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flightlessangelwings · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: kidnapping, mild violence, angst, established relationship, fluff

Request from anon

You never thought your life would turn out like this, but you wouldn’t complain at all. If someone had told you months ago that you would be with Marcus Moreno, the leader of the Heroics, you would have laughed and called them crazy. But after a chance meeting at the laundromat, you both left with each other’s numbers and a new friendship quickly turned into something more. Feelings grew fast between you and Marcus, and soon neither of you could imagine your lives without the other.

His daughter Missy also quickly became a big part of your life. The two of you hit it off just as quickly, and you were just as fond of her as you were her father. You found yourself at the Moreno house more nights than not, even if Marcus wasn’t home. Nights alone with Missy were just as fun as the nights the three of you spent together. Everything just felt right, and you felt like you belonged to a family for the first time in your life.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and you stood outside of your car and leaned against it as you waited for Missy to get out of school. Marcus had called you and said he wouldn’t be out of headquarters in time and frantically asked you to pick Missy up. You didn’t hesitate, and you were more and happy to get her.

Missy called your name as she bounced up to you, surprised but still happy to see you. It wasn’t the first time you picked her up from school, but this time it came unexpectedly.

Marcus also had insisted that even though Missy was to join the Heroics in the future, school was still important for the time being. When he had asked for your opinion, you were taken off guard but you agreed with him. Missy gave you both a pout, but she realized that there would be plenty of time in her life to be a hero, and for now she needed to enjoy her time as a kid.

“Surprise kiddo,” you gave her a hug when she ran up to you with open arms, “I’m your chauffeur today.”

“Dad couldn’t make it?” she asked as he set her backpack in the backseat.

You nodded as you held the door open for her, “Yeah, he got caught up at headquarters so it’s just you and me for now,” the two of you stood at the side of your car as you planned out your afternoon, “How about we get a little after school snack, whatever you want, and then we can make something together for when your dad gets home?”

Missy’s face lit up, “I think you should pick me up from school more often!”

“Don’t tell your father that,” you laughed, but you enjoyed the sentiment. She was more than just your boyfriend’s kid to you, and you cared for her as if she was your own kid.

But your light mood was quickly brought down when a distant explosion rocked the ground. Luckily for you and Missy, it was further down the street and on the other side of the car from where you stood. You quickly grabbed her and ducked you both down so that your car served as a shield. Screams ran through the air as people ran, and you and Missy both peeked around the hood to see what the cause of the commotion was.

“You ok?” you whispered to her, and she nodded in response.

Missy stepped forward a bit to get a better view, despite your protests. In the distance, she saw a large, towering man, and you both could feel his heavy footsteps in the ground as he quickly approached you.

“Titan…” Missy breathed as she recognized the new foe.

He was someone who had gone head to head with both Missy and Marcus on missions in the past. However, they were never able to get the upper hand, and he always slipped away at the last minute. Titan’s power was super strength, and he was aptly named as he tossed cars out of his way like they were nothing. The muscles in his arms were bigger than Missy’s entire body and Titan towered over nearly everyone he encountered. She was right to be afraid, as were you.

“I think it’s time to call your dad now,” you suggested as you tried to hide the panic in your voice.

“Yeah,” Missy snapped out of her daze and ducked back down as she tapped at the device on her wrist.

“Moreno!” Titan shouted, which caused you and Missy to freeze in terror and look at each other. He was after her, and this was a deliberate attack since Marcus was nowhere near.

“Missy? What’s going on?” Marcus’ voice rang through the device, but it did not bring as much comfort as you would have liked.

“Dad! It’s Titan… He’s here…” she sounded braver than you felt.

On the other end on the line, Marcus jumped to his feet as he said both of your names. You could feel the panic in his voice through the communicator, “I’m on my way,” he spoke without hesitation.

Just as the words left his lips, Marcus summoned his swords, ripped off his glasses and grabbed his tac vest. His face was stoic as he tried to keep a level head while he ran out of headquarters as fast as he could. The two people he cared the most about were in danger, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happened to either of you. He kept the communicator on so he could talk to both of you as he grabbed a hoverboard and dashed out toward you and Missy.

But he wouldn’t be fast enough. Titan quickly found where you and Missy were hidden behind your car, and he was able to lift and toss your car aside with ease. You gasped and grabbed Missy and tried to run away, but it was useless. His long arm reached out, and before he could grab her, you pushed her aside so that he clutched onto you instead. Although both Missy and Marcus were heroes, you still made a promise to Marcus that you would always look after and protect Missy when you were with her. So, even as scared as you were, you didn’t even hesitate to step in the way.

You let out a scream as he pulled you away from Missy, and you could hear both her and Marcus shout your name. Missy tried to lunge forward in an attempt to get him to let you go, but he knocked her back with a dark chuckle. Marcus grit his teeth as he listened to the scuffle. He hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time and he absolutely hated it. All he wanted to do was keep you and Missy, his family, safe.

“Hang on,” he mumbled under his breath, “I’m coming… I’m coming…”

“Marcus Moreno,” Titan threatened, “I know you’re listening,” Titan stared Missy down as he spoke with you trapped in his grip, “I’m taking something you love… So come and get me.” With that, he turned to leave, and easily blocked Missy’s attempt to attack him again.

Marcus was too late to do anything, and he sped up just in time to watch his nemesis walk away with you in his arms. You struggled and tried to break free, but it was useless. His heart dropped at the sight, and it only got worse when he saw his daughter on the ground.

“Missy!” he called out as he rushed over and scooped her up in his arms.

He inspected her for any wounds, but other than some bruising, she was ok. Tears streamed down her face, however, and Missy buried herself in her father’s chest, “He… he took…” she said your name as she sobbed.

“Shhh,” Marcus wrapped his arms around Missy tightly, “It’ll be ok,” he tried to hide how worried he actually was as he promised Missy that they would get you back no matter what.

You didn’t remember passing out, but you must have at some point because you woke up in what looked like a dungeon. Your arms were shackled to the wall above you and your legs barely touched the floor. With a grunt, you tried to wriggle free, although you knew it was useless.

A dark laugh from the shadows called your attention, and you held your breath as you watched the large figure emerge from the dark corner of the room, “It’s pointless to struggle,” Titan mocked you as he stepped in front of you, “Not even the Heroics could break out of those, what makes you think you can?”

“Go screw yourself,” you spat, not ready to give in to him completely.

That only made him laugh harder, “You’re a feisty one aren’t you?” he cupped your chin to make you meet his gaze, “And good looking too. Moreno sure does know how to pick them.”

“What do you want?” you jerked your head to the side to get him to let go of you.

“I need some leverage, and that’s what you are my dear,” his tone was icy as his fingers trailed down your neck, and it made a chill run down your spine, “Let’s see how well he fights now.”

You grit your teeth as a surge of anger washed through you and temporarily overtook the fear. As Titan hovered over you, you noticed that your legs dangled free and you took full advantage of that. With a deep breath, you kicked your leg up and hit him right between his own legs.

He let out a grunt, but you soon realized it was more from surprise than pain. Titan growled as he grabbed your face, “I appreciate the spark, sweetness,” his voice was low and threatening, “I’ll have to deal with you later.”

With that, Titan turned and left you alone in the room. He slammed the door loudly behind him before he locked it.

A defeated sigh escaped your lips as you rested your head back against the wall. You didn’t know how long you hung there, but you felt your arms start to go numb so it had to be a good while. The room was silent save for your breaths and occasional sob until you heard a loud commotion from down the hall. You lifted your head and fixed your gaze on the door although you couldn’t see anything.

You could hear though, and it sounded like a heated fight not too far from where you were held. You heard several crashes and shouts, although you couldn’t quite make out who the voices belonged to. If you were to take a guess, however, you were sure that one of the voices belonged to Marcus. Your heart pounded in your chest as you helplessly listened to the battle just on the other side of the wall and you could only hope that the Heroics would finally defeat Titan this time.

When it suddenly got quiet, you held your breath and stared at the door. You were afraid to breathe or even blink as you heard a faint shuffle of movement on the other side and you balled your hands into fists since that was all you were able to do. Then, you heard a creak and a bang as the door suddenly flew off its hinges. You shut your eyes tightly and turned your head into your arm in an attempt to protect yourself as best as you could.

The sound of your name in Missy’s voice made you look up, and your shoulders dropped in relief when you saw her and Marcus in the doorway. Their eyes welled up with tears at the sight of you, and Missy instantly bolted towards you. Marcus raised his arm and used his powers to pull the large shackles that bound your wrists out of the wall.

You dropped down to the floor and immediately sank to your knees. You were about to fold over onto yourself when Missy crashed herself into you and wrapped her arms tightly around you. She didn’t even bother to fight back her tears as she cried into your shoulder and held you as tightly as she possibly could.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Missy repeated over and over as her tears dampened your shirt.

“I’m ok, Missy,” you reassured her in a soft voice as you held her back. You could feel her tremble in your arms, and you would have been more shocked about her reaction if you hadn’t just been rescued, “I’m ok,” you repeated as you stroked her back and your own tears fell down your cheeks.

Marcus stood over the two of you and his face finally relaxed when he saw you were unharmed. Your eyes trailed up to meet his and you saw his shoulders visibility drop in relief. After the two of you shared a soft smile, he dropped down to his knees and embraced both of you. His swords clattered to the ground beside you. Marcus wrapped his arms around both you and Missy and brought you as close as he could to his chest, unwilling to let either of you go for a good while.

“Are you hurt?” he finally asked as he pulled away just enough to get a better look at your face.

You shook your head, “I’m ok,” you took a shaky breath, “I was more scared for you two… He said I was leverage and I…” you drifted off as you felt Missy squeeze you even tighter and you didn’t want to think of what could have happened.

Marcus felt his own tears well up in the corners of his eyes as he studied your face. It was then that he truly realized how much you meant to him, “I was scared too,” he admitted in a hushed tone, and from your arms Missy muffled in agreement, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. You and Missy…” he took a deep breath, “You’re my world,” he was quiet for a minute as he squeezed your arm tightly, “I love you.”

Your eyes went wide. This was the first time Marcus had said the words out loud; you both decided to wait until you were sure and ready to say it, even though it was obvious how much you each cared about each other. But before you could open your mouth to reply, you were cut off by Missy.

“I love you too,” she said your name as she looked up at you and finally pulled away.

You laughed as you caressed the side of her face, “I love you too, Missy,” you placed a soft kiss to the top of her head before you turned to Marcus, “And I love you, Marcus.”

Marcus let out the breath he held since his confession and leaned in to place a tender kiss to your lips. He smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you and Missy again and just held you both close to his heart where you were both safe, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Please,” Missy added as he helped you both stand.

Notes: I live for this trope so much so I had a lot of fun with this one!!! And I used the reader from the Laundry Day drabble since people really liked that one but it wasn’t needed to read that one. Thank you to the anon who requested this! And as always, taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added :)

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagine

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

so i know you have jules (w reg helping) as the ring bearers during coops' wedding. i was wondering if you'd consider writing a little behind the scenes for them getting into shenanigans right before the ceremony. maybe they lose the rings and need to go on a covert mission to find them?

Yes I can! The rest of the wedding series is here for anyone who would like to read it again! It was super fun dipping back into this series :) SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mild panic attack (mentioned offhand)

It starts as a tap.

Regulus pauses midway through untangling his hands from his tie as the tapping continues, growing steadily louder and more frantic until he worries the person is going to break the door down. “…come in?”

The door rattles for a second. “I can’t, it’s locked!” Jules’ terrified voice leaks through the slight crack and his heart leaps.

“It’s a push door, buddy,” Regulus says, internally cursing the snarled fabric around his wrist. He takes one end between his teeth to try and hold it steady just as the door bursts open and Jules tumbles in; he looks like he’s on the verge of tears already. “Woah, what happened?”

“They’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, flinging his arms around Regulus’ waist. The jarring movement loosens the knot of his tie and both hands slip free. “Reg, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Who?”

“Remus and Sirius!”

Carefully, Regulus pats his back. “They’re not going to kill you,” he soothes as best he can, even as his mind races with what the hell an eleven-year-old could have done in the twenty minutes Regulus was occupied. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jules mumbles something.

“You what?”

Huge caramel eyes stare up at him in unadulterated guilt and fear. “I lost the rings.”

Regulus’ stomach drops to the floor. “You what?”

“I lost them!” Jules says again. “I had them, and then mom wanted to do a family picture, and then they weren’t there anymore!”

“Jules, the wedding starts in fifteen minutes!”

“I know!” he wails. For once, his dramatics are entirely justified.

Regulus takes a deep breath, leaving his ornery tie forgotten. Time to put my grownup hat on. “Where were you before the pictures?”

“Getting dressed with Marc and Louis.”

“Where?”

“Marc’s bedroom, because it’s bigger and has this really cool mirror and—”

“Jules. Fifteen minutes.” Thirteen, now. Regulus thinks as he chances a look at the clock. “Lead the way, bud.”

They hurry down the hall and up the stairs; Jules checks to make sure nobody is in Marc’s room before motioning Regulus inside. “Okay, so I had my clothes on the bed and then I brushed my teeth in the bathroom,” Jules explains.

“Did you have the rings in your pocket?” When the kid is quiet for just a beat too long, Regulus feels something cold settle in his stomach. “Jules. What did you do with the rings.”

“They were in my pocket.”

“And?”

He huffs a sigh. “And then we took them out and tried them on.”

“Julian!” Regulus says, flabbergasted. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“They were shiny and cool!” Jules protests. “You’ve seen how cool they are!”

“What are you, a crow?” Regulus runs both hands through his hair and forces down the urge to scream into a pillow. Repress, repress, repress. “Did both rings make it back into your pocket?”

“I was brushing my teeth!”

Muttering under his breath, Regulus runs both hands along Marc’s bedspread for any ring-sized bumps. Eight and a half minutes. Sirius is going to murder me. “Check the bathroom, okay? And double check your pockets.”

Jules nods and Regulus takes a second to thump his forehead against the blankets before looking under the bed and on the nightstand, neither of which yield any results. “Bathroom’s clear,” Jules says a moment later.

