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Well Worth it | Fred Weasley

Part 1 / 2

Part: 1, 2

Summary: You are heavily pregnant with your and Fred's first child and have just gone into labour. Part 2 of "Back Pain".

Warnings: pregnant reader, description of birth, vomit mentioned.

Word Count: ~2233

—

George wasted no time in rushing you to St. Mungo's. Thankfully, the pain from the contractions was so blinding that you remember almost nothing about the ride over or even being admitted, so the chaos was lost to you. The most you remember was the frantic voice of Fred arguing with his twin about the speed he was driving, a small argument between him and the nurse at the reception desk about your room, and finally getting some heavy-duty pain-killing potions. That is the clearest memory that you have; the relief, although minor, was still incredible.

You weren't very far along, only dilated 6cm and having contractions every 5 or so minutes. Fred was doing everything he could to help you through the process and comfort you. He massaged your back, walked with you throughout the halls of St. Mungo's, provided ice chips, and constantly asked nurses and doctors for updates. The latter getting not only on yours but the staff's nerves ever so slightly. George stayed for as long as he was allowed before the staff told him to leave; Fred promising to keep him up to date on the progress as he walked him out of the room.

Mmmmmm... Freddie, this sucks...

You groaned from where you stood bent over the bed, rocking side to side as you rode through another contraction. Fred just sighed, feeling disappointed he couldn't do more for you, trying his best to comfort you with another massage. As the pain came to an end, an overwhelming sense of nausea overcame you.

I'm going to be sick again...

You whined. Fred just nodded and grabbed the bedpan. After the last hour or so of running back and forth from the bathroom, he decided it was a better method than trying to get you to the toilet in time. As you emptied the already vacant contents of your stomach into the pan, Fred sighed again, rubbing your back. He took the pan to the bathroom to clean it up, and you crawled into the hospital bed, curling onto your side.

You must be farther along now...

He muttered to himself as he walked out of the bathroom and looked you over. He couldn't help but worry about you. He hated to see you in such agony and wanted to help you feel better. Maybe if I had brought you here sooner... I should've brought you here sooner... He would think to himself repeatedly, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't have made any difference. He made his way to the door and peered outside into the hallway, desperately looking for another doctor to bother and ask to check you over.

Freddie, please... The doctor was just here, and I have not dilated anymore... Stop bothering the staff...

You pleaded less for the staff's sanity and more for your own. The constant poking and prodding make the experience more unpleasant than necessary, and you just want a moment to yourself before being bombarded by doctors again. Fred went to argue, but after seeing your misty eyes and the slight pout on your lip, he surrendered, nodding and moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

I wish I could do more to help.

He sighed as he gently tucked a few stray hairs behind your ear and wiped some sweat from your forehead with a cold washcloth.

I know Freddie, you've told me a couple times now.

He released a single breathy chuckle and smiled down at you. A smile you returned as you closed your eyes in an attempt to take the time you had left before your next contraction to rest. A calming silence fell between the two of you as Fred continued to adore you in silent worry and dab at your forehead.

You're running low on Trick Wands, by the way.

Your sudden comment made him pause, his brows furrowing as he pondered whether he heard you correctly. You opened your eyes half-lidded and teasingly smiled up at him, exhaustion evident in your features.

Pardon?

He asked, still baffled, a smile rising on his face at the bizarre situation. You lifted yourself to lean on your elbow, your head being propped up by your hand.

You are running low on trick wands. You and George will have to make some more before they completely run out.

Your response was so nonchalant as if it was a simple conversation occurring over dinner, he couldn't help but chuckle.

Darling, do you realize that is not my highest priority right now?

He asked with a stunned smile, you faked a gasp and shook your head disapprovingly.

Fred Weasley, I think this is a matter of great importance. What could possibly be a bigger priority than the store's inventory?

Your question was sarcastic, of course. Fred couldn't help the laugh that arose from him, enjoying your ability to still be cheery in your state.

Well, yn. I don't know if you are aware, but our baby is currently on the way. I do believe that is far more important than inventory.

You paused and pondered for a moment before nodding and falling back into your pillow, tucking your arm underneath.

I suppose you're right.

You agreed. The both of you break out into a fit of laughs for a moment before they die down, and again, you enjoy a calm beat of silence. You close your eyes again, breathing deeply as you feel the beginning stages of another contraction. Fred leans down to kiss your forehead, and you look up into his eyes as he pulls away.

I love you, darling.

He whispers with a love-sick smile. You smile back weakly, but before you can respond, another contraction racks your body, causing you to groan. The once peaceful, laughter-filled environment is overshadowed by pain and worry once again.

—

At 9pm, you were in active labour. You were fully dilated, thankfully, and it was time to push. Fred moved himself out of the way of the many doctors and nurses who began preparing for the arrival of your baby, finding his spot at your side. He grasped your hand tightly, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to provide more leverage for pushing. You were a mess at this point, and you looked it even though Fred was adamant that you looked amazing. Liar. You were fed up at this point and beyond frustrated, the last 12 hours of labour making you reconsider getting pregnant altogether.

This child better be worth it, Weasley.

Fred cringed slightly at the worn tone of your voice, the constant groaning and yelling from the pain taking its toll.

I promise, darling, it will be.

He reassured you, squeezing your hand and kissing your temple.

I want it out! NOW!

You screamed in frustrated exhaustion. You were done, in fact, you were done four hours ago, so now you were beyond done.

We have to wait for the next contraction before you can start pushing Mrs. Weasley, just a few more seconds.

The nurse explained in a voice that was much too cheery, making you even more annoyed. You groaned and threw your head back in displeasure, Fred whispering encouraging words to you as you waited.

Ok, push Mrs. Weasley. As hard as you can for ten seconds.

The doctor instructed; you literally felt your whole body squeezing with the contraction as you began to push. The pressure became immense, and you thought you might explode. You were sure that you were crushing Fred's hand, but you didn't care; he didn't seem to mind either, much too focused on helping you through this process.

OK perfect. Take a moment and catch your breath.

The Doctor instructed as the contraction died down. Suddenly, You felt overwhelmed. Call it fatigue, exhaustion or maybe the mind-numbing pain, but you began to panic. I can't do this. It's too much. I'm too tired. I can't do this. What if I'm a bad mother. I am a bad mother. Your mind was racing, and your breathing was picking up in a hectic way.

Mrs. Weasley, you need to relax.

The nurses tried to calm you and coach you through it, but they were no help. In fact, they made it much worse, feelings of being a failure growing as they pleaded with you. Fred could see the panic in your eyes as they darted all over the room, and between the faces of the medical staff, he could tell that you were not ok, and they were only making it worse. It was as if a primal instinct took over him.

Alright, that's enough! You're making it worse! Back off!

He stood a bit straighter, giving him a more demanding presence and stared daggers into each member of staff until they gave you some room to relax. Once he was satisfied, he turned to you.

Darling, you need to calm down, please. I need you to take a deep breath and try to relax.

His tone was quiet, trying its best to be calm but still fluctuating slightly with anxiety. You just shook your head, not even looking at him, your eyes stuck on your bump and the doctor between your legs.

I can't... I can't do this... I'm a bad mother... I can't do this...

You weren't even speaking to him; you were just babbling like you were in some kind of hypnotic trance.

Mr. Weasley, your wife needs to push again.

The doctor addressed Fred. He nodded and turned back to you.

You can. You've already done so much. This is the last bit of it. You can do this, and we are going to have our baby, and you are going to be an incredible mother. Please yn.

He pleaded.

Mrs. Weasley!

The doctor called. You turned to Fred, looking for some kind of reassurance. He offered a loving smile and a quick nod.

I love you, darling. You can do this.

He reassured. You took a few deep breaths, staring into his eyes before nodding and turning to the doctor.

You must push Mrs. Weasley.

He demanded, trying his best to be understanding and patient. You nodded and tightened your grip on Fred's hand before taking a deep breath and beginning to push again.

—

It took an hour and a half of pushing before your baby girl was born. She came out screaming; you wouldn't be surprised if she woke the whole hospital. Fred was a mess of tears, wearing a wide and proud smile as he watched the doctors lift her from between your legs. You ushered him to follow as they went to clean her up, not wanting him to take his eyes off of her since you were preoccupied with the aftercare of giving birth. Now it was around 1 in the morning, you and her had been taken care of, and the medical staff had left the room, allowing some privacy for your new family. You held her delicately in your arms, staring down at her beautiful face and petting it softly with your forefinger. Fred sat beside you on the bed, one arm around you and his other hand running along her full head of hair.

You were right, Freddie. She was well worth it.

You admitted as you adored your daughter. There was a beat of silence before Fred spoke up.

You did wonderful yn.

He whispered, neither of you taking your eyes from the baby; you chuckled as tears began to gather in your eyes.

Well, you did help. I didn't make her alone, you know?

You said, causing him to chuckle. He gently grabbed your head with his free hand, pulled it to his lips, and planted a kiss on your temple.

I mean it, you were incredible.

He was so genuine in his remark. You turned towards him, and after seeing the incredible amount of love and adoration that he held in his eyes, you couldn't help the tears that began to escape.

Thank you, Freddie. But I mean it, too. I couldn't have done it without you.

He teared up at this, smiling, he whispered.

I love you.

You smiled back, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips before whispering.

I love you, too.

The both of you took in the moment before turning back towards your daughter. Fred noticed after a while that you were growing tired and offered to take the first watch over the baby. With a short laugh, you agreed, kissing her softly before handing her off and settling into your hospital bed. Fred moved to the armchair beside your bed. He was nervous holding her at first, worried he might break or drop her, but after a few moments, he grew very comfortable with it. Confident even. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, falling more and more in love with her every second they were together.

Hello, my love, It's Daddy, I hope you recognize my voice. I just wanted to tell you that I am so happy you are finally here... Your Mummy did a wonderful job bringing you into this world. I am so proud of her...

He looked up at you, happy to see you getting some good rest, then back to his daughter who yawned.

We both love you very much. Get some sleep, my love. Daddy's here... Always.

—

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Back Pain | Fred Weasley

Part 1 / 2

Part: 1, 2

Summary: You are heavily pregnant with your and Fred's first child and are experiencing some back pain that grows as the day goes on. Fred worries that you may be in labour, and it isn't until your water breaks that you take those concerns seriously.

Warnings: pregnant reader, talk about pain

Word Count: ~2101

—

You had been uncomfortable all day, which isn’t anything new considering you’d been uncomfortable the last six or so months, but this felt different. It started around four in the morning; you were awoken by the feeling of your lower back cramping, so you began tossing and turning, hoping to find a comfortable position, but to no avail. Fred was awakened by your movements and the gentle groans that followed. He was quick to check on you and nodded understandingly once you told him about your back. He asked you to turn to your other side and massaged the painful spot for you without a moment of hesitation. It took only a few seconds before you felt relief, in fact, it was so comforting that it actually soothed you back to sleep.

Now, it was one in the afternoon, and the cramping was back with a vengeance. You didn’t think much of it after noticing your belly dropped while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. You accepted that it was just an annoying consequence of the new position the baby was in, but you’d been cramping since eleven, and it was beginning to drive you insane. You tried ice packs, hot water bottles, pain relief potions, a warm bath, stretching, and anything else you could think of. You even asked Fred for more massages, which failed to provide the same comfort they did last night. Fred was beginning to worry about you, and in the very back of his mind, a thought buzzed about you possibly being in labour. You brushed him off multiple times throughout the morning, saying they were only Braxton hicks contractions or false labour. Your lack of concern for it soothed him slightly since you knew your body better than him, so instead of rushing you to the hospital like he wanted, he let the day go on. However, he was still worried, so after your bath, Fred decided the best thing for both of you was for you to come with him to the shop. After greeting George upon your arrival Fred guided you into his office and laid you on the futon he had in there in case of late nights or the odd overnight stays. He brought you your pregnancy pillow, a hot water bottle, an ice pack, snacks, water, and more potions. All to keep you comfortable and close as he runs the store just downstairs. He made sure to check on you every 30 minutes and if he couldn’t or was busy with a customer he would send up George. You, on the other hand, were trying to sleep off the pain.

—

At around three, your back felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't ignore it like you had been. Fred and George had been engrossed by the unexpected rush of patrons flooding in downstairs, their frequent checkups slowly dwindling down to none as the shop grew more busy. You were so frustrated and overwhelmed by the pain that you actually began to cry, wishing for it to stop so you could just relax. You tried so hard to keep your suffering quiet, not wanting to interrupt your husband's busy day, but you couldn't help it, and when your back cramped up again you were ready to roll out of bed and get him. Luckily, just as you went to roll Fred walked in with a tray holding a cup of tea and some of your favourite sweet treats. He froze when he saw you trying to sit up, your expression twisted with pain and your face covered in tears. He wasted no time in placing the tray on his desk and pulling his chair beside the small bed, taking a seat and hushing you comfortingly.

Love, I’m really starting to get worried...

He admitted as he sat in front of you. One hand moving stay hairs from your face and the other rubbing your belly. You let yourself fall back into your pillow and snuggled into it, sniffling.

It hurts so much, Freddie… I just want it to stop…

You whined. You were never good with pain and it was starting to really mess with you emotionally. Fred looked at you sympathetically, worry hidden in his furrowed brows.

Maybe we should go to the hospital yn.

He suggested again, looking down to your belly. You just shook your head.

I already told you, they’ll just send us home. I’m not in labour. My water didn’t break, and I don’t think I’m having real contractions; I’m just really uncomfortable.

You explained and tried pushing yourself to sit up again. After seeing you struggle, Fred swooped in to help. He gently grabbed your upper arm with one hand and wrapped his other arm around you to help support your weight. Once you were sitting, he relaxed back into his chair.

Well then what can I do?

He asked helplessly, leaning forward, his arms on his legs. The concern in his voice and the love in his eyes made yours start to water again, damn hormones. Then, there was another flare-up that forced a sudden gasp out of you and caused more tears to flow down your cheeks, this time due to the pain. Fred jumped a bit at this and reached toward you. You just cried as you leaned forward into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, stretching out your back, and he wrapped his around your torso, massaging your back gently. After a moment the pain subsided back into a dull ache and you found yourself relishing in the small relief this position was providing.

Are you ok love?

Fred asked once your cries died down into gentle sniffles. You nodded, tightening your hold on him.

Ya. I’m ok. This feels really good.

You admitted. Fred smiled to himself and kissed your temple, happy to be providing some form of comfort to you. It only lasted a few seconds, though, before that once comfortable position became exactly the opposite. You pulled back, both of you releasing each other, and Fred watched as you stretched, cracking your back.

I think I just need to move. I’ve been lying down all day.

You said defeated. Fred paused for a moment to think, then nodded. He stood from his chair and reached down towards you. You grabbed each other’s forearms and worked together to get you on your feet. He didn’t let go immediately and looked into your eyes.

I’ll take you out to the shop but only for a few minutes. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed or shoved around by the crowd that’s out there. We’ll say hi to George and come right back, okay?

He demanded lovingly. You just nodded and leaned up to peck his lips. You released each other, and you waddled out of the room, holding your back as you did. Fred followed close behind, the panic stored in the back of his mind beginning to overtake him. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, as you opened the door and made your way out into the wonderful chaos of the shop. George was quick to notice your appearance, watching as you took a moment to look around and interact with a few patrons, Fred keeping a closed distance.

