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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months

Text

.⋆｡His Weakness｡⋆.

Kylo Ren x plus size reader

His Choice Masterlist

She was gone, taken and he would rip the universe apart just to get her back

Chapter Warnings: smut, size kink, d/s dynamics, blood, anger, angst, fear, softness, bath sex, oral (f receiving), guilt, death, Kylo is not a good dude my guys but he's doing his best, reader gets a spine in this chapter, m masturbation, these two are toxic

WC: 5.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Part 1

It all felt like a strange dream. She floated in space, weightlessness cocooned her in a comforting embrace. And yet fear simmered beneath the surface of her skin, poking and prodding at her, refusing to let her drift into the calmness of her unconscious mind.

Her heartbeat was loud in her ears and her back, her body thumping in time like a great drum being beaten upon in her chest. She wiggled her toes but there was no sensation of anything against her feet, no wind or silk sheets, just warmth. There was something around her face, forcing cold, sterile air into her lungs. It was hard, a sharp corner bit into her cheek, causing a sharp pinch when she moved her head. She tried to open her eyes but her body refused to comply.

Muffled voices carried through the space around her, the words garbled and distorted, further pulling her from the peaceful feeling of sleep. There was a thud that shook her whole body and suddenly the warmth disappeared as gravity began to tug her down once more. Two thick straps of fabric, one under each armpit, kept her suspended.

The sensations hit her all at once, making her suck in a breath but the mask on her face didn’t allow this so she began to choke. The voices began to panic and the mask was ripped off. Y/N coughed and spluttered, desperately trying to breathe. Hands gripped at her naked legs, pulling her down to the grated floor below her.

Her knees collided painfully with the ground as her breath and her vision gradually returned to her. Bright white lights blinded her for a moment before everything became clear. Two men and a woman stood over her with the emotions on their face ranging from pity to disgust.

“What are you all doing? Get her up.” The voice came from behind them, immediately spurring the younger man into action. With a surprisingly gentle touch, he lifted her to her feet, supporting her weight with an arm around her torso.

An older woman stood away from the small group- she was shorter than the others but the sheer power her body held made her look like a giant. If she didn’t have a blaster strapped to her hip, she could have very easily appeared matriarchal and kind. Yet her eyes were what caught Y/N’s attention, they were so familiar it made her chest ache.

“I am sorry that we could not fully heal your injuries but you must understand that we have to preserve our bacta for our own people.” Y/N was guided to the lone bed in the room and forced to sit on its edge, the man stepping away once more. His eyes were strangely filled with empathy. “The cuts will scar but you aren’t at risk of infection anymore.”

“We should’ve just left her rotting in a cell.” The older man grumbled, rolling his eyes causing the other woman to scoff.

“She’s just as much of a victim of him as you are.” A chill blew into the room but the tension was quickly shattered as the one beside Y/N spoke up.

“Maybe we should wait outside while the General talks to her.” He grabbed the other man by the arm and practically dragged him out, the young woman following close behind, their gazes still locked together. The door slid silently closed behind them, leaving only Y/N and the ‘General’.

She sighed and turned towards a cabinet, pulling out some folded fabric. “Put this on.” Only now, Y/N noticed her state of undress- wearing only a breast band and some shorts that did nothing to hide the curve of her body. She took the offered clothes and quickly dressed in the thin gown, thankful for some decency.

“Where am I?” Her voice was squeaky, a result of the dry air she had been breathing for stars knew how long.

“I can’t tell you exactly, I’m sure you’d understand but you are safe, that is what I can tell you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I assume you’re using me to get some advantage over the First Order.” Her grip tightened on the cane in her hand, her knuckles going pale. “Or is it that you want to hurt him?” The left side of her mouth twitched.

“You are a victim of the First Order’s cruelty, I am giving you an opportunity to prevent others from suffering the same fate.” Y/N remained silent, the woman sighed heavily. “Any information you can give us would be valuable. You will be rewarded.”

“With what? My death warrant?” She hissed. “The rebels cannot protect me from them, from him. You are already half-dead, barely protecting your own pathetic outposts. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me somewhere he can find me easily, then maybe he won’t rip you all to pieces.”

The General scowled and a realisation dawned on the young woman. “I know that look. You know, he looks exactly the same when someone pisses him off. You must be his mo-“

“That’s enough!” The room lit up, rippling with power. It was far less than what Kylo was capable of, but she knew the Force when she felt it. “I can see now that you need to be alone, to rethink your priorities. Someone will come speak to you in a few days.”

The lock clicked into place behind her, leaving Y/N alone once more but she had a smile on her face. Even if there was a high possibility that her master would not come for her, she had found the weakness in their ranks.

——————

Y/N figured that she was most likely on a larger transport ship. It would have to be small enough not to be spotted by the Order but large enough that it would allow her to be housed in an infirmary bay by herself. The room was almost entirely barren of supplies, and in some places, the metal siding of the walls had been stripped away, she presumed for extra parts for repairs.

They had not gone into hyperdrive while she had been awake so they could not have been far from the Star Destroyer she had been calling home. And considering that the cuts on her back were only just at the stage of scarring, her time in the bacta tank had to have been less than an hour.

A few rebels had come and gone, each trying their hand at prying information from her, but she had remained silent. They were quickly becoming desperate for anything. One even asked her what material the First Order used for the clothes she had been given.

There were moments where she had been tempted to divulge what she knew- when she remembered his cruelty and the way he hurt her but just as quickly, she’d recall his soft touch, his praise, his generosity. In those moments, she found that her fingers would curl into the collar that still hung around her neck.

She wished that he would come for her, she wished he would leave her alone. She wanted to be in his arms, she wanted to be so far away from him that he would never find her, no matter how hard he looked.

When she awoke from a very light sleep on her third day of captivity, she had made up her mind.

The panel by the door was bent just enough that Y/N could slip her index and middle finger inside it even while she held a long screw she found under the bed. The metal shook as she struggled to hold onto it with her fingertips. She cringed each time it hit the panel, producing a soft clink each time. “Come one.” She murmured under her breath as she attempted to stabilise the screw.

A hopeful smile began to grow on her lips as she felt it bump against something semi-soft. If she were to guess, it would have to be one of the cables connecting to the door, or she could be completely wrong and it was just her mind playing tricks on her but she had to take a chance.

Wedging her hand into the gap as far as she could, she readjusted her hold on the screw so the end tipped down over the cable. Quickly, her middle finger curled around the end while her index finger kept a hold of the top. Once she was sure that she had a good grip, she yanked her hand back out, yanking the wire out of place.

There was a spark and the lights above her flickered for a moment before the shut off completely. She held her breath as she stood and approached the door. Placing her palms flat against either side of the crack in the door, she pushed them apart.

The metal groaned in protest as she added more of her weight behind them until they finally gave way, opening just wide enough for her to force her way through.

Unable to help herself, she gave a soft shout of victory before whipping her head around. The hall was empty, suspiciously so. She looked left, then right, taking a chance, she headed down the hall to her left, hoping it would get her to the escape pods. Her bare feet slapped against the floor almost silently as she walked.

From behind her, she could vaguely hear what sounded like shouting and a distant buzz which was interrupted by a dangerous crackle every few seconds. Y/N hurried along her path, blocking out the noise. Her only concern was getting as far away from this ship as possible.

She took a sharp left into a larger hallway, picking up her pace as screams soon began to echo through the ship. A bright light guided her way, urging her to go faster and faster, the crackling getting louder with each step.

Her lungs burned and her legs ached but she was getting closer to the end, the light getting brighter until it all went dark. She froze at the end of the hall. There was a huge window in front of her that had been the source of the illumination. It overlooked a massive cargo hold that was now totally empty. The hanger doors were gone, quite obviously having been blasted through by a much larger ship.

The light that she had been seeing was a series of flares that were now mostly burnt out, leaving one or two left that floated around aimlessly.

It was a dead end.

Quickly, she began to back peddle, her new path drawing her closer to the screams. In her mind, people would be running away, towards the escape pods so if she encountered them at just the right time, she might be able to blend into the panicked throng and get away cleanly. She refused to think about who caused the destruction in the hanger and the fear that permeated the filtered air.

Step, step, pause. Breathe, listen. Step, step, pause.

Y/N kept the stuttering pace even as the screams died down. “Where is she!” A voice thundered so powerfully, the modulator layered over it cracked. She flinched and shoved herself against the wall beside her.

“Please no!” Another voice begged but was quickly cut off by that same crackling she heard earlier. The voice went silent. A thought burrowed its way into her mind- the voice could be him, he could’ve come for her. But she shook it off. He wouldn’t come for her, not after what he did.

Her eyes flicked down to the ground right before she was about to take another step, and that’s when she noticed the blood. It pooled on the reflective surface, dulling the reflections of the overhead lights. She gasped behind her hand as she finally spotted the first body.

He had been torn to shreds, his flesh almost completely seared off. His eyes bulged out of his skull in a cartoonish manner. Y/N quickly looked away, choking down the bile that had risen to the back of her throat.

She stepped around the blood as best she could while eyeing the hall just across from her that seemed to lead to yet another hanger and it was thankfully in the opposite direction from the angry voice. She glanced quickly towards the other direction and then made a run for it.

“Y/N!” Automatically, she froze. Her name sounded so foreign in his voice but at the same time, it settled onto her chest, warming that place which had been frozen since she had been stolen from her home so long ago.

Her mind battled itself, both wishing that it was just an auditory hallucination from trauma and so desperately wishing that he was actually there. “Pet-“ He stopped himself. “Y/N please, I’ve been looking for you for so long. Please come back.”

He was begging her, his voice now soft and almost loving. She could feel him getting closer, the shadow of his huge physique looming over her. “Did you kill everyone on board?”

“Yes.” He answered bluntly.

“Why?” She finally turned to look at him. Kylo’s shoulders were simultaneously slumped and tense with rage. He held tightly to the hilt of his lightsaber though it was no longer lit. She expected him to be wearing his mask but the red streaks through the black material were new.

He took a chance and stepped closer. “I would kill worlds to get you back.” Much to her shame, Y/N swooned internally.

“But your moth-“ She began but stopped when his free hand clenched into a fist.

“General Organa nor her little followers were here, just some insignificant worms who knew nothing.” She expected him to lash out but instead, his fingers unfurled from the palm of his hand and he offered it to her. “None of that matters now, just come home.”

She did not hesitate to take his hand.

——————

Part 2

The tension aboard the Star Destroyer was almost unbearable. Not only was the Star Killer completely destroyed and new pressure added to Kylo to hunt down Skywalker and Rey, but there was also the issue of Y/N.

They danced around each other with far less grace than either hoped. Frequently, Kylo found himself reaching out to touch her in her most intimate of places, wishing to feel her warmth around him once more but would pull away just as quickly when he recalled the terrified screams that still haunted his thoughts. And when Y/N would change or slip into the shower, she would always look back, expecting a large hand to cup her naked hip as his lips descended upon her throat.

He never slept in the bed with her, she never asked about his day. They were suspended in time, waiting for one of them to break, to finally shatter the delusion they were existing in.

With her return to the Destroyer, Kylo had granted Y/N a small extra freedom- once a day, she could go for a small walk through the ship. Granted, she would be accompanied by two of his most trusted stormtroopers and at most, the walk would be 15 minutes long, but she was excited about it anyway.

When she left for her walk on this particular day, Kylo had already been gone- summoned for a council with his master. She had noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he took his helmet from its place beside the door, but made no comment on it, simply acknowledging his quick ‘be good’ with a soft nod of her head.

Her guards arrived a few minutes after his departure (she assumed they were waiting around the corner so they didn’t have to encounter the sith) and she soon followed behind him.

The ship was far more busy than usual, yet no eyes followed her as she walked. Apparently in the couple days she had been gone, all of the First Order seemingly had been conditioned to treat her with the same respect given to the high command.

Her walk was pleasant, she even got one of her guards to speak to her this time, but all-too-soon she was returned to their chambers and met with an unexpected sight.

Kylo sat on their bed, his back against the headboard. He was shirtless, his black hair loose and falling over his face, moving with the force of his breaths. The dark trousers he always wore were open and pulled part way down his muscular thighs, revealing the way one of his huge hands was wrapped around his hard cock.

His brows were pinched and his lips downturned like he was angry, this was only compounded by the growls he released when his fist met the thatch of hair at the base of his pelvis. “Fuck.” He half-moaned, head falling back with a painful sounding thud.

Y/N swallowed thickly as the doors slid closed behind her. Ever since that night, he had not touched her, he hadn’t even given a hint that he was interested in sex until this very moment. And even as the scars on her back throbbed, reminding her of exactly why she should turn away and leave, she found herself rooted to the spot, watching with rapt attention as he furiously fisted his cock.

“Y/N.” She jolted with his whine of her name, heat pooling between her legs.

“Master.” She responded, practically cooing at him. Kylo’s eyes flew open and she didn’t miss the way his cock throbbed as he spotted her. He held her gaze as she slowly approached the bed, barely breathing until she placed a hand gently upon his thigh.

His wide chest puffed up as he sucked in a breath, her hand moving closer to his cock. She began to lean in, her eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up to his dark eyes.

The tension that had been steadily growing since he brought her home was almost stifling now, so thick that she felt she could choke on it. They were still waiting for that moment where it would explode and as Y/N’s breath fanned across his lips, Kylo’s resolve broke into a million tiny pieces.

His arms darted out and she quickly found herself in his lap, dress hitched over the top of her thighs so that his cock could rest upon the soft mound of her cunt. Their lips met in a messy but passionate kiss, tongues tangled as their teeth clacked together. The hand that previously gripped himself now held onto her naked thigh, the tips of his fingers digging into the plush flesh as his other hand slid to her ass.

She moaned into his mouth, pushing her hips forward into his own. Heat grew wildly between them as he began to guide her grinding but not directly taking the lead. She felt his lips quirk with a smile when she gasped.

Slowly his hand trailed from her ass to up beneath her dress, tracing the curve of her spine. Her arms wrapped around his neck, encouraging his touch until he stopped moving. His fingers brushed against the raised lines of her scars, his face becoming confused just for a moment before he violently pulled away.

“Stop.” There was an almost imperceptible treble to his voice as he spoke, turning his head away from her. She slid from his lap and onto the bed, confused. “I have to go.” He shoved himself back into his trousers and retrieved his shirt from the floor.