“Why didn’t Marc and Louis give them back to you? I thought you guys were supposed to leave together.”

“We were, but then Sirius almost had a panic attack and they wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Regulus freezes. “Sirius had a what now?”

“A panic attack. I don’t think it was that bad, though, because Dumo didn’t sound like it was a really big deal. I came out of the bathroom right as they left.”

“Why were you in the bathroom so long?” Regulus asks incredulously.

Jules flushes pink and fiddles with the cuff of his shirt. “I wanted to look nice.”

“You look fine!”

“No, but—” He cuts off with a sharp exhale. “This is really important to Remus, and I didn’t want to screw it up for him. He’s so happy and he trusted me with the rings and—and I wrecked it.”

“Oh, Jules.” Regulus stands up and folds him into a hug as his eyes well up with tears, dripping down his freckled cheeks.

“He’s gonna be so mad at me, Reg.”

“When has Remus ever gotten mad at you?” Regulus asks in a gentle voice.

Five minutes.

Who cares?

Jules sniffles. “He was pretty upset when I put slime under his pillow. And the time a rat got into the house and I locked it in his room. Oh, and—”

“Jules.” Regulus bends to his level and brushes a few stray tears away with his jacket sleeve. “Remus forgave you for all that, right?”

“Yeah. But this is the rings, for his wedding.”

“And we’ll find them. Maybe not in the next four minutes, but we’ll track them down and it’ll be just fine, and then we’ll laugh about this later—”

“Oh!” Jules’ whole face lights up suddenly as he tucks his hands under his arms.

“What?”

Instead of answering, he puts one hand under his coat and digs around, emerging with two shiny wedding bands. “Found them!”

Regulus blinks in shock. “They were in your pocket the whole time?”

“I don’t usually have a pocket there.”

“Come on, you dork,” Regulus sighs, taking his elbow as they hurry down the stairs. Music has already started playing in the backyard and they reach their spot seconds before their cue; Celeste gives them a wide-eyed look of relief. Thankfully, neither Sirius nor Remus seems to have noticed their absence—they both beam as Regulus follows the ring bearer down the aisle, and Jules glows with pride in the afternoon sun.

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Nights in the OR

A/N: This is called “I watch too much Grey’s Anatomy” so if you’re a fellow Grey’s fan in addition to a fellow Ashton ho, hi!

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

Nights on the peds floor we’re, in a word, uneventful. Low hums and beeps from machines doing their jobs while kids and parents alike snoozed between nurses prodding them awake to do their routine checks. You went through the charts of your patients, delegating a duo of an intern and older resident to each case with strict orders to page you only if something was seriously wrong, and a bright “Keep the tiny humans alive,” before making your way to the emergency room.

The trauma team usually ran the emergency room, a sea of green scrubs moving effectively and efficiently, assessing situations before paging the right departments, or diving headfirst into the work themselves. You caught sight of one of the doctors, a tall man in a shade of green scrubs darker than the rest in the room, and rolled your eyes. Attending trauma surgeon Ashton Irwin was about as arrogant as he was skilled, with an annoying habit of assessing quickly, albeit correctly, and working even faster on patients before shipping them off to the correct departments to deal with the fallout. You weren’t sure if that man had ever spent more than an hour, two tops, with a patient from start to finish. True to his arrogance and almost zero tolerance for sloppy mistakes, he was talking in hushed tones to a second year, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw set, as the resident nodded frantically before running off.

Dr. Irwin took a moment to compose himself, giving the slightest shake of his head and relaxing his jaw, before turning to wherever he was needed next. His hazel eyes scanned the room, and even from where you were you could tell that they were more on the green side tonight as they met yours. He offered forth the smallest of nods and smiles in your direction, dimples indenting both sides of the smile.

You returned the gesture, before twirling your index finger about the room. Extra attending on hand.

He waved his hand. No need. Got it covered, thanks.

You smiled your best, I don’t give a damn smile, striding across the room to take a seat behind a computer, crossing your hands behind your head. And with little else to do on your part, you settled in for a long night of researching the pros and cons of artificial bones versus prosthetics in cases for patients with osteosarcoma, a joint effort you were working on with the orthopedic surgeon.

Around 2 in the morning, you took a break from your research to grab a cup of coffee and a small bite to eat. On your way back, you spotted the orthopedic surgeon with a patient. “Oh! Dr. Hood,” you said as you approached. “Come find me when you’re done. I have some ideas.”

The man swiveled on his chair to glance up at you, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You’re not in OR 2 with Ash?”

“Nnnnoooo…” you said slowly, taking a sip from your coffee. “Why?” you followed up in a clipped tone. What had Dr. Arrogant done now?

Dr. Hood smiled politely at his patient, and got the attention of his resident. “Ma’am, we’re going to take you up for X-rays now, and then we’ll see about setting your arm for you, okay?”

The woman nodded, clearly shaken up. Then, “What about my husband and son?”

“I’ll get word, and update you as soon as I can,” he promised, before the resident escorted the patient up to X-rays. Finally he turned his attention to you. “Car accident just came in. Parents are a little banged up. Mike and Luke are working up the dad. You know how Luke gets about stitches.”

The both of you shared a chuckle. Luke Hemmings, the plastic surgeon, had very high standards for even the most basic of stitches, and if he was on hand and free, it was an easy bet he’d do the work himself. “So, what’s Mike doing with him then, if it’s just stitches?” you asked, referring to the general surgeon.

He shrugged. “General work up and clearance, I suppose. But the mom and the son’s side took the impact the hardest. Specifically the son. Ash didn’t page you?”

You scoffed. “Why on Earth would Ash page me, Cal? It’s trauma,” you raised your hands and voice in a mocking manner.

“Uh, probably cuz the kid is like seven.”

You growled low in your throat, hands going to tie up your hair. “OR 2, you said? How long ago?”

“Not too long. They gotta still be prepping. So if you hurry…”

“Thanks, Cal,” you patted the man on the shoulder before taking off at a run towards the OR rooms, briefly mourning your discarded coffee and potato chips in the process.

When you shouldered your way into the room, Ashton was in the process of scrubbing in, while nurses finished prep. “What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, arms crossing instinctively over your chest as you made your presence known.

Ashton shut off the water with his elbow, turning slightly to face you. “My job,” was the reply in a tone that questioned your intelligence.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “That,” you pointed out the window towards the child on the table, “is a peds case, and you know it.”

“It will be once it stops being a trauma case, yes.”

“Why didn’t you page me?”

“Because I don’t need you. It’s a trauma case. I’m a trauma surgeon. Now, you want to stop asking inane questions, and let me do my job, or you wanna stand here and fight with me all night?”

“It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who happens to be trauma certified. And I’ll be damned if you do some hacksaw job on my patient that I have to fix later when I can scrub in and do the correct job now. So, are you going to ask me to scrub in, or do you wanna stand here questioning my credentials all night when you know I’m right? Do not make me go above your head to the Chief, Ash, because you know I will.”

His jaw ticked underneath his mask, his eyes hard as he thought over your threat. “Well?” he snapped after a beat of silence. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to scrub in?”

~~~

It was a grueling surgery, working in tandem with Ashton. For all the shit the two of you gave each other outside of the OR, inside you were one of the best teams, each of you knowing each other’s moves before you made them, and knowing what the other was thinking in the subtlest of changes. Even with both of your focuses solely on the patient in front of you, you were both vigilant in sending Ashton’s intern out every hour on the hour with updates, in which you two were also informed of the parents’ recovery.

Just before the four hour mark, Ashton let out a small hum of approval and you nodded. “Close and get him a room on the peds floor,” you told the intern.

“You don’t want me to update the family?”

“No,” Ashton cut in, already discarding his gloves, mask, and removing his scrub cap, shocks of curly brown hair falling forward and plastering to his sweaty forehead. “I will. Give Dr. Y/L/N any trouble and you won’t see the inside of an OR for a month.”

The intern gulped, knowing their boss meant what he said and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Y/N, I’ll meet you after I update the family to make sure we’re on the same page for how to proceed from here?”

“If you can remember how to page me, that is,” you smiled sweetly.

Ashton chuckled as he left the OR, while you stayed to oversee the intern closing, providing probably much gentler instruction than they were used to.

~~~

You rubbed at your eyes and stifled a yawn as you made your way to the cafeteria, still waiting for Ashton to page you. As you walked in, you realized why Ashton still hadn’t paged, spotting the man chatting with a few other attendings.

“Heard Y/N chewed your ear off,” Michael snickered.

“Yeah, she was pissed. Thanks for that, Cal,” Ashton said with a small giggle before changing his voice to do his best impersonation of you, “ ‘It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who also happens to be trauma certified. Do not make me go over your head.’ Like yes, darling, I know. I’m the one who gave you your trauma certification.”

As the men started to laugh, you set your tray down in an empty seat at their table. “Morning, gentlemen!”

There was a cough as they tried to stifle their laughter, each of them getting out a choked, “Morning.”

“What were we talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Uh… just how Luke needs to learn to loosen up on the stitches,” Michael thought quickly. “Turns a five minute procedure into a half hour ordeal, it’s insane.”

“Sorry that I care how my patients look after a trauma,” Luke said with an eye roll.

“I’m sure, psych would call that mentality projection,” Calum teased.

“Paging Dr. Pretty Boy!” Ashton cackled.

“Hey! Rather be Dr. Pretty Boy than Dr. Arrogant,” Luke rounded on Ashton playfully.

“Who calls me that?”

“Uh… everybody. Y/N’s pretty accurate with her nicknaming,” Calum grinned.

Ashton let out a breath of disbelief as you smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Have you considered being less arrogant?”

“I am not arrogant!”

“Yeah, you are,” you all chorused, while Ashton crossed his arms and pouted. “Oh, whatever, the best surgeons usually are” you continued, turning your attention to Calum. “Before I got stuck in surgery, I meant to talk to you about artificial bones. Found some promising stuff.”

Calum paused in his sip of coffee. “Mmm, shit, awesome. Uh…” he checked his watch, “I got a half hour before rounds. You got time now?”

You checked your own watch. “Yeah, I got t-”

“Actually,” Ashton interrupted. “Y/N, I was wondering if we could talk real quick first. About the kid.”

“Oh! Yeah. We should probably do that. Cal, I’m off after rounds, if you’re free then.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded as he went back to his coffee while you and Ashton rose from the table, bidding the other three goodbye.

“So, his chart’s all up to date. I have one of my fourth years monitoring the situation, but I’m not expecting any complications to arise. Should be good to discharge probably later today or early tomorrow at the latest,” you brought him up to speed as you walked.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Ashton rushed, eyes darting around as he pushed open an on-call room and locked the door behind the two of you. “How long we got til rounds?”

“A little under a half hour, why?”

Ashton smirked as his hands landed hot on your waist, his lips finding yours. “Wanna boss me around some more?” he murmured against your lips, before he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, before sucking into the sweet spot just before your collarbone, his hands jerking you to be flush against him. “Or, do you want my sincerest apology for being Dr. Arrogant, and forgetting to page you earlier?”

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly, tilting your head back, eyes shutting. “Little bit of both?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked before scrubs went flying and your back hit the mattress.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @major5sosstan @kaitieskidmore1

#nights in the or #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin au #5sos #calpal irwin

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xsugarysweetsx · 3 years

Text

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 6

Warnings; Zeke is still a creep/yandere; language; a fight (terrible action written); argument; violence; blood mentions; some angst; and fluff

TW: violence towards reader; slight ch*king; biting; held against will.

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*knock knock*

“I’m coming! ugh so early“ Sasha called, it was only 5 am and she still had about an hour of sleep. Mochi started growling at the door and then scurried away “What’s gotten into him?“ opening the door Sasha comes face to face with a certain blonde she loathed.

“Sasha was it? Y/N told me so much about yo-“

“What do you want Zeke?“ she sneered back

“feisty“ he whispered to himself “Listen I know you probably hate me but I haven’t heard or seen Y/N, I’m worried“

“Well, she’s fine and you don’t need to worry about her. Especially you.“ she felt Mochi at her feet as if taking a protective stance for her. She picks him up “See? Even her cat doesn’t like you after that night. Look she’s out of town at the moment, it’s a family matter.“ she covered for you while she closed the door, but it’s stopped by his foot

“Hey,“ there it was, that creepy smile “Let me know when she gets back, or if you need anything“ luckily Mochi attempted a swing with his claws along with a hiss

“good boy“ Sasha whispered as she closed and locked the door. Well, it looks like she’s taking the fire escape to work today.

“so, did you get her?“ Zeke hears as he enters the passenger seat of the car waiting outside. He watches like a predator watches prey, as she walks to her bike and makes her way to work

“All in good time boys. We know where she lives, works and that she’s alone. It seems Y/N isn’t here either. Hm, unless...” he thought for a moment. His eyes widen and an almost psychotic chuckle escapes his lips

“...boss?”

“That bastard,” he said calming down a bit “he didn’t really think she’d be safe if she was there did he?” fixing himself up and placing his glasses back where they were, pushing his hair back.

“Boys, we’re making one more stop later tonight so be ready.” with a smile he asks them “How do you feel about being a decoy for some time huh?” he had a plan.

It had just popped in his head now, it was reckless, exciting but he was going to do it anyway. He was going to have you one way or another, even if he had to keep you locked up for the rest of your life. He was getting what he was after, one way or another. Don’t you worry little Y/N, I’ll find you soon enough

<><>

“Aren’t you going to get any sleep Levi?“ you ask as you lean on the doorway of his room.

There he sat in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, something he commonly didn’t wear. It was always dressed shirts and slacks for him, it was nice to see him relaxing for once. You’ve grown accustomed to them, they had made their way into your friend circle. Hanji was the funny yet smart one who can get you to smile one way or another. Erwin was the wiser one of the three and you’d go to him for advice when you needed it. He was also the one you’d show new stuff of ‘your generation‘ and he’d be fascinated by them.

As for Levi, that was another story. He made you feel safe and even despite knowing him for about a week now, you trusted him. You were almost always checking on him or him checking on you. Hanji and Erwin made it a habit to always tease you for having an “unspoken thing”.