I see she’s up now..

George said as he came up behind his brother both twins watching you closely as you talked with an older woman, most likely buying a gift for her child. Fred sighed defeated.

Yeah… she is…

George didn’t hesitate to ask about you, and Fred answered to the best of his ability, filling him in on his rising anxiety and what you had been going through. George could practically feel the mental spiral Fred was going through and decide to take on the grunt of the days work so that his twin could be there for his family. Fred obviously refused at first but after getting shut down by George he agreed, thanking him for being so understanding.

—

It was six now. The pain had gotten much worse and more prominent. It came quicker and lasted longer, and you began to get worried that you might be in labour like Fred had suggested but decided to keep those concerns to yourself. Fred was going over some inventory paperwork for the week, and you once again found your spot beside him on the futon. You suddenly had the urge to pee and groaned, knowing you would have to stand once more. Fred turned at your groan, and you waved him off. Over the last few hours you’ve developed this new method of conversation, you’d groan or cry, he’d get worried and check on you, and you’d tell him you’re fine either verbally or with a gesture. You finally managed to pull yourself off the bed and began walking to the bathroom in the office when a sharp pain ripped through your lower abdomen, causing you to violently gasp and double over. You had nothing to support yourself and crumpled to the floor on your hands and knees, one of your arms cradling your belly. Fred jumped in his chair at the sound of you hitting the floor and whipped around to you. At the sight of you on the ground clutching your belly, he threw his paperwork aside and jumped out of his chair, running over to you.

Merlin yn! What happened? Did you fall?!

He yelled, crouching down and placing one of his hands on your back, the other on top of yours, which was holding your belly. You couldn’t answer, you were in to much pain. Fred was fully panicking now, analyzing your whole body, checking if you were ok, and looking for a way to help you. That’s when he noticed the wetness soaking through your pants and froze.

Freddie- I think you were right- I think it's actually happening.

You whine through the pain that is beginning to subside. As you caught your breath, you looked over at your husband. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open.

Freddie, sweetie, we should go.

You said, sitting back on your feet and breathing heavily. He still didn’t respond.

Fred!

You yelled, growing frustrated with his shocked state. He suddenly snapped back into reality and nodded frantically. In a moment, he was up and sprinting out of the office. He screamed to George that the baby was coming and to start closing up before apparating to your apartment to grab the hospital bag. You crawled over to the futon and propped yourself into a position where you could use it to support your weight as you stood up. Just as you stood straight, another contraction ripped through your body, sending you back into a position of leaning over onto the bed. You couldn’t stop the guttural moan that came from you as you rocked slightly, going through this new kind of pain. You missed it when you just had a sore back.

Where are you, Fred!?

You called out, desperate for your husband. You wanted to get to the hospital now. Fred apparated into the office with the large duffel bag in hand and approached your shaking form. George ran in a moment later, the shop successfully closed and all patrons kicked out. Fred shoved the bag into George’s chest and then bent down, guiding you to wrap one of your arms around his shoulders while he wrapped his arm around your waist. You grabbed onto his shirt with white knuckles, and he quickly made his way out of the office and down the steps of shops yelling at George to get the flying car. Fred, being the overly protective and prepared father-to-be he was, had asked Arthur if he could borrow it a week ago, knowing your due date was approaching and you would need a quick escape to the hospital.

It’s alright love you're doing wonderfully. George will be here soon with the car and then we’re going straight to St. Mungo's.

Fred reassured you although it sounded more self-directed. Just as you made it to the bottom of the stairs you heard a honk from outside the shop. George was sitting in the driver's seat waiting anxiously. Fred practically had to drag you outside, due to the contraction that was beginning to tear through you and gently guided you into the back seat before taking the spot next to you. As soon as he was sure you were secure, George sped off into the sky and took you to the hospital to deliver your baby.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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To Love a Worm | Fred Weasley

Summary: Fred is confronted with the question dreaded by all men in a relationship, "would you still love me if I was a worm?" However, a surprise twist to his conundrum causes him to become absolutely livid.

Warnings: you are jinxed, Fred getting revenge, nothing violent.

Word Count: ~2485

—

Someone had decided to prank the Weasley Twins. Some poor fool thought it would be hilarious to see the duo fall victim to a prank rather than be the orchestrators of one as a method of revenge. Unfortunately, he was stumped on how exactly to approach it, not realizing just how much finesse the task would require. He brainstormed for a few days, watching as the Weasleys pulled prank after prank, hoping he would be struck with spontaneous inspiration. He almost gave up, but then he saw you. You sat at your house table during dinner, talking amongst your friends, when the twins approached you. It was no secret that you were close to the twins, being Fred's girlfriend and all. This also came with the perk of not being subject to the twin's many pranks. He sat there watching the three of you talking and laughing brightly when an idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. The best way to prank the twins was to get to you. It wasn't a hard task to get close to you; in fact, you were in the same house and shared many of the same classes. He smiled devilishly and began brainstorming his plan, deciding to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

—

Hey, yn, wait up!

He called, rushing after you out of the Divination classroom. It had been a couple weeks. He watched you the whole time to see when there would be a window of opportunity that he could use to perform the prank. This was it. Due to your busy and conflicting schedules, you and Fred don't see each other until dinner on this day of the week.

Hm? Oh, hello, Victor!

You greeted cheerfully, turning in his direction and offering a small wave. He had to admit he did feel bad, but the twins deserved it.

Hi. Look, I was wondering if you have time. Could we go over today's class notes? I fell asleep about halfway through, and now I'm kind of screwed for the upcoming test.

He lied, his hands slightly shaking with nerves. You took a moment to observe him, noticing his odd nervous state, but nodded.

Yes, of course, I have an hour or so before herbology. Maybe we could go to the Great-

Actually, could we go to the library?

He cut you off abruptly. You narrowed your eyes but nodded again.

Perfect! Ok, come on.

He cheered and grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the library. When you got there, Victor dragged you to a little nook, hidden away from the eyes of witnesses. You quickly ripped your wrist from his hand, rubbing it soothingly and staring daggers at him.

What the hell, Victor?

You scolded. He was too busy checking over his shoulder to acknowledge you. When he finally turned to you, he winced, feeling guilty about the red mark slowly appearing on your wrist.

I'm sorry, yn I hope we can still be friends after this.

You were a bit taken aback by his response, and as you were about to respond, he pulled out his wand and a piece of paper, quickly and quietly reciting the jinx written on it.

Vermiculus.

The last thing you saw was a flash of yellow light, then it was dark. You could hear everything around you, but you could not see. You felt yourself being gently lifted from the ground.

I really am sorry about this yn. But those Weasleys deserve it. One of their pranks ruined my chances with Poppy a few weeks ago, and I am not letting them get away with it.

He checked over his shoulder again, ensuring no one saw what he had done. He quickly gathered your clothes and belongings in his arms and ran out of the library to your house.

—

It was perfect. Victor had prepared a lovely-looking gift bag with a tag that read "with love from yn." He had neatly folded the clothes you were wearing earlier inside, along with your books and wand. On top of the pile of your belongings sat a pretty gift box that he wrapped with a note attached. His nerves were absolutely buzzing now as he approached an unsuspecting Griffindor.

Hey! Hey, you!

The young student turned abruptly, watching him expectedly.

Can you deliver this to Fred Weasley? Tell him it's from yn?

They looked down at the gift bag and then back up to Victor's eyes, nodding and gently taking the gift from him. Victor scurried off to the Great Hall, waiting patiently for everyone to gather for dinner and to watch the twins' reaction.

—

Um... Excuse me...

The first year gently spoke, tapping Fred on the arm as he walked into the great Hall. Fred turned and smiled at the young boy as he waited for him to continue.

This is for you... It's from yn?

The boy said. Fred offered a kind thank you and took the gift, standing straight and looking through the large crowd of students, hoping to spot you. You were nowhere to be found.

What is it, Freddie?

George asked, nudging him with his elbow. Fred just shrugged, continuing to look for you, increasingly confused about why you were not there.

Some first-year said it's from yn...

He answered shortly, following George to the Gryffindor table and taking a seat.

George... Do you see her anywhere?

Fred asked, still looking around. George also began scouting the crowd. Unable to find you as well. Both of their expressions were painted with furrowed brows of confusion.

No, I don't... Weird she never misses dinner...

George answers, pausing for a beat. His face suddenly lit up, and he turned to Fred, grabbing his shoulder and gently shaking him.

Oh, I bet she has a surprise planned for you, Freddie... That must be why she sent a random first-year to give you the gift! Quick, open it up.

George reassured his twin. Fred smiled and looked to George, nodding. He quickly turned his attention to the gift, reading the tag and blushing slightly. Victor couldn't help but giggle as he watched. In a second, Fred pulled out the poorly wrapped little box lying on top. Knowing that you were a much better wrapper than this, he frowned but tore open the paper anyway. On top of the plain cardboard box was a note. "Dear Weasley Twins. Consider this revenge for years of torment and torture. Signed by the student who PRANKED YOU. P.S. Fred Weasley, would you still love your girlfriend if she was a worm?" Fred's eyes bulged out of his head, and he quickly tossed the note aside and opened the cardboard box, gasping shakily.

Fred, you alright?

George watched the whole thing; the way his brother's face began to grow red in anger scared him. George was quick to grab the note Fred had just read and froze. He leaned over his brother's form, and there, in the box, was a small pink worm squirming about. George grabbed the gift bag from Fred as he clutched onto the box and began tearing through it, finding your clothes, books and wand. He held the wand up to Fred wordlessly. All the shock had suddenly drained from his system as he stepped up on the table. He clutched the box close to his chest and looked around the Great Hall. Everyone's eyes turned to him as he yelled?

WHO WAS IT?! SHOW YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?!

He was livid. George stood up also, staying on the ground in case anyone went running. No one spoke, only sharing curious whispers and confused glances.

WHO TURNED MY GIRLFRIEND, YN LN, INTO A GODDAMN WORM?!

A hushed gasp filled the Great Hall. The headmasters are standing now and in shock. Dumbledor whispered something to McGonagall, who rushed out from behind the table, dragging Madam Pofrey with her. The two women quickly approach the twins.

Are you sure, Mr. Weasley?

McGonagall asked, looking up to Fred. It was a serious accusation, of course. One that could very well lead to expulsion.

George just handed her the note, and after a moment of reading it, she sighed and reached up to Fred.

Hand me the box, Mr. Weasley.

Fred handed her the box, watching as she pulled out her wand and waved it cautiously over the wiggly little worm. She sighed again and looked toward Dumbledor, giving a gentle nod.

It's a jinx, a nasty one at that. It's going to take some time to properly reverse it.

She explained and handed the box to Madam Pomfrey, who waved her wand over the box as well.

She's perfectly fine, Professor. No injuries whatsoever.

Madam Pomfrey confirmed and then scurried off to the hospital wing. McGonagall reached a hand out to Fred, gesturing for him to come off the table. He shared a look with George and jumped down by his side.

She's alright, boys. In only a few days, she'll be good as new. And I promise you that the student responsible for this will be adequately dealt with.

She was sincere in her promise, a tinge of anger flashing in her eyes. Fred and George trusted what she had said and were relieved to learn that you would come out of this unharmed, but they were still fuming.

Students! If anyone knows anything about this incident or if you are the one who jinxed Ms. yn ln, please report it to a teacher immediately. Those guilty will be punished. Jinxing, hexing and cursing other students is not taken lightly at Hogwarts!

Dumbledor's voice boomed through the Great Hall. Then he cleared his throat.

However, if the guilty party presents themselves to me before the end of the night, a lighter punishment will be granted, and expulsion will not be considered.

His negotiations send the twins spiralling.

That's rubbish!

They scream in unison, grabbing the attention of the Headmaster.

Weasley's, yn is unharmed. Madam Pomfrey said so herself. A little leniency in return for an answer is appropriate, if only for a few hours... Expulsion is back on the table at the end of the night if the student does not reveal themselves.

Dumbledor addresses the students and then proceeds to sit back down. George is frustrated at this point. That someone would do this to his best friend and his brother infuriates him. Fred, however, is fuming. He was always protective over yn. So much so that not even he would dare prank her with more than the smallest and most gentle of tricks. Victor had shrunk into his seat. He felt guilty, terrified and sick all at once. He hadn't realized the implications of what he had done until now. He knew he had to do what was right and stood from his seat slowly. Fred and Georges's eyes snapped in his direction, confused and angry as he avoided their gaze and began walking toward the Headmaster.

It was me, professor. I just wanted to prank the Weasleys because of all they had done to us over the years.

He explained guiltily. As the Headmaster addressed him George leaned forward and whispered to Fred.

What's the plan?

—

It had been half a week before the twins were allowed to come and see you. When you were first transformed back into a human, you were completely disoriented, as if you had vertigo. You were too dizzy to even open your eyes; luckily, that is all that was wrong with you. Apparently, it could've been a lot worse, but because Victor was such an inexperienced wizard, you were spared that grim reality. You had completely recovered so much that it was as if it never happened. As Madam Pomfrey gave you your robe and cleared you to leave, the hospital wing doors burst open. Fred stood there looking around the room frantically, Geoge standing just behind him. When his eyes met yours, he sprinted to your bed and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

Careful now, Mr. Weasley. I only just cleared her.

The woman chuckled as she walked back to her desk. George offering a quick but genuine thank you as he made his way over.

Merlin, yn. You scared the hell out of me...

Fred whispered softly, kissing your temple and pulling back to look you up and down. He wanted to make sure that you were unharmed. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

I'm fine, Freddie, I promise. Madam Pomfrey made sure of it.

You placed both of your hands on his cheek, rubbing soothing circles on his jaw with your thumb. Fred sighed a breath of relief, and George took a moment to speak up.

We're happy you're alright, yn. Especially this one; he was livid when he found out what had happened.

George clapped Fred on the back gently, and you smiled gratefully up to him. Then, you turned your attention back to Fred.

Really Fred. I'm alright.

You reiterated. His eyes flickered between your eyes and lips, and he nodded, relieved. He didn't wait for another second and pulled you into a passionate kiss, releasing all of his fear and sorrow within it. You were happy to reciprocate, tangling your hands in his hair as he held your waist.

Alright, well, you two seem to have much to catch up on, so I'll leave you to it.

George chuckled, waving as he backed away and left the Great Hall. You and Fred pulled away from each other and looked into each other's eyes.

I missed you love.

Fred confessed and pulled you into a tight embrace once again.

I missed you too, Freddie. I don't remember much after the jinx, though, so George is right. You're gonna have to fill me in on what happened.

Fred smiled and kissed the top of your head before pulling away.

Long story short...

He said, letting go of you to gather your robe and grab your hand. Fred began leading you out of the hospital wing as he told a summarized version of the story.

So what happened to Victor?

You asked, Fred just laughed and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

Not expelled, but on top of the four month's worth of detention, he will have to deal with some daily revenge for a while, delivered by yours truly.

You rolled your eyes affectionately and leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around you. A thought crossed your mind.