As he redressed, Y/N was suddenly back in that moment, the pain and the fear flashing behind her eyes. “Don’t go please.” She begged, trying to follow him. “Don’t leave me alone again.”

He looked back at her with an expression of pure devastation which quickly morphed into a fragile mask of anger. “You’re my pet, not my wife. I can do whatever I want with you, including leaving you here.” And he left.

But this time, Y/N didn’t stay.

She sprang from the bed and raced after the sith, determined to break through his facade. “Kylo!” She angrily called as she ran. “Fucking stop!” The eyes of dozens of First Orders soldiers followed her, watching in morbid fashion as she challenged one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy but they did not dare to stop her.

She was finally able to catch up to him when he turned to his private sparring room. “What is wrong with you?” She hissed, coming to a stop a metre away from him.

He didn’t respond. “First you buy me to be your slave but then you pleasure me too. You reward me and then you literally rip me apart. And then you kill a whole fucking ship of rebels because it meant getting me back but you’re leaving me again. You’re so fucking confusing and I honestly don’t understand you, so just tell me why!”

“Because I hurt you!” He screamed, the walls he had so carefully built falling to dust at her feet. “Because I was fucking selfish and forced you to become mine like some twisted old man. But I couldn’t stop. You are so good and soft and so fucking kind when you shouldn’t be! You should be plotting to kill me in my sleep and fighting me every chance you get but you don’t. You cared for me and listened to me.” Y/N’s eyes burned with tears that built along her waterline. Kylo stepped closer, his head bowed like a naughty child that had just gotten caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“And then you ran from me. You joined the rebels. But when I came for you, you let me take you home. You let me touch you even after what I did. So leave. Please. I don’t want to hurt you again.” He turned away from her, desperate to hide how his own tears spilled over his pale cheeks.

“Kylo.” She murmured, chancing a step closer. His body went stiff as her fingers grazed his back but he did not move away. “Kylo.” She repeated, her voice a little firmer this time. Her touch moved to the back of his neck, cupping the warm flesh just hard enough to guide his attention back to her.

“Go, just go. I cannot hold myself back any longer.” But his tone was defeated, carrying no real conviction or malice. He lets her move his head so now their faces are only inches apart. With a touch so gentle, he barely feels it, she holds his strong jaw, her thumbs finding their place just beneath his cheekbones.

“I’m not letting you leave again.” He doesn’t resist as she kisses him though she can tell he’s fighting it. His eyes are screwed shut, his hands balled into fists by his side but as she relaxes into the kiss, her tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, he concedes. She smiled against his lips as his arms wound around her thick waist, pulling her impossibly close to his body like she was the only thing keeping him tied to the ground.

“You bought me, now you have to keep me forever.” She teased, making him growl into her mouth. One of his hands pulled away from her torso and made a grab for her neck, expertly diving under her collar. There was a click and then the metal fell away, colliding onto the floor with a deafening clang.

“I do not want to own you, not anymore. You should be free to decide what you wish.” He said it like he was expecting her to run the moment that his ownership over her was stripped away, but instead she pushed her hips up and into him, her soft stomach now firmly pressed against his hard cock.

“Then I wish to stay… with you.” She yelped as he suddenly gathered her up into his arms and kissed every inch of her face that he could reach. Her giggles carried through the room, lighting up the dark space with a happiness never seen there before.

As her laughter died down, her eyes grew dark with lust once more. “I want you.” His own gaze darts over her face, watching for any sign of a lie and when he found none, he kissed her once more.

Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor. His massive body providing a comforting weight on top of her, slotting himself between her plush thighs. She mewled as his lips travelled to the soft slope of her jaw, nipping and sucking at her skin, searing his marks into her.

“Kylo.” His kisses reached the spot upon her neck where her mind went fuzzy and her hands flew to his hair, burying themselves in the raven locks. He hummed against her skin as he licked at the spot again and again until her body went to liquid below him.

Then he moved on. He lathered the skin of her chest in kisses, moving her light green dress out of the way in order to get access to the fat of her tits. She squirmed against him, trying to roll her hips down into the thick muscle of his thighs. “Please I need more.” She begged.

Immediately, he complied. The skirt of her dress was thrown over her stomach and his shoulders wedged firmly beneath her thighs, letting her ankles cross behind his head. She thought she heard him whisper ‘anything for you’ but all thoughts flew from her mind as his kisses resumed again.

Her back bowed with pleasure. The tip of Kylo’s nose fit perfectly against her swollen clit as his tongue clumsily propped at her entrance. Planting his huge palms on the softness of her lower stomach, he pushed her back down, slipping his tongue into her at the same time. She moaned loudly with each curl of the muscle.

Her thighs locked around his head as the tip of his tongue hit that soft spot inside her that made her see stars. He groaned into her cunt, forcing his nose even tighter against her clit. “‘M gonna cum!” She cried before her orgasm washed over her, her vision whiting out with pleasure.

She clutched at his hands, whining his name over and over as he continued to torment her until she went boneless in his arms with a sigh. He licked up her release and pecked her inner thigh before finally pulling away, smirking proudly.

Silently, he pulled her dress back down over her body as she attempted to catch her breath. She reached for him which he eagerly indulged, dragging her limp body into his lap wrapping her up in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, placing a sweet kiss upon his covered collarbone.

It was quickly followed by another, and then another until soon enough, her lips were attached to his neck in the same way he had been on her a mere few minutes ago. His cock twitched with excitement at her attention. “Pet, it’s ok. We do not need to go further if you are not comfortable.”

She pulled back only a few inches, just far enough to meet his eyes (which she noted were far more brown than the yellow she had been used to). “I want to, just maybe, we go slow?” She asked shyly. Kylo dipped down and kissed her gently.

“Whatever you want. Can you stand?” She gave him a withering look causing him to chuckle lowly. Readjusting her in his arms, he stood and made his way to the shower room attached to the gym. He ignored her questioning glance, placing her on the edge of the massive tub in the centre of the room.

Steam soon filled the small chamber as the tub began to fill. Kylo kissed along her arms and neck as he unbuttoned the front of her dress, letting it fall to the floor along with his own clothes. By the time they were both naked, the bath was filled enough for both of them.

With one last kiss, he slipped into the water, sighing as the heat washed over him, relaxing his tense muscles. He offered Y/N a hand, helping her into the tub in front of him. Her soft body fit beautifully between his legs, the curve of her back pressing against his solid torso. But that wasn’t enough for either of them.

On shaking legs, Y/N turned around on his lap and straddled his slim hips. Her lips caught his in a soft kiss as she rocked onto her knees, taking his cock into her hand. His eyes fluttered shut at her touch, not seeing the way she positioned his tip at her entrance until he was already partially inside of her. Kylo’s hands flew to her hips as she slowly sunk down onto him.

“Stars.” He moaned, his head rolling back between his shoulders. “So fucking tight.” She stayed still for a moment, adjusting to the sheer size of him.

“You’re just so big.” She mewled and Kylo groaned in response, his cock throbbing within her. “Can feel you in my stomach.” She emphasised by holding her plush tummy, pushing down on where his length pressed against her walls.

His hips bucked unconsciously and she moaned. Taking that as her cue to move lest her former owner take back control, she began to slowly bounce on her knees. Pleasure rolled through them both with each pass of her hips. Each time she took him to the hilt, the coarse hair along his pelvis brushed against her overstimulated clit, causing her to clench down onto him.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his but it was less of a kiss than the others they shared, and simply a distraction from the ever-growing climaxes they would soon experience. Her thighs burned as she rode him, struggling to accommodate the sheer mass of him but she kept going, wishing this moment could last forever.

Kylo moaned into her mouth, his hands clamping down onto her soft flesh. “Please please.” His abs tensed against her stomach as he began to meet her at the high of her thrusts. Her head fell to the crook of his neck as he took more control, now violently punching into her cunt, sending them both up higher and higher.

“Cum for me.” She whined. “I need it so bad.” She exploded around him just as he seized beneath her, filling her with his release. He thrust a few more times, milking both of their ends before he slumped back into the water, cradling her in his arms.

“Fuck.” He groaned and she giggled tiredly, kissing his neck.

“I agree.” He rubbed up and down her back as a comfortable silence settled over the pair. Until Y/N spoke again.

“About what you said earlier, I did not run away from you- the rebels took me. I was trying to find my way back to you but you found me first.” He froze beneath her.

Kylo sat up, his expression suddenly angry. “I was told that you had left willingly after-“ He swallowed thickly. “-After what I did.” Y/N looked up at him.

She shook her head. “The rebellion wouldn’t have been a safe place for me, I would’ve been better off leaving with a bounty hunter.” He hummed, slumping back into the bath yet the anger remained. “Who told you that I ran away?”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about, I will handle it.” He pecked her hair. “You never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.”

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nyxlyn1 · 11 months

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Forbidden From One | Miles Morales

Summary: You’ve been wanting to be friends with Miles but Miguel has always stopped you so you go behind his back and talk to him

Ever since Miles Morales had been brought to the HQ, you’ve picked up a vibe from him that made you feel safe. Like if he was someone who was carrying of others, someone with great potential. You’ve tried to make your way over to talk to him but Miguel O’hara (Your Dad) always stops you from doing so.

“Why can’t I talk to him Pa!?” I argued with him as I walked into his office “Because i’ve told you many times i don’t want you getting into any trouble with that Morales kid” He was tired of you asking to go talk to him. “It’ll only be for a few minutes and i’ll take you with me!” I say A heavy sigh left his mouth “I said no.” I only rolled my eyes at him. Miguel glared me down, “Don’t you roll your eyes at me young lady” I only walked out of his office leaving him alone in his thoughts . What was so bad about him that your dad was doing everything in his right to stop you from seeing him.

I walked into the cafeteria and picked up an empanada for yourself and ate alone in the corner. I was too lost in thought that I didn’t notice a little spider of sunshine crawling all over me, it was Mayday and she only gave me her usual toothy grin. I gave her a soft smile back but then my face turned back to a frown, it’s like she knew something was bothering me. She placed both her small hands on my cheeks attempting to make me smile. “Mayday where are y- There you are!” Peter came up and picked up Mayday from my lap. “Thank you so much Y/n for keeping Mayday from crawling away” He placed mayday back in his baby carrier that was on his chest.

I only nodded to his response, he was about to take his leave when he also noticed something was wrong with you. He pulled up a chair next to you, you both stayed silent together for a few moments before he spoke “Everything alright?” I only shrugged my shoulders in response “Do you want to talk about it? I obviously won’t tell the big guy” He chuckled, a smile crept onto my face.

“It’s about Miles Morales I want to be his friend like how he is with Gwen! but my dad always forbids me from interacting with him at all.” I say taking a small bite from the empanada. “Maybe he thinks you’ll fall in love with him and that meaning is that your growing up, you aren’t his little girl anymore” He replied adjusting maydays beanie hat.

He did have a point, he never said it to your face but you knew he didn’t like that you were getting older, he loved it when you were just his little girl. La princesa. Layla had told you before that when Miguel had nothing to do in his office he looks at old baby photos and videos of you. He almost can’t believe your older now and have many responsibilities. “Your right Peter it could be that…but i feel like there’s something else too that even YOU are hiding from me” You pointed your finer at him, you knew how to break people especially Peter.

“I-I don’t have a-anything to hide *cought* m-maybe?” He mumbled but enough for your enchanted hearing could pick up. Mayday only facepalmed her forehead thinking “Great job dad totally not suspicious” with sarcasm. You glared deep into his eyes. Peter was sweating bullets, “M-maybe a fight on the train?” He mumbled but thanks to your great hearing you heard it. “What. Fight.” Coldness ran throughout my words, Peter held up his hands in surrender and mayday mimicked his arms. He then told you everything about that day, the fight. Everything. That day you were out on a mission half across the universe and you are surprised that ABSOLUTELY NO ONE THE NEXT DAY would be talking about it. Gossip gets around fast here at the HQ.

“Wow” is all that came out of my mouth, that’s why he’s preventing me that and the i’m growing up type deal. I took a moment to think about it all and came to a conclusion, “I’m going to see Miles.” I grabbed his arm, he looked at you “Are you sure Y/n you know how angry..no Furious your dad will be” You thought about how bad the consequences will be if your caught but you didn’t care “All I want is to be friends with miles is that so hard so, Please can you distract my dad for as long as you can” I begged him, I pulled out my best puppy eyes that I could muster up from my dads Stotic DNA.

He sat there in silence for awhile “Alright alright, anything for you kiddo” he ruffled your hair “Thank you so much Peter i’ll pay you back another time!” I got up from my seat placing a small kiss in maydays forehead. Peter yelled “Miles should be ontop of the HQ viewing the sunset right about now, go get him” Peter smiled and left with mayday. Now is my chance to go and meet him and maybe be his friend!

I wasted no time, I took the elevator up to the top and I opened the door. The bright sun glazing it’s colors over the city of Nueva York. I locked the door behind me just incase Peter couldn’t keep my dad busy enough. Miles turned his head towards you confused on who you are, you took a seat right next to him. It was awkward..too awkward. “I’m Miles Morales” He introduced himself, he held out his hand to you. “I’m Y/n…O’hara” You shook his hand, he looked at you in shock, hey took his hand back “Your Miguel’s daughter!?” He shouted, you chuckled.

“Yes he’s my dad, b-but don’t worry i’m not much like him I don’t bite” I joked “He bites!?” he yelled back in shock which only made me laugh more. “Come closer” He got close to your face and you showed him your fangs, you could see his face stare in awe. “We both realase paralysis venom to our enemies but we can also bite without the venom,” “Wow that’s cool” he says.

You both stayed quiet for a bit befor you spoke again “Who’s your favorite artist?” “As in music wise or like art wise?” you only chuckled, god he was adorable “Music wise” you replied, “Mmm i’d say maybe Kendrick Lamar? and you?” You though for a moment “Lana Del Rey, she’s got some good albums” he nodded in agreement.

You both we’re getting comfortable with each other and started up just random conversations, you both laughed and smiled together. it was the first time in awhile and It felt nice to have someone with similar interest of you.

It was quiet again, and awkward. The sun was almost about to set completely and the city lights were on, you should be heading back soon you don’t know how long you’ve been up here. “Miles can I tell you something?” You bring your knees to your chest. “Sure, anything you tell me i’ll keep with me” He held out his fist, I bumped it back.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for awhile now, ever since you came here I knew that I wanted to be friends with you. But my dad always stopped me from doing so, I didn’t understand why till Peter told me today. But I didn’t let that stop me from wants to talk to you and see you.” You say meeting his soft brown eyes. You don’t why you felt embarrassed to admit this all to him, but your face was red.