You guys have even had your moments at the funniest of times. You both had gotten locked in the cramped closet looking for some supplies. He stood behind you with limited space, trying to keep space between you both that seemed impossible.

And Levi, good lord, he smelled so nice! Lavender and lemon just engulfed you but it was such a pleasant smell. And his warmth was something that made your stomach swirl and flip. Next thing you knew the closet opens just for him to land on top of you, your faces only inches away from each other. A blush dusting his pale skin as the silence was broken from Hanji

“oooh I’m sorry for interrupting“

“I don’t need sleep but it helps when I have headaches,” he said coming to you grabbing his towel

“Do you have one now?” You ask him

“You asking me more questions may give me one”

“Hey!” Levi may have been cold and reserved but he cracked a few jokes now and then “you are a funny man Levi”

“Is that so?” He asked raising a brow

“Levi, can I talk to you for a moment?” Erwin called out. Walk-in from his previous spot with you he goes into Erwin’s study. Here was where they kept photos, records, letters, and just about anything.

“What is it blondie?” He crossed his arms

“You smell like lavender and lemon” he pointed out

“I always do-”

“It’s sharp,“ he raised his eyebrow “maybe you should tell her” he offered

“Erwin, we’ve talked about this. I don’t....I don’t know“ Levi has had his share of love and relationships in the past but it was something he’d rather not talk of. Erwin and Hanji knew about how things ended and how much pain he had to endure. “Either way I-“

Stopping halfway Levi’s eyes widen. Turning his head he takes in a breath, he knew this scent too well. It made him sick to his stomach. It was Zeke, he was outside the house.

“What is it, Levi?” Erwin asked picking up on his change in demeanor and the scent filling the air. Walking over to the window he shuts the blinds. It was already nightfall which meant anyone could be out there. More specifically anyone who were the same as they were

“..secure the house, now!” he ran off dropping the towel in search of you. “Y/N?!” he called out running to your room door. You were standing by the window gazing down at something. Walking over to where you stood he sees a man standing with a blank expression. Gazing upwards with a smile he points towards you, as of taunting to come for you.

Levi yanks you away from the window and closed the blinds. Bringing you out into the hallway, everything had gone dark. Erwin and Hanji had come out with a few strange-looking weapons.

“Levi, what’s the plan?” Hanji asked

“You two, I’m trusting you to deal with those two outside while I get her somewhere safe” he speaks as he takes your hand and walks in the direction of his room. Hanji and Erwin taking off in the other

“Wait who are they?” You ask frantically. There could only be one thing in this situation but you prayed to any god that it wasn’t who you thought.

“I’m more than sure it’s Zeke. This scent is way too strong. He might have masked his goons with his scent to try and trick us” getting to his room he brings you inside and closes the door

"Can I help?" you ask. You didn't just want to stand around like some helpless girl. "Let me help"

"You won't be able to fight them off," he said grabbing a hand knife "as helpless as you might feel, this is a fight we can handle. You're going to stay here while I look around the house"

"But-" you grab on to his hand and stop him from leaving, your heart was pounding and your panic was at its peak. Levi turns and does something you don't expect he pulls you into a hug to calm you down

"I won't let him take you." he was so warm and comforting. Knowing Zeke may be here right now put you on edge. Levi took the role of your protector, whenever you didn't feel safe you kind of floated to him. You just wanted him to stay close but then again you may slow him down

" Levi I..." why did you call him? You know he'll be fine but something just wanted him to stay close "..be careful, okay?" he nods sharply and leaves you in his room. It felt cold. It was quiet and dark, nothing but the moonlight shining into the room, and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You settled in between the nightstand and his bed, the area feeling secure. It was so quiet, any little noise made your hairs stand on end.

Looking around you saw a small piece of paper on the floor it was a picture. Picking it up you were surprised to see Levi--and was he smiling?! But there was also a woman in the photo, she had warm brown eyes and short fawn hair. They seemed so happy together, who was she? Where is she either way if they’re together? Did something happen to her? Turning it over the date showed it was more than 30 years ago.

“So where is she-“

“She’s gone ya know“ a voice came from the darkness making you shoot up from your spot. He was here but where your eyes dart back and forth through the darkroom. Not a figure in sight, yet you could feel the chill of the room run up your spine, finally a figure emerges from the darkness. The way he almost blended in with the dark made you're very being shake.

“Might happen to you if you keep wanting him“ he sneered

“Stay away from me, “ you said backing up against the wall almost hoping for it to swallow you whole. He starts to walk towards you slowly

“Ah yes Petra, she was a lot like you. Very sweet, naive, beautiful, and yet“ he stops moving and says with a chuckle “He couldn’t even save the woman he loved. And now he’s about to lose another one“

Your voice gets caught in your throat as you feel something clutch your throat. Zeke was suddenly right in your face, his eyes held no life nor emotion as he stares into yours filled with fear. He moves his nose down to the column of your throat

“You know I’ve wanted to taste your blood from the moment I knew what you were“ you could feel two sharp teeth begin to prod into your skin, threatening to breakthrough. His hot breath and tongue making you feel disgusted and utterly doomed.

“LEVI!!“ you unexpectedly scream out for help praying for him to come and save you. Zeke chuckles again

“HA! You think that bastard’s coming for you-“ he was cut off by being thrown off of you and across the room, some furniture falling in the process. You had slumped down to the floor still in shock feeling your body just shut down in fear. Squatting down he looks you over

“Did he hurt you?” he asked taking your trembling hands in his. His thumb grazes over your neck where you wince a little as a drop of blood paints your skin. Now he was livid, you could see how his eyes glowed in the dark, almost dangerously. He stands up and faces Zeke who stands up drunk from the throw

“You son of a bitch“ Levi curses him running over to deliver a blow to his jaw only a chuckle leaving his throat.

“Awh is Levi upset I touched his little girlfriend?” one to his nose “come on, you learned from the last time, humans are too fragile for you. Yet you have a soft spot for them, don’t you” a knee to the stomach. Hit after hit he keeps talking which only seemed to anger him more.

“Looks like you have shit that comes out of two places huh?“ Levi scowls at him holding him by his collar

“Didn’t he tell you Y/N?“ Zeke suddenly lets out “his past lover was human, he had to save her by turning her and instead....killed her faster, nothing but a monster.“ he smiled. It was a smile that held only evil as Levi dropped him to the floor. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles were losing color, meanwhile Zeke made a quick run for the window and made his escape. Levi’s shoulders float up and down as he panted still seeming ready to fight.

Trying to comfort him you walk over and rest a hand on his shoulder “Levi don’t listen to him, I know you. You-”

“What would you know?!“ he cut you off “I just found you in the forest and patched you up. Now my only friends and I are in constant danger all because Zeke is out for you!“ his words stung like venom, they honestly hurt. You retract your hand back towards your chest. You didn’t know that how he felt, maybe it was the heat of the moment? For now, perhaps you should stay clear, and let him have his space. Fast footsteps approach the door and in comes someone you had never met.

“Levi! Erwin is hurt, Hanji’s is alright“ he said wiping sweat from his forehead. Without any words, he nods and follows him out. You simply sat on his bed and felt your eyes water. Why....you felt hurt but why? Sure you cared for him but you couldn’t have possibly caught feelings for him? But why does it hurt? Was it because he was still sensitive about his past? Or maybe it was what he said?

After a few minutes, you walk out of the room and to the infirmary. Erwin laid unconscious in a bed while the new man patched up Hanji. Meanwhile, she explained what happened on her end.

“One of those bastards tried to practically rip him limb from limb and Molbit showed up and gave us a hand, “ she said in a monotone. “Poor Erwin, he put up a fight...Oh Y/N, this is Molbit. He’s an old friend and confidant of mine“ Molbit looks at you and smiled, but even a warm smile couldn’t heal the guilt you felt. They had gone through all of this because of you, they wanted to protect you....and you did nothing.

“Hey um...where’s Levi?“ you asked a bit nervous

“He’s in the bathroom cleaning himself up, “ Hanji said pointing over her shoulder towards the bathroom. Your heart starts to pick up the pace as you walk to the door. Your pulse almost stops as you raise your first to the wooden door and knock twice

“It’s me Levi...“ your voice was a bit weak saying his name, yet there was silence “....I’m coming in“

There he was shirtless at the sink, in the sink were some medical supplies. He had some covered but the ones on his shoulder seemed to give him a problem. They weren’t too bad, just two cuts, a scrape and a bruise

“what is it?” He asks in a softer tone than before

“U-um...let me help you..” you said it as a statement, not a question. “Please. You guys sacrificed a lot for me....it’s the least I can do.”

He turns to look at you and sighs, walking over to the toilet top he takes a seat. Picking up some disinfectant and swabs you walk over to him hesitantly. Your hand rests on his shoulder as you start to clean up the scrapes and cuts. His skin was soft but his body was strong, you could feel how the muscle under his skin was well built. You were also trying to hide the fact you were as red as a tomato. Seeing Levi shirtless was a whole other level of fluster. Him as a person was amazing, and so were his morals, but in all honesty, he was built like a god.

“I’m sorry about earlier...“ he breaks the silence “I was pissed off and just.....I’m sorry“

“No Levi...I stepped over boundaries.“ you answer as you patch up his scratches“...maybe if I leave you guys can go back to being-“

“No.“ he abruptly stands from his seat “I...I was the one who found you and wanted to help. None of it is your fault, and if you leave how can I...“ you look into his silver eyes wanting him to continue. Instead, he took a hold of your hands, his eyes concentrated on yours. Your noses only inches from each other. Your face felt 100 degrees hotter and you were convinced he could hear your heart jumping from your chest.

“Levi..“ you say his name gently feeling your knees wobble from your nerves. You unintentionally close your eyes waiting for something to happen. You could feel his hot breath graze your lips as soft skin ever so gently pecks your upper lip. Did he just kiss you?! No, you were imagining things, he couldn’t have.

Opening your eyes you find him still there, blush running over his nose, cheeks, and ears.

“Levi I-“

“Goodnight.“ he says suddenly and leaves you in the bathroom flustered and a bit confused. Did he...did he feel a certain way about you? Your heart was racing but your stomach was fluttering with excitement. Your hand came up to gently cup your mouth, something about it just felt right. That’s when Hanji walked in.

“Y/N, what’s with--whoa are you okay there?”

“Y-yeah“ you answer mindlessly as you run out of the room after Levi. You couldn’t tell what you were listening to, your head or heart. Maybe they were saying the same thing. You had started slowing down when you had seen him at the door of his room. Coming to a stop in front of him you both just stand there

“...so uh..“ you start “you...kissed me and I-“

“Don’t feel the same? Yeah I know you don’t...listen it was just impulse“

“Levi..“

“After Zeke I doubt you even trust me anymore much less after what I did“

“Levi I liked it..“

“And you’re--what?“ he snaps out of his rant and looks at your face that held its composure

“I didn’t mind it...“ you say with a blush. Did you actually have feelings? Feelings for a vampire, one who saved your life three times already. “I can prove it too“

why did you just say that?

Without a second thought you reach your lips to his in a kiss. Just a few seconds longer than the one he gave you. His lips were so soft and had a slight lemon taste from his tea. Instead of pulling away or just standing there, his hands come to your waist and pull you in closer to him.

The proximity making your heart do flips. He was warm and strong yet so gentle with you, almost like you were glass. It made you flutter and tingle inside, your toes curled feeling his teeth slightly pull your bottom lip. Maybe it wasn’t in words or thoughts but you knew your feelings had grown attached to him.

You had fallen for a vampire named Levi Ackerman. He saved your life, defended your life. He always made your heart skip a beat when he was around or when he cared for you. How was it possible to have even fallen for him so quickly? You honestly didn’t have a clue, but did you want one? no, not at all

<><><><>

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im-not-a-writer · 4 years

Text

Male Eivor x Reader ~Fear~

-Hey everyone! Wow it’s been.... A really long time since I’ve written anything here... Well with AC Valhalla coming out I thought it was only fitting if I add Eivor to my list! Enjoy everyone, let me know if there’s anything you want me to write next!-

TW: mentions of blood

The sun was drifting close to the horizon as the day had finally come close to its end and Eivor was still searching through Grantebridge. As most of the merchants were packing up for the night and preparing to return to their families Eivor was jogging from stall to stall, looking up and down for any sight of the girl he was supposed to be watching but there was absolutely no sight of her. After the last merchant had closed up shop for the night he sighed and rubbed his sore neck wishing the gods would stop wasting time and take him already. Making his way back to his horse he pondered where she could have gone, searching the recesses of his mind for any clues. She said that she needed supplies and obviously that’s why Eivor came to the market but he had been looking for her for some time now and if she was getting supplies here then someone would have at least seen her. His steed nibbled on his sleeve slightly and Eivor put a hand on the horse's broad neck, patting him gently and sighing once more.

“Why do I always get put in charge of people hm?” He leaned his head against his horse’s neck and received a huff in response.

Eivor stopped to think, if one was going to collect supplies but wasn’t doing it at a market then where would they go? His first thought was to raiding but there’s no way that this Saxon girl was storming a monastery anytime soon, although he would have paid good money to see her try. Eivor then, shaking the comical idea from his mind, realized at once where she went although he was not too excited to go and look for her. He mounted his horse and spurred him down the road and off towards the woods nearby, whipping past trees and fields as they went. As the sun began to droop lower into the sky the world faded into twilight. The warm orange of sunset was melting lower past the horizon and was being replaced with purples and blues, all swirling in the clouds as the last few rays of light sliced through the sky. Specks of starlight were poking through the sky as Eivor raced to the forest, the tree tops being doused in an inky black darkness as the sun began to set. It was dangerous out in the woods at night, especially for a girl who had brought nothing but a basket and a small hatchet with her. As far as Eivor was concerned, she was easy prey for anything out there whether it be man or beast, and he certainly did not want to see her harmed by either.

He slowed his horse from a strong gallop and listened closely to the silent and thick air of the woods. As he rode further the trees began to grow tighter, the roots rose out of the ground threatening to trip his horse. Branches scratched at his cheeks and caught his tunic forcing him to halt his horse and dismount, sending his steed off back the way they came.

