I just don't think I can right now," he mumbles.

The older woman nods in sympathy. But, Sam's gaze flies to something else. The man's hand nervously hovering over his hip, like to keep checking for something. He sees his body shift for a moment and in the darkness, he can just barely see the outline of what looks like a gun.

"--C'mon, we need to get in there," Dean's voice startles him causing him to jump a little. He looks to his brother and then to the police tape only a couple of feet from them.

"Why do you look so spooked?" Dean asks.

"Well, I just overheard Marlene's boyfriend talking..." He turns his head, pointing Dean in the direction before noticing—he's gone. Sam quickly searched the pool of strangers, looking for a black-haired, tatted-up man. But, he couldn't find him. He'd run out of there pretty damn fast.

"He's gone..." Sam mumbles.

"Well didn't you say he was just here? He couldn't have gone that far."

"Yeah, well, he also seemed pretty hesitant to talk to the police,"

"We'll pin him down later. C'mon," He motions toward the house.

"Dean, he had a gun, and he looked off."

"Well he's gone now, there's not much we can do," Dean nudges Sam's shoulder, "Now, c'mon."

They weave through the crowd a bit more. Making their way up to the tape that everyone is being kept behind and nod to an officer.

"Sorry boys, can't let you though," The man clicks his tongue.

"We're actually apart of the alarm company Ms. Woods had set up in her home," The both of them casually flip their I.D's.

"Yeah? Well damn good job you guys did, those alarms never went off."

"Yes, we heard," Sam eyes the house in the distance. It's swarmed with forensics teams, the local coroner, and many officers, "We were sent here to come identify the error, so we can make sure this won't happen to anyone else."

The officer nods, slightly tugging his lip up in distaste. He reluctantly pulls up the tape for them to pass.

"Thank you, officer."

They walk under and through. Making their way toward Marlene's home.

~~~

Eva's eyes are glued to the scene. The car was parked a bit far down the street, so everything was blurred together. But, she couldn't pull herself away. She followed Sam and Dean's footsteps as long as she could until their bodies got lost in the crowd. Occasionally she could see their faces pop up in the sea of heads, but...then she'd lost them.

She'd notice a few bystanders walk back to their homes in various directions. Or sometimes see more people flood into the street.

But, one man, in particular, caught her eye. She saw him slip away from the crowd-- he didn't seem to be heading towards any of the houses. No... he started speeding down the sidewalk away from the scene, constantly checking behind him. His behavior put her off so much that she felt she had to watch him. The paranoid glancing back and forth was something she was all too familiar with.

But then she realized, he was making his way straight in the direction of the car. His figure kept getting closer and closer. His nervous eyes quickly peering into the cars he passed. Shit, he's going to see me.

Despite her aching body, she's fast to get on the floor. Crouching low enough she could smell the rubber of the ground padding. At his alarmingly fast walking pace, she sees his shadow approaching the car. He stays on the sidewalk because it seems as if he's only checking the cars to make sure no one sees him.

Then she remembers... the car is running. How could I forget that? Jesus!

He's only a second away, he most likely noticed that the car was on already. But, she prayed he was too caught up in his head that he hadn't seen it yet. She swiftly crawls over the front seat. Her torso screaming in pain as it bears most of her weight. Her hand flies to the key and shuts it off. The interior of the car going pitch black and the hum of the engine falling to a rest.

She holds her breath. Now able to hear the hasty, stressed footsteps from the sidewalk—loud and clear.

For a moment she hears him hover. His frantic feet pause and he stares deeply into the window. Her stomach in her throat, she prays that he can't see her.

And as if she had a little angel on her shoulder, the man stepped away. She hears him shuffle around for a second...and then continues walking down the street.

She breathes out heavily. Now letting her lungs catch up to her racing heart. She decides she'll still wait a few moments. At least until she can no longer hear his footsteps. When it seems like he's far enough away, she tries to sit up.

She lets out a great, big breath of relief and slumps into the leather seat. Since she had to crawl over, she now gets a clear view through the windshield.

As she begins to settle into the comfort of the driver's seat, she entertains herself with staring up to the moonlit sky. With all the mayhem that she's encountered for the last 24 or more hours, it wouldn't hurt to take a load off-- relax for just one minute,

Ring!

She jolts up.

Ring!

She hears it again and shuffles around in the seat, trying to see where the sound was coming from. The ringing was almost muffled like it was beneath something. She opens the glove box and sees an old, silver flip-phone light up. She looks to the I.D number and it reads,

Dad.

~~~

"You two from the alarm company?" A detective asks. He has pale, blue eyes and short, chestnut hair. He was around his mid 40's and had a deep raspy voice.

"Yes, sir," Sam answers.

He drinks up the environment around him. Most of the house was in pristine condition. There was no mess, no fallen lamps or pictures, almost like there was no foul play. This realization sent shivers down his spine. It had to have been the necklace, he thinks.

"Do what you gotta' do, just don't get in any of my officer's way," He eyes them both up and down, his blue gaze colder than the night air, "Are we understood, boys?"

"Yes, sir. You'll be getting no problems from us, Detective...?"

"Murke, Detective Murke," He holds out his hand in a polite gesture. Both Sam and Dean shake it, half-smiling back.

A younger, much kinder-looking officer runs up to the detective. He nervously taps his shoulder. And when he whispers something in his ear, he frowns— a perplexed look on his face.

Dean waves him goodbye silently. He and Sam turn and walk towards the kitchen, where the back door is.

They make their way through the forensic photographers, through the policeman swabbing and sweeping the house for any DNA. Once they reach the kitchen they notice the scene.

They don't stare long. Not wanting to be deemed suspicious, they casually walk towards the alarm system set up by the back door.

"—Well that's just it, isn't it?" An old man's voice hollers. He's hunched over the young woman's body wearing a jacket marked 'Coroner'.

The Winchester's eye the scene. They see Marlene. She's lifeless. They've seen many dead bodies in their day, but it was an oddly unsettling encounter they could never get used to. Her skin was turning a bit grey and there was a swamp of blood around her body. They could make out the wound— what looks like to be a stabbing.

"Huh," Sam whispers.

"Yeah, I don't remember weapons being apart of this thing's M.O."

"—With no sign of forced entry, it's not that shocking to me," A particularly bulky, female police officer comments.

"Yeah, the knife's right there. It just doesn't look like a homicide," Another one adds.

Sam's eyes look to the ground near Marlene. His stomach twists when he sees her empty eyes again, but he quickly diverts his gaze. He looks in the pool of blood, and there lay a kitchen knife. But, it's when he looks to her hand—he sees none other than that uncanny, silver chain.

"Found the necklace," Sam murmurs. He nods subtly towards the girl, Dean's eyes landing on her hand.

"Well, that's weird."

"What do you mean?"

Dean shifts awkwardly. He takes a casual look around the two of them, making sure no one was catching on to them.

"She's not wearing it. I mean, what made her take it off?"

Sam sighs, "I don't know, maybe she never put it on?"

"Or, she put it on. But, the moment she took it off, she bit the dust."

"—No! Don't you hear a word I'm saying? Jeez, what is it with you, bush leaguers?" The old man wails.

"What? You seriously think someone had the key to her place, stabbed her, left no prints, and took nothing?"

"Yeah, not to question you, Warren, but it's a single stab wound. It doesn't look like a crime of passion, it looks self-inflicted," Another chimes in.

"Why don't you two shut up for a minute while I explain it to you, hm? I'll put it simply so maybe you can understand."

Sam notices he's beginning to feel a bit dizzy, his hand flying up to his head.

"You good?" Dean whispers.

His little brother grimaces, feeling as if all the blood in his body is flushing from his brain to his toes, "Yeah...uh, I don't know."

"It's been a while since we've eaten, just try and hold it together," He nods assuringly.

The coroner stands up with a heavy grunt pulling Sam and Dean's attention away. Still wearing his rubber gloves, he swings open a drawer. Lazily grabbing another knife, he positions it over his body.

"If I was going to stab myself, tell me...where would I do it?"

The female officer rolls her eyes, "In the stomach."

"Right," He rotates to his side, so they can see his profile. The tip of the blade held right to his torso, "Now tell me what angle I'm holding the knife at right now."

It was at that moment that everything seemed to click in their heads. The interns looking down in embarrassment. He takes their silence as confirmation to continue.

"Nearly straight, but downwards, right?" He asks rhetorically. They all nod feverishly. He places the knife back into the drawer and squats back down to the body.

"So, tell me how this woman killed herself when the angle of the wound is directly upwards? It's impossible to achieve a self-inflicted wound of this inclination."

"That means... that we have a very smart killer on the loose," The female officer says, her voice laced with concern, "There's no prints, no evidence left tying the attacker to themself."

"Someone better go tell Murke,"

Sam and Dean both look to each other. There was a clear worry in both of their eyes. Just another god damn thing to add to the list of reasons why this case makes no sense. Not to mention, now they're going to have the police sniffing around for a killer.

Sam pulls out a black bag from his jacket, unzipping it. He reveals some small tools and screwdrivers and begins to toy with the security system.

"Any ideas of how we're gonna get that necklace?" Sam whispers.

"Zilch."

They quickly quiet down when they see the head Detective enter the room. His blue eyes were narrowed as the Coroner began to fill him in.

"—We're going to need a profile," Murke comments as he circles Marlene's body, his eyes analyzing the room.

"Still no prints?" He asks. They all shake their heads.

"Detective, have you ever dealt with a guy like this in Willow?" An intern speaks up.

"Once."

Sam and Dean both look at each other, a knowing look in their eye. Sure, it could've been some random psycho—but if they're lucky, there is some type of connection here. There's a multitude of factors and crazy happenings but, possibly, they're related after all.

"—Wait a minute, I think I've got something here," The old Coroner interrupts.

All eyes fly to him as he remains crouched over the body. His latex-covered hands hovering over her neck. His fingers trail over the skin, finding a little bump.

"She seems to have something...uh, lodged in her throat," He turns to his case in search of a pair of forceps. He slowly extracts the object.

Sam's eyes bulge out of his head as he sees a tiny cloth. The man unwraps it to reveal satanic writing and a fragment of bone. Hex bag?

"God," A police officer comments, "What a sicko."

Dean mumbles to his brother, "Witches, after all."

Sam slowly lowers his hand to his pocket. His fingers sliding along his silver phone and peeking it out, taking a quick snap—keeping the device low to his hip. Hoping he got a good picture of the hex bag laying open...

"—Hey, you two," An officer startles them. They turn around, Sam hastily shoving his phone in his pocket without looking suspicious, "Are you done, yet? We need to know if this guy hacked this system or if she let him in."

"Oh," Sam clears his throat, gathering his thoughts. He didn't look much into the alarm, not that he knows much about the mechanism, anyway. But, its witches, right?

"She let 'em in," Dean answers.