So, Freddie, I have to ask...

You said, looking up at him, and he met your gaze curiously, eyes full of love.

Does this mean you would still love me if I were a worm?

You asked with a wide smile. Fred's head shot back as a loud laugh fell from his lips. He pulled you in tighter and kissed the top of your head, and you walked back to your house to make up for lost time.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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A Wedding | Fred Weasley

Summary: It is the day of Fleur and Bill's wedding, and you can't help but imagine your own wedding day, feeling impatient for it to come. Unbeknownst to you, Fred feels the same way.

Warnings: Nothing really, just really sweet and fluffy

Word Count: ~1441

—

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the Weasley house was buzzing with excitement for the later events of the day. Although the house was filled with chaos, an underlying calm could be felt, as if all was forgotten about the coming war and recent losses. It was as if time had stopped, and joy had filled the world once more. You stood in the kitchen watching the men raise the tent where the wedding would be held on the lawn, smiling at the back of the man you loved who was laughing and joking with his family. You twirled the newly acquired piece of gold that wrapped around your finger, a gorgeous Dutch marquise diamond sitting in the Center. Thoughts of your own coming nuptials overtook your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation clouding your thoughts as you watched Fred set up for the wedding.

Yn?- oh good, there you are.

You turned to the sweet shrill of Molly Weasley's voice entering the kitchen accompanied by her hurried steps.

Have you seen Fleur's bouquet? She said she asked you to fetch it?

Molly asked with a hint of frustrated anxiety. You gasped softly and turned back to the window you were daydreaming out of only moments ago. There, in a simple vase, sat the beautiful bouquet of lilies and roses, which had been enchanted with the blue butterflies of the Veela witches fluttering around it.

Oh, Merlin. I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I must’ve gotten distracted.

Your response was scattered as you quickly grabbed the bouquet. You hurried past Molly, who sighed, relieved, and up the stairs to Bill's old room to deliver the flowers. The sight of Fleur was breathtaking; you and her were quick to form a bond when Bill introduced her to the family. One that comes from the shared experience of unintentional harsh judgement from the Weasley matriarch.

You’re stunning Fleur…

You swooned as you entered the room and handed her the flowers. She smiled brightly, relief also showing in her eyes from finally having her bouquet.

Thank you, Yn. You look beautiful as well.

Both of your eyes shone with tears as you smiled and pulled each other into a gentle hug.

Are you ready?

You pulled back, holding onto her hand and shaking it with a tight, excited squeeze. Her nod was quick but there was a moment of hesitation that did not go unnoticed by you. You tilted your head and cocked your brow with a silent question.

It’s nothing… just… what if he suddenly changes his mind? You, more than anyone, know how Mrs Weasley feels about our marriage.

She said, wiping a tear from under her eye and turning her gaze to her bouquet.

The sharp sound of a tsk escaped your lips, and you rolled your eyes.

He would never. He loves you, Fleur, no matter what his mother thinks. I think he made that pretty clear.

A laugh erupted from you both at the memory of the less-than-perfect engagement announcement that took place a few months ago. Which resulted in quite the argument between her fiancé and his mother prompting you to ask Fred and George for some distraction to break it up. Long story short, Molly had become so angry with the twins for their prank that her son’s engagement was long forgotten. Your laughs died down, and a beat of silence filled the air as you smiled at one another.

He loves you, Fleur… you’re getting married today!

An excited squeal leaks from your throat, and Fleur joins in.

Thank you, yn.

You hug each other once more before a knock is heard at the door. You call for the person to come in, separating from Fleur and watching as Hermione peaks inside.

It’s time.

She calls cheerily. You and Fleur give one last glance to each other before heading down the stairs, her first and you following behind, being careful of the dress train that is bundled in your hands to ensure she doesn’t fall.

—

You sat comfortably beside Fred during the ceremony. Your legs were crossed toward him, and his hand rested on your thigh. Your arm rested looped with his, and a gentle smile lay on both of your lips. Fred had been thinking about you all day. Preparing for this wedding had only fueled his desire to be married to you. He knew from the first day he met you that he loved you, and although some thought you got engaged too young, he just did not want to live his life without you as his wife any longer. The coming war was another reason for the prompt engagement. The thought of losing you terrified him. Not only that, but the thought of you losing him without knowing just how much he loved you broke his heart. You agreed to marry after Bill and Fleur, but as he sat there, watching his brother and Fleur smiling at each other at the altar, a wicked idea crossed his mind. He turned to you, smiling with adoration at your glowing appearance and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. Your attention was successfully drawn from the altar to him, and you met his eyes just as the minister announced it was time for the couple to exchange vows.

Please repeat after me...

The minister instructed Bill. Fred just continued to stare into your eyes as the minister spoke the vows for the groom to repeat. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the extended stare you were receiving from him. You could faintly hear the priest in the background, then just as Bill began to speak, Fred gently whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

I, Fred Weasley...

He started after gently clearing his throat, his eyes shining with mischievous happiness. You only continued to stare up in confusion at him.

Take you, yn ln, to be my wife...

Realization washed over you at what he was doing. He was marrying you. It may not be your wedding or an official ceremony, but at this moment, you and Fred were getting married. Your eyes began to mist, and your expression shifted from confusion to love. The voices of Bill and the minister suddenly became muffled as all you could focus on was Fred's gentle voice.

To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

He finished, his whispered voice cracking and a broad beaming smile spread on his face. You took a moment to compose yourself, gently wiping a fallen tear from your cheek, then met his eyes again as you heard Fleur begin to speak.

I, yn ln...

Fred began to tear up now, squeezing your leg even tighter, shifting in his seat slightly so that his full attention was on you as he fought to hold back tears.

Take you, Fred Weasley, to be my husband... To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

You finished smiling wide. A stray tear escaped Fred's eye as he looked at you, his wife. The love he felt was indescribable, and the happiness was overwhelming. You matched his smile, squeezing his bicep affectionately.

Really?

He asked, making you chuckle softly. This man couldn't believe that this was happening, that he got so lucky.

Yes, Really.

You reassured him.

By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!

The minister proudly proclaimed. Cheers from the wedding guests erupted throughout the tent, but you and Free paid no mind to it, wrapped too tightly into your own little world.

You may now kiss your bride!

The crowd stood as the Bill dripped Fleur into a loving kiss. You and Fred remained seated, and Fred was quick to react to those words, placing one of his hands on the back of your head and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Your lips moved in sync as the crowd around you cheered and celebrated, the two of you going completely unnoticed. After a long beat, Fred pulled away, staying close and looking deep into your eyes with the goofiest love-sicken smile. You were sure that yours matched.

I love you, Mrs. Weasley.

He declared quietly, in keeping with the private moment you just shared.

I love you too, Mr. Weasley.

You responded with a tear-filled giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you relishing in each other as man and wife.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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Slipped Up | Sam Loudermilk

Summary: You finally have a big break in your career and are excited to share it with your long-time boyfriend, Sam Loudermilk. Of course, his pessimism knows no bounds.

Warnings: Drinking, falling off the wagon, Sam being a dick, drunk reader.

Word Count: ~3578

—

Five years ago, you began drinking. You had just graduated with a Master's In Fine Arts and were excited to start your career. You applied to dozens of exhibitions, all of which denied you due to your art not being in line with the theme of their collection. Even after every rejection, you still relentlessly pursued your dream, creating new artworks, experimenting with new styles, and attending multiple exhibitions to develop community ties, but you were still rejected. Eventually, you decided to start from scratch, applying to smaller community-run shows to get your foot in the door, hoping you might finally be discovered. After several of these shows, your hopes began to dwindle. You wanted nothing more than to actually be an artist, but deep down, you were starting to feel that maybe you weren't good enough.

It was the last show you ever did that your drinking began. You were walking around aimlessly when you noticed a well-known artist looking at your work, his wife on his arm. Your excitement was unmatched, and you quickly made your way over to introduce yourself, but as you came up behind him, you heard the words that would crush you and any dreams you had left.

It's amateur work. I really don't understand what you see in it.

He scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. The wife just tutted and patted his arm.

All I said was it would look good in our bathroom, darling. I'm not saying it is incredible by any means. Trust me, I've seen incredible.

She jested. The two laughed and moved on from your display. To say you were devastated was an understatement. It was like all the air in your lungs was taken from you. The room suddenly went completely quiet and spun slightly. You were crying but didn't realize it until you felt the tears drip from your jaw. That's when you saw one of the waitresses holding a tray of glasses filled with red wine. You didn't want to drink initially, so your head was clear if someone wanted to discuss your work, but now? Screw it. The rest of the night was a blur. Every 20 minutes, you'd grab a new glass and down it, becoming increasingly more drunk. You didn't even remember how you got home. So, when you turned the news on the following day and saw yourself destroying not only yours but other people's art at the show the night before, you were shocked. That's when it began. You drank every day after that, putting down your brush in favour of the bottle. It went on for a few years before you finally hit rock bottom; you'd crashed an exhibition of the artist who had spoken harshly about your work years before. You didn't destroy anything in your drunken stupor this time; you only yelled a bit and poured wine on his head. Still, you spent the night in jail, and that is when you decided it was time to get clean.

—

It had been about three years since you joined your group. You were quiet initially, not wanting to share too much or relive the embarrassment of your drunken days. Sam, however, wouldn't let that slide for too much longer. After one of the meetings, you quickly collected your purse and scurried out of the church, not really wanting to stick around and talk. Sam quickly raced after you, stopping you from your escape and confronting you for your lack of participation. He could see the pain in your expression and softened, wanting to help you as best as he could. That day, Sam became your sponsor, and after a few months of midnight calls on those nights when you needed a drink and overnight stays when he was worried you'd slip, he finally made a move. Since then, the two of you have been together and nearly inseparable. He kept you grounded, and you provided a silver lining outlook he desperately needed and would never admit he enjoyed. So, when you got huge life-changing news, of course, Sam was the first person that you wanted to tell.

Sam! Sam, are you here?

You called enthusiastically as you barged into his apartment.

Nope!

Ben answered from the couch where he was watching TV.

Hi yn.

When you entered, he was eating a bowl of cereal but quickly put it on the table in front of him and turned in your direction.

Hi Ben. Do you know where Sam is?

You were desperate to see him and fill him in on the news. Ben only shook his head in response, his brows quirking in curiosity.

Uh no... I think he's with Roger or something. Why? What's going on?

He asked suspiciously. You couldn't hold it in anymore; you had to tell someone. Just then, Claire walked in, waving at you and pulling her earbuds out.

Hey yn. What's up?

She asked, noticing your buzzing state.

Ok. I can't hold it in any longer. I wanted to tell Sam first, but since he's not here and you two are, I'll just tell you.

You rambled. Ben stood from the couch, arms crossed and waiting intently.

I have been invited to participate in an exhibition at Core Gallery!

You squealed, tears brimming your eyes. Damn it, you didn't think you'd get this emotional. Ben and Claire cheered with you, engulfing you in a big group hug.

Holy shit, yn. That's awesome!

Claire said excitedly as you all pulled apart. Ben nodded along.

I'm so proud of you yn! You're an artist again! You did it!

Ben encouraged proudly. Now, your tears were really starting to cascade down your cheeks. He was right; you did it. You got sober, you started painting again, you put yourself out there, and now you are finally taking steps towards living your dream. Just as you were about to thank them, the door flew open, and Sam walked in, slamming it behind him. He was in that mood. He paused when he took in the sight in front of him, The three of you with broad smiles and you with tears in your eyes. His brows furrowed.

What are you girls smiling about?

He asked sarcastically. Ben and Claire rolled their eyes, and you just smiled, shaking your head.

Yn has some incredible news, asshole. We were celebrating.

Claire snapped. Sam just scoffed, putting his hands in his pockets.

Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood for celebrating, so you'll have to party without me. Keep it down.

He said dismissively, walking into the kitchen to get some coffee. Your smile faded instantly. He didn't even care to ask. When he came back, Ben stepped in front of him, smiled, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to stand in front of you.

Oh, come on, Sam. You're not even gonna ask her?

He asked, his tone light. Sam paused for a moment, taking in your appearance and nodded.

Ok, what are we celebrating?

He asked, but his tone was dismissive. You hesitated for a second before allowing yourself to feel the excitement you had earlier and letting him in on the news.

I have been invited to participate in an exhibition at Core Gallery.

Your voice didn't have the same enthusiasm the second time around, a detail not unnoticed by Claire and Ben. Sam stood there, processing what you said before he winced slightly.

You sure you're ready?

Your face fell. That's not what you were expecting. Sam was the one who told you to get back on the horse in the first place. He even helped you draft the application.

What the fuck Loudermilk?

Claire said sharply, looking between the two of you. Sam put his hands up in defence, then looked at Claire as if her response was unexpected.

What? I'm just being honest. That's a huge step. I just don't know if she's got what it takes, the people in those shows are pretty talented.

If you weren't upset before, you were crushed now. The show was in two days, and you couldn't back out; everything was already installed. When Sam noticed how your eyes began to water, but your expression wasn't the same joyful one he saw when he first entered. He panicked.

Oh! No, don't take it like that. I'm just saying with your past, it might not be the best idea to have your name out there; what if someone recognizes you and remembers what you did before? What if someone talks shit again? It's probably going to happen; I don't know if you're ready for that.

He tried to reason but was only making you feel worse. Ben was about to step in when you responded first.

Um, yeah. No, I get it. Thanks Loudermilk.

You said coldly. That took him aback; you never called him Loudermilk. You stormed out of the apartment without a second thought. Ben was quick to give Sam an angry look before chasing after you. Sam stood there baffled by your reaction and looked to Claire for answers.

You're a real asshole, you know that?

That was all she said before storming out as well, going back to her apartment across the hall and leaving the man there confused.

—

It was finally the night of the exhibition, your first exhibition, and you were a ball of nerves. Ben had tried his best to rebuild the confidence Sam had torn down, but his voice was still in the back of your mind, reciting those same hurtful words. You only invited Ben to the show, no longer wanting to share your accomplishments with anyone else, fearing they would be disappointed. Ben was beaming as he escorted you into the Gallery. You were smiling as well, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. You wanted it to be Sam whose arm yours was wrapped around. You brought Ben over to your part of the exhibition, and immediately, your eyes widened, and your body froze. You felt the blood drain from your face as you stared at the man looking at your art. He was unmistakable. It was the artist who started your drinking addiction, the man who harshly critiqued your artwork, the man who you poured wine on all those years ago. Ben noticed and immediately began to worry. You didn't say anything; you just slowly backed away, all sounds becoming muffled and overtaken by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You began to hyperventilate, and Ben tried his best to calm you down, but to no avail. Your eyes never left the man in front of you. He didn't even know you were there. You continued to back away and shook your arm free of Ben's grasp before sprinting away from him and out of the Gallery. Ben called after you and tried to follow but quickly lost you in the crowd. You found yourself running down the street as far as you could. Only stopping when you were completely exhausted. You took a moment to catch your breath and sobbed ugly, hard sobs as you did. When you finally composed yourself, you looked around at your surroundings. And there it was. Exactly what you wanted but exactly what you didn't need. A bar.