“Don’t worry boy, I’ll be back soon.” he patted his horse fondly and turned to face the expanse of growing darkness in front of him.

He pulled out a torch and kneeled down to light it, striking over it with a shard of flint and sending little sparks flying from between the rocks. The sparks caught and a flame slowly grew over the torch, consuming the alcohol soaked cloth at the end and roaring forth in a bright flame that illuminated the path ahead with an orange glow. Eivor trekked forward, stopping once in a while to listen to the shaking of the leaves and the rustle of small creatures until a sound forced him still. It was clear, bright, it sliced through the night like a razor and it brought a cold sweat to Eivor’s brow. Wolves. The howl was loud, but not too close, and there was only one which so far was a good sign but he worried about the rest that would soon be following. He sped up his pace while trying to be as silent as possible. Step after step he calculated his way forward, heading towards where the sound of the howl came from. Soon he emerged in an oblong clearing with a rock protruding out of the ground, jutting up against a slight cliff of more jagged rock.

“Get away you beast!” A tired but spirited voice cracked from the rock.

Eivor looked forward and felt his heart lighten slightly at the sight of the girl he had been looking for. She was standing on the rock with her back against the cliff frantically waving a piece of firewood in the face of the snarling creature in front of her. The wolf’s hair stood straight up and it’s growl permeated the air in a low hanging rumble. Eivor felt his chest tighten again at the sound and he tried to reach for his axe. His hand froze, fingers close to the handle but refusing to move. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and his neck, sweat continued to develop on his forehead and he could do nothing but stare and shake. His breath and his entire form was telling him to just turn around and run for it, but as he watched her swat at the animal with nothing but a mere twig in hand Eivor found himself going against his body's wishes. With a breath to collect himself and a quick prayer to Odin he ran forward and before the wolf could turn around he plunged his hidden blade between the animal's ribs and felt as the breath escaped its mouth and its muscles finally relaxed. The animal slumped to the ground in a heap of grey fur, blood dripping out of a single clean cut.

“Eivor! You found me!” The girl chimed, looking incredibly relieved.

“Luckily, or you would have become a feast. What were you doing out here?” He replied, nudging the wolf carcass with his foot as he raised an eyebrow towards her trying to seem as natural as possible.

“Like I told you I was getting supplies.” She raised her nose slightly at him.

“The market was open, why didn’t you just go there?” He asked as he looked at the tree line, wary of any yellow eyes staring back at him. .

“Because…” She looked down at her collection of firewood, “Because I didn’t like the type of wood they had at the market…”

Eivor smirked and crossed his arms, knowing full well that was a lie. He was starting to feel much more comfortable now with her here, it was incredible how she could stare down the snout of a beast and still be trying to fool him. He waited for her response.

“... OK! Ok, I forgot all of my silver and I didn’t want to bug you for anything so I thought I could go to the woods and get supplies myself and meet you back at the market before you even noticed… but I got a little bit lost… and then I got cornered…” She looked up at him slightly and cracked a small pitiful smile in appeasement and Eivor simply smirked in return.

“Well, you’re very lucky that I found you but you can’t run off like that again, there was only one wolf this time but what happens when it’s the whole pack?” He looked back down at the dead wolf and felt a shiver go up his spine.

“I will scream for help louder next time then,” She smiled brightly at Eivor and he could feel the shiver be replaced with warmth.

“Ok well, we need to get out of here before we run into the rest of them, one wolf of this size is formidable enough but a whole pack is something I’d rather not deal with.” He leaned over and grabbed her basket and offered her a hand down from the rock. She smiled and took it, climbing down and taking her basket from him. He kept an eye out on the tree line as he pretended not to notice her holding onto his arm and they started to walk back towards the forest path together.

“You had a hatchet with you, yes?” Eivor said, still listening to his surroundings.

“Oh! Yes! I almost forgot about it!” She replied, holding onto him a little tighter as the trees closed in around them. “I wonder where I left it…”

“You should be more careful, coming out here all by yourself without a real weapon is a death sentence.” His gruff voice delivered the slight sting of being reprimanded but also showed a deep care and concern which made her heart positively melt with every word.

“I know… it’s just you were busy and I didn’t really feel like dragging you out of your important meeting with Soma.” She said as she brushed aside a stray branch.

“I would have followed you out here regardless.” He said ducking slightly under a limb.

He could tell that she was getting a little tense and she tightened her hold on his arm, “I disagree, whatever she had to say was much more important than following a smith to the woods.”

Eivor shot her a side glance and narrowed his eyebrows and just as he was going to press further into what she meant he stopped. He lowered himself to the ground and pulled her close, putting a hand over her mouth softly and looking around. He could hear something. A crack of twigs and a rustle of leaves from his left and a brush of the ground from his right but at this point the night had advanced so much it was almost pitch black and he had left his torch back at the clearing. He stopped and waited, breathing slowly and trying to calm himself down. The girl in his arms shook slightly, either from the cold or from fear he didn’t know. Tightening his grip around her he removed his hand from her mouth and started to reach for his axe, slowly, this time his hands were quick to obey as he grasped the handle and pulled it out. He looked down at her and nodded slowly, hoping she understood the signal. Slowly, he started to rise, careful to balance his weight exactly where it had been as to not make any sounds. In one second he pushed the girl out of his arms and turned to his right, racing forward to sink his axe into the neck of a wolf ready to pounce. The girl tripped but gathered herself and sprinted forward, racing through the trees, ducking and pushing her way out of the woods as Eivor was left face to face with his worst fear. Before him stood a huge, black furred wolf with gleaming yellow eyes and an array of yellow fangs dripping with spit. The wolf twitched and lowered its head, growling and snarling as it’s massive paws depressed into the ground. Eivor could feel fear seep in, his heart was racing and his limbs shaking and disobeying. Wide eyed he stared at the creature in front of him as he shrank slowly, feeling once more like a child on a frozen lake. He knew what those teeth would feel like ripping into his skin, he’s felt it before. He knew what those claws could do, the pain they were designed to bring. Eivor felt himself shrink into a child, small and helpless, his years of warring and raiding melted away, his muscles evaporated as he felt himself become weak and small. The wolf stepped closer, the rumble of it’s growl growing.

“EIVOR!” A voice screamed from somewhere in the distance but the fog surrounding Eivors mind was too thick, he scarcely even recognized his own name. “EIVOR!!” Once again there it was, Eivor twitched and turned slightly but he was too afraid to take his attention off the animal in front of him.

“EIVOR YOU BLOCK HEAD- DUCK!” The voice screamed at him and finally he recognized it, his body snapped into motion as he fell to the forest floor as metal whipped overhead.

The wolf exclaimed a high yip and fell to the ground in a slump of fur and teeth, twitching as life drained from it. Eivor dared not to look up, he wasn’t sure what had happened but he was too afraid even still to move. That duck had been the last push of his might.

“Eivor! Are you alright!?” The voice spoke, the girl he was supposed to be watching swooped down and grabbed his shoulders.

She could feel him shake through his many layers and pulled him close, “Eivor are you hurt?” She asked, concerned.

He could feel some sense returning to him as he melted in her embrace, he wrapped his large arms around her and collapsed into her lap, breathing frantically and heavily. She wasn’t sure what to do, she had never seen a man this formidable this scared before. She gently stroked his hair as he shook the fear out of his body and tried to force his breath back to normal.

“Everything is going to be ok Eivor, he’s dead.” Her soft voice drifted into his ears and he tried so hard to be normal again but he continued to tremble. “Look,” She brought his face up from her lap and gestured to the dead wolf in front of him. “See?”

Eivors stomach lurched slightly but reason took over as he saw the hatchet sticking out of the wolf's forehead, blood staining the blade slightly.

“I see you… found your hatchet” He nervously laughed as he sat himself up and took a handful of deep breaths.

She stared at him slightly, running a hand through his hair once more and smiling at him gently. “He can keep it,” She joked. “Come on, we need to get out of these woods.”

The two found themselves back in Grantebridge, weary, a little bloody, and ready to collapse. Soma had arranged a room for them in the longhouse and neither of them had the energy to oppose. They walked into the longhouse, warmth circling them from the large hearth in the center, they could hear slight bouts of chatter as they walked towards their room but they didn’t have the energy nor the care to listen. Eivor watched as she walked in the room first, she took a look around and her eyes landed on the bed.

“Don’t worry I can sleep on the floor,” Eivor spoke up, breaking their comfortable silence.

“Oh… Yes… I suppose…” She started to flush at the cheeks as the Dane started to take off his cloak and unsling his weapons.

Quickly she turned around and stared at the large bed before her. There were furs of all kinds draped over the bed and many pillows, it looked terribly inviting but incredibly lonely as well. She knew however, the consequences of a Saxon woman letting a Dane sleep in her bed, as unfortunate as it was she couldn’t get herself in an uncomfortable position that would damage either her, or her fathers reputation. She looked back slightly at Eivor, he was down to his tunic now. He looked different without all those layers and weapons on, this way he looked so much softer. She stared for a little too long and turned back around, looking down at her dirty and tattered frock. She knew she couldn’t sleep in this but she also didn’t think undressing in front of a Dane was any better than sleeping in the same bed as him.

Eivor folded his cloak and placed it on the ground next to the bear skin that would stand as his bed tonight. As he looked back up he noticed a lingering glance from the girl before him. A blush on her cheeks as she quickly turned the other way. “Sorry… Would you like me to sleep outside?’ He asked.

“No! No.. I mean, of course not! I’m just… I’ve never…” She looked down at her hands and she fiddled with her frock, picking some dried mud off of it. “Um, well I’m going to put the candles out um… thank you for saving my life!” She hurried to the candles and hushed them out, darkness overtook the room and Eivor stood staring.

He shrugged it off and lowered himself down onto the bearskin rug, he could hear the brief thump of her clothes hitting the floor and he forced himself away from any impure thoughts. He could feel his weariness start to take over him but every time he closed his eyes he saw the same thing. Those gnashing teeth, the curled snout, eyes of amber staring straight into his very soul. Every time he tried to relax his muscles he could feel those teeth in his neck and those claws ripping down his back.

“Eivor…” A soft voice forced his attention.

“Yes?” he replied, he could hear the sleep on her voice.

“Could you…. If you wanted to…. Um…. come up here...please,” she stuttered.

It caught the Dane off guard at first. He sat up slowly and turned to look through the darkness. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Um well, if you don’t want to I-”

‘No, I want to.” He smiled slightly and stood up slowly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Well you just standing there staring at me is making me uncomfortable.”

He laughed and smiled, walking towards the bed and placing his hand down on the furs. “Well in that case I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

He lowered himself down into the bed, careful to keep a respectful distance.

“You could… come closer.” She said softly.

Eivor moved slightly, “Is that better?”

“A…. a little bit closer.”

Once more he moved, he could feel the warmth of her body radiating at this distance, it was almost intoxicating. “Better?”

“Just.. a little closer.”

Eivor moved closer, he could feel her body against his and he could feel his face erupt in warmth. “Better?”

“Much… thank you.” She leaned back into him and sighed with content.

He wrapped his large arm over her waist and with a little tug pulled her flush against him. She smiled and prayed that this would never end.

“Thank you for saving me….” Eivors low voice said softly.

“I should be the one saying that.” She laughed and he could feel it through her back.

They melted into each other's arms and he closed his eyes, in peace this time and just as sleep was starting to overtake him.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She said, breaking him out of his slumber.

“Hm? What?”

“That Eivor Wolf-kissed isn’t made out of metal” She giggled and turned slightly to face him.

He felt his heart quicken at the sudden closeness of their faces. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“ Fear makes us human Eivor.” She smiled sweetly and looked into his eyes.

She leaned forward slowly and lingered just in front of his lips for a moment before leaning further and closing the gap between them. They kissed, softly, as if pushing too hard would cause the other to disappear. When they separated giggles and chuckles filled the room. They met once more before both of them felt the sweet sensation of sleep wash over them.

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

Note

Hello 👋 I was wondering if you could write about Remus Lupin bitting one of Harry’s friends, and they’re relatively alright with it but lovely Remus hates himself for it- a bit of angst but with happy ending?

Family

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black

Summary - The marauders are back at Hogwarts at the age of 34 for yet another adventurous night after years but this time it didn't end rather well but Remus had his family.

A/N Okie so this was a wonderful idea and I just had to write it and I might have tweaked my request status a bit. But, anyway, a few things before you start, everybody is alive, no voldy, no nothing. And since you didn’t specify which one of Harry’s friends, I naturally went for Ron to add in the drama. Also, this happens in their third year and Remus and Sirius are well, married, sorry if it isn't a pairing you are comfortable with. And this may be a bit rushed, idk but I loved it tbh.

Remus ran his fingers over the scars on his knuckles. Remus was gifted with such a beautiful life, his friends and family so close to him, leading a life filled with love and happiness, the sound of innocent laughter always echoing in his ears no matter what.

Over the years, he and his best friends had grown from adventurous teens to adventurous adults, still spending every full moon like a tightly-knit pack, running into the woods and barking in their animal forms. They had never grown out of it and Remus was more than grateful for it. It was truly a wonder, regardless of how much they had grown, married and having kids of their own, never spared a thought if any other was in need of help.

Thirty-four. It was bewildering how he managed to pass twenty-seven years tuning into a full-on beast with insane thoughts and no memory of his human self, only noticing the stag, dog and the rat that managed to keep him accompanied no matter what. He pitied the wolf at times, he would never have the chance to know what love is, never understand how people care about others and would protect their loved ones.

Remus knew what love is, Sirius taught him that like his life depended on it. Remus shivered every time he thought about this. They were no longer the playful and traumatized teens, they were adults with responsibilities now and it was terrifying. But Remus found comfort in the very aspect of it, teaching and just as his friends insisted he did become the Defence Against Dark Arts professor and he more than just loved it.