Miles took out a notebook and handed it to you with a page open, it was of you. He had gotten every single detail of your body, face and suit correct. A blush crept onto your face, It was a beautiful drawing. He took the notebook back rubbing his neck. “I felt the same way, I wanted to talk to you but everyime I saw you Miguel would be escorting you away” He says looking at you. “I’m glad you’re here with me and I can ask you if you’d like to be officially friends and here’s my phone nu-”

The door that led to the roof bursted open, the handle broke and rolled away. Me and Miles stood up ready for combat but then there stood Miguel standing tall…and furious. He looked at you then at Miles, behind him was peter out of breath. “Sorry Y/n” He mouthed to you. Miguel made your way twords both of you, both of you stood next to each other. “Que te dije” (What did i tell you)

“Para no hablar con el” (To not talk to him). He rubbed his temples in frustration “I tell you one thing Y/n it was that simple! Then you go behind my back and do the complete opposite. I’m disappointed in you.” He said in a cold tone, he then focused his attention on Miles. His glare went icy cold than ever before, he walked over to him his figure towered over his frame “What the hell did you do with my daughter?”

“N-nothing! All we did was have a small chat that’s it” He says placing his hands up in surrender. “Nothing my ass.” Miguel then picks his off the ground, his grip was tight around him, peter placed a hard grip on his shoulder signalling him to let him go but Miguel didn’t budge“If I see you anywhere near my daughter again i’ll have no choice but to-” His grip on Miles suddenly let loose making him fall to the ground, Miguel turned to you and you had shot him with your own web.

“Uh oh” was all Peter said watching this all go down, He covered Maydays eyes. Miguel tapped his watch and now glared at you, you glared back at him “You won’t indimidate me dad” Anger filled your voice “Oh i know that.. He gave a sly smirk, “Your grounded until further notice and your webbing abilities have been restricted” You looked at him in shock and it was true you tried and tried again but nothing came out. He turned away walking towards the door

“Y/n. Time to go home now.” Was all he said as he took your arm pulling you away from miles, “I’m sorry miles” was all that I mouthed to him. Miguel then turned to miles again“If I see you with my daughter again Morales, I won’t be so easy like today.” Venom ran through his words as he dragged me down to the elevator.

Miles stood up dusting himself off still in shock of what happened. Peter patted him on the back “Don’t worry Kid she’ll be just fine, she risked all of this just so she could talk to you” Miles opened his notebook to the drawing of you. He thought long and hard to himself…

“I’m going to see her again”

Sorry this was a tad bit rushed!! Pt 2?

#x reader #spiderman #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miles morales #story #love #spidersona

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much-obliged-timothy · 2 years

Text

Whumptober #16

Midnighter & Apollo - #16 - Mind Control

“What aren’t you telling us?” Batman snarled, getting in Apollo’s face.

Apollo just glared back at him. “Back up. You know I can shoot lasers from my eyes, right?”

Nightwing grabbed Batman and yanked him back. “Apollo, please, we’re not your enemies.”

“Then let me leave,” Apollo said tightly. “You’re wasting my time.”

“You’re hiding the identity of a killer,” Batman said. “A killer terrorizing my city. You’re not leaving until you tell us who it is.”

“I told you; I don’t know who it is. They killed someone in my city, and I tracked them to Gotham,” Apollo said. “If you stop thinking your stupid gritty tough-guy act will actually work on me, I can get back to tracking them to find out who it is.”

“I don’t believe you,” Batman said.

“I don’t care!” Apollo snapped, standing up. “You can’t hold me here. You’re not strong enough. I’m leaving, and you either let me walk out or I do it by force.”

“Apollo!” Nightwing said. “We can work together.”

“I am not working with him. Or you, Dick. You’ll just report back to him,” Apollo said, roughly shoving past Batman.

Nightwing caught his arm, which would’ve been a death sentence for anyone else. Apollo barely restrained himself as it was.

“Apollo, please, you can trust me. I’ll take over the case for Batman. I’ve worked with Midnighter before. Ask him!” Nightwing insisted.

And then his grip tightened as his words stopped. Apollo felt cold.

“Oh,” Nightwing whispered. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Batman demanded.

“Why?” Nightwing asked, sounding torn. “Why would he…?”

“Wha-” Batman also stiffened. “It’s Midnighter, isn’t it?”

“It’s not his fault!” Apollo snapped, hating the desperation laying under his anger.

“He’s always killed,” Batman said coldly.

“Your own kid has killed before, but you give him a pass! Why doesn’t Midnighter get a pass after everything they did to him? He doesn’t kill innocents. This isn’t his fault!” Apollo said.

“What’s going on, Apollo? Midnighter would never…Christ, there are four dead, innocent civilians,” Nightwing said. “What the hell is going on?”

“The computer in his head,” Apollo said, shaking his head helplessly. “Someone got control of it. Someone is controlling him. None of this is his fault. Someone else is making him do it all. I tried to stop him in Opal City, and it’s like M wasn’t even in there anymore.”

“We have to help him,” Nightwing said immediately, and Apollo felt weak with relief. “Batman, he’s a victim too. I know Midnighter. He would never do this. We need to save him.”

Apollo tensed up, ready to defend Midnighter if Batman tried to argue he should be captured. But Batman just gave a slow nod.

“I’m trusting you,” he said to Nightwing.

“We should go. He knows us. He trusts us. If…If any part of him can be reached, we have the best chance at reaching it. He’ll get aggressive to you,” Apollo said.

Batman didn’t seem to like the idea of being left out of the action, but Nightwing went over and spoke quietly with him. After Nightwing stepped away, Batman turned and headed for his computer.

“I’ll monitor for activity,” he said.

As they walked side-by-side, Apollo knew he needed to be honest with Nightwing. “Listen, it’s…really bad.”

He could still remember finding Midnighter in Opal city, pulling his mask off during their struggle. M’s eyes had been glazed over, totally void of any recognition for the man he loved. He’d just continued to attack, unconcerned for any damage he did to Apollo and clearly trying to kill him.

“We’ll find a way to save him,” Nightwing said fiercely.

Apollo appreciated the loyalty and determination. He was glad Midnighter had a friend like Nightwing.

But Apollo just wasn’t sure anymore.

He’d been trying since he discovered the awful truth. He’d even nearly killed Midnighter in one encounter in an attempt to damage him enough to make his computer restart. Nothing had worked so far, and nothing so much as hinted that Midnighter was still in there. It was like his body was on deadly autopilot. Apollo was desperate to save him, but he didn’t even know who could be behind this since no one knew where Bendix was anymore.

He was positive this was someone using the technology in Midnighter’s head to control him. There was no way this was some kind of malfunction with the technology. It was far too precise.

And what if there was no way to fix it? If they couldn’t find out who was controlling him or how to stop him, Midnighter would continue on this violent spree. They had to stop him fast. He was too deadly to contain or to leave free.

And he wouldn’t want this.

What was the point of freeing Midnighter from this control if he could never forgive himself for the atrocities he’d committed while he was under it?

Apollo clenched his fists as he walked with Nightwing. He would do whatever it took to save Midnighter. He’d do anything to free him, and even if it broke his heart and tore his very life to shreds, he would do anything to protect Midnighter from ever learning of what he’d done.

If he couldn’t free him by easing the control, he’d free him the only other way he knew how to.

Tears stung his eyes even as a grim resolve settled in his chest. He and Nightwing went out into the night to find Midnighter and end this, one way or another.

#whumptober2022 #no.16 #mind control #midnighter and apollo #fic writing #Midnighter #nightwing #apollo dc #jtdoeswhumptober

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c-rose2081 · 2 years

Text

Starchild || 4. Windowsill

(Disney Z-O-M-B-I-E-S)

—

“Knock, knock?”

Zed tapped his knuckles against the flat of his bedroom door, a plate with four PB&J’s in hand. So far, other than what happened that morning, Saturday had been uneventful. It consisted of Zed working on homework, while A-ddison slept tucked into his bed, dozing off what Zed could only assume was power exhaustion.

Zoey had came in twice: once to tuck Shrimpy in with A-ddison (who immediately curled around the toy as she slept), and one other to drop off a glass of water and some snacks. But generally, it was a day of staying indoors, and making sure nothing happened to their Alien guest. Night had fallen now, and a clear sky had opened up above Seabrook. Zoey was already in bed, as was his dad. But, seeing as how he had done nothing all day, Zed wasn’t tired at all. So he put his energy to good use by making a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Entering his room after a lack of response from inside, Zed worried at seeing the bed empty. He relaxed instantly though when a chill breeze brushed against his cheek, coming in through the open window. Addy had finally woken up from her day long rest, and was sitting half perched on the open sill. She looked ethereal, her still white hair reflecting the moonlight, haloing her in a soft glow. She was still holding Shrimpy between both arms, but was staring up into the sky. Her antennae were low on her forehead, and her tail was curled around her right leg.

“Hey,” Zed greeted softly, crossing the room with dinner as Addy blinked and turned to look at him. The expression on her face wasn’t entirely clear, but it was something akin to worry mixed with sadness, “feeling ok?”

“A bit,” A-ddison sighed, slumping forward over her knees, “your planet’s gravity makes my chest hurt.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Zed chuckled, sitting down on the opposite side of the sill and holding out his plate, “sandwich?”

“Thank you,”

Compared to just that morning, A-ddison didn’t even ask what she was handed. She merely took a cautionary bite, staring back out at the sky as she chewed. Zed did as well, watching the Alien’s bright eyes dart from star to star.

“Are you trying to find your home?“

“My Mothership, yes,” A-ddison confirmed, “I doubt we’ll be able to see it from here. But it’s somewhere that way.”

Addy gestured to a portion of the sky with her hand, “your stars aren’t easy to read. They are exceptional.”

“We use constellations to map the sky, usually,” Zed told her, taking a bite of his own sandwich, “my mom used to sit us down, and we’d all look up together. See that bunch of four right there?” Zed pointed, scooting a bit closer so Addison could see, “those four belong to us. That’s my mom and dad on the top, and than Zoey and me on the bottom.”

“That’s a wonderful tradition,” A-ddison whispered, smiling faintly, “it’s always nice to know where you are. Your Mother; you don’t speak of her much.”

“Not really; it’s a hard subject,” Zed admitted, pulling at his sweatshirt sleeve, “she was our world; the glue that kept us all together. Days were brighter when she was around.”

“I understand,” Addy agreed, “there’s some part of you that never really wants to admit they aren’t there anymore. My Great One was my light…the only person aboard the Mothership who really understood me.”

“What about your siblings? You spend time with them, right?”

“Of course. But my people don’t feel emotions like you do. It’s…cold fondness compared to the warmth you have here, Zed.”

“You’re homesick,” Zed realized, glancing back to the sky, “it’s all over your face, you miss your family.”

“My Olders are probably wondering where I am,” A-ddison cringed, “A-Spen and I…we had a disagreement before I left. I regret what I said now, but I was feeling so strongly at the time, I wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

“I definitely know how that feels,” Zed mumbled, picking up his second sandwich and rotating it in his hand, “I love my family and friends; I’d do anything for them. But I’m just so tired, and I can’t just…rest. Not even for a second. Everyone always wants something from me. And sometimes I just…get so angry.”

“Yet you saved me anyway,” A-ddison mused, “despite all this going on — all of this hurt I can feel in your heart — you saved my life. You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve left me there; I wouldn’t have been the wiser. Yet here we are?”

“Here we are,” Zed mirrored, “I don’t regret saving you, A-ddison. Other people have been regretting it for me, but…there was just something about you. I couldn’t just leave.”

“Zed, I meant what I said earlier,” Addy insisted, leaning forward to touch his arm. Zed was expecting the pain which came with any contact near his z-band; he was ready to hold in his flinch. But instead, his veins were chilled like ice, and it sent a shiver of relief through him, “your brain isn’t where your talking comes from. It’s a lot of chatter up there; noise that’ll drive you crazy. Your true voice comes from here,” A-ddison pointed to his chest, shifting closer to him and resting the flat of her palm near his heart, “the heart you have is otherworldly, Zed. You should listen to it.”

Zed wanted to say something…anything, honestly. But he was too stunned. It had been four years. Four years of beating himself up over not being good enough to bring Zombie culture into the light. Four years fighting his way through pain and misery just to make things better for everyone else around him. Yet no one in those four years had ever actually seen through him; no one ever seemed to care when things were seemingly better for everyone…except himself. A-ddison had just looked through every doubt and frustration Zed ever had. In a single day, maybe even less as she’d been sleeping most of it, she had seen right through the fog he’d been trudging through and found him.

“No one’s ever told me something like that before,” he managed finally, “it’s always just been up to me to make things better. I thought I was doing the right thing, but…”

“Your heart is telling you something else?”

“Yeah. That I just want to be me for a change.”

“Earth is a wonderful place for that,” A-ddison grinned, her smile once again catching Zed completely off guard and nearly knocking him from the window ledge, “your home is colorful, Zed. You have a type of emotional freedom here that I can’t even comprehend. Maybe it’s time you opened your eyes just a bit wider and experienced those too.”

Zed smiled at the thought, only to jump as the door to his room opened suddenly. A-ddison jumped back from him, and only than did he realize how close she had been to his face.

“What did I tell you kids about sleeping in the same room?” Zevon chided, “Zed, you know better.”

“We were just talking,” Zed groaned in embarrassment, smiling crookedly as A-ddison’s hair flushed magenta.

“Just talking? Yeah. You don’t need to be that close to just talk,” Zevon complained, “A-ddison, sweetie, I’ve set up a cot in the basement for you. It’s not much, but it’s all yours.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Necrodopolis,” Addy managed through her pink cheeks, leaving the window sill with Shrimpy still in hand. Zed automatically felt the difference when she wasn’t near him, and desperately wanted to pull her back to sit beside him just a bit longer, “Goodnight, Zed,” she told him over her shoulder, “thanks for dinner.”

“Goodnight, Addy. Talk to you tomorrow.”

The Alien smiled and nodded, leaving the room to find her sleeping spot as Zevon placed both hands on his hips.

“Dad, come on, we really were just talking,” Zed insisted, “it was just…an intense conversation.”