"Is that right?" Detective Murke pops up behind them.

Sam nods accordingly and notices the multiple officers scribbling down the information.

"Well, then your work is done here, boys. I trust you can see yourselves out?" He raises his eyebrows.

Sam's eyes immediately fly to the necklace, still on the ground. They can't leave yet. They only have a matter of time before it's bagged as evidence. Then it will be physically impossible to get it.

"Uh-yes, sir," Sam answers.

Detective Murke turns away with a couple of officers, discussing in private. Forensic photographers began to make their rounds in the kitchen.

Sam casually zips up his black bag, murmuring to his brother, "What now?"

"Well, Sammy, right now this room's crawling with five-0. I don't really see us getting within 1 foot of that chain before getting booked."

He picks up the bag and begins to walk towards the front door. Sam hot on his tail.

"We can't just leave it," He whispers.

"Alright Einstein, what do you suggest?"

Sam sighs. He eyes the house around him, looking for any opportunity he can get. He had what—less than a minute to come up with a good plan before the photographers are finished in the kitchen, and the necklace is taken for good? His nerves were on fire and no matter where he looked or what he thought of, nothing worked.

"C'mon, we gotta leave it," Dean nudges.

"Fine. But, what about Eva?"

They continue to walk and their eyes reluctantly watch the kitchen scene as they pass.

"We'll figure it out, we always do."

Sam sees someone drop the dainty, silver chain into a plastic bag before handing it off to another officer. Chewing on his lip, he prays he didn't just let their only hope get taken from them right in front of their eyes.

When they take their first steps outside the house, the cold air whips them hard. Their ears are met with anxious chatter of the citizens.

Sam still feels that subtle ache from earlier, his head a tad dizzy.

"So," Dean fills the silence as they walk back to the car, "We got this Viktor shmuck, the boyfriend, and now some old case Murke worked on to look into,"

"Don't forget the witches." Sam means to flash a mocking smile-- but instead feels his head pulse with pain. What the hell?

"Ah, how could I forget the witches!" Dean grinds his teeth, "Gotta love witches."

He swings open the door to reveal Eva sitting up front.

"Witches?" She repeats.

Dean jerks his head to the side, his green eyes glaring.

"Oh," She looks down, realizing her location, "—Sorry."

Once she scrambles into the back seat, Dean drops onto the leather with a huff. Sam swings open his door and sits down. His fingers massaging his temples, a cramping expression on his face. Dean quickly glances over to him, them both eyeing each other and thinking the same thing, 'let this please not be another damn psychic vision.'

Then Dean takes a moment to recognize the cool air inside the car wasn't right—he had left it running.

"Why's the car off?"

"Uh-Some dude came toward the car and I was worried he was gonna see me. He looked pretty freaked out."

It explained why she was sitting up front, Dean thought.

"What'd this guy look like?" Sam asks.

"It was hard to tell, honestly...black hair, a tattoo maybe?"

Sam's head darts around to look at her, "Was he carrying a gun?"

"I don't know," She shakes her head, "All I remember was how paranoid he was. He was checking every car."

"Why, what is it?" She asks.

"I think that's Marlene's boyfriend. I saw him in the crowd, he disappeared pretty fast."

"And he has a gun? That's a charming thought," She snorts.

Dean turns the key and the engine roars. He takes off down the highway.

Her eyes wander back outside the window to the night sky. She tried to gather her thoughts, first, she hears witches, then she hears 'crazy guy with a gun', what's next? An angel in a prom dress?

"What the...?" Sam shifts in his seat awkwardly, like he was trying to get rid of a wedgie without using his hands. Eventually, amongst his shuffling around, he pulls out a phone from the seat.

"What's this burner doing here?" He directs to Eva. Oh, that's right. She'd completely forgotten.

"Oh...your Dad called."

Both of the boys' heads turn so fast they nearly snap off their bodies. Dean swerving the car a bit before being forced to look back at the road. Sam's eyes widen with surprise as he hastily glances at his brother then back to Eva.

"Did you answer it?" His hands fiddle with the phone.

"No," She responds nervously, "I didn't think you'd want me to..."

She was completely befuddled by their reaction, to say the least. Her voice was small and she had a million questions running through her head, but she wasn't entirely sure right now was the time to ask them. She continued to anxiously fidget with her hands awaiting any more information.

Sam's fingers finally dial him back. It's silent for a moment. The tension was so thick, you couldn't even cut it with a knife, you'd need an axe, surely. It was completely quiet except for the sound of the Impala cruising down the road, she could hear the soft rings of the phone.

"—Hello?"

"Dad," Sam smiles in disbelief.

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casualmaraudering · 4 years

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digging my own grave and publishing a multichaptered fic when i have only one chapter written oh boy

i feel i might regret this sometime in the near future but i’m very excited for this still!! here’s the first chapter of what started of as that coffee shop au

Sirius is running on two hours of sleep within the last 48 hours, seven cups of coffee - or was it eight? - and too much Panic! At The Disco when he meets the love of his life.

Now, mind you, he’s only 19, and he doesn’t even know the guy, but he already knows they’re bound to fall in love, get married, buy a house with a picket fence and have three children. And a dog. A big dog.

Anyway. The point is - love of his life. Right there in this small, suburban cafe.

“Reggie, I’m in love,” he says instantly, not taking his eyes off of this angel of a man. He’s got the smile of an angel, anyway. And hair, too - angels have curls, that’s just scientific.

“The fuck are you on about?” his brother replies, with too much snarky confidence for a 14 year old. He’s been spending too much time with Lily, Sirius reckons. Bad influence and whatnot, that girl.

“That guy in the corner,” Sirius still hasn’t taken his eyes off him, by the way. “The curly haired one, with the laptop. And don’t swear.”

“Who’s he? Like a boyfriend or something? I’m leaving if you dragged me here just to make out with your stupid boyfriend, you were supposed to help me study!”

“What? No, he’s not my boyfriend, I’ve literally never seen him before.”

Regulus blinks. “And yet you say you’re in love?”

“Yes, I’m quite positive I am. Don’t you think our kids would look beautiful?”

“You’re insane.”

“You think they’ll have curls? I hope they will. Or the freckles.”

Regulus sighs and runs his hand through his hair - now that’s a habit he’s picked from James. Sirius really needs to find more respectable friends to hang with when he’s minding his little brother. Not like Regulus really needs minding to anymore, but still, Sirius is responsible for him, so he guesses he should find some positive influences.

Love Of His Life seems like a good sort, which is fantastic. Sirius can bet he studies something smart like literature. Or maybe physics.

“Listen,” Reg says, punching him in the arm. “You’re a fucking mess but-”

“Don’t swear,” Sirius says, absentmindedly - he’s really wondering what Love Of His Life’s taste in music is. He seems like an Ed Sheeran type, and Sirius definitely doesn’t mind that. He could learn some Ed Sheeran songs on his guitar - that’s quite romantic, isn’t it?

“- go ask him out or whatever. I’ll get us something, and then you’re helping me.”

With that, and an eye roll - honestly, way too much time with Lily - he leaves Sirius to his own.

Usually, Sirius wouldn’t just saunter towards a guy that fucking cute, oh no, he’d need some sort of back up or pep talk, from James, preferably. But today, he’s a mess, and lack of sleep makes him incredibly reckless and equally detached from reality, so indeed, he walks towards the table.

Love Of His Life looks up at him when he sits down on the other side, confusion spread on his face.

“Hi,” Sirius says, smiling. He hopes he doesn’t look as messy as he feels - his hair might be a bit wild, but he’s been told that looks hot, so he figures it’s fine.

“Hi?” Love Of His Life replies.

“So I noticed you sitting here, and I thought I’d say hi. Which I already did. But still. Hello.”

He raises a brow at Sirius. So Sirius, as he tends to do when both sleep deprived and thoroughly caffeinated, just keeps on talking.

“I’m here with my brother - helping him with homework, like a responsible older sibling and all that jazz. What are you working on? I bet it’s something smart - you look smart, at least. It’s the jumper, y’know? You wouldn’t mind if we sat with you, maybe? I just thought - you’re sitting alone, I wouldn’t mind the company, for sure, and you seem smart and nice so who knows, maybe Regulus will learn something - I’m the one that’s supposed to be teaching him but I know fuckall about history, honestly - I’m doing art, actually. Are you a history guy? You seem like a history guy?”

“I’m so sorry for him,” Regulus says, sitting down next to Sirius - and kicking him, definitely on purpose. He sets down a cup of coffee for Sirius, and a hot chocolate for himself.

“Is he high?” Love Of His Life asks. Sirius giggles to himself.

“He’s sleep deprived and had too much coffee. And also he’s gay.”

Love Of His Life blinks at that. “And that’s relevant how…?”

“Well, he gets like that around guys he likes. Idiotic, I mean.”

“Oh,” Love Of His Life seems startled, but Sirius can see a blush on his face, and he’s suddenly not mad at Regulus being here anymore.

“Are you single?” Sirius asks, because again - too much caffeine. Whatever filter he has is long gone.

“I really am sorry, he’s a fucking twat when he doesn’t sleep.”

“Swearing, Reggie.”

“You swear all the time!”

“I’m the big brother, I can.”

“And yet I have to do this shit for you,” Regulus says with a huff. “Listen. He likes you, and I promise, he’s actually surprisingly tolerable when he’s had enough sleep and no one lets him touch caffeine. So if you’d humour him and give him your number, or whatever, we’d get out of your hair now.”

Love Of His Life blinks in confusion again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Sirius cocks his head in what he hopes the guy considers cute. “Don’t be like that. If you’re not gay, I get it. But if you are - even a little bit, what’s there to dislike about me, huh? I’m obviously the best looking guy you’ll ever find.”

“And bloody humble too,” Regulus mumbles to himself - Sirius kicks him.

Love Of His Life - Sirius should find a shorter nickname, or ask for his name - laughs at that.

“I don’t really care much for appearance.”

“Oh, everybody says that but deep down I’m sure you wouldn’t hate dating someone with a face like mine.”

“I’m blind.”

Oh.

“Shit,” Regulus says - Sirius kicks him again, more out of habit than anything - “sorry, I-”

“I get it, hard to notice. I don’t mind,” he smiles that cute, soft smile again - Sirius remembers why he fell in love all that 15 minutes ago. “Are you still so set on dating me?”

“Yes,” Sirius says without a further thought. “I don’t care. I’m in love with you.”

Angel - shorter, but still not ideal - laughs again. “Leave that for when we know each other a bit more and maybe you’ve had more sleep.”

“Get used to this,” Regulus sighs. “Clinical insomnia, and all. Happens rather often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly. “So, Regulus, you said?”

“And my idiot brother is Sirius.”

“Parents were really into stars, huh?”

“You could say that,” Regulus mumbles half-heartedly.