And now after years, they were back in the shrieking shack for the next full moon, this time, honestly dreading it. Remus suspected that Harry and his friends were rather curious about their shenanigans in the shrieking shack. Harry, of course, knew that Remus was a werewolf he had known it ever since he was realised, his father, Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail would go missing for hours and then his mother would be with Uncle Moony, treating all the new scars that Harry was told is a sign of bravery from a young age by his godfather.

For some odd reason, Dumbledore had requested that Harry must not know was that it was his very own Uncle Moony spending his night away in the shrieking shack for which Sirius had reasoned was solely for the drama it ensued.

“Moony, stop fretting,” James said, patting him on the shoulder and pulling him away from the window sill he was standing before, “It is Harry we are talking about, I think he would be rather cautious,”

“That’s the stupidest things you have ever told in your whole life, Prongs,” Sirius commented, smirking and looking out of the window, to see when the full moon rises.

“Hey!” James glared at him, “I mean, yes, he could be a curious little shit but he is…good,”

“This is not about if he is good or not, James,” Remus snapped. He took a deep breath and sat on a chair that had been placed near the wall, away from the three of them.

“Right, sorry,” James said, looking at him apologetically and remained silent giving Remus an opportunity to continue, “Just like you said, he is a curious child and his friends almost give him a run for his money and there is so little chance to no chance that they would not be coming here to “find out“ what’s going on! And like what if I accidentally hurt someone!?”

Remus shuddered as he said those words. Contrasting how he was speaking moments ago, he looked up to see Peter, James and Sirius looking at him and he fixed his eyes to Sirius’ and he whispered, “They could die or even worse become a monster like me,”

“Moony, enough,” Sirius said, calmly, drawing the attention to himself rather than Remus, “The full moon will be in minutes, there is nothing we can do,”

“Remus,” Peter sighed, emerging from the corner he stood in, “First of all - you are not a monster. Second of all - we are here, nothing wrong is gonna happen,”

”What if something does?” Remus argued. He didn’t have to see to know that Sirius closed his eyes to calm himself down.

“Sirius, do you hear yourself!?” Remus stood up abruptly, “Your words drip with irresponsibility!”

“It’s not irresponsibility, Moony,” he said, motioning Peter to take over as he walked towards Remus, “it’s the reality. What do you think we should do, then?”

For once, Remus Lupin was out of ideas. He didn’t know what to say but he knew Sirius was right, there was almost nothing they could do other than control the wolf and every full moon they deal with would be a unique tale of itself, never certain of what could happen. It was woven with time.

“It’s time,” Peter said, grimly. Remus took a shuddering breath and fell into Sirius’ arms, who was still in his human form, unlike the stag and rat, watching their moves carefully.

Remus was right. In the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, Harry Potter laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling, the noises in the shrieking shack and the tales about it resonating in his mind. He was confused about what might be there and curious to find out when nobody would tell him the truth although they seemed to know. And today, they would unveil it.

James was rather happy that the full moon would end in a couple of minutes but he was not allowed to stay that way when he saw the wolf stop dead in tracks, sniffing the air. They all behaved rather weirdly, sometimes hilarious, in these forms but this time, it seemed different, like the wolf had encountered something out of order.

The stag and the dog stood cautiously, ready to pounce any moment while the rat, discreetly moved in the direction of the wolf’s sight and to a bush. They could hear whispers and murmurs as the animals and humans stood still on both sides, afraid of what might show and for the first time they all saw the wolf stand so extremely still.

And then slowly, a mess of unruly, jet black hair emerged from behind the bush. The wolf took deep, rapid, breaths that almost sounded like growling, bared its fangs.

The black hair further raised until they could see the bright green eyes, behind the round glasses and the wolf noticing the presence of the human, pounced.

The dog was rather quick to act and jumped on the wolf, redirecting its path but a stag and a dog wasn’t enough for the wolf to be distracted from its meal. Hunger in the pit of the wolf’s stomach derived its senses insane.

Harry stood up to his full height, wide eyes watching the wolf push a familiar black dog away from itself and leapt forward, fangs sinking into the flesh before it blacked out, falling to the ground.

He is going to get an earful from his father.

“Careful, Mr Lupin,” Madam Pomfrey rushed to him as Remus tried to sit up and take a look around. She gently pushed him back to a sleeping position on the hospital bed. Through half-lidded eyes, he frantically murmured Sirius’ name over and over again.

“Hey, hey, calm down, love,” Sirius was at his side, holding his scarred hand. Remus held onto it tightly and asked, “What happened?”

He could see Sirius hesitating to tell him and the vague memories remaining in his head from the night was not doing him any better.

“Sirus, please tell me what happened!?” He asked, anxiety rising in the bit of his stomach, the nasty churning feeling retuning. Sirius gently pushed the strands of hair from his forehead and leaned up, pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead.

“Th-the kids-” Sirius started just for him to be interrupted as Remus sat up, abruptly. He didn’t have time to sort out his chaotically, messy feelings and the one thing in his mind was what happened to the kids.

“Moony, Moony,” Sirius hurried to calm him down that, if anything, just made Remus panic even more in his hazy state of mind. Sirius placed his hands against Remus’ shoulder, pushing him gently to sit on the edge of the bed when he tried to stand up.

“Nobody is hurt, Remus,” he said, crouching a bit to look at Remus in the eyes but sighed with a pang in his chest when he saw Remus’ eyes unfocused and roaming above his head, at the various hospital beds.

Remus gasped and his heart sunk to the bottom when he saw the bed surrounded by kids and adults. It was Ron Weasley. His teeth had sunk into the boy’s shoulder blades where he could clearly see the bandages wrapped tightly around. He couldn’t imagine the pain the poor boy would have felt.

Remus Lupin felt like a terrible monster.

Why him? Why is it always him!? Just when he thought everything would be alright when he began to let himself wallow in the joy of being back at Hogwarts. And because of him the boy, merely thirteen, would have to become a monster every month.

“You are awake,” James, who seemed to have been outside the hospital wing, rushed to him, "Oh, thank gods-”

”I told you this would happen,” Remus whispered, hoarsely, staring at the foot of the empty bed before him. His mind was racing with unwanted thoughts. He felt mad at himself, at his friends, at the kids but was immediately engulfed in a pang of even bigger guilt.

A dry sob involuntarily escaped from his lips. He couldn’t understand how Greyback did that to the kids when here he was dying with guilt. He didn’t dare think of that one terrible evening when he was just seven.

Remus struggled to take a deep breath. “Moony, look at me, please,” Sirius said and these words in Remus’ head felt like a command. He slowly raised his head to look into those mesmerising grey eyes, sparkling like they always did in the sunlight. Those grey eyes were the only ones that had the ability to calm him down in seconds yet he found it difficult at the moment to regain his normal breathing pace.

“Hey, it's alright. I am here. We all are right here,” Sirius pushed the strands of hair out of his face as Remus tugged at his own shirt, as though it would help him breathe properly.

Sirius looked at James who immediately moved to the nearest window, pushing it open. The gush of fresh, cold breeze for some reason warmed his shattered heart. Remus, although still shaking, managed to take deep breaths.

“Listen to me, alright?” Sirius said, cautiously and slowly, “Nothing is wrong, everybody is doing good - I said you to just listen, Lupin. Ron did get a few injuries but, thankfully, since it was time for you to transform back, the bite was equivalent to that of a domestic dog or something,”

Remus didn't have the ability to comprehend what he was saying and just gawked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Sirius smiled gently, looking at Remus’ wide, confused eyes. “Ron will not transform every month. You didn’t “ruin“ his life, which I am sure at this point you have confirmed. And Madam Pomfrey had down all the necessities so he would be alright in a couple of days,”

“Oh,” Remus breathed, chuckling lightly but happily. Ron was alright. He was alright! He wouldn't turn into a monster every month, he wouldn't have all those hideous scars, he wouldn't be weak every other day, he wouldn't seem to look way older than he actually was. He would be able to lead a peaceful childhood.

James sat next to him while Peter sat on the bed before him, “Now you might be wondering why is Molly crying buckets when her son would be alright,”

“No, I’m not James,” Remus rolled his eyes, pushing James away and shaking his head with a light smile. He discreetly wiped the tears forming in the edge of his eyes.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry yelled, and ran to his uncle. Remus tried to stand up as his nephew rushed into his arms, the boy holding onto him so tightly. Remus slowly wrapped his arms around the boy and felt Sirius stand up behind him, providing support to his weak frame.

“But you should ‘cause I have prepared an answer for it. If you are not asking me why then Padfoot go ahead,” James said and watched with a smirk as Sirius cleared his throat, and asked, “Why?”

”Thank you very much for your certainly not forced question - it is because she is a mother!” James said going jazz hands just for him to be hit with three pillows.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Moony,” Harry whispered into his uncle’s chest, feeling guilty as ever. He heard the man sigh and the arms wrapped around him grew tighter. Remus took off Harry’s askew glasses and whispered, “It’s okay to me, Haz but your mum,”

Harry giggled, burying his face into Remus’ chest, “I love you, Uncle Moony,”

“I love you too, Haz” Remus ruffled the boy’s already messy hair.

"Wait!" Peter said, jumping up and stood beside Harry, smirking, "Can we, I dunno, take points from him?"

"No! that's stupid!" James complained, shaking his head, "Gryffindor needs to win the house cup. We can ground him or something but not take away points,"

"Yes! Can I ground him, please?" Sirius asked.

"No,, absolutely not," Remus said, holding the boy closer to him, "Nobody is gonna ground the poor boy. Leave him alone,"

"Gah! You're no fun, Moony," Peter said, shaking his head in disapproval.

James, after controlling his laughter said, “Also, Harry, your mum told me to yell at you as a favour for her and she would do her job when you come home for break,”

"Uncle W," Harry said, making Peter chuckle at the nickname the boy insisted in calling him saying it was too weird calling his uncle "Wormtail", "I will steal your cheese sticks,"

"No," Peter groaned, dramatically, "Cheese sticks, my weakness,"

“But you won’t yell at me, dad,” Harry said, pulling away from Remus and putting his glasses on.

“I will,” James said, seriously.

“It is not that you won’t, Prongs,” Sirius said, from behind Remus, “It is that you cant,”

“Oh shut up,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Remus couldn’t help but allow his eyes to skip towards Ron every often and harry, of course, noticed it. “Ron is alright, Uncle Moony. He was actually saying it doesn’t hurt much anymore and he was rather bewildered why his mother was crying too. Oh! he also says you guys were so cool yesterday,”

“We know, prongslet, we are the coolest people ever to exist,” Sirius flipped his hair, dramatically. Harry laughed.

Remus took a deep breath. He would never forgive himself for what had happened, but he had his family with him and they sure would make him forget it. These wonderful people were his family.

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #domestic wolfstar #wolfstar raising harry #jily #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #hogwarts #harry potter fanfiction

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Coffee with Crazy

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of food/drink

Summary: One brief and very eventful coffee shop encounter has two sets of minds whirring, one person beating themselves up for being so rude and the other wondering why they didn’t care.

Prompts: Coffee Shop AU with dialogue prompts “I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” and “I missed something, didn’t I?”

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Day 7 of @theweasleyslut’s 2k writing challenge

The life of a successful businessman was always tiring, and not just because of the whole, y’know, running a business thing. There were interviews to do, appearances to keep up, crazy fangirls to avoid. It was exhausting. Which was why Fred Weasley began to take after his father in his love for the Muggle world. It was a place where no one knew him, no constant name calling or asking about his famous relatives. He could just be at peace. Except not this morning.

He had a meeting at 11 with major investors for the shop, a meeting he had completely forgotten about until George called him 5 minutes ago. Unfortunately, Fred was in Muggle London for a morning walk and to do some exploring, so he was a good ways away from where he needed to be.

Racing down the streets he turned a few corners, trying to remember where he had gone after leaving the Leaky Cauldron. He was panicking, completely backwards in his directions. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

He looked to his left, trying to get his bearings and understand his surroundings. Right above him hung a sign for a coffee shop, one offering “The Best Coffee in London.” Hopefully they could offer the best directions too.

The little bell above the door rang loudly as Fred almost threw himself through it, causing quite a scene in the otherwise serene little building. Many heads turned to face the frantic man, but after a few seconds they all returned to their newspapers or companions, effectively ignoring him. He rushed up to the counter--thankfully no one was in line--and hit the bell about a dozen times before you emerged from the back, staring incredulously at the handsome, crazy man that was in front of you.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, hello, terribly sorry,” he said, words rushed and slurred. “Do you live in London?”

You hesitated before answering, not knowing if you should disclose this information to an insane man in the shop. “I have all my life, why?”

“Oh thank Godric. Ok, I need directions to a place called The Leaky Cauldron.”

You chose to ignore his weird replacement for ‘God’ in his previous sentence, instead focusing on trying to recall any such place.

“The Leaky Cauldron?” you repeated. “Is that like a Halloween store or something?”

Fred slammed his hand down on the counter in frustration, making you flinch and jump back. He immediately softened, putting his hands up to show you he was harmless.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…” He took a deep breath, calming himself. George could handle the investors if he was gone for a few minutes. He never wanted to be some work-crazed maniac, but that was just what he was turning into. He could slow down just a bit. “Let me start over, I’m late for a very important meeting and I need to go to this place called The Leaky Cauldron. Is there any chance you’ve ever heard of it?”

You relaxed, just a bit, and stepped back toward him. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never heard of the place.”

Fred grimaced but took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. “It’s an old, run down building. Really nasty, awful thing to look at. So bad that many Mugg--people choose to just ignore it. Ring any bells?”

You thought for a second. “You mean that old shack a few streets down? All dark and musty, one tiny sign hanging above it? I guess I never took the time to look at the name, didn’t really want to…”

“That’s it!” Fred exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Do you know how to get there?”

“Sure,” you said, now very eager to help this stranger. “Make a left out of the shop and turn right at the end of the street. Walk down two blocks and then make a left. Should be down that street about 4 blocks.”

Fred thought he was about to explode in happiness. “Thank you, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.”

You smiled, though why you didn’t know. Creeps in the shop weren’t too common, but you had dealt with enough to know that any politeness was too much politeness. But for some reason, this man didn’t seem like the other creeps you’d interacted with. “Of course. Here, I think I can help some more.”