“That’s what they all say,” the man hummed, “I didn’t become undead yesterday, son.”

“Dad I…”

“Listen to me right now, Zed. You leave that girls heart alone.”

“But…”

“She’s been through enough. You are a handsome zombie, Zed. You’ll find the right girl eventually.”

“Dad…”

“Goodnight, Zed.” Zevon said, closing the door behind him as Zed groaned and sat back down on the windowsill.

“I don’t think it’s her heart we need to be worrying about,” he mumbled, lifting his arm to rub his z-band. But the pain that accompanied it was faded. The veins had receded back into his skin, and the rash was healed. A-ddison’s touch had been like ice…had she done something? “Stop it, Zed,” he chided instantly at the thought, knocking his scalp against the window frame, “she’s visiting. We’re getting her home soon. She’s not staying. Stop thinking about it.”

Except he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even as he closed the window and turned off the lights, his bed smelled distinctly like her. And he laid there staring at the ceiling, heart thumping loudly in his chest as he dragged both hands down his face.

Why was it always him?

—

Tag List (holler if you wanna be added)

@theredrenard

@disneyfan50

@rose-sparks13

@magical-ashley

@kokinu09

@octolingo-writes

@fantasticvoidnerdshoe

@sayorseee

@zeddisonss

@uglyduckling339

#disney zombies #starchild au #zed necrodopolis #addison wells #zeddison #z o m b i e s #z o m b i e s 2 #z o m b i e s 3 #disney fanfiction #disney #fanfiction #world building #my writing

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evelyne-am · 1 year

Text

15th March 2023

15th March 2023 Day 2

That lack of sleep from the 4:30am cramps meant, I forgoed my want to be there when sir enters. I slept an extra 15 minutes and reached 8minutes before call time. Other than 2 of the boys everyone was already there warming up and I felt a bit shit. That extra 20 minutes early everyone comes, feels like a sign of community, setting up the room, warming up together, I told myself, unless I’m super sleep deprived, I won’t do it anymore.

By the way I haven’t mentioned yet. We are prepping a play to perform end May. we will be rehearsing morning till afternoon 6 days a week till the performance (with 5 days off for Eid,) which will be 25 performances over 10-12 days! It seems a lot but trust me 2 months is Nothing, especially since we have miles to go. The day was super cloudy and so was Sir’s mood. I can feel the urgency to get the group synced but we are not. Not yet. One of the boys didn’t come, the shadow one, but nothing was said. First half we could sense sir’s frustration today that we all barely know each other and aren’t syncing. Today’s break I actually got. Sat on the roof (you saw my insta story with the transgender lady doing what my sister says is probably a tiktok (egula buzi na.)) I love Shilpakala, at any given time there are people singing, dancing, acting, there’s a jute fair downstairs, multiple events, in the evenings it is soo happening. However in the morning, there is this lovely inner circle calm around the scare people in the building. Only those who are the core team, or building their deep dedications are there at times like 8am. I feel amazing to be part of that. I started my career with western music and later did bangla music, I never really did the Dhaka route, of Shishu Academy, Chayanaot, Shilpokala. I’m the English medium girl who opened for Nemesis in Russian Cultural Centre, and later it was only through my choir Ghaashphoring and when I joined Mita Huqs Suurteertho that I got to do more traditional venues and events. I love it. My perspective of life is different, always has been. It’s not that my family isn’t Bengali enough, if you know them, you know that’s the opposite of true. But it’s that I was always different, I’ve always lived in my own world. A friend of mine, when told that im doing a play about 1971, instantly said, oh isn’t 1971 done to death already? And I felt like, not for me! I’ve never worked with it! I’ve never had that exposure to films/songs/events. Not because they don’t happen, it’s because I”ve never had my own connection to it. And so no, it’s not done to death! There are people like me, of my generation and younger who just know the basics from our class 4 textbooks, we’ve slept through 16 December and 26th March holidays. The English medium schooling system has always had us not be as Bangali and aspire to be more Western, more “international” and sure that has helped me in some places, but be it Berklee or in my career, it is my connection to my roots that has gotten me places, and I am on a journey in Dhaka for the past 8 years to know all the things I missed. And I know for a fact there are many many like me, some who will never know, and some who are frustrated that they don’t. And yes there are aspects we get stuck on about 1971.. But the women’s side of the war, is the least talked about, least films, books, songs, museums, memorials. On top of that, it could be that this particular artist has not worked on a topic others have, just because others have I don’t feel like we should be limited exploring it. Anyway, Day 2 I still drooped during text reading, (diet coke didnt help, shall i try caffeine?), my left leg was slightly sprained from the fall; but we read M2, now we know all the 3 M stories. We were given some time to think about all 3 Ms and demonstrate some things about how we interpret all 3 M stories. I imagined one to be very forlorn and look out the window and as I did so to channel her, I saw something that I had been hunting for, just on the street of Segunbagicha (I’ll write later as certain peeps read the blog and I don’t want to give it away yet.) Despite the cloudiness of the morning vibes, overall day 2 in class went well, and we were assigned one each to work on for the actual “audition” and character development process.

If you are on my insta, you know I did a long walk through Ramna Park and DCL. Those are things I hope to have in my routine and write about as I explore more. I’m still struggling with time and sleep, this day too I could not get to my homework before it was 11pm, my remainder of the musical admin work is piling up too. I am trying to schedule my life, so I have less work hours outside this play, and still can afford my life. I will make it happen, some plans in the works. (Just need to wrap up some cocacola stuff :P ASAP)

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sweettoothedtrickster13 · 1 year

Text

A Second Look Chapter 5

Tags: Female Sherlock Holmes, Elementary, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Season 1 Episode 12- M.

Warnings: None

Summary: When a case touches a nerve, Sherlock spirals.

Notes: Whew. So I hate watching this episode, and actually the next one too bc I hate seeing Sherlock so broken. But it's also a really important episode, so I figured I'd write it. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Portal

Sherlock had been happily watching some of her bees buzz for some time when Watson comes down the stairs. “What are the bees doing in here,” Watson asks.

“Buzzing,” Sherlock provides.

“No, I mean what are they doing inside. Why aren’t they on the roof with the other bees?” Watson stops next to her.

“I’m seeing how the indoor temperature suits them. Our six weeks together are very nearly up, Watson,” she says as she stands. “In a matter of days, your room will be vacant. I’m very seriously considering turning it into an apiary. Finally the space will serve a purpose.”

“You say the nicest things,” Watson says as she moves behind her. “The end of our companionship is actually what I wanted to talk about,” she notes.

“Do tell.”

“When I’m wrapping up with a client, I like to carry out exit protocols,” Watson continues.

“Sounds ominous.”

“No, we just need to talk.”

Sherlock pauses. Talking. That sounds ominous, as well. “It’s time I tell you Watson, you place far too much emphasis on talking. Most of what humans say to one another is communicated haptically,” she explains, gesturing to her body and looking at Watson. “When I think of the many thousands of words you have wasted during your time here-”

“And yet there was one sentence that if I had never spoken we wouldn’t have realized we were soulmates,” Watson says. “Just because we won’t be companions anymore doesn’t mean we don’t have to see each other anymore. I explained that to you during the Purcell case.” Watson’s voice turns soft.

“Keeping that in mind, we don’t really have to do the ‘exit protocols’ now, do we?”

“It will be the end of our companionship. I want to get that formally over with so when I move to my next client, we can start with a clean slate.”

“Consider the slate clean.”

“That’s not how this works. So, we’ll have dinner and talk, out loud, and discuss my six weeks here and reflect on your progress.”

“Reflections are for mirrors. If you’d like, you can just give me a report card.”

“Sherlock.” Sherlock waits, but Watson doesn’t continue to talk. She looks at her. “Don’t blow me off, ok? Just do this. For me.”

Sherlock’s phone rings and she picks it up, looking at the caller I.D. “Captain Gregson. How may I be of assistance,” she answers.

“Got a weird one for you.”

“Perfect. Address?”

“I’ll text it to you and brief you when you and Watson get here. Bye.”

Sherlock hangs up. “Come, Watson. A murder awaits.” She goes to her room and changes and meets Watson at the door and they hail a cab to get to the address Gregson had provided.

“The owner of the house is a CPA by the name of Ian Vickers,” Gregson says as he walks them in the door. “We’re pretty sure he’s also the victim.”

“By ‘pretty sure,’ you mean,” Sherlock prods.

“There’s no body. Just blood.”

Gregson stops at the edge of the living room and Sherlock takes a step to her left. She stares at the large pool of blood on the floor. Her own starts to roar in her ears as everything starts to rush through her mind.

“Hey,” Watson’s voice breaks through, and Sherlock focuses again. “You ok?” She nods wordlessly.

“Aside from the blood,” Gregson continues, undeterred. “The scene is clean. No footprints, no witnesses, no nothing. Whoever did this, we don’t know the first thing about him.”

“He’s tall,” Sherlock remarks.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s tall. Strong, too. He’d have to be to hang his victims from a hook. Hook’s gone now, but it was once attached to a tripod device of the killer’s own design. He assembled it after he incapacitated Vickers, hung him upside down, and slit his throat. Gravity and the last few beats of his heart pushed every last ounce of blood from his body.”

“A tripod device,” Gregson asks, incredulous. “Look, Holmes, I know you’re good, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Here,” Sherlock says, crouching and pointing. “It’s from one of the legs. There are two more groove marks in the perimeter of the blood there and there,” she indicates. “After he’d completely drained Vickers, he dismantled the device taking it and the exsanguinated corpse of his victim with him.”

“Sherlock, how did you deduce all that from this pool of blood,” Watson asks.

“I didn’t deduce anything, actually,” Sherlock admits. “I’ve stalked this particular madman before. In London.”

“I’ll get the files from Scotland Yard sent to me,” Gregson says. “Come to the precinct tomorrow, I want a total debrief on what you know.”

“Certainly.”

She stands at the edge of the living room and watches the crime scene technicians process the scene.

The next morning, Watson drives them to the precinct. They walk into the bullpen, where Gregson had set up boards concerning the serial killer. “Now, Holmes has tailed this guy before,” Gregson says to the precinct as they settle into chairs and stand around. “That means she knows the most. I’ll have her tell us what she knows. Holmes?”

Sherlock walks to the boards and puts her back to them. “M,” she starts. “A simple moniker for a complicated monster. He is, without question, the most sinister taker of lives I have ever had the displeasure of pursuing,” she says. “He’s been active since January of 2002. During the last ten years, he has tallied a body count of thirty-seven. His image has never been captured. He is methodical. He is as efficient as he is clean. He also has no type or victim profile, which makes it almost impossible to predict when, where, or whom he might strike. His oldest victim in the U.K. was in her late eighties. His youngest a mere twelve.” She hears quiet sighs and gestures to areas of the boards as she talks. “He drains his victims of their blood and then dumps their bodies in the ocean. Bodies of twenty-one of his victims were recovered from the shoreline. The other sixteen were presumably carried out to sea. I wouldn’t be surprised if the body of his latest victim, Mr. Vickers, were to make an appearance on one of your beaches in the next few days.”

“I’ll call the Coast Guard, tell them to keep an eye out,” Bell says.

“Yeah,” Gregson assents.

“I trust that the lab has, by now, confirmed that the blood at the scene was Vickers’,” she asks Gregson.

“All twelve pints of it.”

More quiet noises of shock and revulsion. “M’s fascination with blood is as mysterious as the man himself. He mentions it in his correspondence with police,” she says, striding forward and picking up the stack of photos of the letters. “But only rarely,” she hands a stack to the nearest detective. She walks about the front of the room, handing out stacks for the detectives to pass among themselves. “You’ll notice he has a tendency to ramble. Do not be fooled. I have long suspected that M isn’t nearly as mad as he’d like to lead the authorities to believe. His letters are, in my humble estimation, a feint. An attempt to make everyone who would attempt to analyze him believe he is one thing when he is, in fact, vastly another. Finally, M tends to kill in bunches. So be prepared for more bodies to drop. I’ve brought my personal files on this killer to the station, and I’m arranging them for your consumption.”

“Alright, let’s get to work,” Gregson announces. Sherlock walks off to the side and the gathered detectives and officers start to murmur. She goes to the conference room where she had stacked her case files.

“Hey. How are you doing,” Watson asks when she walks in behind her.

“Quite well. Why,” Sherlock questions as she starts to leaf through a pile of papers.

“You seem oddly chipper.”

“I do?”

“And last night, at the crime scene. The way you were staring at the blood.”

“I was struck, I suppose. The moment I laid eyes on the scene, I knew who has done it. Not by name, of course, but by method and moniker.”

“And this morning?”

Sherlock looks at her and strides behind her, closing the door to the conference room to leave them in relative privacy.

“Ten years ago, when M first started killing, I was an integral part of the investigation. By the time he had claimed his 36th life, however, my addiction was out of control. I was, I’m embarrassed to say, useless to Scotland Yard. Now, his appearance in the colonies is a second chance for me. To do what I should have done years ago- bring a ruthless killer to justice.”

Gregson opens the door. “Let me ask you a question,” he says, coming into the room. “This M. character. What was his awareness of you back in London?”

“He might have made reference to me in a letter or two. Why?”

“And his appearance in the States, in New York, so soon after you is, what, a coincidence?”

“I hadn’t given that much thought, Captain.”

“Maybe he knows you’re here.”

“Perhaps.”

Gregson sighs. “I’m posting a couple of unis outside your door until further notice.”

“Captain, that’s hardly necessary-”

“No arguments.” He sighs. “I’m not losing my soulmate if I can help it.” He smiles a little and turns. With his hand on the doorknob, he looks back. “The uniforms will be there whether you like it or not.” Sherlock follows him out after a moment and goes to the copier, feeding a paper into it.

“Well, I have an appointment soon but I’ll be back in a couple hours,” Watson says, following her.

“I shall count the seconds until your return.”

“And when I get back, I’ll help you with the M files.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary.”

“You need all the help you can get.”

“While I appreciate that, I’ve realized I’ve become too dependent on your assistance. Much as it pains me to admit, you’ve become a crutch, at least in part. I need to get used to working alone again.”

“You sure,” Watson asks gently.

“Positive,” Sherlock looks at her. “You go to your appointment, Watson. I shall keep you apprised of both my work and the progress of the case via email.”

Sherlock goes between the conference room and the bullpen, working the case. “Holmes,” Gregson calls, and she looks up. “Vickers washed up. Come on.”