—

Sam had felt awful the last two days. He knew he was an asshole the night you told him about your exhibition; Ben and Claire made sure to remind him every second. He kept picturing your face, the way your expression fell after what he said. Why couldn't he just say congratulations? Why couldn't he just tell you how proud he was of you? He ran into his father that day and, because of it, was in a sour mood when you told him the news. He was too distracted by the shit in his life to realize that he was shitting all over yours. God, he was pissed at himself. He has been calling and texting you non-stop since the night you left but got no reply. He wanted to go to your show but never received an invite and felt like showing up unannounced after everything that happened would only make things worse. So he stayed home. He watched Ben get ready; he tried to ask where he was going, but he knew after a couple of deflections. He knew he was going to your show, and you asked Ben not to tell him about it. That hurt a lot because he knows it should be him getting ready to support you instead.

It had been a couple hours since Ben left. Sam just sat on the couch, staring at his phone with one of his records gently playing in the background. It was your favourite one. He was hoping you would text or call since he hadn't been able to build up the confidence to do so yet.

God damn it.

He sighed, tossing his phone on the couch. He stormed over to his room and began getting dressed. If he was going to talk to you, it would be in person, fuck the phone. Just as he was tying his tie, he heard his phone ring. He raced over to the couch, flipping it open and answering with a hurried hello.

Sam-

Sam rolled his eyes.

Jesus, Ben, I thought it was yn. Look, I'm coming to the Gallery. I don't care if you think it's a bad idea; I need to be there for her. Just keep her busy. I should be there soon. And don't tell her.

He demanded, holding the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, standing in front of a mirror to finish his tie. That's when he noticed Ben's panicked breathing.

Ben?

Sam asked after a pause.

Sam, I lost yn.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his heart speed up.

How do you lose a whole person, Ben?

He snapped sarcastically. He grabbed his blazer from the bed and ran to put on his shoes.

I don't know what happened! We got here, and she was fine, then she just freaked out!

Ben explained. Sam quickly made his way out the door, locking it behind him before sprinting down the stairs to hail a cab.

What happened? Did you try calling her?

He asked his tone a mix of panic and frustration.

I don't know Sam. I already told you that! She just froze up and ran, and I lost her in the crowd. We were in front of her art, and there were a couple of people there looking at it...

Sam hopped into the cab that pulled up in front of him and quickly told the guy the address.

Did you call her?

Sam demanded, losing his patience. Ben scoffed.

Yes, I called her. I'm not stupid, Sam.

Sam grumbled, his hand running over his face and through his hair. He was worried about you. He knew that what he said resonated with you and was scared that the pressure suddenly overwhelmed you when you got there. That's when a terrifying thought crossed his mind.

Excuse me.

He called up to the cab driver. The guy looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

Where's the nearest bar?

He asked shakily. That's when he heard Ben scoff through the phone.

She wouldn't do that.

He denied. Sam just sighed.

After all, I said and how she reacted tonight. I don't know, Ben...

Sam trailed off, his voice breaking slightly and his eyes becoming misty with guilty tears. The taxi driver listed off the names of a couple of places close to the gallery, and Sam asked that he take him to both places, not caring about the fee. He directed Ben to keep an eye out for you at the gallery and to call him if he finds you. The two men said their goodbyes and hung up. Sam was distraught. The idea of you drinking after being almost three years sober was killing him, and the fact that it was probably his fault only added salt to the wound.

—

You have been cradling the same beer bottle in your hand since you sat down at the bar. In the other was your two-year chip, the third only a couple of months away. Is it really worth throwing it all away? Sam was right; you weren't ready, and you weren't good enough. Tears had consistently flowed down your cheeks all night, and the loud music masked your hopeless sniffles. You wanted to drink desperately. You knew it would only take a few bottles to wash away the fear and sadness clouding your mind. So, you took a sip, and it felt good. So good that you took another. You hated how much you loved it. You took one last glance at your chip before tossing it into your coat pocket. Then you downed the bottle and ordered another.

—

Yn...

Sam said brokenly when he saw you. You had moved to a table in the corner of the bar, several empty bottles surrounded you. Your head was laid in your arms on the table, one hand in your hair, the other loosely clutching a half-empty bottle. Sam took a moment before approaching you, tugging at his hair with both hands and willing himself not to cry. He approached your semi-conscious form and pulled a chair up directly beside you. He took the bottle from your hands and moved a few stray hairs from your face so that he could see you. Taking in your beauty and cursing himself for hurting you.

Yn... Hey...

He called softly, shaking your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered before opening and meeting his. You stared up at him for a moment as if trying to discern if he was real.

Hey darling...

He said, sniffling and wiping his nose. You sat up slowly, groaning, pushing the hair back and out of your face. You took a moment to take in your surroundings and immediately smiled. That confused him. Why were you smiling?

Ha. I drank... I fucking Drank... Fuck...

Your cheerful tone quickly turned sour, and you buried your head in your hands as you began to sob.

Shit...

Sam muttered to himself, gathering you into a strong embrace and kissing the top of your head. He let a couple of tears flow down his cheeks as well.

You were right, Sam... I couldn't handle it... I wasn't ready... I-

No! No, I was not right, yn. You- You are incredible both as an artist and a person. You deserve to finally be recognized for that. I'm so incredibly proud of you for everything. For getting clean, getting back into your passion, reaching your goals and living your dream. I'm just too much of a self-centred asshole to admit it.

You sniffled. Clutching onto him.

I'm so sorry, yn. You didn't deserve the way I treated you the other day. I was just so caught up in my own shit I needed to make someone else feel just as shitty. I'm so sorry that it was you.

He pleaded. You took a moment to respond before pulling back to look into his eyes. His heart squeezed painfully at the sight of you. Your eyes were glossy from alcohol and puffy from crying. Your hair was slightly messy from all your toying with it. You looked so broken and weak.

I'm so fucking sorry, darling.

He reiterated. You nodded and sniffled.

It's not entirely your fault, Loudermilk.

He winced at the name, foreign to your lips.

He was there. That artist I freaked out at a couple of years ago was right there looking at my art again.

You admitted. Sam listened intently, his brows furrowing. He couldn't help but protectively tighten his grip on you.

What'd he say this time?

You just scoffed and wiped under your eyes.

I don't know. I ran as soon as I saw him.

You admitted, chuckling to yourself. Sam joined in with a hearty laugh, revelling in your smile.

Seriously?

The both of you laughed as you confirmed for him that it happened. Then it died down, and you looked around again.

I'm sorry, Sam...

Your voice cracked as you reached into your coat pocket to pull out your now meaningless chip. Sam watched with sad eyes as you spun it in your fingers. He was suddenly taken aback when you offered it to him.

I'm sorry. I fucked it all up.

Your voice wavered, and Sam quickly wrapped his hand around yours, holding the chip in the center of them.

No. You slipped up, and that's ok. You can always get back up again.

His cheesy group line made your lips twitch into a smile.

I'm sorry for being such a piece of shit as a boyfriend and as a sponsor.

His tone was solemn, and you nodded in acknowledgement.

It's ok...

Sam leaned in to kiss you, but you reacted quickly, placing your fingers between your mouth and his. Hurt flashed through his dark eyes.

I taste like booze.

He nodded in understanding, resorting to kissing you tenderly on your forehead.

Ok. When we get home then. Now, come on. The smell of this place is starting to get to me.

He joked, a gentle smile overtaking your expression. Causing one to rise on his own. He loved it when you smiled, and he was gonna make sure from this point on he would never do anything that would cause you to do anything but smile for the rest of your lives.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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Routine | Carmen Berzatto

Summary: Carmen has been really busy with work, which results in him not being home most nights, if not for the whole week. It’s been going on for months and slowly began to break you. It’s become a routine to feel disappointed by the man you love.

Warnings: really angsty and sad, nothing violent, just heartbroken reader.

Word Count: ~1173

—

This was routine, loneliness. If someone asked you to describe yourself in one word, it’d be alone. The worst part of it was that you weren’t really alone. You and Carmen had been dating for five years, and you’ve had your ups and downs, but you’ve never felt so alone in your relationship. Carmen had been so busy at the restaurant that he didn’t even come home sometimes. Date nights have been postponed so often that you both silently agreed to dismiss them. His side of the bed was cold and empty most nights unless you wrapped his shirt around his pillow to cuddle. You started becoming accustomed to the routine of this loneliness. You’d text each other like nothing happened, cherry and lighthearted until the end of the night. You’d ask if he was coming home, and he’d tell you he wasn’t. You’d just say “ok I understand” then you’d say goodnight to each other. This was routine.

But Christmas was coming, and he promised he’d be more available by then, but he still wasn’t home. You sat on the floor, fluffing the branches of the false Christmas tree you put up alone, trying your best to enjoy it. Carmen promised he would be home every weekend for the last three weeks to help you decorate, but something more important always came up. You knew he was stressed and wanted to support him, so of course, you said ok again. You knew being patient was what he needed, and you were proud of him, so why wouldn’t you be. But Christmas is in a month and your tree still isn’t done. Carmen knows how much you love Christmas, even if he isn’t really big into the associated traditions. He especially knew how much you loved decorating the tree. It was your favourite thing ever, and doing it with him made it all the more special. So you sat, fluffing, hopeful and waiting. Carmen said he’s coming home tonight, so you had to admit you were excited to finally do the tree together. You had Christmas music playing, the decorations pulled from storage, fresh Christmas cookies baked, and your comfiest pjs and socks on, ready for the night you’ve been waiting for. Then the phone rang.

Hello?

You answered cheerfully, not paying attention to the caller ID, too focussed on the tree.

Hey baby…

You heard Carmen’s voice chime through the phone. You were excited for a brief moment, but you knew better than to get your hopes up. His voice had a nervous snake to it, and deep down, you knew what was going to happen.

Hi Carmy... Are you on your way home?

You asked. You knew, but you asked anyway, hoping he’d hear the hopeful tone in your voice and come home just for you. He sighed.

Um, no, no, I’m not coming home tonight, baby. I’m sorry, but I have to get this shit done, and I just don’t have time right now.

He explained. You could tell he felt bad, but you were still upset. You were heartbroken, but you smiled through your tears and nodded even if he couldn’t see it.

Ok, carmy, It’s ok. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Just focus on getting it down so you can come home.

You said. You sounded cheery and nonchalant, something you’ve mastered the last few months this had been happening. You just wanted to be a good girlfriend, supportive and loving. Even if sometimes you felt he didn’t feel required to do the same for you.

I’m so sorry, baby. I know you were looking forward to tonight, but I just have to get this done. Jimmy and Sugar have been breathing down my neck about moving my ass.

He explained. You just listened, tears beginning to gather in your eyes. However, you kept up the facade.

I know, Carmy. I know. It’s okay; just do what you have to do. I’ll see you soon, ok? Maybe next weekend?

You suggested, your voice still not breaking. You heard Carmen sigh again.

Ok. Are you ok? I’m really sorry I can’t come home yet.

He said. It only hurt more.

Yeah, I’m ok, baby. Just do your work; I know you're busy.

You faked a chuckle. There was a pause.

I’m proud of you for working so hard, you know.

You said. It was empty, though; even if deep down you were proud of him, at that moment, you couldn’t care less.

Okay. Thanks, baby. I’ll let you know next weekend when I know more, okay? I have to get back to it, though. I love you. Goodnight.

He said in a rushed tone.

Night, love you too.

You said cheerily, then hung up. You just sat there for a few minutes, empty and emotionless. Then the dam broke. You threw your phone across the room in frustration, angry, heartbroken tears streamed endlessly down your cheeks, and you sobbed. Ugly, loud and broken sobs racked your body as you curled into a ball on the floor. You were mad, upset, disappointed, heartbroken and alone again. You hated Carmen at that moment. You hated him for pushing you aside and treating you like such garbage. You hated him for not being there or having the decency to put his work on hold for even just one night. You hated him for not loving you as much as you loved him and leaving you alone for months on end. Finally, you hated yourself. You hated yourself for allowing him to treat you this way. You hated yourself for letting this painful experience continue and saying nothing because you were afraid it was selfish or would upset him and drive him away. You hated yourself for being so passive and such a pushover. Most of all, you hated that you still had hope. That a part of you still was delusional enough to believe he’d make time for you. You were angry, broken, and alone, and you couldn’t even tell Carmen how you felt because you knew how stressed he was already, so you made yourself feel like you had to bottle it up. After an hour or so of crying on the floor and another hour of just lying there in silence, you stood. You looked at the unfinished tree and decided it wasn’t worth finishing. In fact, you looked at everything you had set up and decided it was all pointless. If he didn’t care and wasn't willing to put in the effort, why should you? You turned off the music, put away the cookies and turned off the lights before heading to your bedroom. You strip out of your comfy pjs and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top before falling into bed and crying yourself to sleep. This was routine. You’re alone, and you cry yourself to sleep. You’ve lost count of the nights and are surprised you still have tears to cry. You should’ve known. This was routine.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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School Fight | Peter Maximoff

Summary: Your oldest son Evan has started a fight at school, and you and Peter are called into a meeting with the principal about it. This fight ultimately leads to the decision to switch schools for the better.

Warnings: Mention of a black eye, the school system being a bit broken, angry Peter a bit

Word Count: ~2564

—

Your foot tapped anxiously as you sat outside the office of your eldest son’s principal. He’d gotten into serious trouble after starting a fight at school today, something he still hasn’t told you the reason for. He just sat beside you, eyes cast down to the floor and hands folded on his lap.

You should know better than that, Evan.

Peter reprimanded. He was standing in the middle of the hall in front of the boy with his hands on his hips. His nerves were shot, and he was getting frustrated by your son's lack of response and eye contact. Your arms were crossed over your chest, looking between Evan and Peter, pouting slightly at the angry bruise forming around your son's eye. You hadn’t said a word yet, seeing as Peter was doing most of the parenting for you right now.

You could have seriously hurt that boy, Evan.

Peter-

You tried cutting him off. You can see where he’s going with this and how he was beginning to lose control of his temper.

No, yn- he could’ve.

Peter snapped, gesturing to Evan. His eyes met yours before flicking back to his son's form. You heard a gentle sniffle from your side and turned to your son.

You have super strength, Evan… you know that, right?

No response, only another sniffle.

Right?!

Peter snapped a bit louder and more forceful.

Yes…

Evan cried out gently. That’s when you stepped in.

Ok, Pete, that’s enough.

You said, standing from your seat and moving between Peter and Evan. You knew he was scared; that’s why he was acting like this. He was scared of what could’ve happened if Evan hadn’t held back and of losing his son. You placed your hands on Peter's chest and looked into his anxious eyes.

He knows Peter. It’s ok. The other boy is fine, Evan held back. We should be proud of that. This isn’t helping.

You soothed. Peter just scoffed, shaking his head.

He could’ve really hurt that kid. He could’ve- he needs to know that.

He demanded. You just nodded.

He does. He knows. You told him plenty of times tonight. Why don’t you go for a walk, Pete, to cool off before we see the principal?

He was initially reluctant, but when he took a moment to analyze the look on your face, he knew it wasn’t a suggestion. He walked off with a nod and a final glance at his son. You watched him leave, and once he turned a corner, you returned to your seat beside Evan.