You opened a door to the display case that showcased many delicious treats and grabbed a small loaf of homemade banana bread. “Take this to the meeting. I’m sure whoever you’re talking to will appreciate some of London’s best bread. It’ll go great, I promise.”

Fred just stared down at the bread, wondering why you were being so kind to someone who had just barged in and yelled at you. He reached for his wallet in order to pay, but groaned when he realized he didn’t have any Muggle money.

“I’m sure it would, but I’m a little short on cash right now--”

“Take it,” you said.

He looked at you, now even more confused. “What?”

“Take it. I’ll take care of it.”

“But, but,” he stuttered, not knowing how to respond to this. “Won’t your boss get mad at you?”

You laughed, eyes crinkling in a way that Fred would only later think as cute, when he would lie in bed that night and think back about the events of the day and the pretty cashier who had given him a break. “Trust me, the boss won’t mind. I told you, I’ll take care of it. Now you’re late for your meeting, so get out of here!”

You shooed him away with your hands, making sure he grabbed the wrapped loaf before he left. As the door closed and the ringing of the bell quieted, you wondered what had come over you to be so kind to a stranger, and an awful one at that. The rest of the day it plagued you, confusing you even more on your actions. When you finally went to sleep that night you couldn’t stop imagining his frantic face which had so quickly been overtaken by care and shame when he scared you. Who in the world was that man?

------------------------------

It was exactly one week later when Fred returned to the shop. One week down to the minute. He stood outside the shop door, rethinking his decision to do this. You probably did not want to see him, but it was only right for him to pay you back. He prayed that you didn’t get in trouble for giving him the bread for free.

Much more softly than last time, he pushed open the door and walked in. The shop was just as busy as it was the last time he was in. There were people lounging around on comfy sofas and others having quiet conversations at cute little tables. It was a vibrant place full of so much personality that he wasn’t able to notice before.

Looking over at the counter he saw a few employees. One teenage girl with straight black hair and a nose piercing, one man about his age sporting a jersey for some London football team, and then--

He spotted you, standing near a coffee machine pouring shots into a hot drink, which you then stirred and set on the counter. “Order for Amelia.” He watched you scan the room, probably looking for the girl in question, before your eyes landed on him. Surprisingly, you didn’t turn away or start whispering to your coworkers about what a whack job he was. Instead, you just smiled at him warmly and gestured for him to come over.

“Hi,” Fred started timidly, not knowing what to say. “I really need to apologize for last week. I was under so much stress and was being such a complete ass and I--”

“All forgiven,” you said, smile not even faltering.

He couldn’t have heard you right. He wasn’t even done with his apology yet and you had already forgiven him?

“I don’t think you understand,” he tried again. “I’m the one who came in and yelled at you and asked directions to The Leaky Cauldron. I slammed my hand down like this, see?”

He repeated what he had done a week prior, except this time you were expecting it and didn’t rush away. “Yes, I remember. Kind of hard to forget someone like you.”

He didn’t know if you meant it as an insult or a compliment, but either way he still had to finish.

“Anyway, I came back to pay for that bread. The loaf you gave me. I, umm, I have money now.”

He pulled out a $50 American bill, hoping that would be enough to cover it. “Umm, is this enough?” he asked, handing you the bill.

You looked down at it, up at Fred, down at the bill again and then back to Fred. “That’s an American bill, hun. I don’t know if you knew, but we’re in London. As in, London, England. Y’know just across the Atlantic, that’s all.”

Fred was officially completely embarrassed. “Fucking George,” he muttered. “He said he’d get me some normal money and then he bloody gets me this! I can’t believe--”

You laughed suddenly, the sound snapping Fred out of his rant. “This George, is he a bit of a prankster?”

Fred slowly smiled, putting the bill back in his pocket and running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea.”

You giggled again, for some reason so entranced by this mystery man. “What’s your name?”

He straightened up when you asked that, internally smacking himself for never properly introducing himself to you. “Sorry, I’m Fred. Fred Weasley.”

He stuck out a hand for you to shake which you gladly took. “That’s an interesting last name, where’s it from?”

Fred shrugged. “Old wizard family name, don’t really know.” He caught his mistake after he said it, but thankfully you just laughed as if what he said was a joke.

“Oh, so you’re a wizard, huh? Think you can turn the 50 into usable money?”

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, I promise I’ll be back soon to pay you with real money.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, moving to grab something from behind the counter. “Of course. You seemed like you needed a break that day. And something tells me you need another one today.”

Before he could protest you grabbed a coffee that was sitting on one of the back counters and handed it to him.

“Quad shot caramel mocha. I made it for myself but haven’t had any yet. It’s all yours.”

Fred’s mouth was agape and eyes wide. There’s no way this was happening. He had come to apologize and beg for forgiveness from a cute barista, not be awarded with another free item.

“No, no, I can’t”

“Oh come on, it’s like $5. It’s not like I’m giving you a free car.” He softened a little at your teasing and reached out to grab the drink.

“I’ll pay you--”

“No you won’t.” You crossed your arms and stared him down, even though he was a great deal taller than you. “I’m good at reading people, and even though you’re a whack job nothing has told me that you’re completely mental yet. I like you. So you’re gonna take the coffee and you’re gonna be grateful, understand?”

Fred gulped, simultaneously nervous and intrigued at your forcefulness. “Yes ma'am.” He grabbed the coffee as another customer approached the counter, signaling for you to get back to your job. “You sure your boss won’t--”

“No, I’ll take care of it. Now scram before I make Johnny chase you outta here.” She gestured at another coworker who had just walked out of the back room, and Fred knew immediately that this man was not someone he wanted to be in a fight with.

“Noted,” he said gulping. He went back to the door but paused before pushing it open. “What did you say your name was?” he called back, hoping he wasn’t creating too much of a scene.

You looked at him and smiled, that same kind smile that you had been giving him all day, though he didn’t deserve it. “Y/N.”

He nodded, smiling back, before heading out the door.

------------------------------

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is illegal.”

It was the third time Fred had visited the coffee shop, finally with suitable Muggle money that he knew would cover what you had given him previously. He had offered the money, even counted it all out down to the coin, but you refused to take it, instead giving him a new drink you had made for him to try.

“Illegal?” you questioned, still trying to hand him the latte.

“Yeah, you’re gonna get fired for this! I know I’m incredibly handsome and everyone just falls at their feet for me, but you can’t keep stealing from this place to give me free stuff.”

You rolled your eyes, retracting your hand that was holding the drink. “I have told you time and time again that I’ll take care of it. Why can’t you just let me be nice?”

“I’m not going to be the reason you lose your job, alright? I don’t care how nice you wanna be, I’m not going to--”

“Bloody hell you’re difficult.” He could tell you were fed up with him, but all he was doing was trying to help you out. “Watch this.”

You walked to the middle of the shop where everyone could see and hear you. “One free coffee for anyone in here. If you’d like one please form a line up here and Stacy will take your orders.” You looked over at Stacy whose eyes were wide as she saw the amount of people who stood up. “Don’t worry Stace, I’ll make them all, you’re fine.”

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Stacy replied, “I’ll just make Johnny come help me, you go explain everything to your mystery man.” She raised her eyebrows at Fred and winked at him before turning to take the first order.

“I’ll give you each an extra $30, remind me before you leave,” you called to Stacy who nodded happily.

Fred looked from you to the girl Stacy to the line of customers that grew by the second. “I missed something, didn’t I?”

You laughed at his confusion, sticking your hand out to shake his. As he took it you introduced yourself to him for the second time. “Y/N L/N, owner and operator of the shop in which you’re standing.”

Fred stood there dumbfounded, feeling even more stupid than he had the last two times he had come in. “You...you own this place?”

“Yes, sir!” you said, dropping his hand. “Opened it a few years back and it’s been a blast ever since. But we’re short staffed at the moment which is why I’m always helping up front.”

The gears in his head were still spinning, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Let’s sit,” you said, dragging him to an empty booth.

“So that’s why you gave me the stuff for free.”

“Yep. Who’s gonna fire me, me?” Fred laughed and relaxed into the seat, glad he had taken the morning off of work so he had nowhere to be.

“Well in that case,” Fred said leaning closer, “we have a lot more in common than I realized. My brother and I are actually business owners as well.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “No kidding! What kind of shop?”

Fred’s eyes twinkled with mischief, a smirk forming on his face. “If I told you that my brother was George, would you be able to guess.”

You gasped in realization. “A joke shop! That’s incredible, oh I love joke shops.”

“And I love coffee shops, what a coincidence.”

Giggling, you stood up to go grab some coffees for the both of you, as well as some food to snack on as you talked. And talk you did. The two of you spoke about anything and everything either of you could think of, from how the business started to family and friends to favorite places to eat in London.

“Speaking of places to eat,” Fred said after his second cappuccino and third muffin, “Would you ever consider getting dinner with me some time? I promise, I’ll pay.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I trust you to do that. Might bring some Canadian coins.”

“Maybe I’ll take you to dinner in Canada then. Heard it’s lovely this time of year.”

Fred had grown to develop a major liking for you in just the past few hours you’d been talking, and it was fairly obvious that the feeling was mutual. Whatever had made you decide to be kind to him that one time, and the time after that and the one after that was unknown to the both of you. You could only describe it as a feeling that there was something more to him and you wanted to get to know him better. Whatever it was, Fred was glad it happened, as now he had a date for this Friday evening with a beautiful, savvy, smart business owner. Pretty much himself but in a miniskirt.

“I have to warn you,” he said as they finished up their last drinks, “there’s a lot about my life that’s really crazy.”

“Crazier than you?” you teased, but Fred looked serious.

“A lot crazier than me. I just wanted to let you know before you got involved that a lot of things might be hard to believe, downright impossible even.”

“What, you’re not talking about your ‘wizard family name’ or something like that, are you?” You expected Fred to laugh at your joke, but he just pulled at his collar and fiddled with a ring on his hand.

“You could say that. Just want to prepare you, that’s all.”

You reached forward and put a hand on top of his, steadying his twitching. “I’m prepared. I really like you Fred and I want to get to know you, even the crazy stuff. Besides, how weird could it possibly be?”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasley #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #Fred weasley fluff #coffee shop au #coffee shop

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They’d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.”

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.”

“Do you even know how?”

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.”

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.”

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.”

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?”

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.”

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through.

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor.

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills.

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track.

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin.

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?”

“Just give it here.”

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture.

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder.

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.”

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head.

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose.

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around.

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s.

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?”

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?”

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #susan hargrove #max mayfield #ej writer #story by ej!#tw blood #tw injury #how did this end up at over 10k words #i hope i didnt go too far off track with this #my brain just could not stop #I tried to post this two days ago but couldn’t because of the text block limit on mobile so I’m sorry this took so long #hope it was worth the wait but I’m very self conscious about posting this one #I’m really hoping this makes some sense because I can’t read all the way through it again whoops

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taizi · 3 years

Text

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter three: build bridges with these arms

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying, jiang cheng/wen qing word count: 3794 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

Jiang Cheng doesn’t remember dropping the phone, but he must have, because Wen Qing is holding it now and talking to A-Li in the sharp, rapid-fire way she speaks when she’s frightened. He doesn’t remember getting off the couch or leaving the room, but he’s pacing back and forth on the veranda, the warm glow of the porch light pushing away encroaching nightfall. And he doesn’t remember Wei Ying coming after him, but his brother is there, watching with wide, anxious eyes, his hands balled into fists in the front of his shirt.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Jiang Cheng bites out, his heart beating so fast it’s painful. “I can’t believe she didn’t fucking—she didn’t fucking call? She couldn’t let us know that—that our sister—”

“Maybe she meant to,” Wei Ying says hoarsely. “Maybe she—forgot.”

“Our mother never forgot a single thing in her fucking life as long as she could hold it against us.” He’s so angry he feels brittle with it, as though moving too much or too fast would cause his body to break. “A-Li asked her to call us and she didn’t. A-Li wanted us there and we weren’t.”

His baby nephew was coming early, and his sister was having an emergency C-section, and his brother-in-law was pacing a waiting room by himself for hours waiting desperately for good news, and Jiang Cheng was just fucking around in a lake the whole time.

A-Li’s voice was so tired and shaky that Jiang Cheng knew, inherently, how bad it was.

She didn’t say it on the phone, of course she didn’t, but she didn’t need to. All of Jin Ling’s useless uncles have been reading every article about pregnancy and prenatal care that they could get their hands on from the moment A-Li told them she was expecting, and they each, to a man, could probably write a white paper on the risks of preterm labor.

Yanli could have died from complications. It wasn’t unheard of even now, in the twenty-first century. She could have bled too much, could have been gone, and Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have known until it was too late. He wouldn’t have been there to hold her.

Mother was supposed to call. She didn’t.

It’s like the sudden collapsing of some integral foundation. The weight-bearing limit was reached and the floor is crumbling beneath him and this building he’s lived in his whole life that he mistook for mortar and stone is actually some childish construction of paper and wax. This place he thought would withstand storm and fire and erosion is finally falling apart after so many years of careful repairs, so much frantic patchwork.

Mother hurt them over and over and over again, but she was still their mother. Family is just hard, Jiang Cheng had always thought. Family hurts. That’s just the way it is, it just costs you every day, and you’re always discovering how much farther you can push your threshold, how much more you can actually take.

Except... his siblings never hurt him. Never on purpose. He doesn’t look at A-Li or A-Ying and feel anything but fondness and exasperation and loyalty for them. He would do anything for them.

Wen Ning plainly adores his sister, and Wen Qing’s world revolves around her brother. None of their immediate relatives stepped in to help them after the fire, clearly screening their calls, none of them eager to sacrifice their time or money, but Granny has been almost a constant presence in their lives since they got here. She adopted all of them, no relation required.

Wei Ying came to the Jiangs when he was five, an emergency placement with the second family listed on his parents’ will, because his legal godfather was dealing with the death of his brother and sister-in-law, and the subsequent adoption of his young nephews. By the time Lan Qiren could be reached and came dashing to New York, it had been almost a week, and Wei Ying and A-Li and Jiang Cheng were all comfortably attached at the hip.