Their family is still something they rarely talk about. Ever since they left home - the moment Sirius turned 18, he packed their most important belongings and dragged Regulus out of that hellhole - it was something they just didn’t speak of. It’s a bit less touchy, now, but they mutually agree it’s best left alone, to discuss at a later date, maybe when Reggie is a bit older.

“Mine were into mythology. It’s Remus.”

Sirius smiles brightly, and Regulus groans.

“Stop being so gay,” Reg hisses.

Remus laughs. “You said you’re learning history, right?”

“Yup. French revolution at the moment.”

“Just so happens I’m majoring in history. How about Sirius gets me a hot chocolate, and I’ll help you out?”

Sirius blinks. So does Regulus.

“Will you go on a date with me, then?”

Remus shuts his laptop and scoots a bit closer to them.

“Let’s start with my number first. Ask me again when you’re functioning like a normal human.”

The time in the cafe flies by like nothing.

Remus has a lovely voice, Sirius comes to realize. Even when he’s talking through decapitating French monarchy, he makes it sound soothing in a way. Sirius almost thinks he could fall asleep while listening to it, and that’s a gigantic compliment.

He’s also unlike any teacher Sirius has ever had. He’s patient in explaining everything to Regulus - he pauses to let the kid take notes (either when Reggie tells him to, or Remus himself can hear the pen scribbling away on a notepad), goes into further detail or repeats things when he’s asked, hell, even the gentle expression on his face is unlike Sirius’s memory of school. It was always harsh, private tutors, and he either got things right or got smacked with a wooden ruler.

Probably shouldn’t point that out, though. The depths of his childhood drama aren’t exactly something he wants to share just yet.

Mostly cause he really wants Remus not to run away. Skipping the fact he’s incredibly gorgeous and Sirius is positive he’s in love (Remus is going through the exact timeline of the revolution, date by date, when Sirius names all their future children in his head), he seems like a cool guy all around, and someone that can actually properly help Reggie out in school - Remus has done a better job during the last two hours than Sirius has for the entire year.

And, Remus is still here, even after the first hand experience of Sirius, caffeinated and sleep deprived. Not many people can handle that - which means maybe, just maybe, the whole insomnia thing won’t turn into a big deal. Sirius does acknowledge it, but he doesn’t like to think of it as much - he can’t fall asleep like a normal person sometimes (‘sometimes’ being usually four days a week), so what about that? James and Lily make it seem like it’s going to kill him, but it’s not like it’s a drug addiction or anything. He’s just a little manic sometimes, and depressed other times. And then unable to concentrate and constantly exhausted most of the time.

Point is, he can deal with it, therefore it’s not a big deal. So Remus shouldn’t be coaxed into thinking that it’s a big deal, because Sirius likes him the way he is now - not making a big deal out of Sirius being, well… Sirius.

“Hey, asshole!”

Then there’s the fact that lack of sleep makes him a bit detached from reality, so he hadn’t realized Regulus was trying to get his attention until just now, when he jabbed him with his elbow. That’s just something Remus has to get used to.

“What? Are you guys done?” he says, blinking to try and get some sense of his surroundings.

Regulus sighs in a way so dramatic it can only be achieved by a 14 year old boy.

“You’re crashing,” he says. “Which means we should leave.”

Sirius makes an offended sound. It’s as if Regulus thinks he’s the older one!

“I’m not,” Sirius says. “I’m just… thinking. About things. Important things, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re spacing out, is what you are. Which means you’re finally gonna go to bed, I fucking hope.”

“Don’t swear. And I just had coffee!”

“I got you decaf.”

Sirius blinks. “And why would you do that?!” Sirius says, offended, because honestly, there’s no greater offence than decaf coffee. The caffeine is the whole bloody point!

Sirius’s brain functions are lowered due to lack of sleep, so he doesn’t even register that somehow he didn’t notice it was decaf while drinking (if he did realize that, he would be greatly offended with himself - 4 years of being addicted to caffeine and what did that give him? Not being able to taste decaf?).

“Maybe,” this time Remus speaks, seemingly highly amused by the ongoing conversation. “he’s, uh, concerned about your sleeping habits and wants you to go to bed?”

“I’m an adult, I go to bed when I want to!”

“The last time you slept was when James drove us to Ikea, and that was yesterday evening. For like 30 minutes.”

“How do you know I didn’t sleep at night, huh?”

“I could bloody hear you pacing around in the kitchen, and you were there when I woke up too. We’re going home before you fucking pass out.”

“Don’t swear. And I’m fine, honestly.”

He yawns, then, so his body doesn’t seem to think so. Regulus rolls his eyes, and Remus giggles.

“I think it’s best you go.” Remus then pulls his phone out and hands it to Sirius. “Put your number in, so I can make sure you did as you’re told and slept for at least a few hours.”

Sirius beams at that, grabbing the phone with probably too much enthusiasm. He makes sure he’s put his number in correctly three times (and sends himself a text just in case) before he carefully places it back in Remus’s hand. With that, their hands touch, and Sirius feels a shiver go up his spine - Remus’s hands are smooth and so warm.

Sirius definitely wouldn’t mind them in his own hands. Or on his body. Or around his-

Okay, yeah, definitely time to go home before he gets too carried away in any fantasies, next to his little brother as well.

“Oh, uh,” Sirius finds himself saying when he gets up. “D’you… need help getting home? Or something?”

Remus smiles at him. “I came here by myself, you do realize that?”

Sirius feels his face flush. “Yeah, I mean! I don’t want to sound rude or stupid but I thought I’d just ask, I dunno, I’ve never known a blind person before so I kinda have no idea what’s the socially acceptable thing to say but it seemed rude to just leave you. Even though I know you’re an adult that can mind himself and I’m sure you’re capable of traveling by yourself I didn’t want to imply you don’t-”

“Stop. Talking,” Regulus hisses, pulling Sirius out of the booth. “You’re being an idiot again.”

“Ah, no, I don’t mind, honestly. Takes time getting used to it, I know. I’ll be fine, though, I promise.”

“Next time,” Sirius says. “I’ll get you a ride home on my bike.”

“Bike? Like a motorbike?”

Sirius beams proudly. “Yup! She’s my baby - built her myself.”

Remus’s brow furrow. “Please don’t tell me you drove here with your younger brother while you’ve slept for a total of half hour since yesterday.”

“Oh, please, who do you think I am?” Regulus asks. “I’d never let him drive the bloody thing when he’s like that. We walked, we don’t live far.”

“Good. Let me know when you get home, then,” Remus smiles the gentle smile again, and despite the caffeine crash and his body screaming at him from fatigue, Sirius feels he could run laps around the building right now cause of the happy, bubbly feeling in his stomach.

“You too. I’ll see you around, Remus.”

Sirius and Regulus walk home in silence - mainly because, as much as he hates to admit Regulus was right - Sirius really is crashing. The manic energy he usually has whenever he surpases 30 hours of no sleep is through and gone, so now he’s nothing left but the overpowering fatigue.

His whole body feels heavy; Sirius is glad Regulus is there, supporting him while he walks, cause he finds it hard to concentrate on going straight - his eyelids are closing by themselves, and there’s a dull ache starting to build in his head and nausea creeping in.

At least he knows he’ll sleep. Not for much, but maybe he’ll get a few hours, at least.

He doesn’t register them walking up the stairs, or Reggie opening the door to their apartment - it’s small and cramped, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a lounge-slash-kitchen; the sink breaks way too often, the walls are paper-thin, and the shower is not meant for Sirius’s height so he bumps his head into the showerhead every night without fail. It doesn’t compare to Grimmauld in the slightest, but it’s theirs, away from their parents, so neither of them ever really complain.

Sirius wiggles out of his shoes - he curses the fact his motorbike boots are almost knee high and have seven or so straps; they’re a pain to take off, but damn him if they don’t look good. He then throws his jacket onto the couch, and heads towards his bedroom.

“Will you be okay for dinner?” he finds himself asking - he’s not sure if he’ll be awake til later at night, and the fridge is probably empty (he notes in his head that he needs to go grocery shopping first thing tomorrow before work). He might be dead on his feet, but he’d hate himself if he didn’t make sure his brother is okay.

“Yeah, I’ll call Lily and ask her if she’ll pick something up for us,” Regulus says, waving Sirius off. “Just- go to bed, kay?”

Sirius feels a strange sting at that - Regulus shouldn’t have to rely on Lily. Sirius should be the one sorting out the food, and his homework, and making sure all is right with his brother. But his stupid fucking sleep deprivation makes it so he can’t, so James and Lily have to check in with Reggie, and then Regulus has to worry for Sirius, when he shouldn’t have to.

Sirius is the older brother, the one that should do the worrying. The one that should be responsible. How is he better than their bloody parents if he can’t even take care of Reggie?

“Mhm,” he settles for, because he feels his throat squeeze uncomfortably, in a way too familiar manner.

Sirius takes one last look at his brother - who’s unpacking his schoolbooks onto the kitchen table (his favourite place to study, cause he’s in close proximity to the kettle) and with that, he sleepily stumbles towards his own bedroom.

He only bothers to take off his jeans and socks, and then he crawls under the duvet and collapses onto the bed.

Sirius somehow remembers to text Remus - it lifts his mood a little, to remember that, despite the probably uncomfortable amounts of pestering, Remus still wanted Sirius to text him; there’s hopes for an actual friendship there, Sirius thinks. Remus doesn’t reply immediately, so Sirius plugs in his phone to charge and leaves it on the nightstand - he’s too tired to wait up for a text back.

He’s exhausted enough to know he will sleep, so thank God for that. And maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll dream of something nice.

Or, if he’s extra lucky, someone nice.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #wolfstar fanfiction #i hope writing this won't be a nerve wreck #cause sometimes i get stressed about multi chaptered stuff #which is why i had a long break from it #oh well #here it is anyway #caffeine for the heartache #fel writes #my tag

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hannigram-a-b-o-library · 5 years

Text

“The Ripper’s Child” or “Son of Il Mostro di Firenze”

Prelude - Remembering How it all Started in the First Place

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

“Alright, Dr, Lecter. Let’s go. Court starting in 3 minutes. Get dressed into this suit.”

Those words echo and re-echo in my mind, reverberating around it with noise and clarity as I change out of the blue starchy uniform into the suit for the Court Case that is coming up.

Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror of the prison bathroom that came with this prison of three solid walls and one of glass with air-holes to breathe, I see another version of myself wearing a white striped shirt covered in blood and looking like been battered to hell by something or for that matter when everything had gone wrong that night by…the one person who changed me.

“Two minutes, Lecter.”

I hear the Orderly shouting through the open bathroom door.

Taking a deep breath in and out to calm myself, I slip the suit jacket on and button it up followed by sorting the collar of the white shirt then look at the tie hanging over the towel railing. I could use it to escape, strangle the first Orderly and stun the other one with his baton then cause carnage, mayhem and disorder around me.