Sherlock follows the man. Just as he described, the bloodless body of Ian Vickers is on the coastline with CSU technicians working around it. “No evidence,” Sherlock asks, already knowing the answer.

“No. Water must have washed it all away.” Gregson sighs. “This guy’s good.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply.

“Hey,” Gregson says, and she looks at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt, Captain,” she nods.

Gregson looks a little taken aback. “And like I said, those unis will be posted at your door all night, just in case M tries to get at you.”

They stay with the corpse until it’s transported to the morgue, where Gregson leaves her alone after the autopsy. Sherlock texts Watson the details and where she is before she puts on gloves and examines the body closely.

“Hey. I got your text,” Watson says when she walks in.

“Meet Ian Vickers,” Sherlock says. “Washed up on Roosevelt Island. Which narrows M’s dumpsite to the whole of east Manhattan.”

Watson walks to Vickers' head and examines it. “My money’s on the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Oil in the hair. There’s a high concentration of industrial oil in and around the Navy Yard. I donated to the cleanup effort a couple years ago.”

“Noted and informed Gregson.”

Sherlock walks to Vickers’ head and sniffs his hair. She runs her fingers through a section of it to more closely examine the oil both she and Watson had noticed.

“I’m gonna miss this,” Watson admits quietly.

Sherlock looks up and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, not this,” Watson gestures to the body. “But…this,” she gestures between herself and Sherlock. Sherlock slowly straightens. “Working with you,” Watson shrugs. “I think what you do is amazing. I wanted to tell you that at our wrap-up dinner, but there’s looking to be less and less of a chance of that happening with everything that’s going on.” Sherlock stares at her for a moment. “I’ll wait outside. Give me a five-minute warning and I’ll call a cab.” Watson turns and walks out of the morgue.

Sherlock examines the body further, then texts Watson the requested five minutes before she’s done and they go home.

“So given that it’s after 11, our delivery options are pretty limited,” Watson says while they walk in. Sherlock stops at the edge of her library. “There’s that Vietnamese place on 23rd, but I think you said it was a front for songbird smuggling.”

“Watson, I need you to be very, very quiet right now,” Sherlock requests.

“Why?”

“Because I believe our home has become a crime scene.”

Watson stops next to her and gasps when she sees the note.

“I’ll call Gregson,” Watson says. Sherlock nods and they don’t move. “Gregson. You need to get to the brownstone. M’s been here. No, no blood. He left a note.”

Soon, Gregson comes with a veritable army of detectives, officers, and crime scene technicians. He stands next to Sherlock. When the all clear is sounded, Gregson picks up the note with gloved hands. “Men make plans, God laughs,” he starts to read the note that had been comprised of letters cut from magazines like a stereotypical ransom note. “I am laughing at you now, as I always have. You think you honor me with your pursuit, you do not.” Sherlock and Watson look at each other before returning their attention to Gregson. “You are a mouse chasing a lion, a mere planet in orbit of a raging sun,” he turns his attention to Sherlock as he reads the last few words. “You talk to Ellis and Hitch yet,” Gregson turns to Bell.

“They were parked out front all night, never saw anyone come near the door.”

“He came in the back,” Sherlock says. “The lock was picked, quite expertly if I might add.”

“I guess this answers the question if he knows you’re in New York or not.”

“My apologies, Captain. If I had any inkling that he might follow me-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gregson says, stepping in front of her and looking her in the eye. “He’s the twist, not you. This isn’t on you.” He puts his hand on her shoulder. “You two go pack a few things, I’m putting you both up in a safe house until we catch this guy.”

“Captain, all due respect, I hardly think that’s necessary.”

“Sherlock, a psychopathic serial killer with 37 notches in his belt is after you and was in your home!”

“If he wanted me dead, he would have lain in wait, not leave me some bombastic note.”

“Sherlock-”

“I’m as safe as houses here, Captain, I assure you. Put more uniforms at the back of the building if you want, those are the only two entrances into this apartment. But I am staying.”

“I’m not losing you,” Gregson says quietly.

“And you won’t. He wants the chase, wants me fully engaged. That’s all.”

Gregson shakes his head. “What about you, Ms. Watson? I’m sure you’ll feel safer somewhere else.”

“If Sherlock says we’re safe here, I believe her. And I go where she goes.” Gregson looks between the women, incredulous. But he shakes his head and stands at the edge of the library until everyone clears out.

“Thank you very much,” Watson says as everyone leaves. “Good night.”

“Sherlock,” Gregson says when everyone else is gone, and walks towards her. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

“Quite.”

“And I can’t keep someone in here?”

“I box, Captain. And I assure you, I have more than enough weapons to defend myself.”

“You have guns?”

“No. I do, however, own a singlestick.”

“A what?”

“A long stick, rather like the handle of a broom, that I can use to defend myself. It’s used to strike the opponent in the pate,” she gestures to her own. “I can take care of myself, Captain. Thank you for your concern.” Gregson sighs.

“Goodnight, Sherlock. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Captain,” Watson says.

“Night.” He leaves.

Sherlock goes to her computer and pulls up the website to the property she’s planning on.

“What’s that,” Watson asks from behind her.

“Another one of my father’s properties. I’m think of moving once we’re through.”

“Since when?”

“Since our home was violated by a madman.” Watson frowns.

“You told the Captain you weren’t worried.”

“I’m not. Just thinking ahead; my enemies are legion. The next one might leave more than a note.”

“Well, I’m going to bed. Night, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, Watson.”

Sherlock listens for her footsteps to disappear before she retrieves her security camera and downloads the information on it. She pauses it on M’s face. She makes a few calls.

Sherlock gently closes the door behind her and walks into the kitchen to get some food. Watson is sitting at the kitchen table. “Care to explain this,” she holds up the photo of M. “I got it from a friend of yours. Teddy? No? What about this,” she continues, sliding the book she had hidden the camera in across the table towards her. “I looked around, I found three more. I can’t imagine how many I didn’t see. It’s funny, when I moved in, you didn’t mention your little security system.”

“This is my sanctum sanctorum. You didn’t expect me to leave it unguarded, did you,” Sherlock speaks at last.

“Is this M,” Watson demands, pushing her finger onto the picture. “You told a bunch of children to go to upscale hotels and look for him. Why?”

Sherlock approaches and picks up the photo. “Note the hands. Vintage MG driving gloves. Quite expensive. But not nearly as expensive as his John Varvatos shoes. M has money- that much is obvious. He’s also a recent addition to New York. Why did I assume he was in a hotel as opposed to a property he might own? Quite simple. There was a curious scent on his note. High-end hand soap and an even higher-end mint shampoo. Both products are used individually by various upscale hotels around the city, but only one chain, the Betancourt, stocks both. My lieutenants and I each staked out a Betancourt and watched for M.”

“Oh, very impressive. I want to know why you shared a photo of a known serial killer with a bunch of kids rather with the police precinct you belong to!”

Sherlock turns off the sink she had been planning on getting a glass of water from. She pauses but puts the glass down and turns, walking back to Watson. “Several weeks ago, you learned of the existence of a woman named Irene Adler. I told you she’d died.”

Watson looks shocked. “M killed her.”

“Obviously he realized the degree to which I was assisting Scotland Yard in the hunt to find him and he made it personal. As to why I’m withholding this information from the police is quite simple. I have no intention of letting him be captured. I have every intention of torturing and murdering him.”

Sherlock walks away.

“What do you mean, you plan to torture and murder M,” Watson demands, following her.

“I hardly think I could be much clearer.”

“This isn’t a joke!”

“No. This is revenge.”

“How are you so calm,” Watson asks as Sherlock retrieves her kit.

“I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m not calm. I’m merely presenting a calm exterior. Inside I’m roiling. I have been dreaming about this moment for quite some time- one year, six months, twenty-two days. That’s when he killed her.”

“Irene.”

“We’d been together seven months by then,” Sherlock details, moving around the room and fetching various items. “I won’t bore you with the details of our courtship. Suffice it to say, I was quite smitten. Until that point in my life, I’d found most people quite boring. A means to a physiological end. Irene was different.”

“You were in love.”

Sherlock looks at her. “Prior to her murder, my drug use had been recreational. Something to do when I was bored or needed a boost during a particularly challenging investigation. After Irene, I lost control. I used various stimulants as I tried to help the authorities identify M. Once went several weeks without sleeping. When the trail went cold, I turned to opiates.”

“Look, I’m grateful to know the whole story,” Watson says. “But you’ve come a long way since London. I’m not going to let you risk it all by chasing down a psychopath.”

“I don’t think you understand, Watson. Without you, none of this would have been possible. Everything you’ve helped me do during the last 6 weeks- every meeting you dragged me to, every exercise you made me perform- everything has been in preparation for this moment. I’m not throwing away anything I’ve learned. I’m using it. I’m as clearheaded and focused as I ever have been. There’s a clarity to my thinking that’s…frightening.”

“I didn’t help you stay sober so you could become a murderer.”

“You didn’t realize that’s what you were doing. Nor did I, for that matter. Not until I walked in on that crime scene and saw M’s handiwork. I realized I’d been given a second chance.”

“Is that why you didn’t want me to help with the M files? You didn’t want me to see Irene’s name and figure out that you were up to something? I was the only one who could make that connection.”

“I’d hoped we would never have this conversation. I don’t want you to feel responsible for something I have to do.”

“You lied to me because you know what you’re planning to do is wrong.”

“If you’re considering following me, I strongly advise against it.” She doesn’t want to hurt Watson. But she will if she has to.

“I’m not gonna follow you.”

“Good.” Sherlock walks away.

“But you know that I’ll call Captain Gregson.”

“Do what you feel you must, Watson. That’s what I’m doing.” She leaves.

Sherlock goes to Theodore. She taps his shoulder while he’s putting out the trash, making him whirl and exclaim in shock. “Theodore. Heard you met another one of my associates today. She said you had something for me.”

“Depends. You got something for me?”

She holds up an American hundred dollar bill. Theodore reaches for it but she pulls it out of reach. “Tell me.”

Theodore does.

Sherlock goes to the woman’s apartment and stands behind M. He’s watching a football game. “Oh, that’s a joke,” M exclaims. “He hardly touched him!”

“Arsenal fan,” she remarks, making him turn. “As if I didn’t have enough reasons to despise you.”

“You,” M sneers.

“Me. Baton,” she extends it, and knocks him out.

She goes to the woman. “I will cut you free, but only if you don’t look at me. If you’d please wait ten minutes, you can call the police. Do you understand?” The woman nods. “Alright then.” Sherlock cuts her free and the woman doesn’t turn.

Sherlock drags M out and into the waiting car. She drives to the property. She hangs him up on the scaffold, suspending him by his hands tightly enough he doesn’t have a hope of getting away. She sits in a chair and waits.

M stirs. He strains against the restraints, trying to pull himself out of them. Sherlock stands in front of him, and M laughs.

“Hope you don’t mind being hung right-side up. I know you prefer the opposite for your victims.”

M looks at the various weapons she had laid out. “Figured out where you’re gonna start yet,” he asks conversationally, as if they’re sharing a cup of tea.

“I have not,” Sherlock admits. “I had hoped to use the bees in some capacity, but then it occurred to me that you might be allergic. After all this trouble, I’d hate for our fun to be over so soon,” she smiles.

“That would be a pity. Bit surprised at you, though,” M cocks his head. “I thought you were more of a by-the-book sort of broad. Why here? Why not take me straight to the nick?”

“I think you know why,” Sherlock approaches him.

“I think I don’t.”

“Irene.”

M pauses but shakes his head, frowns, and shrugs.

“Pretending the name isn’t familiar to you will not make things any easier for you.”

M thinks more. “Addison?” He grins, tilting his head back. “No. Adler. Irene Adler. Got killed in her flat, Camden lock, about a year and a half ago. Sorry to disappoint you, love, but that wasn’t me.”

“Of course it wasn’t. It was probably the other blood-draining maniac with the tripod device, hmm?”

“I was banged up in Brixton for six months. Got into a bit of a disagreement with a Man United fan. He was running around, slagging off the Arsenal. Didn’t paralyze him, just bashed him up a bit. And while I was doing the stretch, I read in the papers that the notorious ‘M’ had struck again. Imagine my surprise. But you disappoint me. And Scotland Yard, of course. Falling for that copycat so easily?” He chuckles. “Tell me. You and Ms. Adler, did you two shag? Because if you did, I would have paid a pretty penny to see that.” She restrains herself from throttling the man then and there.

“I must say, I’m a little disappointed in you,” Sherlock says. “I though you’d be a much better liar.”

“Haven’t lied yet.”

“Why would you, when you’re facing an agonizing death?”

“Ex-Royal Marine, love. Death’s an old friend.”

“Is he,” she asks, approaching him. “What about torture? Is he an old friend as well?” She pauses. “You made me a shambles of a woman,” she admits. “I’m going to return the favor.” She punches him in the ribs. Then the face. She walks away and hears M spit twice behind her.

“Anyone ever tell you that you punch like a woman,” he mocks.

“A woman did once. But she was much bigger than me.” M turns his head and spits blood again. “And the abductor of young girls she then used to turn a profit in the sex trade.” Sherlock shrugs. “So I didn’t really care about her opinion.”

Sherlock peruses her weapons.

“Well, you move quick. I drop my first body here, what, 72 hours ago? What’d you do, jump on a plane?”

“A plane from where,” Sherlock looks over her shoulder at him. M raises his eyebrows.

“Uh, London?”

“What made you think I’d gone back there?”

“What are you talking about, ‘gone back,’” M asks. “You trying to tell me you live here now?”

“You know very well where I live.”

“How would I know that?”

“Because you paid a visit there. Left me a note. Feigning amnesia will do you no good.”

“The brownstone was your place?” M shakes his head. “Something’s not right. I’m not what you think I am. I’m not a serial killer, love, I’m an assassin. I have an employer.” M must see Sherlock doesn’t believe him. “Look, I receive the names of everyone I kill for him. He pays me.”

“I already told you you’re a terrible liar, didn’t I?”

“Once again, I’m not lying. He sold me out. He never told me you was here.”

“Who didn’t?”

“My employer. The MO’s, the notes, all the serial killer bollocks, his idea!”

“Let’s pretend that I believe you,” Sherlock turns and leans against a table. “What was his motive for killing 37 people?”