Rather than uproot his traumatized godson again, so soon after the initial upheaval of his young life, Lan Qiren reached an agreement with mother and father to let Wei Ying stay with them. He paid for all of Wei Ying’s expenses and then some. Jiang Cheng only knows because mother likes to complain about being short-changed when she’s drunk.

And then when his nephews were a little older, and he could step down from his role as director of a ridiculously prestigious music school, Uncle Qiren retired, and relocated his family from Suzhou to New York City. Wei Ying always had a second place to go home to if he needed one. His siblings were always welcome there, too. Uncle Qiren was strict and never let them get away with a goddamn thing, but he keeps all their pictures on his desk.

Family, Jiang Cheng finally realizes at twenty-three years old, isn’t supposed to hurt.

You’re supposed to be loved. You’re not supposed to have to buy it.

Wei Ying is crying in that awful, silent way he cries, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to make a sound. Jiang Cheng storms over and drags him into a hug that’s probably too tight, and Wei Ying hugs him back just as hard, and for a moment that’s all there is.

Night is creeping in around them, inky and inexorable. They’re suspended in the warm orange porch light like a couple of sailors marooned at sea. Jiang Cheng holds onto his brother, and finally lets go of someone else.

It is silently agreed-upon that Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying need to see their sister. Wei Ying tries to apologize for leaving in the middle of retiling one of the bathrooms and Wen Qing gets properly angry with him for it.

“He’ll finish when he comes back,” Jiang Cheng promises, which ends up sounding more like a promise that they’re going to come back at all.

“The tiles in the bathroom are literally the least of my concerns,” Wen Qing snaps, and that sounds more like she’s saying she doesn’t need a promise, she knows they will.

They barely pack anything, they just sort of move around the house in anxious circles until the airport shuttle shows up, and then they shove on their shoes and grab blindly for bags and jackets.

Goodbyes are made on the veranda. After living together and rebuilding a home together, the embraces come easily. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even have a chance to feel self-conscious about any of it.

“The tickets should be in your email,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying checks his phone and frowns. “You only got two?”

Lan Zhan says, “I will stay here.”

His eyes are dark and unreadable, but Wei Ying must see something in them that Jiang Cheng doesn’t. He drops his bag and shuffles forward and Lan Zhan puts his arms around him. He stands there like some ancient, immovable structure, like a load-bearing wall, like Wei Ying could bring absolutely anything to him and Lan Zhan would help him hold it.

“Give the bunnies a hundred kisses for me while I’m gone,” Wei Ying mumbles against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, muffled and wet in a telling way.

“A hundred kisses,” Lan Zhan agrees solemnly, and presses the first one into Wei Ying’s hair.

A-Yuan, holding Wen Ning’s hand, largely confused and a little troubled by the tense atmosphere, earnestly assures that he’ll take care of the bunnies. Wei Ying ruffles his hair playfully, and then finally seems ready to go.

“Try not to let the place fall apart without me,” Jiang Cheng says to Wen Qing.

“I’ll do my best,” she replies. She doesn’t reach out to him with her hands, but her eyes seem to.

Jiang Cheng can’t get her eyes out of his head.

Yanli is pale and tired and beautiful. She lifts her head as they come into her private hospital room, and then lifts her arms immediately, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying both run to her like they’re children again. She’s sobbing, trying to wrap her frail arms around them as hard as she can.

“I missed you so much,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jiang Cheng can’t think of how close they came to losing her or he’ll go insane. He just sits on the edge of the bed and holds both of his siblings and doesn’t make fun of Wei Ying for crying as much as Yanli.

Jin Zixuan comes in with a nurse and a bassinet at that point, and there are deep bruises under his eyes and his clothes are as unkempt as Jiang Cheng has ever seen them, but he’s smiling.

The nurse bustles around cheerfully, checking vitals and talking to A-Li about how well the results of some screening or another turned out, but Jiang Cheng can’t focus on anything except the tiny little swaddle of butter-yellow blankets that Jin Zixuan is lifting out of the bassinet.

“A-Ling, this is your Uncle Cheng,” Jin Zixuan says softly, passing the infant into Jiang Cheng’s arms. He doesn’t take his hands away until Jiang Cheng’s apparent panic must have faded, and then he’s suddenly sitting there holding his nephew.

Jin Ling is faintly purple, and his tiny limbs are all curled up like he still hasn’t realized he has room to stretch them out now, and his face is pinched in a moue of absolute distaste for the world in general.

“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says. He leans against Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, smoothing a finger against the soft mop of dark hair on Jin Ling’s head, and the tiny seashell curl of his ear, impossibly gentle. “What a weird-looking baby.”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Jiang Cheng snaps. Now he’s crying, too. “He’s perfect.”

Yanli is beaming at them, leaning into the arm that Jin Zixuan wraps around her shoulders, and asks about California. Wei Ying launches into animated chatter about all their projects and all their progress. Surrounded by them, some jangling, dislocated thing in Jiang Cheng’s chest finally begins to settle.

The day that A-Li and Ling-er are discharged from the hospital, Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng are skulking around the overpriced gift shop on the first floor. Lan Huan is with them, and Jiang Cheng is trying to talk him down from spending eighty dollars on a giant teddy bear, when he sees her.

His mother, making her way through the lobby toward them. Something cold and sharp replaces the warm golden core of him in an instant. He puts a hand on Lan Huan’s shoulder and says, “Keep my brother here.”

Lan Huan blinks. His eyes follow Jiang Cheng’s gaze, and his pleasant expression sours.

“Of course,” he says. “He can help me pick out a bear.”

“Jesus christ, with the bears,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and shoulders past him to get out of the gift shop, cutting his mother off outside the door.

“So you’re finally home,” she says by way of greeting. “Did you enjoy your vacation?”

“We’re not doing this here,” he mutters, hyper-aware of Wei Ying puttering around somewhere not even ten feet away. Turning on his heel, Jiang Cheng leads the way past the gift shop, away from the busy atrium and the receptionist’s desk, trusting his mother’s need to have the last word will compel her to follow.

He stops abruptly in an empty hallway somewhere between the billing and record departments and turns to face her.

“I didn’t come here today to play childish games,” mother says, sounding weary of him, of all things.

And it hurts, how much Jiang Cheng still loves her. How much he still wants to love her. His entire life is a series of attempts to trick her into feeling something for him, feeling anything for him. Trying to win her affection. Attempting the impossible.

“You didn’t call,” he says.

Yu Ziyuan scoffs. “You made it fairly clear that you weren’t interested in anything I had to say to you.”

“A-Li wanted you to call,” Jiang Cheng insists, the temper he inherited cresting inside him like a wave, or a wall of fire. “She could have—do you even care that she could have died? That she was scared? She wanted you to call us. And you just decided not to, to get back at us for disobeying you? I’m twenty-three years old! If I want to go to California to help my friends, I’ll go to fucking California!”

He’s never in his life raised his voice at her like this. A small, childish corner of his heart quails from the stunned anger on her face.

He clenches his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

“You stay the fuck away from us,” Jiang Cheng snarls. “All of us. I mean it. We’re done.”

Family, he thinks, isn’t supposed to hurt.

When he starts to step past her, mother grabs his arm hard enough that her long nails manage to pinch even through the sleeve of his denim jacket.

Knee-jerk, he rips himself away from her. He never forgets to flinch.

His mother stares at him like she’s never seen anything like him before, her hand hovering in the air between them. Jiang Cheng takes a step back, and then another.

He thinks of his sister’s precious life, his nephew’s, used as some sort of bargaining chip.

“We’re done,” he says. It comes out quieter than he meant for it to. It comes out sounding like he really, actually means it.

If something flickers in his mother’s expression, if her hand trembles, if she shifts towards him, he doesn’t see it. He’s already spinning around and heading back the way he came, not quite fast enough to call it fleeing. When Jiang Cheng rounds the corner, he runs headlong into someone who catches him by the shoulder before he can stumble.

Wei Ying’s gray eyes are wide and full of pain. Jiang Cheng doesn’t need to know how much he overheard to know that all that hurt is for Jiang Cheng’s sake, and A-Li’s, with hardly any left over for himself. Wei Ying never had to wonder if Yu Ziyuan loved him—he always knew she didn’t, no matter how much his siblings tried to convince him she did.

Jiang Cheng sinks forward against him, head falling against Wei Ying’s shoulder. He’s still trembling with anger, but now it feels more like grief.

Wei Ying hugs him, cheek pressed to Jiang Cheng’s hair, and after a moment he rocks them both from side-to-side.

“Come on, A-Cheng,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better once you see how much Lan Huan spent on Ling-er’s teddy bear.”

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng mutters. He already feels a little bit better.

They end up leaving a week later. A-Li promises to come visit the second the baby is cleared for travel, and kisses Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying both on the cheek. Jin Zixuan waves goodbye at them with Ling-er’s tiny hand.

Flying stand-by gets them home whole hours ahead of schedule, and they land in California at something like two in the morning. Neither of them want to wake up their friends, so they spend a small fortune on an Uber instead.

Predictably, Wei Ying’s eyelids start to droop the second the car pulls onto the highway. Jiang Cheng only nudges him awake when they enter city limits. As they pass the township sign, Jiang Cheng’s heart twists in his chest, like a dog perking up at the sound of a key in the front door. The Uber driver squints in confusion at the GPS screen, so Wei Ying leans up over the middle console to direct him down the proper county road.

They pull up in front of the villa and Jiang Cheng’s whole body sort of sighs in relief.

Wei Ying is beelining towards the front door before Jiang Cheng is even entirely out of the car, juggling bags to dig his keys out of his pocket. He’s got that look on his face of single-minded focus, a look that says he is going to get to his fiance in the next two minutes even if he has to break a window to do it.

“You’re so dumb,” Jiang Cheng says, and shoulders him aside to unlock the door.

“Your face is dumb,” Wei Ying retorts maturely. He kicks off his boots and drops his bags by the door, and then races for the stairs like it’s been thirteen years since he’s seen Lan Zhan instead of like thirteen days. “Night!” he whisper-shouts over his shoulder.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and locks the door behind him. He leans against the wall to tug the laces of his sneakers loose and tosses them toward the shoe rack. Shouldering Wei Ying’s bags with his own he deposits all of them inside the big French armoire that functions as an entry-way closet.

Reflexively, he checks in on the rabbits on his way through the living room. They’re fast asleep in their expansive two-story hutch that sprawls half the length of the wall. Muttering derisively about his brother’s taste in men, Jiang Cheng snags a blanket off the back of the sofa and steps through the narrow doorway into the den.

Wen Qing is fast asleep at her desk, face buried in her folded arms. She’s been doing this ever since she resumed her classes.

Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng leans over her laptop to save all her work, then closes it so it’ll have some battery life left in the morning. He drapes the blanket over her slumped shoulders carefully.

“I’m home,” he tells her quietly. She doesn’t wake up, but he didn’t mean for her to.

Wei Ying is greeted the next morning by a screech. A-Yuan flings himself away from the breakfast table to attach himself to Wei Ying’s leg.

“You’re back!”

“I’m back!” Wei Ying says, hauling the kid up into his arms. “And I brought you so many souvenirs from New York!”

There are mouth-shaped bruises on Wei Ying’s neck, because of course there are. Jiang Cheng prays to god for any shred of fucking patience and pointedly doesn’t look at him or Lan Zhan. How fucking dare they be like that right in front of his eggs.

When they’ve eaten, Granny says, “Everyone has a big surprise for you two. They hurried to get it done before you got home. A-Ning, go find your sister. Let’s show them.”

They’re shuffled outside, through the conservatory and down the back steps, and Jiang Cheng sees it a half-second before Wei Ying does. He grins, full and wide, and hears his brother gasp.

“You finished the dock!” Wei Ying yells. “It looks amazing!”

He goes running down the hill with Wen Ning and A-Yuan like a summer storm composed of loud, delighted noises and waving limbs. Lan Zhan follows slowly with Granny hanging onto his arm. Jiang Cheng watches after them, reaching into the corners of his chest for the pain that always comes hand-in-hand with moments of impossible joy like this, but he can’t seem to find it.

“The contractor said he would give us an estimate on a pavilion,” Wen Qing’s voice says from behind him.

Jiang Cheng turns to find her standing on the porch, leaning against the door, her hair still messy from sleep. She’s holding the blanket around her shoulders where he left it. Her eyes are reaching for him.

He’s braver than he was when he left.

“That’s a pretty permanent fixture,” Jiang Cheng says, heart beating wildly. “You sure you’re invested in something like that?”

She sighs in that way that means she’s laughing and comes down the steps to join the rest of her family by the water.

When the pavilion is finished, they have a wedding there.

It’s a small ceremony. The Lans are invited, of course, along with Jin Zixuan’s half-brother and a scattering of close friends, like Mianmian and Nie Huaisang. A-Yuan is the ring-bearer, and when he’s successfully delivered the rings to the grooms, he lifts his arms in a bid to be held.

Laughingly, Wei Ying scoops him up. His hair is loose and his eyes are bright, and Lan Zhan is looking at him the way he’s always looking at him, like he would follow him absolutely anywhere.

Just this once, Jiang Cheng will allow it.

The daylight is fading fast, and the night is going to be perfect and clear. Yanli and Wen Ning are spinning each other around in time to the music, totally out of step with everyone else and laughing brightly. Granny is taking a fussy A-Ling back up to the villa to put him to bed in the nursery that every single one of them spent way too much time and energy on, leaving Jin Zixuan free to nurse a glass of sparkling grape juice and stare judgmentally at his half-brother for flirting with Lan Huan. Jiang Cheng might join him for some judgmental staring, actually.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are slow-dancing with a giggling A-Yuan held between them. The water rocks gently against the posts, crowded with the lily pads and lotus flowers that Jin Zixuan carefully maintains for A-Li. Wen Qing crosses the dock to Jiang Cheng, and her hand slips easily into his.

And none of it hurts. It isn’t supposed to.