I leave it behind, even though I want to escape from this place I had been put in by…the one person who I would be meeting in Court.

But what I really should be telling you, Dear Readers is how it all begin and what set off this chain of events in the first place.

Chapter 2: Child of the Storm

Summary:

“Have you seen blood in the moonlight, Will? It appears quite black.” – Hannibal, Season 3 – Red Dragon Episode

Submitted by @unknownmusing - read in full under the cut

Chapter Text

Lightening booms overhead, illuminating the trees in the large forest while rain starts to fall down heavily as small Alpha child runs weakly through it, nearly stumbling over hidden branches and stones. Their breath is coming in laboured gasps due to running for so long and finally they reach a car.

“MAMA!!!!” they try to shout in the now howling wind, which has now started up causing the rain to lash heavily at everything and whip the trees back and forth that you can hear the creaking groans each-time roots buried deep beneath the soil are nearly pulled out by the strength.

Trembling and soaked to the bone, the small child quickly scrambles into the car when they find it is open and the car keys have been left on the dashboard then scrambling for them, know they must get out of here.

He…mustn’t find them.

A fiercer wind now has begun to pick up like it is trying to keep the small child from escaping as they drive past a sigh which is illuminated briefly by the beaming headlights saying “WOLFTRAP, VIRGINIA. WELCOME!!!” then keep on driving into the darkness down the large empty road, with the windscreen wipers going back and forth trying to get rid of the lashing rain.

Suddenly out of the darkness, a branch comes flying towards the car and hits the windscreen with such force it cracks it causing the small frightened child to lose momentum of the car. The tires start to spin across the wet surface of the road, sending waves of water splashing in all directions and sea bluish-green eyes widened as they see the large tree coming towards them.

The small child, blood trickling down their forehead from somewhere stumbles out the car swaying slightly when black spots appear before their eyes – dancing little shadows reminding them strangely of flies – and manage to walk forwards a few steps then gives soft moan, when their legs give out from underneath them and they land with muffled thump on the grassy verge out cold.

Up above, lightening still flashes across the sky illuminating the black rolling storm clouds and rain continues to fall downwards as smoke starts to rise from the car with its front crumpled like coke-can after hitting a large towering tree with branches looking like long wicked fingers reaching down to the small child below.

To snare them into their grasp.

Chapter 3: The First Meeting

Summary:

Quote – “Tell me about your Mother.” – Hannibal talking to Will about Parenthood in Season 1

Set 12 days after the incident that happened.

Chapter Text

12 DAYS LATER

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

“Please?”

Franklyn Froviendeux, a pudgy Beta man reaches out his hand to me, asking for the box of tissues to my right hand side and picking them up hold it out to him as he reaches for it then sits back after getting some wiping his eyes of the tears, followed by blowing his nose noisily.

“I hate being this neurotic.” He states to me, when I place the tissue box back on the small glass table next to my right arm.

“If you weren’t neurotic, Franklyn, you would be something much worse.” I reply, by curling slightly in displeasure leaving the crumpled tissue on the small table at the sight and he settles back into the chair. “Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts. Due to your neuroses you experience more of it.”

He goes to say something only to close his mouth because I’m right in what I say and so continue speaking to him. “Franklyn, you have to understand you perceive it as almost like lion in the room.”

“And?” He asks me, the ticking of the Grandfather clock filling the office space around us and wonder why this poor, bumbling fool couldn’t move on to a new Therapist instead of hanging around me.

“When the lion is in the room, I will tell you.” I reply, making him accept the answer for now and thus ending our session for today.

Opening the back office door, I still at the sight of large burly black man who stands immediately mistaking immediately Franklyn for myself and it is only when I correct him that Franklyn gives a sigh of relief then I remind the man “Same time next week, Franklyn. Please don’t be late this time.” then a little voice pipes up with “Rude” making me frown to look around the large, burly black man to see who has spoken and see sitting in one of the waiting room seats is small young boy of eleven years old scowling for some reason.

“Will!!?” the large, burly man admonishes the young boy who slides off the chair and comes over to him, staying very close to his leg – like a duckling following their parents feet – glaring up at me with sea blueish-green eyes.

There was fire in those eyes that I could see and it made me wonder what had stoked those flames to make such a strange Alpha child in front of me. I indicate for them to both come inside the office and see Franklyn is still hanging around making me look at him seeing he is watching the small child.

“Franklyn, don’t you have elsewhere to be?” I ask him, drawing him out of the haze he is in and looks at me trying to make sense of what he had just seen.

“Sorry, what!!!? Oh.” He says, realising he gotten distracted and turns his gaze to me still standing at the doorway of the back office door. “It’s just that….I thought for minute there that child was your son or something.”

These words jolt me unexpectly and looking back at the young boy, see is now sitting on the chaise lounge – feet dangling and not touching the floor.

“No matter. Umm, see you next week, Dr, Lecter.” He says, waving it off like he not said it all to me and quickly leaves before I can say anything back about how unspeakably rude it had been to think that.

Closing the back office door, I turn to face my two new guests and heading over to the glass tables clean away the discarded crumpled tissue in the bin then turn to face the large, burly black man.

“Detective Jack Crawford of the F.B.I Science and Behavioural Unit.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand for me to shake and taking it in mine feeling the firm grip of it.

Crawford lets go of my hand, choosing to sit down in one of the leather seats – thankfully the one Franklyn had been sitting in – and sit down myself crossing one leg over the other feeling the gaze of the young boy called Will on me.

“So, what brings you to my door?” I ask him, seeing how he is thinking of how to voice his answer to me and trying to keep on Will, who has gotten of the chaise lounge to have a explore around my office looking at the paintings of artwork on the walls and to the ladder leading up to the mezzanine library.

“It’s about if you are willing to become a Therapist for….Will, even though he is child of eleven years old. You have to understand, Dr. Lecter, Will was involved in horrendous accident twelve days ago near Wolftrap, Virginia.” He says, clasping his hands together as I see Will has clambered up the ladder to have look around at my extensive book collection.

“Jack, you have to understand the legal obligations here.” I state to him. “I signed the Therapist Legislation Contract, which states only patients of certain age can be interviewed. Like for example if they are child under the age of 18 then a Guardian or Parent must be present during the appointment. I can’t just talk to Will alone.”

He accepts this statement, followed by flicking his gaze up to the said child up in the mezzanine library and making me look up at as well seeing the young boy is flicking through one of my notebooks of Medical History from when I had been at John Hopkins’s as an E.R. surgeon.

“Excuse me, Jack.” I say politely, getting up out the chair and heading over to the ladder climb up seeing how Will lifts his head to see what is happening then lowers it back down again.

I go around to where he is sitting on the floor, looking down at what he is looking at - my sketching of the Wound Man – and bending down so we’re eye level then reach for it, only for the young boy to pull the notebook out of my reach.

“Will, do you mind returning…what you took please? I’m rather punctual in keeping everything in order in this office. Including my sketching’s and notebooks.” I say, telling the young boy and wait until he gives small huff of irritation, handing it back with my sketch and gets up walking past me as I stop him again from going any further.

“And my scalpel, Will.”

“I don’t what you’re talking about.” He says naively, causing me to reach for where I know it is hidden and he strikes so fast – like a cobra lunging with fangs bared – that it is only my quick second reflexes that save me from having my eye stabbed out as I feel my own scalpel draw blood from my cheek.

Now holding his delicate little wrist in my large hand, I find myself glaring down into defiant sea bluish-green eyes and ignoring the light trickle of blood running down my cheek then suddenly the little boy leans upwards on the tip of his toes, lapping it up with his tongue causing me to flinch backwards at the action.

I let him go, watching him scramble away from me and down the ladder so fast that I don’t have even have time to reach him. I stop at the top of the ladder, when Jack who had gone out of the office to answer a phone call comes back in and Will immediately latches onto him gripping his long coat tightly with his little hands.

“Dr. Lecter, is everything alright?” He asks me, when I descend the ladder to lower floor and getting out my handerkerchief of my breast pocket wipe the trickle of blood from the cut on my cheek.

“Everything is fine, Detective Crawford. It’s nothing to be concerned about.” I lie to him, heading over to my desk to sit down to compose myself and placing the notebook in the drawer where other objects lay within - an ultrascan photo of when I been pregnant with Abigail; a photo of me and Garret on our wedding day and a form stating myself as Omegan and working as a legal Therapist from the Baltimore Therapist Board Office

I close it. It would not be a good thing to remember the past at the moment and getting back out the chair head around the desk to go over to Crawford.

“I’m afraid something has come up, Dr. Lecter and must be going with Will now. It is okay to see you…umm…next Thursday?”

I’m asked, while I remember that was usually my most busy day of appointments with patients.

“I’ll see if I can fit you in. Thursdays though are my busy days, I’m afraid.”

“Understandable. Phone this number if you have a free space.”

He hands me a card with the number for his office at F.B.I Behavioural and Science Unit, which I calmly slip into my breast pocket and watch them calmly leave as they had both come in.

“MUM!!?” Abigail shouts, surprised to see me and runs over to me, with the rifle hanging on her shoulder jostling with the movement then finally his in my warm embrace, making me smile softly down at her and kiss the crown of head lightly.

“Hello, Little Deer.” I say, using my affectionate nickname for her and notice Garret – my Husband even though he was married as well to Susan Garret Hobbs nee Dubri - as appeared walking up to us both then Abigail slips away from me to head home, when he gives a certain look that he wants to be alone with me.

“I’ve…missed you.” Garret says, stepping close to pull me into his embrace and walk me over to the Hunting Lodge.

Where inside the long oak table has been wiped down and yet, I can see evidence of what I had asked him to promise me after Abigail’s birth not continue to do because he would get caught as he walks me into the downstairs area closing the door behind.

“Garret, you promised me you would stop this.” I say, making him turn to face me and pulls me close to him to place me between his spread legs brushing the aroused bulge within his trousers against my groin forcing me to tremble slightly when tingles run up my thighs to make wetness start to pool between the wet heated core of my body.

“Hannibal. Hannibal.” He admonishes me, placing the palm of his hand on my chest to soon slip it downwards before I can stop him to unbuckle my belt and unbutton my suit trousers then flicks his gaze up to me, seeing how I’m trying so hard to keep a calm composure continues to speak by saying. “I’m…gonna taste you and…you’re going to let me, because you know what will happen if you don’t.”

He pulls the zip downwards, followed by whirling me around to place down on the long oak table where he just gutted his latest victim – a young girl who looked like Abigail because he honoured every part of her – and bends his head downwards after pulling the suit trousers down, along with my boxers and surges forwards to lap up the slick that has formed in his presence because he was an Alpha and I’m a Omega.