“I don’t know, I never met the bloke. He sends me coded messages on me cell phone. It’s in my jacket. Have a look if you don’t believe me.”

Sherlock fetches it and looks through the messages. “This gobbledygook? Proves nothing.”

“Sebastian Moran, that’s my real name. Look me up! There was a trial, it was in the papers. You’ll see I was locked up when Adler was killed.” Sherlock types in Moran’s phone. “He talked about you, was obsessed. He never told me you was here and he sure as fuck didn’t tell me it was your flat I was breaking into. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the one who killed your girl.”

Sherlock starts to shake. “No.”

“Don’t let him play you as well!”

“No. It’s you. Has to be.”

“You saw the article, didn’t you? I’m telling the bloody truth!” Sherlock just breathes. “You can kill me for all the others, but your girl? That was him. That was Moriarty. He’s the one you want, not me.”

Sherlock puts aside Moran’s phone. “I seem to recall you saying you weren’t afraid to die.”

“It’s not fear I’m feeling right now, love. It’s anger. Righteous anger. Moriarty sold me out, and I’m gonna get even.”

“You’re a monster. A sadist. A murderer.” She turns back to her weapons.

“All of that. But I’m not a liar. I didn’t kill your girl.” Sherlock starts to shake again.

“You killed her.”

“I never touched a hair on her head!”

“You killed her.” She picks up an ice pick and grabs Moran’s head, holding it up to his eye.

“Moriarty said you was obsessed with puzzles. But he’s the greatest puzzle you’ll ever come across. You kill me now, you’ll be killing the best clue you’ll ever get.”

Sherlock lets go of his head and steps back.

“I knew you’d make the right decision,” Moran says. “You’re a rare thing in this world, Holmes. You’re an honorable woman.”

“A famous statistician once stated that while the individual man is an unsolvable puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man can do, but you can with precision say what an average man will do.”

“You’re not average, though, are you Holmes?”

“Individuals vary. Percentages remain constant. I am not average, you’re right there Moran.”

She stabs him, making him scream. She backs away. Moran starts to laugh. “You made the right choice, Holmes. What do you want me to tell them?”

“Whatever you want.”

She releases him and drags him to the car, driving to the station with Moran laid out in the back seat, groaning. She pulls up to the station and drags Moran in. “This is M,” she announces to the bullpen. They’re swarmed and Moran’s stomach is wrapped in bandages. He’s cuffed and brought to Interview One.

Gregson arrives and points at her. “Park it in my office.” Sherlock goes, sitting on the couch. She makes a call to Brixton.

Watson walks in.

“You’re missing out on quite a story back there,” Watson says. She puts aside her coat and approaches her. “The stab wound he sustained? He claims he got it in a struggle, but I’m pretty sure if he had, there would have been more damage.” She drags a chair over and sits. “Looks more like he was stationary. Maybe even restrained. I used to be a surgeon, but I doubt I’d find a place to stab someone without actually doing any real harm.” Watson just looks at her, but Sherlock keeps looking straight ahead. “If that’s what you meant to do, I’m impressed. If you’re trying to make some sort of point-”

“He presumed to know me,” Sherlock cuts her off, looking at her at last. “He needed to be shown he did not.”

“He’s willing to confess to all the murders, but he won’t give you up.”

“He believes that he’s been wronged. He thinks I’m the best chance he has at bringing whoever wronged him to justice.”

“Are you planning on helping him? The man who killed Irene?”

“As a matter of fact, he did not.” She extends her phone, pulled up to the article. “He was incarcerated when she died. I confirmed it a short while ago.” She inhales. “I’m sorry that I lied to you, Watson. The last few days have been quite vexing. Even now I’m unsure I’ve done the right thing, allowing M to live. Strange, really. I’m rarely conflicted about my decisions. The beauty of deductive reasoning, I suppose. Makes a science of nearly everything. But not this.”

Watson stands and sits next to her. She lays a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “I’m going to miss this,” Sherlock whispers. “Maybe not this, but this,” she says, laying her hand on Watson’s and looking at her. “Working with you. I think what you do is amazing.” Watson presses against her side and lays her head on Sherlock’s shoulder. “I’m sorry our last days together had to go so poorly.”

Gregson walks in, furious. He closes his door. “Moran might not be giving you up, but I knew what you did, Holmes. You’re done. Joan, take her home.”

They stand and go home. Sherlock goes to sleep on the couch.

The sun eventually wakes Sherlock, and she turns and sees Watson on her phone, looking at something. “Watson, what is it,” she asks. She rolls off the couch and gets to her feet.

“I called your father last night. Given everything that’s happened, I recommended staying on a while longer.”

“And,” Sherlock asks, trying not to hope.

“He agreed.”

“I suppose the apiary will have to wait.” Sherlock walks to her evidence wall and takes everything down. When the wall is clear, she writes a single name on an index card and puts it up. She sits in a chair in front of it and looks up at it. Watson brings her tea and puts it on the floor next to her before silently sitting on the couch behind her. Sherlock sips and stares at the wall.

#trickster tales #elementary #female sherlock holmes #soulmate au

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tayterbean · 2 years

Text

Doing Febru-whump in summer because I can.

BUCKY BARNES VERSION

DAY TWO : “I DREAMT YOU WERE ALIVE”

Bucky steps up to the large headstone, somewhat intimidated by the seemingly infinite amount of bouquets and tiny American flags surrounding it. With a shaking sigh, he places his own contribution - a bouquet of red and blue roses - down and off to the side.

He takes a few steps back and simply stares, stares at the outpouring of love and support shown for the late Steve Rogers, who was only Captain America to everyone else. Steve has been dead and buried for nearly two weeks, and this is the first time Bucky has had the courage to visit his grave. The only reason he’s here now is because you said it’d be good for him, and while he didn’t believe that, he knew he wouldn’t be off the hook until he went. So, here he was.

He sighs and gives his head a shake, feeling almost stupid for what he’s about to do. “I dreamt you were alive,” he says aloud to the open air. He looks around at nothing in particular - this tree, that cloud, someone’s car. “We were at some little coffee shop, just you and me. And we were just talking.”

He scoffs at himself, but continues nonetheless. “It’s sappy, I know. But after I got out of HYDRA, it was just one fight after another, over and over and… and we never got a chance to just talk…”

He sighs once again, shaking his head at himself, his situation. His eyes drift to the ground on their own. “I would’ve told you everything, Steve. I can’t tell my therapist shit and I have a hard time even telling stuff to Y/N, but I would’ve told you everything if you’d have just asked.”

He angrily swipes at his eyes, feeling them beginning to water. He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction because, deep down, he is hurt and he is angry that he is.

“And I get it, man, I do, I get it. I’m not the same as I used to be, I know, but… But you were the first one I trusted after HYDRA and in the end, you betrayed that trust. You got to live out your life exactly how you wanted it, in the forties, with Peggy, while you left me to deal with all my shit alone.”

He brings his right hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And Steve, I’m sorry, but I never could’ve done that to you, not in a million years, man.” He points at the grave, stepping back. “And you knew that.”

Just as he is about to speak again, he stops, breathing somewhat heavily as he looks at the headstone. As his eyes glance over the name Steve Grant Rogers engraved into the stone, the reality of it all slams into him. Steve Rogers, his lifelong friend, pal, punk, sidekick, everything, is dead. Steve, dead.

It didn’t hit him when Sam first told him the news, it didn’t hit him when he carried in Steve’s casket, nor did it hit him when Steve was buried, but it sure as hell is hitting him now.

He brings his right hand up to his face to shield himself from the world, grimacing against his tears. He doesn’t want to cry, he just doesn’t - he’s angry, not sad, not grieving. Angry that Steve left him behind without a second thought, angry that Steve took the easy way out, meanwhile he’s stuck still dealing with seventy years of PTSD and trauma.

He curses, trying to get himself back together, but failing miserably nonetheless. He knows he’s lying to himself, but right now, he needs to be able to do so because the truth is simply too much to bear. He needs to be angry because he can’t be sad - if he allows himself to be sad, he fears he may never see happiness again.

Then, he feels the gentlest of hands come to rest on the small of his back.

And all of a sudden, things aren’t so bad anymore.

“You okay?” you ask him softly, rubbing your thumb along his back in a way that simply makes him melt.

Still shielding his face with his right hand, he nods just once. He removes his hand from his face a moment later, dropping it limp by his side. “Yeah… Yeah, ‘m fine.”

He can sense the doubtful look you’re giving him, the one that you always give him when you know he’s not being truthful. It’s an automatic response for him, to say he’s fine when he really isn’t. It’s also something both you and his doctor want him to improve on. But right now, he just can’t.

Instead of openly admitting his brokenness to you, he simply sighs and wraps his arms around you tighter than he ever has before. You’re just tall enough for him to comfortably bend down and rest his head on your shoulder, which he does so immediately. It’s now that he really loses his grasp on his emotions, his body beginning to shake a bit and his eyes welling with unconsolable tears.

Unconsolable, of course, by everyone who isn’t you.

Although his tears come harshly, wracking him, your presence keeps him grounded, keeps him sane. You shush him gently now and then, rubbing his back in that simple, yet so comforting, way. “It’s alright,” you say next to his ear. “It’s alright… I’m here for you, Bucky, and I always will be.”

Of course you would, and likewise, he would always be there for you. Because while Steve found his true love in the forties, he has found his right here, in a time where he should not be living, but is nonetheless. After all his time with HYDRA, he has finally found his purpose, right here, with you.

And maybe that’s what Steve had intended all along.

He hugs you tighter still against him, placing a kiss to the side of your face. “Thank you,” he mumbles to you.

You rub his back once again - you must know he loves that. “Anytime, Buck… But I guess the one good thing that came out of all of this is that Steve finally took all the stupid with him.”

For the first time in nearly two weeks, Bucky smiles.

0 notes

tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

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2K notes · View notes

jenomark · 3 years

Text

➔Pairing: Idol!Jaemin x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Oral (F+M) + Penetration (F) ➔Word count: 2,473

➔Summary: Developing a crush on The Na Jaemin was never in the plan, but when his female co-host ends up late to the set, you step in, in more ways than one.

Anon Requested: Hello - may I request a Dreamie idolverse (idol!reader x your pick, based on who you think fits the best) where they have to interact on camera and there’s a huge tension and buildup, and then when they have a moment alone after, they can’t keep their hands off each other? Thank you! 😊

“You! Girl!” someone called.

Startled, you looked around for the voice to see a very sour looking man gesturing for you to come forward. Clipboard in hand, and an earpiece dangling from his ear, he very impatiently pointed at a spot next to the male co-host.

Na Jaemin looked up from the script in his hand. He looked at you first, how you stood there rooted to the spot in fear. Next, he looked at the man who was seconds away from getting angry with you, and he clapped him on the back.

“Sir,” he said. “There is plenty of time. I'm okay with waiting.”

The man seemed to settle down a bit. When he looked at you a second time, he asked you nicely to stand next to Jaemin, but his eyes made it clear that you better listen.

“To check the lighting,” he added gruffly before disappearing and leaving you and Jaemin alone.

The female co-host was late. Since they needed someone to stand in for her, in order for them to adjust the lighting correctly, and to see how the person next to Jaemin would appear on camera, you were the girl up for the job. Didn’t matter that all you were was a lowly assistant. Didn’t matter that Jaemin was the most handsome man you had ever seen, or that being in close proximity with him meant having to finally address the crush you had on him.

“These lights are hot.” Jaemin said. “After this, you should get into some cool air.”

Oh My God, he is talking to me. A real idol...talking to ME, you thought.

You moved your head a little to the right to show that you were listening. He was right. The lights were very hot, and you could feel yourself sweating underneath the thick sweater you wore. You were going to respond to him, gathering up the courage to do so, but a voice over the loudspeaker announced that the female co-host wouldn’t be there for another half hour.

You looked over at Jaemin. His professionalism allowed him to smile gracefully at the inconvenience. He tucked his script underneath his arm and looked towards the camera. You couldn’t stop staring at him, and you didn’t stop until someone snapped at you to look at the camera, too.

“People here aren’t very nice.” you found yourself saying.

“Not always.” he said.

You could feel him staring at you, but you didn’t dare look at him. The people behind the camera had their eyes on you. You were too scared to act up. It wasn’t until Jaemin touched his fingertips to the inside of your palm that you looked over at him.

“Have you been working here for a long time?” he asked. “I think I remember seeing you a few weeks ago.”

“That was me.” you said, trying your best to forget the time you tripped right in front of him and nearly fell flat on your face. If it wasn’t for the fact that everyone was watching and your pride forced you to catch yourself, you would have embarrassed yourself completely in front of The Na Jaemin.

Your little work crushes never lasted long, but there hadn’t been many people that affected you quite like Jaemin did. He was always so present with the people around him, so jovial and warm. He was kind to the staff. He even paid for the coffee everyone drank one day, the bill too enormous for someone with a job like yours. Sure, he was handsome and everything was perfect, and it was cool that he was an idol, but there was something about him that felt normal to you. Romanticizing him couldn't stop that feeling every time you set your eyes on him.

“Have you fixed your feet since then?” he asked, a smile so radiant and as blinding as the overhead lights on his face.

“Yes.” you said.

Someone else shouted for you to look back at the camera, so you did. Then, someone else thrust a script into your hands, the female co-hosts parts highlighted in yellow.

A rushed voice said, “ Read out all of her parts. We’re not on live, it’s just a run-through.”

While there was no patience for you, or consideration for the job you were meant to be doing, there was a certain importance placed on you when the camera light flickered on and all eyes in the room were on you. There was complete silence. Jaemin smiled beside you, his facial expression urging confidence within you.

So, you began to speak her parts. You read them carefully, before turning to pause for Jaemins parts. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but being beside his calmness made you feel a little more at ease.

Jaemin really was so good at his side job. He spoke with a smooth voice, one that knew exactly how to keep people listening. It was too easy to get lost in his velvety voice, in his handsome face, or in the way he made everyone feel included.

When it was time to cut to the female co-host's parts, Jaemin folded his hands in front of him and turned to you, like what you said was the most interesting piece of information in the room. You began to believe in yourself a little more, delivering the lines like your life depended on them.

You both went back and forth for the whole script, your words and timing running through so perfectly that it felt so natural to you. You began to feel like you were the co-host, not the woman running late. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but the chemistry between you and Jaemin was obvious.