It’s ok, baby. Your dad's just scared.

He only sniffles in response, so you place a gentle hand on his back and rub soothing circles. After a moment, he leans into your side for contort.

Mr and Mrs. Maximoff?

The secretary calls out after opening the office door. Your head shoots up in her direction, and you offer a gentle smile, which she returns.

Right this way.

She guides you. You place a soft kiss on the top of your son's head, then stand from your chair.

I’ll be right back, baby.

You say before following the older woman. You quickly pull out your phone and text Peter that you're with the principal, to which he responds with a thumbs-up. You sit alone in the small, empty office across the desk from the chair the principal will occupy shortly.

Sorry babe.

Peter says as he enters the room, sits beside you, and grabs your hand; he is literally vibrating with nerves.

Hey… it’s gonna be ok, Pete.

You tried to soothe him, squeezing his hand. He looks at you and nods silently.

Sorry folks. I had to finish up some things really quickly. I'm sorry for the delay.

The principal said as he walked in, closing the door behind him. You both nodded as he sat across from you and opened a manilla file with your son's name on it.

So… Evan Maximoff.

He trailed off, reading the report.

He caused quite the disturbance today.

He said, folding his hands on the desk and looking between you and Peter. You nodded again.

Yes, we heard. We’re so sorry about that. We’re not sure what got into him.

You tried to explain nonchalantly. But your nerves were evident in the shake of your voice.

Yes well. None of us are; he refused to explain himself to anyone.

He explained. There was a silent pause before the principal went back to reading the file.

From what I can see, he’s a good kid.

He said, and you sighed in relief.

Good grades, all his teachers like him, active participant in school activities and the classroom.

The man went on, pointing out a few lines of text in the file.

Unfortunately…

He said, looking back at you and Peter.

Our school has a zero-violence policy, so this is a very serious matter that may force us to consider the possibility of expulsion.

He says. Your breath catches in your throat. Peter sits up and scoots forward in his seat.

I mean... Really? Like you said, he’s an awesome kid. Is expulsion really necessary? It’s his first offence ever. He’s in the 11th grade, and this will mess up his whole record.

He argued, trying his best to remain respectful.

I’m sorry, Mr. Maximoff, but I’m afraid-

There was a knock at the door, which cut the man off. He cleared his throat in annoyance and then announced a loud "come in." The door opened, and there stood your son. The secretary stood behind him.

I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Maximoff here wants to speak with you, she said, nudging the boy into the room and closing the door. Evan stood there for a moment and lifted his gaze.

I’m sorry, sir, for starting a fight today…

He said. The principal nodded.

But I had to.

He said strongly. The principal's browns scrunched curiously, Peter's head fell into his hands in hopelessness, and you just sat in shock.

Explain yourself, baby. Why?

You asked, knowing he’d be kicked out of school if he didn't.

I did it for Sebastian and Franklin.

He said hesitantly, looking at you. Peter lifted his head, looking at the boy. Now, your brows mimicked the principals.

Sorry… who?

The principal asked.

Our twin boys. They’re in 9th grade here this year.

You explained quickly, waving him off. More interested in what your son had to say.

What’re you talking about, Evan?

Peter asked.

They didn't want me to say anything, but they’ve been getting picked on every day for the last two months by some meathead jocks.

He explained angrily.

They shove them into lockers, knock their books out of their hands, and slap the backs of their heads in class. They just torture them, and it’s not ok.

He seethes, his witheld frustrations coming to light.

Then Ryan, that kid I fought with today, broke Seb’s glasses. He pushed him so hard that he fell to the floor, and his glasses flew off. Ryan stomped on them. Franklin tele—I mean, he came to find me, but by the time I got there, Seb was curled into a ball on the ground as Ryan kicked him.

He explained. Your mouth hung open in shock, and Peter's jaw was clenched in anger. You stood from your chair and went to hug your son, to which he hugged you back firmly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. His overwhelming emotions that he was forced to hide out of loyalty to his brothers finally overtook him. Peter turned to the principal.

I thought there was a zero-tolerance policy for violence? Where are the boys who have been torturing my son for the last few months?

He demanded respect be damned when someone messed with his family. The principal clears his throat nervously, playing with his hands.

Yes, well, we do, but unfortunately, no staff members witnessed this. However, there are members of staff who witnessed your son fight-

Oh please...

Peter scoffed, standing.

You’re telling me, with all those security cameras I saw lined up in the halls, you have no evidence of this? I know they’re on! I saw the blinking red light!

He shouts, gesturing angrily with his hands.

Yes, we do have cameras-

So check them! My son does not deserve to be punished for standing up to bullies who have been violating your zero-violence policy for months.

He demands, and Evan pulls away from you to stand by his dad. Peter turns to him.

I reported it, Dad. Like a hundred times but it wasn’t getting fixed. I couldn’t just let Frank and Seb be tortured.

He explained. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and turned back to the principal, pointing at Evan with his other hand.

Is that true? Did he tell you?

The principal began to stutter and closed the file which held the incriminating evidence against his lack of action.

I do faintly recall-

And you did nothing?

You chimed in, upset by the blatant lack of regard for the well-being of your kids.

Uh- well. I- I mean- I’ll tell you what, Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff. I’m going to do a full investigation. I will check the tapes and get a proper report from your boys.

He tried desperately to amend the situation.

And Evan?

You asked, worried about his status at school.

How about a three-day suspension?

He offered. You and Peter looked at each other and then at Evan, all coming to a silent agreement.

Alright, that's fine. But I want this removed from my son's permanent record and investigated.

Peter said, pointing at the man. He hesitated but agreed to it nonetheless.

Alright. Then I think we’re done here. Come on, Evan, let’s go.

Peter said, as you sprung from your chair and wrapped an arm around your son. You and Evan were the first to leave the office and just as Peter turned to follow he heard him call out.

Mr. Maximoff.

Peter turned back with an unimpressed glare. The principal didn't wait to continue, clearing his throat before he did so.

I do promise to investigate this matter further but there is still the matter of the damages.

He hesitantly explained, Peter's glare turned confused.

What damages?

The principal pulled a photo from Evan's folder depicting three lockers that were badly bent and dented out of shape.

Your son threw one of the boys into these lockers and the cost to repair and replace is going to be quite hefty.

He explained. Peter approached the desk, picking up the images and scanning them over quickly. He knew Evan tried his best to hold back but could see that he still was struggling with control. Peter knew this couldn't be argued against and to be honest, he was ok with taking responsibility for the damages caused by his son's mutation. Especially in this case. But it was going to be expensive there was no doubt about that. He placed the photo back onto the desk and nodded up at the principal.

Ya ok, I can cover that...

Just as he went to pull out a cheque from his wallet a business card caught his eye. Xavier's business card and an idea crossed his mind.

Actually...

He pulls out the card reading it over and thinking about it before looking up at the expecting principal and holding it out for him.

This is my father-in-law's card. He'll cover the cost, just reach out to him and he'll take care of it.

The principal pondered for a moment, but after remembering the earlier events nodded in agreement and took the card before bidding farewell to Peter, who returned it with a short wave and left. Peter wasn't wrong of course, Xavier not only loved his grandchildren but was also fiercely invested in their protection and the development of their mutation, he would absolutely cover the cost without hesitation. As he walked back to the car Peter thought more about everything that happened today and all that he learned. You and he decided years ago you wanted to give your kids a normal life and would take on the responsibility of training their skills without the assistance of your father. Maybe that wasn't a good decision in the long run, especially after seeing the struggles his kids were going through and how out of place they seemed to be. That's when he made a decision for the good of his kids and family, all he had to do was break it to you.

—

Peter sat in the car silently for a moment before turning in his seat to face you and even.

Listen bud- um- I’m sorry about how I went off on you in there…

Peter apologized and Evan just sat and listened.

I was just… worried about you and about losing you. I know you're trying to control your mutation, and you're learning how to hold back, but- I don’t know- I still worry.

He admits shamefully.

It’s ok, Dad. It’s your job. I know you didn’t mean it.

Evan says understandingly, offering a smile to which his father nods and returns.

I’m proud of you, baby. For standing up for your brothers like that when no one else would. We both are.

You said, reaching out to rub Peter's arm.

Thanks, Mom.

Evan responded teary-eyed. Your eyes were beginning to get misty as well. You all sat silently for a moment, taking in all that had just happened before Evan broke it.

Listen, baby, I was thinking...

You said hesitantly staring at Evan.

How would you feel if maybe we changed it up a bit?

You asked, taking a glance at Peter to see his reaction as well. He was shocked a bit, but mostly relieved that you shared the same sentiments as him. Evan sat there in thought for a moment.

Yeah... Yeah, that could be good. For you and your siblings. Maybe go somewhere a bit... more accepting?

Peter hoped you understood his vague suggestion and was relieved when he saw you nod in agreement. Evan looked between the two of you confused.

What do you mean?

You turned back to your son.

We're gonna enroll you in your grandfather's school. I think it's best for all of you to go there and for your grandfather to take the reins on your training.

You admitted kind of defeated. Peter could hear it in your tone. You of course felt like a failure in that moment, after trying so hard it didn't work and you had to run back to Daddy for help. Peter reached out and grasped your hand squeezing reassuringly, he felt the same. But the way Evan's eyes lit up had you feeling like this was a good decision.

Really?

He was so hopeful. He of course knew what the school was and what his grandfather did, always asking if he could go there instead of public school. The excitement he felt was overwhelming.

Yeah baby, really.

You agreed, Peter nodding along. Evan thanked you a hundred times, his previous sour mood now replaced with utter joy. You and Peter couldn't help but feel slightly excited as well, and you spent the whole drive home prepping Evan for what to expect and figuring out how to tell his siblings.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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Run To You | Peter Maximoff

Part 3 / 3

Part 1 , 2

Summary: Peter is keeping away from you to keep you and your baby safe, but it's killing him. Vision comes to question him about you and then helps you regain control of your memory. You go to find and reunite with the man you love.

Warnings: pregnant reader

—

It had been a few days since Peter had seen you, and it was killing him. Wanda was keeping you away from him, and he knew it. He could see how angry she was on her face. That night, you became lucid only briefly and got under Wanda’s skin. After she guided you out of the house and closed the door, he didn’t miss how she scowled at him as she walked back to the kitchen.

Stay away from her if you want them safe.

She whispered into his head menacingly. Since then, he’s basically been on house arrest, living with some lady named Agnes.

Oh, Petey! How’re you doing today, you little sourpuss?

She called as she entered the attic. He was lying on an old couch, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was racing, but he felt so empty. He couldn’t get that night out of his head. He was so worried about you that warning scared him. He just wanted to keep you and your son safe, but he knew to do that he had to abide by Wanda’s wishes and stay away, no matter how much it hurt.

Owh...

Agnes tutted, pouting at the site of him. Dried tear stains on his cheeks, eyes puffy and red, laid out on the couch where he hadn’t moved in hours.

Still being a big ol’ crybaby, I see.

She teased. He just sniffled and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.

What do you want, Agnes?

He asked hollowly. She just scoffed and went over to the couch. She grabbed his feet and tossed them on the floor, causing him to turn abruptly into a sat-up position.

Hey what the fu-

His sentence was immediately caught in his throat when he saw who stood in the doorway behind Agnes.

Oh, should I have mentioned that first… whoopsie.

Agnes said sarcastically, pointing to the figure.

Are you Pietro Maximoff?

Vision asked, approaching him. Peter could only stare, mouth agape and eyes full of anxiety.

I- um- ya. Ya, totally robo-bro. What’s up?

Peter said shakily, hesitantly rising from his place on the couch and landing a gentle, playful punch to visions shoulder. Then there was silence. Peter watched as vision stared into his eyes as if trying to read his mind, but he didn’t feel any familiar pokes like when the professor did it. Finally, Agnes cleared her throat.

Alright, well, I think you got this handled; I’m just gonna leave you, girls, here to chat. I gotta go give somebody a one-way ticket to doggy heaven.

She said this quickly and then left the attic, but neither acknowledged nor even really heard her. Once she left, Vision spoke again.

I’m only going to ask you this one more time... Are you pietro Maximoff?

He was stern but not angry. Peter was scared. It was obvious Vision knew something, and he wasn’t sure if he should be honest or play his given part, knowing making a mistake could hurt you and your baby.

I- I’m not...

He whispered shakily. Keeping Visions gaze.

I- I’m Peter Maximoff. I’m- I’m uh- I’m from another d- dimension.

He stuttered, unsure of if he made a mistake.

Who is yn to you?

Vision asked. Peter took a shakey breath.

My uh- my wife. Her name is yn Maximoff. We’ve been m- married for three years. She’s preg- pregnant with our s- son.

He explained, deciding to stick with honesty. Vision only frowned.

Why are you here?

We’re not here to like- hurt you or- or Wanda or your uh- your sons. We were s- sent here. We’re part of a uh- team of mutants. We’re called X-men. We’re just- just investigating this place.

He pleaded. Vision took a moment to think.

Why were you so disturbed upon seeing your wife the other night?

He asked and sat on the couch, gesturing for Peter to join him. Peter suddenly felt more relaxed, like he had passed a test. He was still nervous that if he messed up, it’d put his family in danger, but he also felt Vision wanted to actually have a conversation. He sat down, rubbing his palms on his thighs, then joined his hands and looked at the floor. He spoke.

She’s not supposed to be here...

He admitted. Vision just listened.

We heard of this place and the insane amount of power going into it about half a year ago. I just found out yn was pregnant, and we were so happy.

Peter said, smiling at the memory.

We talked about it, the X-men. We tried to research it from our dimension because the professor was worried that whoever was controlling it would jump to our dimension and pose a danger to us since it was like a shit ton of power. He wanted to take "preventative" action.

He explained, making air quotes with his fingers and looking at vision, who nodded, encouraging him to continue. He turned back to the floor.

Anyway, the power in this place was off the charts, like nothing we’d ever seen, and the professor was worried, so we did everything we could to look into it from our dimension. Eventually, the professor decided it wasn’t enough and wanted to send one of our people here to look into it in person and report back anything we found.

Peter paused and took a shaky breath.

It was supposed to be her...

He admitted looking to Vision, lips pressed together.

Yn was supposed to come. Her mutation is more compatible with the type of power used here, and the professor said she would get the best results the fastest.

He said, his eyes tearing up again.

He sent her here? In her condition?

Vision asked, taken aback for a moment by this professor's lack of compassion. Peter shook his head, turning back to the floor.

No. I wouldn’t let him. At the time, she was almost 5 months pregnant. Just started to show. There was no way in hell I would let her go on this mission in her condition. I didn’t want my family at risk.

He said, jabbing a thumb in his chest and meeting Vision's eyes.

The professor offered to send me with her. I said no I don’t want her going at all. The professor said no, she has to go; she knows about this shit better than anyone.

Peter rambled.

Finally, I said. She’s not going. That’s final. I don’t want my pregnant wife going to another dimension that is this unknown. I’ve been with her for six years. I know about this stuff; she’s taught me. Send me.

Peter said strongly.

So he did...

He finished and Vision nodded.

Why is she here if you demanded otherwise?

He asked, and Peter scoffed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

I should’ve known better. She’s always been stubborn. Never one to listen to me, or anybody for that matter.