Tremors run through my thighs, followed by tilting my head backwards and wish I had the strength to tell him that we can’t do this anymore as lewd slick slurping and lapping noises reach my ears at the sametime his fingers spread me more apart so he can delve his tongue right within.

He swirls it around, tasting my innermost core of me.

He devours me.

In his mind….he is honouring me by doing this to me.

Chapter 4: “When a Tongue Offends One, Cut it Out”

Chapter Text

24 YEARS LATER

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

Beautiful soprano filled with rich harmony fills my ears as I sit among thousands of others listening to the Opera singer for the Baltimore Charity Fundraising Ball hosted by Madame Chairwoman – a female Alpha herself - followed by her coming to rousing finish. I’m the first to stand up and clap followed by everyone else doing the same at her amazing vocals.

Lowering my hands as the Opera Singer steps off the stage to shake hands with Rich elite of Baltimore society after such a fine performance it is when I sense I’m being watched by someone behind making me look over my shoulder to see one person I had not expected to see after all this time.

Will Graham, grown up and no longer the little eleven year old boy who come into my office with Jack Crawford. But now a young Alpha man of in his 30s and without Jack’s companionship meaning he was here on his own free terms then walks over to me, making me turn fully to face him.

“Surprised to see me, Dr. Lecter?” He asks me, in his rich seductive Louisiana accent of his it causes a shiver of aching want to pool deep within me down below and go to reply, when female voice interrupts us both.

“Hannibal!! There you are hiding.” Madame Chairwomen says, drawing some attention of a group from the Baltimore Surgeons’ Society to my displeasure which I not wanted and holding out my arm for her lead her out into the main ballroom where thankfully there no longer their prying eyes.

“Apologies. You know how hot in can get in there.” I lie, when she gives me a certain look of “Explain?” and she accepts this for now as Will comes over holding three glasses – one which he hands to me.

I take it off him, feeling in the process are fingertips brush causing a slight spark to jump between them and pulling my hand away with the glass can still feel a faint tingle residual of it.

Will doesn’t seem to show he has been affected by it at all and starts talking to the Soprano singer – who was born in France, Paris – in French Creole, where I internally consider turning her into a Tableau when she doesn’t bother to hide a sneer of “Who is this person and why should I be so bothered? Because my Daddy is the Senator Gruntos – a superior Alpha who is planning to win the next Election coming up.”

I take a sip of the drink, wincing at the slight taste of cheap champagne assaulting my taste-buds and place it on serving tray as waiter passes by looking to take one’s away then notice that among the Baltimore Surgeons’ Society is my old friend Dr. Donald Sutcliffe who politely excuses himself from his friends to come over to me.

“Hannibal, thought it was you. Good to see you again.” The Alpha says, filling my nostrils with the scent of cheap cologne and his musk, not holding out his hand though to me to shake.

Meaning he was still not getting over the fact I had lied about my status when I had been an E.R. Surgeon at John Hopkins’s Hospital in not saying on the official document for it that I was an Omega. I had lied by saying my status was Alpha at the time.

“You too, Donald. Drinking with the higher elite Surgeons are we I see.” I state making him, curl his lip slightly at me and step closer when Will suddenly appears beside me slipping his hand around my waist tightening his hold on it.

This makes Donald, step back seeing a more powerful Alpha beside me and heads back to the group Baltimore Surgeons’ Society leaving me alone with Will.

Senator Gruntos daughter – not yet Presented - would be dearly missed by all of the Baltimore Rich Society. Not by me, while I calmly watch her weakly crawl across the polished floor of her kitchen in her gaudy apartment with myself walking silently behind her then grabbing hold of her, pull her upwards to flip her onto back.

I shush her calmly, cupping both her cheeks and for moment she relaxes thinking I’m going to let her go when she notices I’m smirking down at her then bending down grab her tongue with Omegan fangs, ripping it hard severing muscle and tissue from her mouth. Blood fills her mouth, dribbling down the sides of it. Something though makes me crawl backwards on my hands and knees until hands suddenly touch my hips.

I stiffen at the heat coming from them that seems to spread through the plastic suit I wear over my suit and whoever they are lean over me to nuzzle my nape. Where my unblemished Crest rests, feeling soon a piece of fabric being placed around my eyes, blocking out my sight to effectively paralyze me.

In Ancient Japan, this technique had been used by Alpha Warlords to calm their Omega mates during and after childbirth or even when they were going into Heat to make sure they were utterly subdued.

Lips take hold of the severed tongue, I hold between my fangs – curved and wicked looking when unsheathed – and begins to chew it until the warm, moist lips cover mine – devouring in such a way, I mewl heavily begging the unknown Alpha or Omega to do something. Anything.

I couldn’t tell if they were Alpha or Omega because there is no scent coming from them then let go of my lips, moving away as I hear Senator Gruntos daughter being dragged away across the polished floor then silence, except for the thudding of my heart against my ribcage.

Chapter 6: Obeying an Alpha who is the Father of One’s Pup Growing Within One

Summary:

Plot Twist!!!

Chapter Text

14 DAYS LATER

“Dr. Lecter…are you alright? You look pale. Your not sick are you?”

Franklyn - the pudgy Beta man and my last client for tonight - asks me, making me resist temption to snap his neck and yet, he was right that I wasn’t alright as I had feeling so ill that…even being near other clients who was Alpha’s it made flinch at their scent and wish that Alpha who had disturbed me when I been about to kill Senator Gruntos’ daughter would come to my office.

“Franklyn, I’m afraid I’m going to finish your appointment early. It seems you were right in that I’m coming down with something.” I reply, standing up at the same-time he does and heading to the door just as sharp pain ripples across my abdomen making me place a hand to it.

Franklyn reaches out with his hands. But I glare at him, stopping him in his tracks and indicate he should leave as I manage to open the door with one hand then notice he is not moving and looking at someone.

Turning my head, I see it is Will and next to him a small child looking just like him.

After Franklyn has left, Will sits across from me as the little Pup walks around my office exploring everything and something in me wants to nurture. Take the little one, comfort him for some reason and yet, don’t expect the little one to come over to me then immediately clamber into my lap, making me stiffen heavily at the action of it.

“Will……This child…. Could you, please?” I ask him, only for the little one to reach up cupping both my cheeks in his hands saying something that makes my heart skip a double beat “Mama.“ then picking up the child, I get up and walk over to Will depositing the child in his lap saying to him. "Don’t ever……come back here again. I don’t want…to see you.”

Will gets up placing the child down on the leather armchair and pads towards me. Filling my nostrils with calming Alpha pheromones to make me submissive to him and finding myself snarling at him with fangs bared when he reaches for me then a sharp pain chooses at the most inconvenient time to go across my abdomen making me give a slight Omegan wail as he takes hold of me, placing one hand to it.

“If……your thinking I’m leaving. I’m not. Your Unbonded Omega as you never Bonded with Garrett Jacob Hobbs and….if your secret gets out your also pregnant then you lose your repetition.” Will says, bending his head down my neck starting to scent-mark it is causing me to give an Omegan whimper to stop him.

This was too much.

Whatever it was he was doing to me to make me feel this way makes me wrench free stumbling slightly to my desk where I place both hands on it to stabilise myself feeling him come up behind me.

His hands soon wrap around me - one going to rest on my abdomen where….something tells me by the way he keeps his hand possessively over it his Pup growing within me and the Pup who brought with him is also mine - from when I had been 17, not knowing how to control my Omega side of me and remember the stranger I had laid with - then licking my lips to wet them, turn my face to look at him. I see myself reflected in the sea bluish-green eyes and a hand reaches up cupping my cheek lightly wiping away the tear that had formed and started to run down my cheek with his thumb.

“You will pack some clothes and anything else. I will come to pick you up at your house to take…. you to mine. Do you understand me, Hannibal?” Will says, asking me the question and nodding in reply reach for my phone to cancel the remaining appointments for the afternoon

Chapter 7: The First Sign of Another Alpha is Starting to Court One

Summary:

Mention of Murder scene and fetal death of a Pup in it. More will come soon.

Chapter Text

It must be the Pregnancy Hormones raging within me, because I feel so weak and sluggish almost while I sort clothes into the travelling bag then rush into the bathroom feeling myself heave again into the sink, trembling heavily as I grip the edges and must remember as I lift my head up to look myself in the bathroom mirror to call Abigail – telling her…..What exactly?…..A lie. I didn’t want to do that to my own daughter, I had borne in my womb.

A pinging on my tablet, busy charging on the bedside table makes me splash my face and dry it off.

Breathing slowly in and out, I compose myself and head back into the bedroom where I go over to it seeing it has notification for a New article from the infamous Freddie Lounds and tapping the link open it.

Revealing an article on a Crime Scene called The Wound Man making me wonder why she was writing about it then scroll further down to reveal a new image of another Crime scene looking the same – but this time a woman and a symbol for Omega above on the wall then see her abdomen has been slashed to reveal lying within to my horror and shock I was been Courted this way - is a foetus of Pup barely even formed.

Whoever this killer was, it looks like they are trying to get the attention of my other self – The Chesapeake Ripper.

Chapter 8: Unexpected Feelings Arising and an Unwelcome Visitor Visits One

I feel shaken and concerned by what I had seen on my Tablet, which I have packed away safely into one of the travelling bags as I head down the stairs, carrying two of them with everything I needed for staying with Will and his son – who could also be my son.

I don’t even know if the little Pup was mine. To found out, I would have to request a DNA test, but only Alpha’s could do that, and I wasn’t one so would have to do it through other ways.

Reaching the bottom, I head into the kitchen, when voices talking – Abigail and Will – makes me stop at the doorway seeing they are standing near the polished marble food counter then she shakes her head, like she is trying to deny what he has just told her then she sees me standing there.

“Mama, is it true? Is…what he is saying true?” Abigail asks me, coming around the kitchen island counter and up to me, while I place my overnight travelling bags down then look over to Will, who comes around it and over to me.

“I’m sorry…. Little Deer…I’m so sorry.” I reply, feeling Will slip his hand around my waist to place on my abdomen where his Pup is growing within and go to reach for her.

Only have my hands suddenly slapped away, tears forming in her eyes to run down her fine cheekbones then say the next words which make flinch heavily at it.

“NO. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!!!!? HOW!!!?”

“Abigail, please…. please…sweetheart…don’t please…. don’t” I hear myself saying, trying in vain to soothe my first-born with my Calming Pheromones and yet, she flinches shouting the next words which shatter me completely.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU BOND WITH PAPA!!!!? HE LOVED YOU!!!?”

I try to answer, yet the words won’t come out of my mouth and lower my head not able to tell her Garret had never loved me in the first place. I was just an Omega, who he saw he could control by making sure he Honoured me by killing those eight girls and there would have been a ninth – my little baby girl, standing in front of me as a now grown woman at the age of 17 years old.