“Cut!” a voice yelled. “That was great. I think we have everything set up. Thank you everyone."

People moved all around the room. The stillness in the air when the camera went on vanished in a pinch. Voices erupted everywhere, and the movement of sound made your head hurt. Someone removed the script from your hands. Someone else came up and told you that you did a good job.

“You did really well.” Jaemin agreed, squatting down so a make-up artist could powder his face. “You’re a natural.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I felt like I stuttered too much.”

“You were perfect.” he winked.

The make-up artist looked at you when Jaemin couldn’t keep his eyes from you. You weren’t paying her any attention, even though her gaze could slice you in half.

“Thank you.” you said, resisting the urge to giggle.

When the make-up artist was finished, Jaemin brought himself back up to full height. You couldn’t remember him being that tall. You felt intoxicated by him. You were drawn in so deeply that you didn’t notice the sour man from earlier asking you why you weren’t getting back to your job.

“Right.” you said. “Sorry.”

Jaemin extended his hand for you to shake. His eyes never left yours. You took his hand and held it, letting him control the way your hands moved together.

“It was nice working with you,” he said.

“Yeah, me too.” you said. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You let go of his hand and turned to walk away, mentally kicking yourself that you had said that. Before you could pick up your pace, Jaemins voice stopped you in your tracks.

“If you turned around, you could see me right now.”

You found yourself in his arms, leaning against the wall with your mouth on his, and your hands pulling out the shirt tucked into his pants. Jaemin watched you breathlessly, a dangerous smirk on his lips, and his eyes waiting for you to look up into his.

You couldn’t remember following him back into his dressing room, his hand gently pulling you from behind. You looked at the floor the whole time, too scared to meet the eyes of women you felt were more deserving of his attention. He talked to people as he passed, using his politeness to stall the crew a little while longer. His confidence was hard to turn down, even for you.

You wanted to ask yourself what you were doing. Were you crazy? Were you so blinded by him that you would risk everything? And were you really so horny for him that you couldn’t stop touching him??

Jaemin pulled away from you, his clothes haphazardly falling from his body, the half-undressed look too sexy on him to resist. Your lips were swollen and -no doubt- red from his kisses, the soreness resuming when he wasn’t kissing them, as if the act of kissing him was a salve. He plopped on the couch and patted his lap. You came over and sat on him, straddling his lap and using your hand to push his head against the back of the couch so you could kiss him deeply. He tasted irresistible, forbidden.

You tore off your sweater, your skin sticky. Jaemin's hands snaked up your sides, his thumbs moving underneath your bra. He leaned up to kiss you between your cleavage, his hot breath creating moisture on your skin. He pushed the bra up, freeing your breasts, his mouth finding them without issue. You lean back and let him devour you, knowing that if you fall this time, he will catch you.

There was a knock at the door, which Jaemin ignored, with a sigh, the first time. He had removed your bra and watched it dangle on his finger before it hit the floor. He was touching your breasts tenderly, his hands warming up your skin. When the second knock came, you could feel him tense underneath you.

“Who is it? Jaemin asked. You could feel the emotion trapped in his body, the irritation ready to bubble out. Jaemin, if anything, was a great actor. He kept his voice even and cool.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, but you slid from his lap and sat between his legs. You wanted to ease the tension for him. There was a murmur from behind the door, but you couldn’t hear the voice anymore. You unzipped his pants, your earlier mission on your mind. After seeing Jaemin’s cock in the flesh, his still-soft length making its way into your mouth, nothing else mattered at all.

Soon enough, the person on the other side of the locked door didn’t matter to Jaemin. He watched you go at his cock, licking and stroking him like it was your life's purpose. You cared about little else but having him sit in your mouth, his hardness missing the graze of your teeth. You wanted him to come, but he was so frantic with his movements, trying to stave off the orgasm for as long as possible. Before he could finish, he took your chin in his hand softly and brought your mouth up to his for a kiss. It was a distraction, and it worked.

You pushed him back against the couch and lifted up his shirt. He was amused by how eager you were to please him. He helped you remove his shirt, before continuing to watch your mouth lick and suck his body, leaving little bruises all over. Any time you would reach down to stroke his cock or give him another soft lick you knew would drive him wild, Jaemin would hold your hand to get you to stop.

“Not yet.” was all he said.

Jaemin had insisted that you remove all of your clothes. You tore them off like they were an inconvenience. With you naked, he managed to pull you all the way up the couch, until you were hovering over his face, your legs wobbling with fear. Your pussy lowering down onto Jaemin’s face and his hands against your back for support, you felt his tongue pushing your lips aside. The warmth made you suck in your breath and brace your palms against the wall, before you felt the pleasure of his tongue working its way to your clit. He tasted you everywhere, licking and sucking, pulling you down harder against him so that you were nearly suffocating him, eating you out until your legs were shaking so bad that he had to set you down again.

You wanted to make him come like he had made you come, but Jaemin had other plans. He laid you on the couch. He kissed your body, loving on it until you were begging him to be inside of you. He avoided your pussy, and you wondered if it was on purpose, if he wasn’t letting you come a second time. His mouth was on your inner thigh, the unshaved little hairs you could barely see on his face tickling your skin. He was rough with his teeth, even rougher with the way his fingers prodded and poked you. You were so wet, so ready, that you knew if he even breathed in that direction, you would come again.

“We don’t need these.” Jaemin said, ridding himself of his own pants and underwear.

It was chilly in the dressing room, but Jaemin using his body to cover you made you feel hot. His weight made the scene all too real, and you were suddenly transported out of your horny haze and back to where you were and to whom you were with

“Oh my god.” you said, looking up at him.

You could feel his hard cock on the inside of your leg. He kissed your neck. He shifted your leg so that he could get more comfortable between them.

“I haven't done anything yet.” he said quietly.

“This is going to get me fired.” you grinned from ear-to-ear

Jaemin grinned back, his handsome face making you fall silent. He had his hand on his cock and was using it to guide himself inside of you. Feeling all of him there was well worth the way you were treated by other people during the day. Jaemin’s cock erased everything from your mind, his thrusting making you feel a little bit smug that it was you and not anyone else.

With each thrust, you spoke. “Please. Don’t. Stop. I. Don’t. Care. If. Anyone. Walks. In.”

“You want it, you got it.” he said, fucking you good.

Jaemin pushed you further up the couch, until you were almost in a sitting position, your body against the arm rest. He moved up with you on his knees, holding you by your waist and using his muscles to bring your body down onto his cock. During the fun, he managed to grab fistfuls of your hair and hold on tight, while his cock drilled you, until a third knock came on the door.

"I'm coming." Jaemin called, smiling as he was getting ready to do just that.

#na jaemin #jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin #nct smut #nct dream smut #jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #jaemin fanfic #idol!jaemin

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lacheri · 3 years

Note

Hello Cherry I have a request! Eren always teasing and being a little mean to the reader so she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine (so sorta like a sub! eren x brat tamer! reader) okay that is all ilysm bye bye

hi Kat!! you send me the best prompts 🤤 I hope you enjoy thank you for requesting ily!!!

too much

pairing: sub/brat!Eren x brat tamer!fem bodied reader

content: Eren’s an asshole, established relationship, ruined orgasms, oral (f and m receiving), humiliation/degradation kink, minors DNI.

wc: 3.5k

notes: this is unedited I literally just wrote this up as fast as I could bc this ask drove me WILD

Your fists were clenched at your sides, fingernails digging crescents on the inside of your palms, knuckles white. You were stomping through your shared living room with your boyfriend, curses and swears leaving your lips. Eren had managed to piss you completely off, feelings of humiliation and frustration fueling the fire coursing through your veins.

It all started earlier this morning, waking up next to your sleepy boyfriend, kissing his cheek sweetly. Your half naked bodies wrapped together in a cocoon of blankets, hair messy and eyelids heavy. Usually, Eren would stir awake and return your kisses with enthusiasm, but he had cracked a single eye open this morning, frowned and grumbled, and pushed you off of him. You had pouted, feeling rejected, and immediately flung yourself out of the bed to get ready for the day. When Eren had finally woken up, joining you in your shared bathroom as you brushed your teeth, he made no effort to console you. He saw the wrinkles on your forehead as your eyebrows furrowed together, a tell all sign for what you were feeling. He simply brushed past you, grabbing his own toothbrush and standing right beside you as if he hadn’t been so recklessly ignorant of you.

When the two of you had spit and gargled mouthwash, he cleared his throat, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, “What’s your deal?”

Your eyes flickered to him for a brief second, and you rolled your eyes and stomped off back to your bedroom to get dressed. Fuck him, if he wanted to start the day off so sour, he was going to get the same attitude back.

Eren followed behind you, smirk still growing, “You’re mad I pushed you away this morning, aren’t you?”

“So you did it on purpose?” you couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice, back facing him as you searched through your closet. You really had intended to ignore Eren for a while, letting him stew in your cold shoulder treatment, but he always knew how to crawl under your skin and get a rise out of you.

“Just wanted to see how you’d react,” he teased, coming directly behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms crossed on his bare chest. “I was right.”

Fury licked flames up your throat and you stepped forward, throwing your boyfriend off balance. You didn’t want to play whatever game he was trying to set up, you had things to do today besides bend to Eren’s will. Hearing his response, it drove motivation into the pits of your mind that Eren was not going to get a reaction out of you anymore today.

However, he had other plans.

Today has been your day off from work and school, as well as Eren’s day off. The plan was to straighten up the house, invite your friends over in the evening and order pizza. Nothing too crazy or over the top, just a nice relaxing day.

Things didn’t quite work out that way. After the two of you had gotten dressed and made breakfast, every single time you tried to clean an object, Eren would somehow get in the way. He pulled books of the bookcase and left them on the floor or any surface he could find, managed somehow to fill the sink with dirty dishes, not rinsing them off to put in the dishwasher, and found every article of clothing between the two of you to toss on the bedroom floor. The hour long cleaning session had turned into the entire day, long enough that you had to text your friends that tonight wasn’t going to work out.

Because every time you made progress in your small home, Eren would find another thing that got added to the list. As much as it infuriated you, mostly because Eren was supposed to be helping you, you couldn’t let it phase you. No, you knew he was trying to piss you off. You weren’t going to crack under his pressure, not give him the satisfaction of seeing you wound up and upset.

The last straw had snapped when he walked into the living room, seeing you pick up the last book he had thrown on the floor, and opened his stupid mouth.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” Eren spat. “This house is a complete disaster.”

Your eyes flickered incredulously to the wall clock, six o’clock it had read, your entire day wasted away, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

You searched for a hint of playfulness in his expression, seeing nothing but his stone cold eyes piercing into you as he spoke without hesitation, “I’m entirely fucking serious. How are we supposed to have company over if you can’t clean a fucking house?”

“Already cancelled,” you fumed, standing up from your crouched position, leaving the book on the floor. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?”

“You. What? Do you need me to use your name at every sentence whenever I talk to you?” Eren kept edging, a feel of gratification consuming him upon learning his friends weren’t coming over anymore. “How am I supposed to marry someone who can’t fucking clean?”

You felt sharp pangs of hurt in your chest, eyes losing their spark, “Eren, that’s mean. Why are you being so mean today?”

He had only smirked, reveling in your mood switch. In the silence shared then, he announced he was getting a bath, he had such a hard working day and wanted to relax. He had left you in the living room alone, and you felt the anger inside of you bubble up, threatening to go over. You snapped, heading straight to the bathroom where you could hear the flow of water into the tub stop.

The door slammed against the wall as you threw it opened, seeing Eren jump slightly at the impact. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, arms stretched out against the rim of the tub, and in any other situation you’d be crawling into the water with him. He’d be so sweet about it too, bringing you to his chest and giving you kisses while you giggled at the attention. Hell, he’d probably even shower you in compliments and appreciation. Not today though, his eyes hardened as you stopped right in front of him.

“Out, now,” you ordered through clenched teeth. You could hear Eren’s breath kick up, but he didn’t move. “Are you deaf? Get out, now, Eren.”

His body moved before his mouth could protest, standing stark naked in the shin deep water. You could see the steam rise off of his skin, your eyes trailed downwards. Although soft, his dick was still impressive, but the longer you stared at the fleshy member, it twitched and rose a bit. You quirked an eyebrow, realization dawning on you. Oh, so this was why Eren was acting like this today?

You made eye contact with him then, his legs shifting over the rim of the tub, before standing directly in front of you. Your hand whipped up to the back of Eren’s head, fisting his hair, and yanking his head back, exposing every line and vein and bulge in his throat.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get me all angry so I could take it out on you?” Eren’s dick was rock solid, giving you a physical answer, but you still needed the verbal one, “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he choked out, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat.

“Well it fucking worked. I have half a mind to leave you here, like this, to take care of yourself,” you pulled his hair further, a gasp leaving his parted lips.

“No, please, don’t,” Eren’s voice came out whiny as he begged. You smirked, although he wasn’t able to see it as his eyes faced directly up to the ceiling.

“You’re going to drain this tub,” you began to instruct, tilting his head so his eyes trailed to your hard set ones. “And then you’re going to dry off, and go lay flat on your back on the bed. Do you understand me?”

He nodded feverently, happy you released your grip as his neck had begun to ache. You smoothed that same hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath your fingertips, “Good boy.”

Eren set to work quickly, giddy with excitement. This had been his plan all along, to get you riled up enough to take it out on him. Genuinely, Eren hadn’t meant to start this at all today. When you had kissed him awake, he was having a really good dream he didn’t want to wake up from quite then, and hadn’t meant to push you away. Upon seeing your sad pout, followed by a flicker of anger in your orbs, something stirred within Eren. He began to question, just how far could he push you until you caved in?

Eren didn’t stick around to watch the tub fully drain, he was dried off and on the bed just as you had requested. You leaned against the wall, clad only in your bra and panties, and you watched him with hungry eyes as he followed your every instruction. Your boyfriend was a beautiful man, every part of him intriguing and gorgeous to you. He looked like a Greek God, arms and legs spread out, the subtle light from your bedside lamps casting shadows across his abs and into the V of his pelvis. Eren had a beautiful cock as well, thick and long and veiny, it sat perched on his lower abdomen, twitching as you pushed yourself off the wall to loom over your man.

“Look at you,” you mused, letting a dark chuckle vibrate from your chest. “You’re already hard and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he answered. The skin on his cock was so taut and tight, feeling somewhat light headed as all the blood was rushed to his member.