He chuckled.

I don’t know how she got here or when she got here, but that night was the first time I’d seen her in two months.

He cried at the thought head in his hands. Vision just watched with a frown

She's not supposed to be here. She was supposed to be home. Where they’d be safe.

He cried, gesturing forward with his hands.

And I just- I saw that look in her eyes. That empty look. She wasn’t herself, she wasn’t dressed like herself, she didn’t talk like herself. She was-

He cut himself off from continuing. Vision looked on intently, but Peter wasn’t sure if he should continue. Fuck it.

She was under Wanda’s control.

He finally said. Vision was taken aback.

Then we were on the couch, and she remembered me. She called me Pete and told me we were having a baby boy. She let me touch her belly, hold her, kiss her, and… I had her back.

He cried smiling.

Then Wanda came into the room, and she was gone again. And after she left for the night, I heard Wanda in my head. She warned me, saying, "Stay away from her if you want them to be safe."

His tone suddenly turned scared, and he pointed to his head frantically.

So I’ve been here, keeping away, making sure my family is safe in the only way I can think of.

He finished. Vision just sat there as Peter cried. He didn’t know how to comprehend everything he had just been told. He waited for Peter's crying to ease up before speaking again.

Thank you, Peter.

He said, rising from his spot on the couch. Peter followed him with his eyes.

You’ve been most helpful.

He said, exiting the room. Leaving Peter sat there, mouth agape, staring at the now shut attic door. He suddenly felt sick. He was absolutely terrified that he’d done something wrong and worried beyond belief for the well-being of his wife and son.

—

You were humming quietly to your baby bump. Wanda was in the kitchen, and the twins were in their room. You were sat in the living room watching your baby bump stretch with every kick your son landed in response to your humming and giggling quietly to yourself.

Yn...

Vision calls gently as he enters the room, pulling in your attention. You smile widely.

Hello, vision. Come here!

You greeted him and waved him over. He listened and came to sit at your side. You grabbed his hand and put it on your bump.

Watch this...

You giggled and began humming again. It didn’t take long for your baby to respond with a kick, and you giggled again.

He’s quite the dancer.

Vision joked with a smile, and you nodded. He pulled his hand away, folding them on his lap.

I would like to talk with you about your husband.

Vision said bluntly. It made your smile falter and stopped your humming. You loosely hugged your bump and nodded.

Ok...

It’s not that you didn’t like talking about him. It was just a painful topic.

Who is your husband?

He asked, and you laughed like it was an obvious answer he should’ve known.

Oh, come on. You remember him. He used to attend Mommy and me classes with us.

You explained simply.

No yn. Who is he?

He insisted, causing you to frown. You thought about it for a moment, but all you could remember were those classes, and even those felt like a dream. You couldn’t remember a name, a personality, or a face.

Um- I don’t know- I- I- think I’m getting confused again.

You said nervously, laughing. Vision shook his head.

When did you find out you were pregnant?

He asked. And you paused again. You had no idea. You began to panic, your breathing picking up slightly. You wanted so badly to remember something... Anything.

I don’t know...

You whispered, your head beginning to pound. Vision watched as your eyes darted across the floor as if physically searching for an answer to Vision's questions.

Why did you come to Westview?

After a moment, he finally asked. His tone was serious. It was like he wasn’t asking you conversationally but rather pushing for the answer, demanding it. You tried your hardest to remember what you were doing here. When you got here. Nothing came to mind besides a memory of your husband saying you should move there. But it felt so wrong, so fake, like it was planted there, which sent you spiralling.

Vision, I’m going to Agnes’ for an hour or so. I’ll be back shortly. The boys are in their room, and lunch is on the stove.

Wanda said cheerfully. He responded by standing and giving her a quick goodbye kiss, hoping she wouldn’t notice her best friend regaining her self-control. He said, guiding her to the door.

Oh, yn would you like to come?

Wanda quickly asked, but Vision moved between Wanda and yourself again.

Darling, yn and I are engaging in a rather enjoyable discussion regarding existentialism. I’d prefer to continue it.

Vision explained, and Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes and moving to the door.

Oh, you big thinkers. Alright, I’ll let you get back to your oh so important discussion.

She said teasingly, and Vision smiled, opening the door for her.

Thank you, darling. Have fun.

He said, and she quickly waved to yn before heading out the door.

Vision...

Yn called desperately from the couch. He closed the door, turning back to yn He quickly responded to her call by sitting back beside you and comfortingly rubbing soothing circles on your upper back.

Vision, my head feels like it’s going to explode. I think I’m going to be sick.

You whined, grabbing your head as tears rapidly ran down your cheeks. You didn’t remember anything but a simple fabricated backstory. The more you tried, the worse your head pounded and spun.

It’s alright, yn. Keep going.

Vision encouraged. Going where? What does he want from me?

Who are you?

He asked, pulling your hands from your head and placing his in their place. Looking directly into your terrified, tear-filled eyes.

Who are you?

He asked again, the stone embedded on his forehead glowing slightly. Then it all came flooding back. Memories of Peter, your wedding, the X-men, the X-mansion, the mission. Your whole life returns in a tidal wave of emotion. He could see that you remembered. He saw how your eyes suddenly shone with a light that hadn’t been there previously, a missing consciousness because of his wife. Your breathing was ragged, and you pulled back from him, looking frantically around the house. Confused and scared.

Who the hell are you?!

You spat, but your voice gave away the fear you hid behind a brave facade.

Where am I?!

You demanded, yelling and slowly standing from your place on the couch. A protective hand on your bump.

My name is Vision. You must be yn Maximoff.

He said cautiously, slowly extending a hand to you. You looked down at the hand and then at his eyes, a frown settling on your brow.

How do you know me?

You asked. Vision retracted his hand and cleared his throat.

I am an acquaintance of your husband, Peter Maximoff.

He explained. The frown disappeared from your face, replaced by a look of shock and relief as your mouth fell agape. Vision suddenly felt his mind being poked and prodded.

Are you reading my mind?

He asked curiously, not concerned by the blatant disregard for his privacy but intrigued. The sensation stopped, and your mouth snapped closed.

No. I can’t read minds.

You said.

I’m reading your life.

You explained. Vision frowned and gestured, encouraging you to elaborate.

I can tap into your experiences, past, future, and present, like jumping through a timeline.

You said cautiously. He was impressed. He had to admit that kind of power fascinated him.

Is that all you can do?

He asked, and you shook your head.

I can manipulate memories, force you to relive them and make false ones. My mutation is reminiscent of what you would call divination magic in this dimension... Where’s Peter? Take me to him.

You demanded. Vision took a moment to comprehend all he’d been told, then considered your request.

I will take you to him.

He agrees, and you release a sigh.

But first, I must tell you all you have missed. He said, sitting on the sofa and gesturing to the spot beside him. You hesitated, but eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, and you joined him, eager to listen.

—

His foot was tapping. No, it was racing. Since vision left, it hadn’t stopped moving. He didn’t know what to do or if he did something wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing. Vision seemed so open to wanting to see the truth, and when he left, he was angry. Or was he? Peter couldn’t remember, and he’d gotten to that point where his mind was making stuff up. Maybe Vision wasn’t angry. Maybe it was a test, and he failed, and now vision was going to hurt you just like Wanda had warned. God, his whole body started to buzz at the thought. His first instinct was to race to you before vision found you, grab you, and take you as far away from this place as possible. He decided against it, though, when he really thought about it. He knew nothing about this place or the power that controlled it. For all he knows, Wanda could already hear him planning and be preparing to interfere before he even has the chance. It’s safest to stay. Especially if she’s watching him, he doesn’t know the extent of her power and doesn’t want to test it. Maybe you should’ve come originally. You probably would have already gathered all the data you could and been home. But he came, and now it’s been two months, and you're here being mind-controlled. It was his fault you’re in danger. He began to cry again. He was drowning in his fear, sadness, and guilt. His brain and sobs were so loud he didn’t hear the footsteps racing up the stairs or the attic door being opened. He didn’t hear your soft, broken gasp at the sight of him or your gentle but urgent steps toward him. But he heard your voice as you kneeled before him and felt your touch as you reached for him.

Pete...

You called concerned. His head shot out of his hands, and his eyes met yours. He was frozen for a second, stunned that you were here and that you remembered him. The moment your palms cradled his face, he fell off the couch to his knees on the floor in front of you and pulled you into a tight, desperate hug. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his neck and raking your hand through his hair.

Baby, I’m ok... We’re ok...

You consoled concerned. Rubbing your hand up and down his upper back. He just squeezed tighter, burying his face in your neck, crying. He was so relieved that he fell apart in your arms.

I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.

He whispered like a chant, over and over. You just shook your head, pulling back. He reluctantly let you go, and you cupped his face again, using your thumbs to wipe his tears. You shushed him.

It’s not. It’s not your fault. I came here of my own will, and Wanda took control of my mind. You didn’t do anything wrong.

You explained, and he shook his head.

I did! I left you there! I hid! I stayed away! I wanted to grab you and run, but I was a coward!

He cried, and you smiled sadly at him.

Vision explained everything. You did it to protect me. To protect us.

You said, taking his hand with one of yours and guiding it to your belly. His fingers spread as soon as he felt it under his palm. Wanting to feel it as much as possible to assure himself you both were ok.

It’s ok Pete...

You comforted him. Rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. His breathing began to slow, and his cries stopped. A stray tear sneaks out every now and then.

If you came originally like Charles wanted, none of this would’ve happened.

He said, looking at your belly.

You don’t know that. This is bigger than any of us thought. If I had come, I might have been stuck here. Under Wanda’s spell. Unable to break out because I didn’t have you.

You explained. Your silver lining outlook not going unnoticed by him. It’s one of the reasons he fell for you. You could always find the positive in any situation. He smiled gently, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a crushing kiss full of love and desperation. You were surprised, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into him. Missing this physical contact you’ve been deprived of for the last two months. When you finally pulled away for breath, your foreheads were pressed together, and you smiled lovingly at each other. You were happy to have found your husband. Safe. Alive. And he was happy to have you back in his arms, relieved you and his son were finally where you’d be safest. With him.

—

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Run To You | Peter Maximoff

Part 2 / 3

Part 1 , 3

Summary: It's just an average day in Westview. Wanda invites you to dinner, and when you show up, you are greeted by an unfamiliar guest, but he seems to recognize you.

Warnings: Pregnant reader

—

It was a beautiful day, but when isn’t it. You loved Westview. You have since you and your husband moved here so many years ago. He used to say it was the perfect place to start a family. He was right of course, he usually was after all. And when you discovered you were pregnant, you were just so happy over the moon. He read all the baby books and used to go to all of your mommy and me classes with you. He was so excited to be a dad. That’s what made his death even more heartbreaking. He’d never meet the child he was just so excited to love. You were alone now. You read all the books you didn’t have to before because he had attended classes by yourself, keeping your gaze down and away from the curious eyes of the other couples who had noticed his absence. One couple in particular took a special interest in you. The woman especially, like she understood you and wanted to be there to give you any support you needed. That’s how you met Wanda. She approached you as you sat alone in that class and struck up a conversation. She asked about your husband, and you reluctantly told her everything, reliving all of the pain. She gave you a sympathetic look and listened as you spoke until you had nothing to say. You then both talked about your pregnancies and your anxieties about it, and from then on, it was an inseparable bond.

Here yn, I got you a little something for the baby.

She said excitedly, interrupting your thoughts. You were sat outside a cute little cafe, your usual hangout spot, having a small lunch. She smiled brightly, handing you a bag with a bow on it. It wasn’t anything special—an old diaper bag full of clothes that her sons used to wear when they were babies—but you were grateful nonetheless.

Oh, Wanda, this is too much. Thank you!

You said, gently placing everything back in the bag and lowering it beside you on the ground.

Oh, it’s nothing. The boys are 12 now, so I have no need for that. Besides, your baby should be here soon, so you’ll need it more than I will.

She brushed off, taking a sip of her coffee. It was hard to believe her twins were already 10. It felt like only yesterday day you were in mommy and me classes excitedly talking about when your babies would be born-

Wait 12? But I’m still pregnant. How are her kids 12?

You suddenly thought to yourself. Your mind was absent of explanation, and a terrifying sense of confusion overtook you.

Where am-

So when are you going to tell me the gender?

She asked.

What-

You said breathlessly, taking a moment to look around and see if you recognize your surroundings.

Are you alright yn?

Wanda questioned, placing her coffee on the table. Her tone wasn’t the type of concern one would have for a friend's well-being but rather of interrogation. Then it was quiet. Your mind was quiet like someone snapped their fingers and brought you back from your confused state.

Yn.

She calls out bluntly with a straight face. You take a moment to compose yourself before gently shaking your head and chuckling.

Yes. Sorry, Wanda, I don’t know what happened. What were you saying?

You say, bringing your hand up to rub your temple.

I told you those pregnancy hormones are crazy.

She laughed, and you joined in, dropping your hand down to rub your belly.

Never mind. You must come for dinner tonight; the boys would love to see you!

She pushed, and of course, you couldn’t say no. You loved the Maximoff twins.

You know I’ll be there. How could I refuse?

You said and she laughed along with you. You both continued your conversation, enjoying the rest of your lunch date.

—

I’ll get it!

You heard Wanda yell from inside the house, and then the door flew open, and you were met with your best friend. She looked exhausted but smiled and welcomed you in.

Are you ok, Wanda? Are the boys driving you crazy again?

You chuckled lightly after you walked into the house, then turned back to her as she shut the door and turned to you with an exhausted but amused sigh.

No. My brother just surprised me by coming to town.

Your brows furrowed.

Your brother?

She nodded and began heading to the dining room. Waving for you to follow.

Yes. Pietro.

She said sternly as you approached the table and saw him messing around with the twins. The tone immediately got his attention, and he focused on the two of you. That dull headache was creeping back, and you couldn’t pinpoint why, but you began to feel an odd sense of familiarity, relief and fear. Pietro just stared at you. Mouth agape. His eyes flick between yours, your baby bump and Wanda. You couldn’t place the look, but it scared you. You suddenly felt very unsafe, and the pounding in your head slowly began to grow.

Pietro. Don’t stare.

Wanda joked suddenly, but it was demanding. She guided you to your chair, and you wore a fake grateful smile as you tried to work through this episode of confusion and fear that you’ve now experienced twice today. You didn’t want to worry anyone. Pietro intently watched as you sat down. It was almost protective, and then he looked toward Wanda. There was a brief pause before he cleared his throat.

Hey, she's hot.

He joked, shrugging, but his voice shook. Wanda shook her head with a chuckle.

Oh, don’t mind him. You’d think with that super speed you’d be quicker and less obvious when ogling at girls.

Everyone at the table laughed. Your head was pounding though—the same as before but worse. You tried to ignore it, hiding it behind empty laughs and quick smiles.

Peter.

A voice suddenly spoke in your head. It was your voice, but it felt like it came from a past life or a different version of you.

Peter.

It said again, and you tried to gently shake it off. This caught the attention of both Wanda and Pietro.

Peter.

It said louder, and you raised your hand to softly massage your temple.

Yn?