“Abigail, there is something about…your Alpha Sire you should know.” I hear Will starting to say, making me whirl around to face him and quickly smash my lips into his, feeling the Omega within rise into me to protect Abigail from the dark truth about her Sire.

Will takes hold of the back of my head, cradling it heavily as he soon utterly takes over by devouring my lips in such a way it is ravenous and find myself being placed up against the kitchen fridge by him as he keeps me pinned to it with his body.

He lets go of my lips, allowing me to breathe only to bend his head down to my neck – licking, sucking and biting – as I find him soon lifting me up, hitching my thighs around his waist and starting to grind his hips into mine.

Abigail has gone out the kitchen, leaving me alone with Will…..who is overwhelming every thought in my head and continues to grind his hips into mine I find myself slipping both hands down to grip his ass-cheeks.

I’m not….in Heat and yet, it feels…. like something close to it as I can feel pearls of pre-cum starting to form and dribble down my aching, hard cock in the confines of my suit trousers then he pulls back from me, stepping away when I distantly hear the front doorbell ringing.

He lowers my legs wrapped around his waist, while try best to compose myself as he looks immaculate without any sign, he just been grinding himself against me then knowing I will have to answer it, head to the front door.

When I open it, I find myself seeing the figure is standing there with their back to me and sensing me, soon turns to face me.

“Hello, sweetheart. Been a long time hasn’t it?”

My heart skips a beat, while I find myselftrembling heavily at the fact….he….is standing in front of me and hear myself saying a hoarse whisper of his name.

Hannibal’s P.O.V:

“Garrett!!!!”

After saying his name, I step backwards into the hallway willing my heart to stop thudding against my rib-cage as he starts to pad towards filling my nostrils with the scent of sadly decay and disease that was affecting him, while knocking over vase in the process on the coffee table.

Allowing to topple and fall, smashing into fragile china pieces and spreading water across the polished floor until finally he is in front of me, while I grab a letter opener to hold out in front of me as he looks at it then up to me. I could call Will, but it seems he has disappeared again as myself and Garrett now enter the kitchen then he lunges at me, pinning me up against the kitchen island counter.

Grabbing my wrist and tightening his hand around it make me let go of the letter opener

“No, No….Garrett…Don’t….” I protest when he tries to rip my shirt open, snarling heavily because he can smell the scent of my pregnancy on me and the fact the Pup growing within me is not his - as had wanted all this time, another child to train to kill like him and Honour every kill they did - then he gives a slight grunt, followed by looking down at blood starting to bloom through his shirt he wears.

“Why?” He asks in a hoarse broken voice, making me turn my face away feeling tears form in my eyes and reaches up to cup my cheek with a now bloodied hand followed by snarling as he wrenches free from me - pulling out the knife to allow blood to immediately gush down onto the kitchen floor. “So. I see….you whored yourself haven’t you? Got knocked up by…another Alpha, when you promised me you would give me another child.”

His eyes flick to something and immediately he lunges forwards, hitting me across the face to send me sprawling onto the armchair in the far corner while I see to my horror and shock he has grabbed hold of Abigail, who is starting to tremble heavily with whimper mewls coming from her as he places his hunting knife against her throat.

“Garrett!!!?….Don’t….please….she’s our Pup….Please….Garrett!!!?” I try to plead with him, sending out calming pheromones to try and soothe his anger only for him to shake it off like a dog shakes off fleas and immediately wrench the knife across her throat creating a gaping wound.

Blood spurts outwards, while I rush forwards only for him to slam me face-down onto the table with my head to one side on the polished surface as I watch my baby girl - my Little Deer - falling to the kitchen floor in slow motion then something rises within me unbidden and un-tamed.

A snarl escapes me, while I whirl around holding one of the steak knives as I slam him down onto the kitchen floor and trembling heavily find myself stabbing downwards again and again with the steak knife as blood starts to spurt everywhere covering the walls; floor and myself in crimson petals then realising what I have done and worry for my baby girl, I quickly scramble over to Abigail holding her neck in certain position so she survives.

“It’s going to be okay, little Deer….It’s going to be alright…. Mama’s here….” I keep repeating to reassure her, everything will be alright as I hear distantly the sound of voices followed by Detective Jack Crawford appearing at the doorway.

“I NEED MEDICAL IN HERE ASAP!!!” He shouts to a group of people, while I wish Will was here because if Jack find out I was Un-bonded Omega my career; my life and everything I worked so hard to achieve would be over then everything goes into slow-motion.

I watch them take my daughter - my darling Little Deer - and place her on gurney, followed by wheeling her out as I follow numbly to outside where the Ambulance has been parked outside then get in, taking hold of Abigail’s hand as she reaches for it.

I clasp her hand in mine, reaching over to kiss her lightly on the forehead as the Ambulance doors close and soon hear the Sirens starting muffled by the Ambulance’s interior at the same-time feeling the other Pup growing with me shift slightly it makes me place a hand to my abdomen to soothe it.

TO BE CONTINUED

( rest of chapters is being typed up at the moment)

#hannibal #hannigram #fanfic #fic rec #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #omegaverse #alpha/omega #will x hannibal #alphawill/omegahannibal #mpreg #mpreg hannibal #submission

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hannahmcne · 5 years

Text

The Two O’Clock Meeting - pt 1 of Twoshot

It had been a long day. He'd woken up early and gone in to take the test he'd missed yesterday, so he could attend his father's meeting. Then, he'd taken the test he would be missing this afternoon, for Swords and Shields. It'd been harder than he'd anticipated – he'd probably have to take it again – and have missed breakfast. He'd fallen asleep in Chemistry, brought the wrong book to Math, and had almost fainted during weights because he hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day long. English hadn't been so bad, except that Lonnie hadn't completely finished her part of their group project and Chad's part was done in handwriting that looked suspiciously like Ruby's. And then Annie, Anna's daughter, who had somehow wound up with Elsa's magic despite not being descended from Elsa, had sneezed beside him and froze his hand to the table. The Swords and Shields meet had turned out terrible, both of his parents were gone with court stuff, Audrey had to cancel her plans to come to hang out with him for something her parents needed her for, and so he'd eaten dinner at nine, all alone, and was now heading to bed, finally.

Ben put his shoes on the grate beside the door and hung up his jacket. He put all his clothes in the laundry chute, knowing they'd be back the next day, and found his pajamas by his bed with a sigh. He plugged his phone in in the other room – he wasn't allowed to have it at night – and the screen sensed the time, sensed the power source, and locked him out. It would unlock at five thirty the next morning when he'd have to get up to go to the school for an early morning tourney practice. Hopefully, he'd have time to finish homework during his first period.

Ben flipped off the lights and collapsed onto his bed face-down. The pillows let out a whoosh of air as his face sank deeper into them. He could already feel his eyes closing as the sweet embrace of sleep came up to capture him.

He turned onto his side, blinked twice, and noticed a light coming out from under the doorway. Ben groaned pitifully, swung his feet back over the side of the bed, and walked to the door. He twisted the knob. It whirred a little as he opened it – just like his dad's office door, and he opened it into the other room.

Light blinded him, and all of the sleepiness vanished from his mind. He stared in shock at the other side of the door. It had changed in the few seconds it's taken him to walk back to the door. The ceilings were higher, with wood paneling and brick overlays. A large dark brown desk sat in front of a window that was looking out on the palace grounds, and there were large boxes sitting around the room, filled to the brim with items. It looked… exactly like his dad's office, only unpacked and a little updated.

Ben turned back around and examined his room, sheathed in darkness. To his surprise, his frame was still visible, lying on top of the sheets with his head tilted to the side at an angle he knew he'd regret when he got up the next day. He turned back to the light, shut the door, and watched in shock as it vanished. The real door was to his right, up against the wall and on the north side. He moved to put his hands into his pockets by force of habit and discovered he was wearing tan pants with a watch on his wrist. A blue shirt was tucked into a belt with a simple Auradon crest buckle completing the look. His hair was combed. He looked like he was accompanying his parents somewhere.

The boxes around the room were labeled with a sturdy, yet curly scrawl. Probably a woman's handwriting. One read: "Tax Records Year 20-48. Take to Records." Ben examined the box tactfully. Auradon measured years based on when the country had been formed. It was the year 18. He'd be taking the throne in two years, when he was sixteen, during year twenty. Twenty, as in the number inscribed on the box. Ben swallowed.

"Are you my two o'clock meeting?" A voice came from the doorway. Ben jumped and spun around. He hadn't heard if the door had opened or not, but he could suddenly see out into the hallway. In the doorway stood a tall, handsome man who looked like he was in his forties, though he had evidently aged well. He still had his hair, though laugh wrinkles had pressed themselves around his mouth and eyes. He held a perfect posture, an upright stance, and a kind smile stretched across a familiar face.

"Two o'clock?" Ben stuttered, watching in awe as the man stepped further into the room, examining him with kind eyes.

"Ah, yes. That'd be you." The man nodded, shutting the door and then walking past him. "Sorry for the mess; we're almost all cleaned out. You know, you're my very last official meeting as King?" He smiled at Ben, and then pulled a chair from the side of the room and placed it in front of the desk. He walked around the desk, sat down in his own chair, a black leather chair on wheels, and gestured to the seat. "Do you know who I am?" The man asked.

Ben took the back of the chair in his hands and sat down with a swallow. "You-you're me, aren't you?" He asked.

The older man's smile grew brighter. "I am." He nodded, folding his hands together on top of his desk. "It doesn't quite seem like it, huh? And you're here to appraise me, correct?"

"I – I'm here to – what?" Ben stammered. He was too busy examining his older version's face. How he had even eyebrows and clear skin and thick hair. Wow, he'd never have thought he'd one day look so good. He touched the acne on his forehead and wrinkled his nose in jealousy. His older version laughed.

"Yes, I know. It'll go away soon though. I swear it's not just something mum says to make you feel better." He laughed, leaning forward. "But come on, now, Ben. Think for just a second. What's another word for Appraisal?"

"An interview," Ben replied immediately. It was one of the things his dad had drilled into his head. "It's an interview where everyone tries to find out if you've done anything wrong." He mirrored his counterpart, folding his hands together in his lap and twiddling his fingers nonchalantly.

"That's right." King Ben nodded. His smile remained bright and proud. "Now, Ben," He began, "Can you guess how old I am now?"

Ben swallowed and glanced back to the box he'd been looking at earlier. "Well, you – I – was born in year four, so… aren't you forty-four or forty-three?"

"Forty-four." King Ben nodded in assurance. "I'm thirty years older than you right now."

A chill ran down Ben's spine as he looked around at everything and took a long, slow breath. "Wow." He whispered. "That's a long time."

"It flies by." King Ben agreed. "It still does for me. I go to bed every night and I wonder where the hours went. They're flying faster now that I'm leaving office."

"You said I'm your last meeting?" Ben asked, attention snapping back to his counterpart. "Then… you must be passing the throne on?"