Their house waited empty for a long, long time, but they’re all finally home.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #yunmeng shuangjie #wangxian #jiang cheng #wei ying #wen qing #lan zhan #jiang yanli #my writing #mdzs fic #the ship sways

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killthe-illusionarydreams · 4 years

Text

Ashes To Ashes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: ‘Please could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where you’re inside the burrow when Bellatrix sets it on fire and Fred runs in to get you out?? Thank you, I’m really loving you writing!’ For anonymous

Ps- i havent read the books or seen the movies in a while so I kinda went w the time it was fleur & bills wedding & intergrated it w that, sorry if its not what u wanted but I did write Bellatrix’s attack in x

————

Today was the big day. For today was the the day where Fleur & Bill were finally to be wed. For their celebration to erase war from anyones thoughts, today they were just two kids in love, not undercover Order Workers. Today they were simply girl & boy.

“Oi Y/N hurry up, Fleur’s asking for you” Ginny shouts practically breathless as she runs past your room, trying to find Hermione for the bride.

You pick up the gorgeous bouqet that earlier today you picked up from the florist for the woman and made your way downstairs into the living room. As you take a closer look, you notice something is off. Fleur was standing rigidly still, looking in the mirror unblinking.

“Fleur, darling, are you alright?”

The woman remained silent, Y/N had no idea what to do, she’d never seen her friend so paniced, so immobile. Ever since Y/N’s sixth year (after the Triwizard Tournament) the two kept in contact, maintaining a solid friendship with the other, who wouldve known that years later Fleur would join the family that you had already been apart of.

“Its okay to be nervous.” You sit beside the Frenchwoman “Just talk through it” grabbing her hand you pull her down to sit beside you.

“It’z all so scary Y/N. I love Bill, I really do, but what if he realises he doesnt feel the same about me and leaves me there?” She faces you, eyes glossed over

That caused you to frowm slightly “Bill loves you more than he loves life itself Fleaur, everybody knows that he’d do anything for you just to see you happy- not many can say that they have a person like that.” You smile lightly, thinking about your person. “You constantly say how much you love him, so if you stil feel that for him, theres no need to be scared of getting married-These are the normal pre wedding doubts, none of them are true. Besides, I’m sure if Bill tried to run away from such a gorgeous and talented person as you, Molly would raise havoc and go to the ends of the earth to get him back.”

Fleur looks up at you, smiling, but with stray tears going down her face “Thank you Y/N” she throws herself forward and hugs you “It’s just a big step & I’ve been so emotional lately because of-“ she hesitates

A look of realisation dawns on you and you beam, hugging her once more but tighter “You’re joking? Congratulations!” You give her a peck on the cheek “Does Bill know?” You queried as she shook her head

“Non, I only confirmed it a week ago. Please dont tell anyone Y/N.” She looks at you with pleading eyes and you vigorously nod

“Of course. I wont say a thing, this is your secret. But how about we start getting ready for your wedding hmm.”

As Y/N started to do Fleurs makeup, Hermione rushed in with the wedding dress that her and Molly had been making final adjustments to, Ginny was running around frantically trying to get all the guests in the right places and seats. Once commisioning your help to shout at a group of loiterers to leave the premises because they wouldnt listen to the red head girl. All in all, after many hours, Fleaur was ready.

“You look gorgeous.” Gabrielle beamed at her sister

“Stunning.”

“Ethereal.”

“I might just steal you from Bill” you wink and cause her to laugh and blow you a kiss “I’ll go get everyone ready, you still have plenty of time to relax.” Handing Gabrielle the bouqet, you rush out of the room, which proved to be quite difficult in heels. But bearing through the pain, you get outside and see rows and rows of the fragile golden chairs set on either side of the long purple carpet. The supporting poles to the gazeebo top were entwined with gorgeous white and gold flowers. As you look to where there was supposed to be an enormous bunch of balloons, you frown to see it bare.

“George!” You shout getting his attention “Wheres Fred? You were supposed to the balloons up ages-“ you feel strong arms pick you up and spin you around, making you let out a shriek of surprise, thankfully not loud enough to get the attention of the others

“I’m here my love, disposable at your command.” He purrs into your ear, sending chills down your spine

“Put me down asshole” you laugh and turn to face him, before you could manage to say anything you were taken aback at how he looked. “You got a haircut.” You stated plainly and ran a hand through his hair as he put his arms around your waist.

“Correction, George cut my hair when I wasnt paying attention so ‘people would be able to tell the difference between us’” he wrinkled his nose

You stare at him, dumbstruck “As if the hole on the side of his head wasnt enough.” Fred laughs and says thats what he said “I like it, it suits you.”

Fred grins and kisses you, “Lets face it Y/N you like anything when its to do with me.”

You roll your eyes and hum in agreement “Thats because I love you Fred. But I will seriously consider breaking up with you if you dont get the balloons up as you promised.”

Fred gives you a small peck & jumps back from you “I’m on it!” and runs over towards his brother to finally do what he had to. You smile at him, reminiscing at how you managed to fall in love with such an idiotic man, yet you could never wish for more. Fred Weasley was truly perfect.

Shaking your head you turn back to the guests that were not where they were supposed to be before shouting “Get to your seats and away from the food please! Thats for after the ceremony!” You swat their hands before adding “If you dont know where youre supposed to be, go to Hermione and Molly, they will tell you.” You motion to the pair before walking around to make last minute adjustments.

The wedding ceremony went beautifully, Fleur was walked down with her bridesmaids: Gabrielle & Ginny. When in sight, she rendered everyone breathless, she was ethereal, the most gorgeous a person could possibly look. Molly teared up from the get go at the sight of her eldest marrying, many more joined in when they said their vows. You could not believe that the day of your friends wedding had finally arrived. Throughout the entire sitting down portion of the ceremony, Fred was holding your hand and rubbing circles on it, an assurance that through everything you went through- you were still together- still alive.

The loud music was ringing through the field, dancing bodies surrounded you, but you paid them no mind, your main focus on Fred.

“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look Y/N?”

You laugh lightly as you sway to the beat “No, I must’ve missed it the other ten times you said it”

“Well you do, absolutely bewitching, are you sure you didnt use a love poition on me? I never knew feeling this was possible.” He jokes as he spins you

“Must be my natural charm and charisma that got you so captured Fred.”

“Must be.” He mutters softly looking into your eyes. Fred was completely besotted by you, more than anyone had ever seen him be, he just knew that Y/N was perfect. The way that she’d light up any room she walked in, the way that she’d never back down from a challenge, and just simply how she made him feel. Dear Merlin he loved the girl. “After this do you fancy going away for a bit?”

You look at him sceptically “Planning out your murderous fantasies are we?”

He laughs and shakes his head “You’re impossible. No, since the shops closed I thought we could go away somewhere before everything with the war kicks off, I want as much time with you as I can get.”

“Oh” you forgot that the wizarding world was on the brink of war “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But if you sneak George along i swear to Merlin I will live through my murderous fantasy & kill the pair of you.”

Fred chuckles again, before nodding “Promise, no George. I think he got an eyefull when he barged into our room without knocking.”

“Serves him right.” You mumble “I told him on multiple occasions to knock.”

The rest of the song died down and you stayed in Freds arms for a moment, before he was being wisked away to dance with Aunt Muriel, he held an awfully sour look as you giggled when she hounded on him to straighten his back, then saying that he was too tall.

“I’m a bit cold, I’ll go get a jacket then I’ll be right back” Y/N kissed his cheek & left to get back inside the burrow. Thinking nothing of it, she poured herself another drink, smiling to herself at how Fred would have to have another dance with Muriel. What an awful woman.

Unbeknown to the girl, a silver patronus intruded on the celebration to announce grave news. “The Ministary has fallen. The Minister of magic is dead. They are coming. They are coming.” Everyone scrabled to find their loved ones, to make sure that they were safe, but before Fred even had the chance to look for Y/N, everything burst into havoc. The gazeebo was now engulfed in flames, Death Eaters showing up everywhere to curse them.

“Y/N!” Fred shouted, frantically looking around for the girl “Y/N!”

He turned around and was greeted by a paniced Mr Weasley “Theres not much time Fred, I dont know where she is, you need to get to safety and leave. Now!”

Fred ignored his fathers protests and ran, dodging various spells being shot from either side. He had to find you, he had to know you were safe.

An abrupt crash jolts you back into reality, you get up to run and go outside but with a sudden ‘whoosh’ and black smoke- two Death Eaters appear infront of you.

“Shit.” You mumble & grab your wand, quickly dodging their spells you manage to knock one out & try to deal with the other. “You’re quite persistant-“ blue sparks shoot from your wand, the figure ran upstairs & you follow.

“And you’re associated with mud-blood scum!” A flash of green emerged from their wand that narrowly missed you, you grin

“You missed.” You kick a chair at the figure, momentarily distracting them to cast a spell “Stupefy! Petrificus totalus!” As the figure was knocked out & bound together, you walk over and spit out “Get a life, prick” snapping their wand in two.

In the middle of your fight, you had not noticed that the commotion outside had turned to an arsonists playground. looking through the window you call for Fred, hearing no response your heart stops, you leave the room & try to get down the stairs but now they were already engulfed by flames.

“Oh shit” you panic and shoot spells at it to stop the fire from spreading, but to no avail, it only got worse. Smoke was now clouding your vision, realising that if you were not to jump down you’d perish in this fire. Letting out a short breath, you hype yourself up for the leap of your life “You can do it Y/N. Come on” violetly coughing, you jump. Unfortunately landing a fair few stairs too high. Unbearable pain shoots up through your leg & you cry out in pain.

Sinking to the floor you couldnt even move, the pain in your arm and leg restricting you. This was it, this would be how you die. All alone, with no one to help you, no one to save you. In a burning house. Yet the only thought racing through your mind was ‘Is Fred safe’. Thankfully most of the fire was behind you, the staircase had completely gone up in flames however, the roof was begining to crumble down. A plank toppled down, narrowly missing you, but making the room next to you catch on fire.

As you were losing conciousness you hear a strained yell “Y/N!” You try to respond, but all that came out was a series of violent coughs “Y/N im coming, hang on!” You couldn’t see what was happening, i dont know if it was the thick cloud of smoke or the fact that you were breathing most of it in, but your vision blurred.

A faint figure emerged, breathless, trying to get through the flames & to you fast enough “Hey Y/N ive got you, im here.” You felt yourself being picked up & your body fell like a ragdoll. “Oh merlin dont die on me Y/N.” Was the last thing you heard before passing out.

The abrupt light and noise woke you up, yet you were unable to open your eyes, they were far too heavy for the little energy you had. Were you dead? Is this what death felt like?

“Stop pacing Fred, she’ll be fine.” You heard a voice say, however, unable to distinguish who it belonged to “shes a strong girl, the nurses said so.”

“Yeah they also said she’d wake up yesterday, so my apologies if I dont believe what they have to say.” He snapped

Fred. Oh yes, Fred. He came into the building to save you didnt he? So that answered your question of being dead. You were very much alive, but dear Merlin you were in unbearable pain.

“She’ll be up and about soon though? Her body was exhausted thats why shes sleeping so long right?” He continued, sounding unsure. Well if this is how they reacted to you passing out you wouldn’t want to know how theyd react if you died.

“And id appreciate it if I could sleep some more.” You croak out as you let your eyes open. Coming to face the whole clan of distressed red heads, Harry, Hermione & Fleur.

Fred snaps to face you and a look of relief washes over his features “Y/N” he whispers and rushes to your side hugging you “You’re okay. You’re alive. Thank Merlin.”

You try to chuckle, which abruptly turns into a wheze “I’m okay yeah, in a lot of pain but I’m fine.” Fred retreats from you, an apologetic look on his face.

“Come on kids lets give them some space.” Molly ushers everyone out of the room “I’m glad you’re okay Y/N” she sends you a smile and leaves the room for you and Fred to be alone.

Moments pass with Fred just looking at you with glassy eyes before he abruptly let out “You bloody scared me half to death!”

You motion for him to help you sit up “Oh I do apologise that me nearly burning in a fire scared you. I wasnt very happy about it either.”

Fred looks at you speachless, confused at how you can joke about it so soon. He remains quiet before letting out a big sigh and hanging his head into his lap “I thought I lost you.” He mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear

“Hey, look at me.” You say and put his face into your left hand with the little energy you have “I’m okay, I’m alive. And so are you” he smiles faintly before you continue “Obviously as gorgeous as ever, so nothing irreversible happened.”

He laughs “Obviously.”

While in the room Fred filled you in on what happened, that after the Death Eaters showed up & they fought them off- Bellatrix Lestrange set fire to the burrow & he ran in to get you out. He told you that you passed out & that you had to be taken to St Mungos to treat your broken leg and the burn on your arm.

“The nurses said you were lucky to get out alive Y/N” he said lowly, not being able to bear the thought of your death.

“Im alive because of you Fred. Thank you.” You offer a weak smile “There were two Death Eaters in the house when it burned up-“

“Thats not on your concious to bear, Its on Bellatrix Lestrange.”

You nod, in all honesty you didnt feel bad that they perished in the fire- their downfall was their own undoing. But what was on your mind was the fire burn “When I’m better do you recon I’ll l have a cool badass scar?”

Fred shakes his head as he holds your hand, of course thats what Y/N is thinking about “‘course you will, It’ll become part of badass backstory.”

“Good” you mumble and close your eyes. After a long silence you relax back into your pillow, the sleeping draft & skelly-grow hitting you like a brick. You begin to mumble incoherent sentences

“Hey Freddie?”

He looks at your peaceful face, all calm against the pillow and responds “Yes my love?”

After a little pause of small mumbles, you ask “When I’m better, can we leave for our trip?”

“Whatever you want Y/N.” He smiles lightly & watches you drift off to sleep, hoping that ‘better’ would come along faster.

—————

Ahh okay hi! Omg this took so long to write, again sorry its not the actual bellatrix fire story, i jus forgot how it happened & when I remembered I wrote too much of it. <33

#slytherin #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #draco malfoy #fred weasley x slytherin #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #hermione granger #ron weasley

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