Wanda questioned, but you couldn’t respond. It felt like your head was going to explode.

Yn, are you alright?

She demanded, trying her best to sound concerned. Your breath began to pick up

Yn. Yn. Yn. That’s you. But who are you? What’s your last name. Peter. Peter. Peter. Who the hell is Peter. Why do I know that name? I don’t know Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. My husband. It was my husband's name, Peter. Peter what. Peter. Peter. Peter. Max-

Yn!

Wanda and Peter yelled at the same time, one concerned, the other angry. Your mind was quiet. The headache was gone, and the terrifying episode of confusion had ceased once again. You slowed your now racing breath and shook your head, letting out breathy chuckles.

Oh god. Sorry, Wanda. Just these pregnancy hormones getting to me again. Now I’m sorry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pietro. You must excuse my rudeness. This baby is really messing with my mind.

You laughed, and everyone laughed with you. It felt like a scene from a sitcom. Everyone laughed except Peter, who looked at you concerned.

I told you about those hormones. They drove me absolutely crazy, too.

Wanda said and began diving into her dinner.

Are you sure you’re ok yn?

Peter insisted. His eyes not leaving you. You couldn’t tear yours from his. They felt so familiar, and you just got lost in them.

You wouldn’t understand these things, Pietro. You’re a man.

Wanda teased, tearing your attention back to her. You laughed at her witty banter and dug into your meal. Pietro's concern and your episode were completely forgotten.

—

Yn, please. You know you don’t need to do that.

Wanda insisted, grabbing the dishes from you and placing them beside the sink for vision to wash.

Please just go sit. Relax. You’re too pregnant to be helping.

She chuckled, gently nudging you into the living room.

But Wanda, it’s no big deal. It’s the least I could do.

You sighed But didn’t resist her, knowing it would be pointless.

No. The least you could do is relax. Vision and I have this handled. Go sit down with the boys in the living room.

She said in a playfully stern manner, crossing her arms. You rolled your eyes dramatically with a smile and rubbed your belly.

I’m only pregnant. It’s not like it’ll hurt to help.

You joked, and she smiled.

Yes, but you're seven months in now. Go sit down, and let me know if Pietro bothers you anymore.

She said before turning back to help Vision with the dishes. You made your way to the living room. The boys, including Pietro, were playing a video game, and the sound of you walking in grabbed their attention. While the twins only gave quick glances, not wanting to jeopardize their game, Pietro watched carefully as you guided yourself onto the couch.

Uncle Pietro, we’re losing! Pay attention!

Billy whined, smacking his uncle's bicep, drawing his attention back to them abruptly.

Uh...

He stuttered, then snapped back into character.

Sorry, kiddos, your uncles got some business with the pretty lady.

He said nonchalantly, then briskly unplugged his controller and sped to sit beside you. The twins let out some quick whines and protests but it didn’t last long as they immediately got immersed back into the game.

Hey there beautiful.

Pieter greeted in a flirty tone.

Hey there, brother of my best friend.

You said, not looking away from the twins and rubbing soothing circles on your belly. You couldn’t see it, but Pietro was watching you do so with a loving, sad smile.

Yn?

He asked, his eyes flicking back to your face. You hummed in response.

Ya. Nice to meet you, Pietro.

You said, turning to offer him a kind smile, which he weakly returned. For some reason, his eyes were misty.

I’m sorry about how rude I was earlier during dinner. I didn’t mean to ignore you if you were talking to me. My mind has been fuzzy recently.

You explained, and he gently nodded.

I bet...

He said under his breath, causing your smile to falter slightly and a frown to show on your brow.

Excuse me?

You asked. He cleared his throat and gestured to your belly.

Oh, uh- The pregnancy and all. Wanda was saying she felt crazy sometimes because of how forgetful she’d get.

He laughed nervously. And your smile returned as you nodded.

So Wanda said you're seven months along now?

Pietro asked, looking at your baby bump. You nodded, looking down at it as well.

Yeah, I'm getting close to the end now. I'm starting to get nervous. Thankfully, I don’t have to do it alone, though. Your sister is such a saint.

You explained, and Pietro frowned as you met each other's eyes.

My husband died a few months ago. I was alone, but Wanda took me in and offered to help me out.

You explained; Pietro looked shocked and was he upset?

That’s the story she gave you?

He said it breathlessly, teary-eyed, and you frowned. Before you could ask anything more, a strong kick interrupted your thoughts, causing you to hiss. Pietro jumped slightly and made a movement to help.

Are you ok?

He sounded panicked, looking between your bump and face, and you laughed, rubbing the top of your belly where the kick landed.

Ya. He’s just kicking.

You said with a smile. Pietro calmed and sat back in the chair, and a look of shock washed over him. He really did look like he wanted to cry. But why?

He? It’s a boy?

He asked, his voice cracking and a watery smile making its way to his face. You felt yourself becoming a bit cautious, his behaviour weirding you out, but still, you kept the conversation light.

Ya, I found out, um- I found out. When did I find out?

You asked yourself. But I brushed it off to avoid unravelling in front of Pietro again.

Sorry, I can’t remember.

You laughed, and he just gave a slight nod. The kicking was getting stronger the longer you talked to Pietro, and he noticed the slight discomfort on your face.

Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?

He asked conceded. And you just shook your head.

No, he’s just kicking a lot tonight.

You said, rubbing the spot to soothe the uncomfortable sensation. Looking back at Pietro from your bump, where he was staring, an idea popped into your head.

Do you want to feel it?

You asked. What a weird question to ask someone you had just met, but for some reason, you felt comfortable enough to do so with Pietro. He met your eyes with a wide smile and enthusiastic nod. You grabbed his hand, lifting it towards your belly and gently placing it on top where the kicking was, pressing down on it to make sure he could feel it.

Just wait a second...

You said when you noticed his disappointed expression when he felt nothing. Then it was there. The slight soft flutter of your baby’s kick right in the centre of his palm. A proud, loving smile grew on his face, and a few stray tears escaped down his cheeks as he let out a happy sob.

Wow...

He said breathlessly.

That’s incredible.

He said in awe, spreading his palm more on your belly, causing your fingers to be interwoven with his. His touch felt good and comfortable. Suddenly, you felt the sensation of missing this feeling, and your eyes began to tear as well. You couldn’t exactly say why, though.

I know, right. He’s gonna be just like you, Pete. Full of energy.

You laughed quietly, staring down at your hands. You heard him gasp softly, and you suddenly realized what you had just said. You turned your head back to him and were met with hopeful, longing, tear-filled eyes.

Peter...

You whispered. You suddenly remembered who he was, why he was so familiar, and why you felt the way you did at that moment.

Holy shit...

He gasped. He couldn’t believe it. You remembered him—and not just his name—him—that you were his wife and he was the father of your baby. He felt so relieved.

Pete...

You cried and reached toward him, unable to pull yourself up to wrap your arms around his neck on your own due to the weight of your bump. He quickly met you halfway, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around your torso, and his face was buried in your neck.

Holy shit yn...

He said into your skin as you cried gently and wrapped your arms around his neck. Burying one of your hands in his hair and sprinkling his temple with hundreds of longing kisses.

Oh my God, Pete... I missed you so much...

You cried, and he pulled back to meet your eyes, putting both hands on either side of your face. He kissed your nose, then your forehead, and finally your lips. It was long and needy, and you immediately responded. It had been two months since you last saw him, and you never wanted this to end. Much to your dismay, he pulled away and looked at you again with a loving smile.

God, I missed you, baby. Both of you. I was so worried.

He said, and you just smiled back.

I missed you too, Pete. So much. It was killing me to be away from you.

You explained, and he nodded.

Me too, baby, me too.

He agreed. Then he looked down at your bump. His smile grew even wider. His hands went from your face to your bump, rubbing soothing smooth circles.

You popped while I was gone!

He said lovingly. And you laughed.

Ya well, he’s been growing a lot these last two months!

You joked, placing your hands on his. It felt so good to have your husband back. To be a family again. You were so relieved you found him, and he was safe. You never wanted it to end.

Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s a boy!

He laughed, his hands holding your bump with yours on top of his.

It’s a boy?

You both heard Wanda ask. Peter immediately turned to where she was standing just outside the room. A wide, excited grin on her face. Then he turned back to you, and he felt all the blood from his face drain. That look. That wasn’t you. Not the real you that he married or who was just wrapped in his arms, talking lovingly about your family. You were empty again. An exaggerated look of disappointment washed over your face, and you rolled your eyes. Smacking Pietro's arm as you stood from the couch and made your way to Wanda.

Oh, Pietro! It was supposed to be a surprise!

You whined. He completely deflated as he watched you be taken away by Wanda once again. He watched heartbroken as Wanda excitedly embraced you and Vision congratulated you from her side. He wanted to cry. To scream. Anything to take this pain away. He just turned away to hide his pain from Wanda. Sitting on the couch with his head in his hands as he silently sobbed to himself. He lost you. Again. After just getting you back. He lost his family, and he felt hopeless. Wanda excited dragged you up the stairs to give you more boy baby clothes. The both of you were giddy as you made your way up. Peter couldn’t look. It hurt too much. Unbeknownst to him, however, Vision did not follow. He was too busy watching who he thought to be Pietro. Curious as to why he reacted in such a way to your absence. He began to feel something was going on he did not know about and decided he needed to talk to Pietro to know exactly what that was.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

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Family Meeting | Kaos Dionysus

Summary: Zeus calls a family meeting to get everyone in line after realizing his prophecy is coming true. After addressing everyone, his focus shifts to Dionysus’s new desire for love, which turns into your life being threatened.

Warnings: Dead Dennis, knife use, talk of killing, implications of Dionysus using the reader, bees being killed, a lot of death.

—

Zeus had gathered his family in the main dining hall and handed each member their ration of the meander water. His paranoia has gotten the better of him due to the prophecy being put into motion and the loyalty of those he keeps closest being put into question. He made sure to make it a point not to cross or control him to Hera and Poseidon; he took control of both the realm of the living and dead after declaring his frustration with Persephone and Hades, but worst of all, he took all that Dionysus loved. Zeus never believed in love, only power. To Zeus love was a show of weakness and allowed others the chance to gain power over you, love disgusted him. He had to make sure Dionysus understood this. He considered the killing of Dennis the kitten and his mother in Heras beehive a teaching moment and a warning. But he wasn’t done.

Uh, I think there’s one more thing, Dionysus. Hmm

Zeus hummed, standing from his chair and placing both hands on the table. Dionysus’ blood ran cold at the thought of what he could be talking about.

I-I don’t know what you mean, Dad...

Dionysus stuttered out in fear, trying his best to show some kind of strength as he clutched onto the remains of his beloved pet. Zeus tutted and shook his finger at his son before releasing an amused sigh.

Alright, then, Dionysus. Let me jog your memory.

Zeus waved his hand, and in a second, there you were. You were curled into yourself asleep, just as you had been moments ago in the comfort of your bed. You looked so peacefully unaware of the danger you were now in as you lay on the cold marble floor. Dionysus swallowed a gasp, his eyes scanning over your whole body before resting on your face. He was frozen, with his mouth hanging slightly agape.

I gotta hand it to you, son. She’s quite a catch. Hell, if you hadn’t scooped her up with all your love talk, I might’ve done it myself.

He joked with a sickening smile as he walked from the table to you. He scanned your body as well, but it wasn’t the same. It resembles a predator scanning their prey before they go for the kill. Zeus crouched above you, positioning himself just at the top of your head and gently moved some hair from your face to get a better look. Dionysus went to jump in your defence, but Persephone quickly stopped him, reaching a hand out towards him from across the table. She caught his eyes and gave a quick shake of her head. She better then anyone knows the consequences of defending someone in the name of love in the presence of Zeus. Dionysus lowered himself back onto the chair and turned back to you and Zeus. His hands clutching the armrests of his chair desperately.

Should we wake her?

Zeus asked with a low growl and a wide smile, turning to his family. They were all frozen, some in shock and some in morbid curiosity. He turned back to you and tapped your forehead.

Hello in there. It’s uh- it’s wake-up time. Come on wakie-wakie sweetheart.

He called loudly, tapping you a bit more aggressively. You stirred, and finally, you woke up. Stretching slightly before taking a moment to look around, your eyes immediately landed on the terrified expression of the boy you love, causing you to freeze and become fully awake. You hesitantly looked to the source of your wakefulness and were greeted with Zeus' sickening smile.

Good morning, sunshine. Welcome to Olympus.

He said. You were quick to react, positioning your body so you were on your knees, bent into a position of praise, one palm on the floor and the other on your forehead.

Vero my lord...

You shakily whispered. Eyes squeezed shut. You heard Zeus laugh and move to stand but you did not move or open your eyes, too scared of the consequences if you did. Dionysus wanted to throw up. He was fighting a losing battle with his tears, and all he wanted was to protect you from the violent tyrant that is his father. He could see your body visibly shaking, and your uneven breathing was evident by the racing rise and fall motion of your back. He just wanted to hold you and keep you safe, but he knew if he did, it might only result in a worse fate for you both.

Zeus really, what is this?

Hera spat with venom in her tone as she gestured to your scared form. Zeus paused and turned to his wife.

This- my lovely dear, is a life lesson for the boy.

Zeus explained nonchalantly, going to grab the same knife he killed Dennis with from the tray beside his chair.

Zeus, please, this is not necessary. I’m sure he understands. We all do.

Persephone tried to reason for Dionysus's sake. Zeus turned to Persephone with cold, angry eyes. He never liked her. She didn’t obey like the others.

Who are you to question my methods?

He growled, pointing the knife at her. She shook her head and raised her hands in defence.

I’m not Zeus. I’m not questioning you at all. I’m simply stating that there is no need to kill this mortal. You’ve already killed his cat and his mother. I think he understands. Right, Dionysus?

She stutters and turns to Dionysus, trying to coax an answer out of him. It took a few seconds. He was too consumed by your presence and his desire to comfort and protect you. He finally peeled his eyes from you and turned to Persephone, who nodded encouragingly, then turned to Zeus, who stared at him intently. Dionysus nodded.

I get it. I get it, Dad. Love is a weakness. It’s pointless. It’s not worth even acknowledging. I’m a god- I’m a god.

He stuttered out, pleading with his eyes to spare you but not daring to do so verbally. Zeus gently pressed the knife to his lips in thought, feigning a consideration of mercy, then turned back to you. He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He petted your hair, then grasped it in one swift motion and pulled your head up so you were face to face. He gently ran the knife along your cheek, leaving blood in its trail. The inability to distinguish between it being yours or Dennis’ makes Dionysus’ stomach turn.

Open your eyes beautiful.

He whispered. You did slowly, tears escaping them as you did so. Your eyes met his, and you didn’t dare to look away.

Do you love my son?

He asked, smiling, pressing a bit harder with the knife and grasping your hair even tighter.

I- I do.

You answered in a broken sob.

Please- pl- please don’t kill me. I’m begging you. Mercy- please

You begged, sobbing. He loved it. Your eyes are full of fear and a desire to appease him. It was refreshing. Something he’d been deprived of for centuries. It fed him in a way he didn’t know he needed. Then he forcefully turned your head to look at Dionysus. The knife pointed at him.