"On Monday." King Ben affirmed. "This is my last meeting, and then my family will help me take everything out, and tomorrow is Sunday, so nothing will happen and we'll spend the day together. Then on Monday, a new ruler will take the throne."

"But if you're passing the throne on, then that means-" Ben's mouth ran a bit dry. "Do you – do I – have children?"

"I have children; you will have children." King Ben confirmed with a brighter, proud smile. "That's how a monarchy works, Ben."

"Of course." Ben stuttered with eyes large as he dug his fingernails into the edge of the chair. "And they'll be sixteen, so they were born-"

"I was twenty-eight." King Ben cut him off. "My wife and I… she wanted to put it off. We were married for almost seven years before our first baby was born."

"Seven years." Ben echoed, sliding down into his chair a little.

"I was twenty-one when I married her." King Ben smiled. "Do you want to know her name?"

"Can I?" Ben asked. "I mean, am I allowed to? What if I wake up and then I know-"

"Then you wake up and you know who she is." King Ben shrugged. "And you keep your mouth shut and you hang back to give her some time and space and you tell her when you're about, oh," He glanced to the side coyly as if he were pretending to brainstorm a date. "When you're marrying her in three days and she asks how you're sure she's the right person."

Ben's mouth fell open. "You already did this?" He asked.

King Ben nodded. "It's been a very long time since I sat in that chair." He hummed. "Kind of strange to see you here; not going to lie." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Go on, then, see if you can guess who she is."

"Audrey," Ben asked immediately. His hands were tightening into fists as his heart rate increased.

King Ben shook his head and closed his eyes as if he were reminiscing about something. "Audrey and you break up when you go after the girl you'll make your queen. She gets married to Chad, and that unites all three of those kingdoms, and they had a son together who became the King of their states a few years ago."

Ben's mouth dropped open. "What about Lonnie?" He asked. "Lonnie and I have gone out. Is it Lonnie?"

King Ben straightened up very carefully and pursed his lips a little. "It's not Lonnie." He shook his head. "Lonnie married someone from… a different land. His name was Jay. They moved up to Northern Wei and had twin girls together. They don't take a throne up there until they reach twenty, though, and they're only twelve."

Ben swallowed. "Is it Jane?" He asked. He could see himself going for Jane. Jane was quiet and kind, if a little vain and reserved. However, he was shocked to see a deep frown cross his counterpart's face.

"Jane marries a boy named Carlos." He told Ben. "Who also comes from a different land. The same one as Jay, actually. And we're friends, but she said something that hurt my wife very badly in her youth, and so I've never even held a one-on-one conversation with her since we left Auradon Prep." He leaned forward and looked at young Ben. "Do you want me to tell you now?" He asked.

Ben pulled his chair closer to the desk and nodded eagerly. "Yes." He whispered.

A ghostly smile crossed King Ben's face. He threaded his fingers together. "Her name is Mal," He confided, whispering the name like it was a secret or a treasure.

Ben wrinkled his nose. "Mal." He repeated, testing the name on his tongue. It seemed to stick. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what she might be like, but nothing came to mind. "I don't know her." He told King Ben, who shook his head.

"She comes from that different land I was telling you about." King Ben hummed.

"Where?" Ben asked, putting his hands on the desk in anticipation.

King Ben stood up and went to look to the south, out the window behind his desk. Ben stood up and looked over the desk. In the distance, he could see a hazy green barrier flicking into and out of his gaze. His mouth went dry. "The Isle of the Lost?" He asked.

King Ben turned back around. "Tell me, Ben, what do you think 'Mal' is short for?" He sat down on a corner of his desk and hooked his hands around his knees as he waited for an answer.

Ben's mind raced with fifty thoughts. Mal, as a prefix, meant Bad. Evil. Rotten. He skimmed his list of memorized villains and suddenly stopped on the large, overbearing, obvious one. "Maleficent?" He asked.

"Is that a problem?" King Ben asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No," Ben decided, though he sat down in surprise. "Not if she's the one. It doesn't matter who her mom is. And, well, the kingdom is obviously fine, so…" He shrugged.

"She's the one." King Ben affirmed. "It's true love." He sat back down in his chair and smiled. "We've been married almost twenty-five years, and every day is better than the last."

"And now you won't be King anymore?" Ben asked, sitting down as well. "It'll be your… son?"

"I won't be." King Ben agreed. "And our daughter, actually. Her name is Colette." He got up and walked to a box that read: "Knick-knacks". From this, he withdrew a framed photograph and held it out to Ben. Ben took it with shaking hands. It was a photo of a girl looking over her shoulder a little bit. Long, long purple hair was swept over her shoulder as she smiled at the camera with perfect, white, straight teeth. Her eyes were brown, just like his. He felt all the breath leave his lungs.

"Colette." He repeated, tracing a finger down the side of her face. "She's… beautiful."

"Just wait until I show you a picture of Mal." King Ben chuckled, shuffling a little in his box. He pulled out a second photo and handed it to Ben. "Those are all the kids," He told him, before hefting a larger picture out of the box and setting it beside the desk. Ben examined the second photo. Four children in various degrees of attentiveness were captured behind the glass. The oldest, Colette, was leaning into a couch with her sister, who also had dark, lush, purple hair, leaning into her side. Two boys were wrestling a pillow between them while they faked that they were looking at the photographer. One had the same purple hair and was older, and the other was the only child with tan, sandy hair. Ben examined them all. They looked like they all had his skin color, except for one of the girls. And two of them had brown eyes, and two had green. That meant he was heterozygous dominant for brown, he realized with a smirk. All those boring science classes must have pounded something into him after all.

"Why did we let them all dye their hair?" He asked King Ben, who had gone back to sitting on a corner of his desk as he watched young Ben evaluate his future family.

"We didn't." King Ben responded with a laugh. "It grows in like that. They all have naturally purple hair. My wife was devastated."

"But they look so good!" Ben frowned. "They're the most beautiful kids in all of Auradon!"

"You should see Evie's." King Ben smiled. "They're pretty cute too. I prefer my own, of course, but anyone with Evie's genes is bound to be gorgeous." He rubbed his hands together and stood up to wander the room. "Mal was upset because it makes them easy to spot. Also, she says she likes my hair, but whatever. I honestly think that as the generations go by, the purple hair will just come to be a mark of royalty. Our youngest son Damien is the only person to escape the purple hair gene, and now he's devastated because he doesn't match."

Ben snorted and put a finger on the blonde-haired boy in the photo. "Damien." He repeated.

"And Jordan is our older son." King Ben filled him in. "He's just a little younger than you are now. And the last girl is Annalee. She's a real cuddler. You don't appreciate that now, but when you get off after a meeting and she wants to cuddle beside you, you'll understand." He folded his arms in pride as he watched Ben take it all in.

"Mal's hair must be purple then, and she must have green eyes," Ben mumbled. His cheeks grew a little warm. Could it be possible he'd made these people with someone?

"On the money." King Ben replied.

Ben rubbed the glass to get some imaginary dust off of it. "How old are they all now? Except for Colette. I already know she's sixteen."

"Jordan is thirteen." King Ben began. "And then the twins are only six. That means I still have a few years." He brushed his hair out of his face. "Mal and I sort of want to try for a fifth kid now that we're losing Colette, but we don't know. She might be too old now."

Ben glanced down to the frame that King Ben had set beside his feet and gasped in shock. A beautiful hand-painted portrait of what he assumed was a goddess with dark, curly, perfectly purple hair was leaned against the desk. He put the photo down and picked it up. The woman in the painting was, without a doubt, gorgeous. Her lashes were long, her lips held an even pink color, and her eyes were the same bright, vibrant green he'd seen on his future children. "Mal," He whispered, the name rolling off his tongue and sticking immediately to the person whose portrait he held in his hands.

"Isn't she lovely?" King Ben asked in pride. "I had that commissioned for our tenth anniversary. She'd had Colette three years before and was actually pregnant with Jordan then." He leaned down a little to see the portrait. "It's a shame I couldn't have her paint it herself, but it still turned out beautiful despite that."

"She paints?" Ben asked. He could scarcely rip his eyes away from the lady on the canvas to look up at his counterpart. King Ben nodded with a smile and pulled a booklet out of the box he'd been foraging through. He took the painting out of Ben's hands and replaced it with the booklet, though Ben was sad to see it go. He cracked the booklet open and discovered a watercolor drawing of a baby sitting in the sunlight, surrounded by toys. Beside it was a detailed pencil sketch of a little girl with braided hair. The inscription 'Colette' was underneath it.

Ben flipped through the booklet slowly, examining everything inside of it. He noticed that while the children's full names were almost always used, Colette tended to be shortened to 'Co-co'. "Can I see more?" He asked, closing the book carefully and then leaned back over the portrait of the girl who'd done them, Mal.

King Ben laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was the same type Ben used, but obviously years ahead of him. King Ben found what he wanted on the screen and carefully pressed the screen into his palm. Ben stared at the screen. On it was himself, older, with his arm around the girl, Mal, and they were taking their photo in front of a crowd at a gala or some other function. The queen's crown was on her head and the King's crown on his, though his was at an angle. He swiped left and found a picture of Jordan, the oldest boy, with whipped cream on his cheek as he smiled at the camera. Another swipe left revealed a picture of Mal, though her figure was misshapen around her middle and she was rolling her eyes exasperatedly at the camera while keeping a little hand to her torso. Ben's mouth went dry. He studied the image, every pixel, until King Ben elbowed him with another laugh. "You did that." He reminded Ben. The fourteen-year-old turned beet red and hunched his shoulders before he quickly moved on, prompting more laughs from his older counterpart.

"I still have a question." Ben sighed, handing King Ben's phone back to him after a while. "Well, a couple, really. But the big one is… how did I meet Mal?"

"You mean how did you navigate around the barrier?" King Ben laughed, taking a seat back in his chair. Ben picked up the portrait again and then set the photo of the kids in front of it so he could look back and forth between the two and nodded to King Ben's words. "It wasn't easy." The forty-four-year-old sighed. "Your parents weren't the happiest at the beginning of that adventure, though they did get used to it."

"Oh, Mom and Dad!" Ben blurted out, interrupting his older self. "Are they still alive? What happens to them?"

"They're still alive." King Ben laughed. "And well, too. They' be around for many more years. But, as I was saying, they're not going to be one-hundred percent on-board with your plan. You're going to have to hold your ground a little. Eventually, they'll come back around and say you were right."

"But how?" Ben asked. "What am I supposed to hold my ground on?"

King Ben stared at him with a blank expression. Ben felt the gears in his head begin to turn. "You said that Jay and Carlos came from a different land. And you also mentioned Evie. She must be the daughter of the Evil Queen. They must all come from the Isle of the Lost. You – I – let children from the Isle of the Lost come over."