Dionysus...

Zeus called sing-songly. He brought the knife to your throat, your eyes squeezing shut in response for a moment before opening and meeting his.

Do you love her?

He asked. His tone was playful, and it scared Dionysus. He’d rather him be angry. Playful meant he was only doing this for fun, which made his actions much less predictable. Dionysus’ heart was breaking at the sight of you and his father. He felt so helpless, so useless, so weak. He couldn’t protect you. He couldn’t hold you and tell you everything would be ok, and that’s all he wanted to do. He was so scared he was about to lose the woman he loved.

Dionysus! Do you love this mortal?

Zeus yelled, pressing harder on the knife, so much so it drew blood from your neck. You squealed in pain before Zeus tugged your hair to shut you up. His fear had overtaken him.

No!

He responded with a scream. Adjusting himself once he realized what he had done, clearing his throat he spoke.

No Dad. I don’t love her.

He said. It broke him to say it, even more so when he saw your face fall. He truly believed he just watched as your heart broke. He faked a chuckle and shrugged.

I’m the god of pleasure, Dad. That’s all she is. A pleasure. I don’t love her, I could never love a mortal. Kill her for all I care. I’ll just find another mortal to please me.

He lied shakily, gesturing at you. He was trying his best to seem like he genuinely didn’t care, knowing that if he showed even a tiny amount of concern for you, his father would kill you. Zeus paused momentarily to take in his son's response and body language, then turned back to you, twisting your head in his direction.

Well, who am I to get in the way of a good lay?

He chuckled before turning serious and lifting your chin with the knife.

Mercy Zeus, please...

You begged pathetically, making a smile appear on his face.

I’m gonna show you mercy. I’m gonna let you live.

He said as if it were a blessing.

But know this. The only reason I’m letting you live is because I believe you’ll suffer more now than you would’ve in death.

He said like it was a matter of fact.

Sorry, sweetheart, but he doesn’t love you back, and now you have to live with that knowledge. Ooh, I hope it hurts that fragile mortal heart of yours.

He laughs manically. He released your hair and lowered the knife but kept contact with your eyes.

I also have to admit that seeing you beg for mercy in person has tickled me in a way I haven’t been tickled in centuries. So... Mercy! Yes! You can live!

He announces, standing, tossing the knife on the table, and throwing his hands up in celebration. Persephone releases a quiet breath of relief and then looks toward Dionysus. He isn’t looking at you anymore. In fact, he’s going out of his way to avoid looking at you while you stare intently at him with a question on your expression. She can see the pain and humiliation on Dionysus’ face as he stares down at his kitten sprawled out on the table. He looks broken and scared like he’ll never forgive himself.

Well, I’m happy we settled this. Good meeting, everyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to visit an old friend.

Zeus said with relief before disappearing to Prometheus, leaving the family to reflect on all that had come from this meeting. Hera quickly exited the room, with Poseidon following close behind, more concerned about their well-being than anyone else. Persephone watched as Dionysus promptly escaped to the burnt beehives, clutching his cat and crying as he did so. Although your eyes followed him, he did not meet them once. She stood from her seat and moved to your spot on the floor. You began to sob, your heart broken and your mind overwhelmed. You cling to yourself as Persephone crouches down to hold you while you cry, trying her best to soothe you and give you words of comfort.

I’m so sorry love...

She repeated repeatedly like a prayer as she petted your hair and rubbed your arm.

He doesn’t love me...

You cried brokenly, to which Persephone responded by shushing you.

He does. He does love. He was protecting you. He had to do it to keep you safe.

She explains, but you shake your head.

He couldn’t even look at me...

You reasoned, clutching onto her. Persephone paused for a moment to consider what to do but gently grabbed hold of your arms and lifted you to your feet.

Come on, my darling. Let’s take you home.

She suggested, and you nodded. Not wanting to be in this horrible place anymore. Wanting to hide in your shame and stew in your heartbreak alone.

—

Persephone returned to Olympus and found Dionysus holding his cat as he cried in front of the burnt remains of Heras hundreds of beehives.

I’m sorry about your mom. And your kitten.

She said. Only receiving sniffles in response.

It’s not a weakness, you know. Love. It is power. In fact, it’s more powerful than your father himself. He just doesn’t understand that.

She explained, trying to console him. He didn’t even look at her.

I brought her home. You should go to her. She’s incredibly upset.

Dionysus responded with a teary chuckle and wiped his nose.

Rightfully so, after all, I said… I broke her heart, Persephone. I doubt she’ll ever want to see me again.

He cried. Persephone wrapped an arm around him comfortingly.

You did it to protect her, Dionysus. If you had admitted your love for her, Zeus would have killed her without hesitation. You did what you had to to keep the woman you love safe. It’s very admirable.

She explained. He only sniffled in response.

Go to her. Explain to her. She’ll understand, I saw how much she loves you. It’s a very beautiful and powerful thing that you two have. Don’t throw it away.

She pleaded with the broken boy. Dionysus turns to meet her eyes. Pausing a moment, then nods. He looks down at his kitten once more.

Can you- can you take care of him… down there?

He asked, feeling slightly embarrassed by his request as he softly petted Dennis’ fur. Persephone smiles.

I promise.

She says sweetly. Dionysus then tucks the frail body in his Fanny pack, petting the soft fur one last time before zipping it up and handing it to Persephone. She takes it gracefully and holds it with care.

Do you really think she’ll still have me?

He asks broken and desperate. Persephone nods.

She will.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, then he is gone.

—

You’d only just finished showering when he got there, but really, you just stood in the hot water as you replayed the earlier terrifying series of events repeatedly in your mind. It's not much of a shower at all, really. You opened the door to your bathroom and were immediately met by Dionysus. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, hands folded together, staring at the floor. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and met your eyes. You froze.

Yn...

He sighed. He sounded so relieved. Like he couldn’t believe it was actually you.

Dionysus.

You responded. You were surprised to see him and hurt was evident in your tone. He could see it on your face, too. The heartbreak. It made his heart squeeze in pain.

Please, yn. Please let me explain...

He pleaded, standing from the bed and quickly standing in front of you, playing with his hands while he kept contact with your eyes. They were swollen, misty, and a bit red.

Did you mean it?

You whispered. You wanted to sound stronger, but pain will do that to you. You clutched your towel to your chest and furrowed your brows in an attempt to hold back your tears. Persephone's words of encouragement stuck in your head, giving you the tiniest bit of hope. He responded by frantically shaking his head and reaching out to grab your upper arms gently, holding you at arm's length.

No.

He didn’t break eye contact. He looked so serious.

I absolutely did not mean it. I didn’t mean a word I said. You-

He cut himself off, clearing his throat and moving his hands to cup your face.

You are so much more to me than a mortal I use for pleasure. You are the woman I love. The only woman I love and the only woman I ever will.

He proclaimed with such intense sincerity that you couldn’t help but shed some tears. He was beginning to tear up, too.

If I didn’t say those awful, disgusting things. He. Would. Have. Killed. You. Please understand that. They had no meaning behind them.

He explained. You sniffled and reached out, wrapping your arms around him, relieved that Persephone was right and Dionysus did love you. He gladly responded, reciprocating the hug and tangling one of his hands in your damp hair.

I’m so sorry yn.

He apologized, his words faltering as he fought back his sobs and kissed the top of your head. You just clutched onto the back of his shirt. Your face was buried in his chest as you cried with relief.

Thank Persephone, you’re alright...

Dionysus whispered to himself. You pulled away slightly before quickly pulling him back for a passionate kiss. He happily responded, grabbing the back of your neck to hold you tighter to him.

I love you.

He hummed against your lips, and you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

I do. I love you. I would give up eternity and godship for you.

He declared silently as your foreheads pressed together.

I’m hopelessly in love with you yn.

He admitted kissing your nose and smoothing his thumb over your cheek. You reached up and grabbed his hand, holding it to your face.

I'm in love with you too, Dionysus.

You confirmed with a smile that he returned before pulling you into another loving and passionate kiss.

—

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Run To You | Peter Maximoff

Part 1 / 3

Part 2 , 3

Summary: Charles sends Peter to Westview to check out a massive power surge that’s going on which drives you crazy with worry. He’s been no contact for four weeks, and you need to do something.

Warnings: Pregnant reader

—

It’s been four weeks with no contact, Hank!

You screamed at the blue mutant. After three days, you had lost your patience and begged him to find a way to regain contact with your husband. But he refused, saying it’d put the entire mission at risk.

Yn, he’s fine. He probably lost his communicator, but the tracker in his suit says he’s alive and moving. So we know he’s not dead, and we can guess he’s not a prisoner based on how much he’s moving around.

It wasn’t good enough. You had an awful feeling, and that wasn’t good enough to soothe it. It may have just been the hormones, but you were beginning to lose it.

If he’s so safe, send me to him with a new communicator, and I’ll help him complete his mission and bring him home.

You suggested. Hank gave you a knowing look and a frustrated sigh.

You know that’s not happening.

He dismissed Turing back to the work layed out on his desk. You scoffed, grabbing the back of his chair and turning him back towards you.

Why not? You’re the one saying it’s safe!

He was beginning to grow impatient and stood from his chair. He gently began leading you out of his office.

Because you’re six months pregnant, that’s why. Peter is fine. Because your going could not only jeopardize Peter's trust in me to take care of you and the mission but also yours and your baby’s health. That’s why, and you know that’s why. So please stop asking.

He explained shortly, grabbing the door and closing it. Pausing before he completely does.

Please stop asking seriously. I’ll let you know if something happens, and I’m here to talk, but I don’t want to argue about this anymore. I have a lot to do, so just please try to relax—for your baby’s and Peter's sake.

He begged, his annoyed tone now replaced with one of concern. You were pissed, but you should’ve known he’d say no. He has been for the last four weeks. You needed to find Peter. You needed to get to him and bring him home. This itching feeling wasn’t subsiding, and you knew something was wrong.

Come on, baby. We’re gonna go find a way to save Daddy.

You whispered to yourself, softly stroking your belly and walking away from the beast's now-closed office door.

—

Charles…

You called out, entering his office with a gentle knock. A polite approach should be more convincing, you thought.

Come in yn. How’re you, how’s the little one?

He asked with a knowing look on his face.

We’re good. He’s healthy and growing nicely, thank you for asking.

You cheerfully answered, sitting across from him at his desk and resting a hand on your belly. You cleared your throat and gently placed a file of research you’ve been doing on his desk. He sighed.

No.

You didn’t even hear my pitch.

I don’t need to. I heard it the last two days.

He chuckled to himself, tapping his head.

Please, Charles. They’re witches, not mutants. This is more in my realm of expertise than anyone else in the mansion. I should be there.

You pleaded.

Yn…

He began, gently shaking his head.

No. I’m not letting anyone tell me I can't anymore. I know I’m pregnant, alright. I know Peter told everyone to keep an eye on me. And I bet you did want me to go on this mission, and he talked you out of it. There’s no way you didn’t with power like that.

You were intent on holding your ground. Charles took a moment to think, then met your eyes.

It was supposed to be you. I told Peter about the mission. That your powers resemble those of the divination witches in that dimension. I thought you would be better suited to go, but he insisted I send him instead. He was too worried about your baby to allow you to go on a mission. I offered to send him with you so you weren’t alone, but he didn’t like that either. He made it a point to tell me he would go alone and you were to stay here. Safe.

He explained. You had to admit you were turned on by Peter's fatherly instincts, but you couldn’t let that distract you right now.

I’ll be careful. I’ll be with him, the one person who will ensure my safety more than any other mutant or human on this planet or any other. Please, Charles… I can’t do another day like this, waiting for him to come home or wondering if he ever will.

You pleased, your eyes begging to tear up.

Yn I can’t…

He sighed. You could tell he knew you were right, but upon weighing the risk against the reward, he couldn’t allow himself to send you to your husband. So you used the last argument you had stored away for desperate times.

You know stress is bad for the baby.

You said bluntly. Charles made eye contact with you, taking in your misty red eyes and the tear stains running down your cheeks. He poked at your mind for just how much this was causing you pain, and then his eyes flickered to your stomach. A long pause later and a reluctant sigh, he looked to you again.

I’m sorry. It’s just too risky-

You didn’t let him finish shooting up from your seat and storming out of the office to yours and Peter's room. You slammed the door, threw yourself on the bed, and sobbed. Curled into a ball, holding your swollen stomach with one hand and clutching Peter's shirt you had been sleeping with, the other under your nose so you could smell him as you cried. Little did you know, Hank was standing outside of the office. Coming to deliver some reports on the mission to the professor and heard everything. He felt guilty about your interaction earlier in the week, but now he felt awful about not realizing how much this was hurting you. He made Peter a promise, but he couldn’t stand by and watch you suffer any longer. He knew you were right about the stress and the risk of it hurting the baby, and he knew if he did send you to Peter, he could protect you better than anyone else. So, after giving the professor his report, he headed to his office and began to devise a plan.

—

You gave up. No one was going to help, and you would most likely never see Peter again, so you gave up. You were still in your clothes from the afternoon prior. You slept in them and had no motivation to move or change once you woke up. Your baby was beginning to kick like crazy, hungry because you hadn’t eaten since before speaking to the professor. You knew you should. You knew you were being selfish, but you couldn’t move. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You didn’t care, it was unlocked anyway so you let out a weak come in. The door opened, but you didn’t bother turning to see who it was. Hank carefully made his way into the room with a tray of breakfast for you. A peace offering. He was taken aback by what he could see of your appearance. You were in the same clothes, shoes still on, curled into the bed with Peter's shirt shoved as closely to your face as you could get it.

Yn…

He called gently. You weren’t surprised to hear his voice. Peter had specifically told him to look after you.

What Hank.

Your voice was coarse from crying, and Hank felt even more guilty than he had before.

I brought you breakfast...

He said, but you didn’t respond. You didn’t even look at him.

Yn-

I don’t want it.

You cut him off sharply. You did. You needed it. Your baby was hungry, and you were beginning to feel the sensation, too, but you were too stubborn and upset to take it from him

Eat yn. Judging by your appearance, you haven’t moved since yesterday. Your son needs food; at least eat for him.

You still didn’t respond. He sighed.

If you finish the tray, I’ll send you to Peter…

He said abruptly, looking down at the food.

What did you say?

You ask gently, turning to him and sitting up. The sound of movement made him look up at you again.

I heard you yesterday. I’m sorry for being so cold and brushing you off. I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you, and you’re right. Peter is the only person you’d be safest with on a mission in your condition. I don’t like how damaging this stress is on you or the baby, and Peter told me to look out for you, so I am. I’m sending you to him.

He quickly explained. You both just paused, staring at each other. You gestured for him to sit on the bed with you, and he did so carefully. Then, he handed you the tray. You took a few bites of the breakfast sandwich he made, then looked over at him as he smiled with relief.

Thank you, Hank.

You whispered, kissing his cheek gently. His smile grew wider as you continued to eat.

Just please be careful and take care of yourself. Of the both of you.

He pleaded quietly. You nodded and placed your head on his shoulder.

I will. I promise. Peter will too.

You both sat silently as you ate, your head on his shoulder, preparing for you to go off and be reunited with Peter.

—

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