"You pick the first ones, and then your 'core four' pick everyone else." King Ben affirmed. "And you meet Mal when she comes over. You'll know her face the moment she appears. You get to step forward and shake her hand. She won't be too hot on you at first but give it time. She likes sarcastic jokes and strawberries. Within a month of meeting, you'll be dating."

"What's she like?" Ben asked, tracing the tip of his finger over Mal's purple locks in the portrait on his lap.

"Amazing." King Ben exhaled. "She'll become the most important person in your life. She's strong, she's kind. She likes tight hugs and soft kisses, and she goes crazy when you wear purple. She's talented and artistic, and funny, and hard-working. She's going to be devoted to you as a girlfriend, as a fiancée, and as a wife. And while you'll both have your doubts; we turn out to be pretty awesome parents together too."

"She sounds incredible." Ben exhaled, sounding exactly like his older self. "God, where can I sign up?" He let his eyes flit off the portrait for a few seconds as a deep red color tinged his cheeks. "What's it like to kiss her?" He asked softly. His voice chose that moment to crack, and he winced, hoping that the future Ben wouldn't laugh.

King Ben's eyes sparkled. "Why are you so embarrassed?" He laughed. "You've thought about kissing girls before – I know you have."

Ben shrugged as his blush deepened. "I just didn't know if it was something you wanted me to ask." He mumbled.

King Ben nodded, leaning further back into his cheek. "It's like the heavens opened wide." He shook his head. "I swear, every kiss, I could die." Then, King Ben glanced at the younger version of himself with a smile. "But you do realize I have four children, right? I've done far more than just kiss Mal."

Ben's face turned a deeper shade of red. He set the pictures aside as King Ben laughed at his burning cheeks. "When you do start kissing her, just know she'll care a little bit more about length then about quality. About the time you have Colette is when she'll start to care about how well you can kiss her, not just how long."

"Got it." Ben nodded.

"And I know you won't value this tip now but hear me out." King Ben laughed and winked a little at him. "When you want her to go crazy on you, wear something purple. Just the sight of her color on you is usually enough to set her off."

Ben made a disgruntled, uncomfortable sound and covered his face with his hands as red seared his cheeks again. King Ben couldn't hold back his loud laughter as Ben tried to compose himself. He pulled one knee up onto his leg and examined the young man. "You'll be a fine king." He told him. "You'll do just swell. And with Mal by your side, really, there's no way for you to mess up. You'll be a fine king, a wonderful father, and, according to Mal, a fantastic husband."

"Do I pass science?" Ben blurted out and then realized that was probably a stupid question to ask a man who hadn't attended his school or taken his classes in thirty years.

King Ben pulled a card out of his pocket. "I knew you were going to ask, so I went and looked it up." He told Ben and cleared his throat. "You squeak past with a B-. Just make sure and retake that genetics and Mendelian test, and you'll be fine. It should be a lot easier now that you have some real-life applications." He spread his arms across the pictures on his desk. Ben nodded in agreement. There wasn't a doubt in his head that this was for real.

"I can't believe these are my kids." Ben gasped a little. "I mean, I can see my eyes and my hair on Damien, and Colette has my skin – This is incredible! I wish this was my life right now."

"It will be, one day." King Ben smiled. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"So many." Ben gasped. "But… I guess most of them will be answered soon enough." He hesitated. "Did Dad ever figure out what to do to help Arendelle and Weselton sort things out?"

"I have no clue." King Ben shook his head. "Probably not since they still fight today."

Ben wrinkled his nose. That meant he'd have to deal with it. "Do I get to meet Maleficent?" He asked. King Ben shook his head with a quiet smile, and Ben sighed. "Do you have any advice on how to be a good husband?" He asked.

King Ben's eyebrows shot up. "That's a very mature question." He hummed and shrugged. "I forgot to mention this, but Mal is magical. And every once in a while she likes to experiment with her powers. Don't get down on her. Let her have that little freedom and everything will be fine."

"Okay." Ben nodded with a dry mouth. "What do you think I should be the most excited for?"

King Ben straightened up and fixed the cuffs on his sleeves. "That's another mature question." He hummed. "I don't know. I haven't finished living yet. I can give you a small list." At his words, Ben straightened up and took a deep breath. King Ben began to count on his fingers. "You meet and marry an amazing girl who you remain madly in love with years later, You change the lives of hundreds of kids by introducing them to the ways of good, you're renowned for being a doting father while also keeping up on every single one of your responsibilities, and you end up making some pretty amazing kids with your fabulously sexy wife, so I'd say you've got loads to look forward to." King Ben put his fingertips together and smiled at Ben. "Especially on that last point." He told him.

"I can't wait," Ben replied honestly, staring down at the pictures across the desk.

The door across the room opened and Ben whipped around to see who'd walked in. A little girl with a full head of purple hair snuck around the corner and then dashed towards the desk. King Ben held out his hands and scooped her up as she reached him. He tickled her sides and made funny growling sounds like he was pretending to eat her while she shrieked and pulled on his shirt a little. She had pale skin, very different from Ben's, but dark brown eyes.

"Daddy it's you!" Annalee pointed across the desk at Ben.

King Ben set her up on his knee and nodded. "It is." He affirmed. "Annalee, can you say hi to Ben?" Annalee waved shyly at him from her Dad's arms and then curled her face into his chest, balling her little fists up in his shirt. A cuddler, just like King Ben had said. He examined everything about her, from how short she was, to how her nails were painted a peeling pink, to her he could even see a bit of his mom's face in hers. And she'd called King Ben 'Daddy'. That joyful sound rang in his ears over and over. That'd be him one day. It'd be him.

King Ben looked up towards the door and his smile, which had remained permanently etched onto his face since Ben had first seen him enter the office grew wider and softer all at the same time. His eyes sparkled as he focused on a point just over Ben's shoulder and he leaned up a little to greet the person behind them all. Ben's heart thudded in his chest as he turned around slowly.

There was a swish of purple hair and the smell of acrylic paint. A lady with the same dark purple hair that, true to King Ben's words, was like a royal trademark, stepped into the room. She was wearing black paint-splattered jeans and a purple and green shirt, and a purple and green jacket with metallic studs was slung over her shoulder. She set a hand on Ben's shoulder as she walked by and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Her touch was soft, and her skin was like silk. Ben felt every hair rise up on end as he watched her pass with wide eyes. Queen Mal crossed behind the desk and leaned down to share a kiss – a proper one – with her husband. Ben felt a little like he was watching his parents kiss as he watched Mal withdraw with a smile and a glance down to their little girl, even though it was only himself many years older.

"Watch out, she'll go to sleep." Queen Mal warned King Ben with a laugh. "She just trashed my art studio, so I brought her down here to put her energy to use moving you out of Colette's office." She set her hand on her husband's shoulder. Her nails were short and unpainted if you didn't count the dozens of colors stretching up her skin.

"You being naughty?" King Ben asked Annalee, picking a bit of brown paint off of her cheek. Annalee shook her head and burrowed deeper into his shirt. Ben's heart was thumping in his chest. King Ben glanced over at his younger counterpart with a smile like he knew exactly how he was feeling. The king looked up at his wife and gestured to the young child snuggling deeper into his arms. "We made her." He reminded her. "I think we did a pretty good job."

"I think so too." Queen Mal hummed and smiled. She leaned into King Ben's side, balancing on the chair, and looked across the desk to Ben. Ben straightened up a little, pulling on his sleeves so they weren't bunching up around his armpits and hoping she didn't notice the acne spread across his forehead like trash on a beach. "How'd I get so lucky?" She mumbled, and Ben was taken aback because really, he wasn't that nice to look at yet. If his skin was real estate for zits then his chin and hairline were beach-front property, and he was lanky with big feet and he was pretty sure the cut he'd gotten in tourney over his eyebrow hadn't completely healed yet, but there wasn't much he could do.

There was a sound like a hiss behind them and they all turned to watch a door – the same door Ben had first entered through – appear in the wall. King Ben carefully pulled Annalee up onto his shoulder and stood up, and it was around this time Ben realized that Queen Mal was extremely short. "It's time for you to go." King Ben told his young protégé. "You'll be waking up soon."

"I still have so much I want to hear about." Ben mourned. "Like about Colette and Jordan and Damien? I want to hear all about them."

"You will," Mal assured him. "And believe me, your story is like nothing you've imagined so far. You're going to be blown away."

Ben stood up and King Ben wandered around his desk. "Do you want her before you go?" He asked, gesturing to Annalee. "She's light."

Ben immediately stretched forth his hands and King Ben set the small girl against his chest. She curled her fists into his shirt and leaned her head into his collar, and Ben felt his heart rate speed up. This girl didn't even exist yet to him, and already she meant the entire world. He hugged her to him, afraid to squeeze her too tightly, and then a light came from under the door he was supposed to enter. "Time to go." King Ben announced and help his arms out for his daughter. Ben returned her to him grudgingly and glanced at the door.

"Come, now." Queen Mal put a hand on his shoulder and led him towards the door. "And Ben, one thing from me before you go back if you don't mind." She smiled, and Ben straightened up a little and met her eyes. "When you first see me, I don't exactly… look like me. I'm dark and I'm angsty and I've never known love my entire life. So don't be scared to talk to me. I started to fall for you because you kept coming back around and showing you cared."

"I will – or, I won't be scared, that is," Ben assured her, and then fumbled with his hands. Was he supposed to shake her hand? Or could they hug since she was technically married to him thirty years into the future? Queen Mal solved the issue for him. She took hold of his shirt and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He felt his entire face erupt into red.

"So long." Ben waved to the King of Auradon, who raised a hand to send him off.

Queen Mal skimmed his hairline and hummed. "I'm so glad we're not teenagers anymore." She told King Ben with a chuckle. "Well, goodbye Ben. I'll see you in, what two years?"

"He doesn't know when he's meeting you yet." King Ben filled her in. She nodded with a sound of understanding, and Ben wanted to ask when he'd meet his Mal when the door opened and a white wind filled the room, making the light unbelievably bright and drowning out his vision. When fuzzy pictures started to remanifest themselves to him, he realized he was back in his room with his alarm clock blaring on the other side of the bed. He was on top of the covers, in his pajamas, and with a very bad crick in his neck. He sat up and felt his body. Nothing had changed or felt different. Had it all been a dream?

Then he looked up and noticed a card sitting on his headboard. On the front was the king's insignia. It looked exactly like the cards his dad would send out to people to let them know they had meetings coming up. He flipped it over, holding his breath, and read the back.

Crown Prince Benjamin is hereby formally invited to the King's Offices on the Evening of August the twenty-seventh at the time of two o'clock for a Life Appraisal. Please dress appropriately."

And really, you couldn't get more blatantly specific than that.

#future #time travel #ben #ben florian #mal #mal bertha #descendants #disney #disney descendants #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #fanfic

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