“You know I’m going to have to punish you, right? For being so mean to me today?” you batted your eyelashes, crawling on to the bed, sitting on your knees by his side, refusing to touch him just yet.

“I know,” Eren whined, trying to reach out to touch your thigh only to be met with the harsh slap of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” you cooed in false security, brushing Eren’s hair out of his beautiful face. “But that’s okay, you’re gonna’ make it up to me, right now.”

You traced the outline of Eren’s plump lips, resting your forehead against his as you muttered in your darkest voice, “I’m taking away your right to touch me. Convince me you’re sorry, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Eren squirmed under the heat of your words, eyes darting across your face for a hint of a lie, of hesitation. He found nothing, only the glimmer of lust in your eyes as you gazed down at him. Your fingers pushed past his soft lips, and he needed no instruction to latch on and suck. If this was the only touch he would get of you, your fingers pumping into his mouth, scissoring his tongue, he’d take it all so greedily to make you regret putting these rules in place. He never broke eye contact, curling and circling his tongue between your pointer and middle fingers, imagining they were the divine petals between your thighs. You were doing the same, feeling the gush of arousal slicken you. You tapped his tongue, signaling a release. He parted his now swollen lips easily, eyes pleading.

“Can I kiss you at least?” Eren rasped, his hands twitching at his sides.

“No,” you placed a contrasting sweet kiss to his forehead in your dark tone. “That would be touching, sweetheart.”

Eren held back a whine, knowing it was futile. He was simply going to have to lay there, and take whatever punishment he had coming, unable to escape it or bring you pleasure amongst it all. If there was a glimmer of hope, it was crushed as he felt your face travel down to his neck. You were in complete control, just as Eren had wanted.

You sucked and licked at his throat, your dry hand coming up to squeeze what skin you weren’t kissing. You trailed your lips down, kissing his entire torso. As much as you wanted to spend the time working Eren up, you had ideas swirling in your head. Eren had no patience with you today, so you weren’t going to have patience with him. Besides, it was sort of cruel to not pay immediate attention to his swollen cock.

Your hand slicked in his saliva wrapped around the base of his length, a sharp intake of breath heard from Eren’s lips. It came out shaky as you began to pump, his precum oozing from his tip and meeting the warm wetness of your fingers. You twisted your hand up and down, beginning to feel the moisture rub away, his spit drying. This was no good, and you continued to kiss down his stomach until your lips met the head of his reddened cock. He hissed as you spat on it, hand spreading it all over. Your tongue slipped past your lips, kitten licking at his tip. Eren couldn’t think straight, and he settled his hands above him to try and keep his grip as far away from you as he could.

It was nearly impossible to not grab your hair and slam you down as your sweet lips parted and you began to suck his fat tip. Eren succeeded though, knuckles white gripping pillows, and he heaved out a groan. You swiped your tongue along his slit, tastebuds soaking up his salty precum. You prodded in just a little bit, sending a shiver up Eren’s spine. Your hand still doing most of the work, you thought you’d up the game by throwing your other hand in the mix. Eren let out a high pitched moan, throwing his head back at the onslaught of attention.

“It’s so fucking cruel I can’t touch you,” he whined yet again, craning his neck to meet your eyes.

You popped your mouth from his head, “I guess I’m going to be downright evil after what I’m about to do.”

Before Eren could respond, your hands moved to his thighs and his cock was swallowed into the back of your throat. He couldn’t stop the noises he was making as you bobbed your head unbelievably fast, sucking him more and more until your nose buried into the neatly kept curls above his shaft. You were trying your hardest not to gag, your throat entirely full, and Eren was trying his hardest not to cum on impact. You pulled back a bit, tears blinked back from your eyes, and returned a single hand to work what you couldn’t reach.

Eren’s thighs tightened, his breathing hitching, “Fuck, I’m getting so close.”

At this reveal, your pace only quickened, full intentions of bringing him to his utmost height. Your cheeks sucked harder, tongue lapping the underside of his length, and you were covered in your own spit. Sloppy and messy, just how Eren liked it. How you seemed to like it, as well.

“Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Eren called out alongside your name, hips bucking into your mouth. Your other hand met the swell of his balls, feeling them tighten up as his release was right there. As Eren let out the first whine to signal his climax, you yanked your hands away and slipped your mouth off with a pop.

He spasmed, too far gone to stop. His dick stood tall, shooting his load onto his stomach, throbbing so hard and so uncomfortably that tears rolled down Eren’s cheeks. You had ruined his orgasm. His cock was leaking clear fluid, his body frustrated with the lack of contact, entirely unsatisfied. His jaw slacked open, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at you in disbelief.

“That’s what you get for trying to piss me off all day,” you growled, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Stay right there, Eren.”

You got off the bed, reaching into your bedside table to pull out two objects — a tiny vibrator and a suit tie. You yanked Eren’s hands up, tying them to your headboard. You undressed yourself quickly, revealing your naked body to Eren’s greedy eyes. His dick hadn’t softened, still painfully erect and needy as he subconsciously bucked into the air. You didn’t comment, knowing how bad Eren wanted you and your attention back to his pulsating member. You threw your thighs around his neck, straddling the lower half of his face.

“You want me to touch you?” Eren nodded, tears still pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Make me cum, and I’ll return the favor.”

Easy enough, Eren thought, lolling his tongue out for you to place your glistening folds on. You sat down fully, letting out a moan as your hips circled his mouth, your hands latched into his hair. Eren heard the soft click of the vibrator in your hands, and moved his south south, knowing exactly what it was you were searching for.

You gasped as his tongue penetrated your tight hole, walls fluttering around his wet muscle as you slid the vibrator right up to your clit. If Eren had only had his hands, you wouldn’t need that little toy to satisfy you. He’d be doing all the work, bringing you all your pleasure up to your climax. All Eren’s work, but you didn’t want him to have that satisfaction.

Because this was you, and you were in full control, there was absolutely no point in teasing yourself. You were rewarding yourself, Eren just happened to be a part of the ride, literally. You thought of all the mean words he had said to you today, all the teases and inconveniences. Your hand in his hard gripped harder, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you tried to level your moans.

“You pissed me off so fucking bad today,” your head was thrown back as Eren fucked you with his tongue, your hips pressing down harder. “You were so mean. Now look at you, pathetic. Letting me fuck your face like the little brat you are.”

Eren felt his cock twitch, feeling similar waves of humiliation you had felt today. He knew better than to speak, instead, thrusting his tongue even harder into your entrance to show his response. You were right, he had wanted to feel completely powerless under your wrath, wanted you to use him as if he was disposable, to punish him. When he felt your hand leave his hair, feeling the harsh sting of a slap on his chest behind your ass, he was grateful. This is all he wanted, tears brought to his eyes in pure joy.

Your nails dug into his peck, your orgasm fast approaching, “Oh my God, you’re such a good boy, keep going. Oh fuck, Eren I’m about to cum.”

Eren felt pure pride and love swell in his body, ruined by a cold chill of blinding pleasure. No, no, he was not going to cum with no contact, surely? His scrotum tightened, eyes slamming shut. You were going to be livid when you saw the mess he was creating.

Eren’s cock shot thick white ropes into your back, yes, from that far away. It was just all too much, the degradation, it was like your words had been stroking him up the entire time. His body vibrated, but he forced his eyes to open to watch you fall apart above him.

Your wrist flicked fast with the vibrator in hand, feeling your walls clench and tip over the edge. You screamed breathlessly, pushing your entire lower half into Eren’s mouth. Eren could feel the tingle of your toy against his nose, a small goofy smile on his lips as he thought of how funny it would be if he sneezed. You pulled it away quickly though, mind coming back together as you began to worry about how hard you had pushed into his face. Your orgasm slowed, walls contracting at a much lazier pace, and you lifted your hips.

“Good boy,” you praised, eyes full of love as you reached up to untie his hands. “You did such a good job, baby.”

You hadn’t noticed what Eren had done until you felt a cold brush against your lower back and ass. You hand circled around, feeling the wet sticky spots, and your jaw dropped.

“Eren, did you cum from just eating me out?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he was pleading, shying away from your widened eyes. “Was too much.”

Eren thought you would’ve been furious, instead, a soft laugh echoed in your chest. You moved off of him, laying on your stomach to place a sweet kiss to his lips. He eagerly returned it, happiness tickling throughout his entire body. When you pulled away, you rested your head on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist.

“That’s the hottest thing ever,” you admitted, curling a strand of his hair in your finger.

“I’m going to piss you off more often,” Eren joked lightly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I like this side of you.”

“Please, Eren, don’t. Next time you want me to top, just fucking ask me.”

#eren x reader #sub eren #attack on titan fanfiction #eren fanfiction #eren x you #eren jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin eren #aot smut #aot x reader #tw: degradation #tw: humiliation #eren jeager x reader #eren smut

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Text

Guys I’m having another Bakugo brainrot

Tw: bullying, noncon, nonconsensual peeping, manipulation

Remember that one episode of MHA where the class goes to the sauna and M*neta tries to check da girls out over the wall?

Imagine the same scenario, but years later when they’re all older

The class wanted a reunion, just to relax and blow off some steam

You’re with the girls, and you all lay back in the hot water reminiscing about the older days when everyone was still getting the hang of their own quirks

Mina brings up this exact same scene but years ago.

“Ohmigosh, do you guys remember the last time we came in our first year here and Mineta totally tried to get a peek at us?”

“Ugh, I hope Iida is keeping a good hold on him right now,” Ochacko giggles, kicking her feet up to rest on a rock

You hum in agreement, tilting your head back to rest against the wooden wall separating you and the boys.

As it was, Uraraka was almost spot on with her hopes. Except, Iida and Tokoyami were out getting refreshments for the rest of the boys, leaving the remaining group to their own plot.

Which was lead by Mineta, of course, who had the brilliant idea to spy on the girls, just like they almost did years back.

“Guys, come on, please they’re right there!” He practically salivates, wildly gesturing to the tall wooden wall in front of them.

Most of them shift uncomfortably and groan about him being a creep as usual, but the rest stay silent.

Mineta takes their lack of outright refusal as fuel to keep blabbering.

“Look, we almost got away with it back then-“

“-You mean you got away with it, we didn’t do shit. And you didn’t exactly get off scot-free, Kota completely demolished your attempts and you landed ass down on Four-Eyes’ face,” Bakugo drawls, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the obsidian sky. The boys laugh, remembering the ridiculous event.

The night is cool, the stars littering the inky atmosphere take the pressure off of Bakugo’s lungs. For weeks now they’ve been training like dogs, battling each other and even minor villains for extra practice of their quirks. This trip was supposed to be a leisure getaway, not a free porno.

But the grape-headed perv is insistent, scoffing and waving the blond’s quip off like some annoying fly.

“You know, there’s something in it for you too, Bakugo. I’ve seen the way you look at Y/N.”

This causes a murmur and a couple of light beers towards the blond, who in turn snarls and ignites his hand to quell the commotion. All of them had an inkling that Katsuki Bakugo had finally set his sights on some poor girl, and that was you. It was such a rare sight to see his face flush slightly when you walked past him, the way he stuttered over his words a bit when you two would be conversing amongst the same group, and best of all, when they would see how he would excuse himself to the bathroom or locker room occasionally when your hero suit would tear in certain places after battles.

“Shut the fuck up 3’2, unlike you I don’t need to ogle at those brain dead bimbos.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you thought of Y/N as a ‘brain dead bimbo’, Bakugo, I’ll be sure to let her know how you feel” Mineta grinned maliciously, and the boys ‘oooo’ed at the jab.

Bakugo’s voice caught in his throat.

“You wouldn’t,” he growled, rising slightly out of the water.

“I already know you’ll kill me afterwards, but I’m prepared for the repercussions if you don’t help...cooperate here,” Grapehead inspected a cuticle and feigned a yawn.

“Come on Bakugo, it’s not like it’s gonna hurt anyone! Well keep this to ourselves,” Denki chimed in a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re only asking for your and everyone’s support so that we can focus better on training y’know? A little fun never killed anyone.” Sero threw his arm over Kirishima’s shoulder, who blushed at the whole ordeal but kept silent all the while.

Katsuki looked around. Slowly, others were starting to really listen in and look interested at the outcome of Mineta’s plan. Surely a little peeping wouldn’t be too bad would it? And plus, it was only a one time thing.

Shoto was faring the same way as Kirishima, quiet and maybe embarrassed at what they were planning on doing, but no outright refusal. Even Deku had a weird longing glint in his eye, the same kind he would get when he used to fawn over All Might.

He thought about it for a minute more, a chance to see you, naked, honest, and pure, splashing around with your friends as you let your femininity dangle as it pleased.

“Do whatever the hell you want. I’m not taking blame if the bird and glasses come back, though.”

Hushed cheers and excited murmurs erupt from around the spring, and they huddle together to form a plan.

A couple minutes later, the boys were grouping around the wooden panels. Todoroki had burned a hole into the soft wood, and sero had used his transparent tape to cover it up so that the girls couldn’t see it from their side.

And there they were, completely bare, hair flowing, curves showing, voices mature and high pitched giggles emanating from around the water and bank.

Bakugo seeks you out immediately after the hole is made, shoving his way through the crowded bodies much to the amusement of others. But he doesn’t care, all he wants at the moment is to see you in your most honest element.

He doesn’t have to look long, because you’re right there, you’re right in front of them, only a few meters away. Your back is facing them, but the sight of your smooth, naked back and the round curve of your ass squishing against the rocks underneath you is enough to make Bakugo’s cock bob painfully above the water. It’s not too hard to hide his erection since the boys’s attention is elsewhere at the moment.

Your hair is open, and he wants nothing more than to feel it in his hands, run his fingers though your scalp and pull so hard that your neck is snapped back, he wants to know what kind of noises you’ll make for him, would you sound shrill and high pitched or would you wail and bellow for him to let go?

They can hear the girls talking amongst themselves, the hole in the wall makes their voices more audible and clear.

“Quit playing coy, Jirou, we know you’ve got your eye on someone,” Hagakure’s body is nowhere to be found as usual, but her chipper voice rings out from the middle of the hot spring.

Jirou is a few feet away from where you sit, her body also being shown for everyone to see. Bakugo glances at Kaminari to confirm his suspicion, but gags and quickly looks away when he gets an eyeful of his friends’ erect cock.

Not that Bakugo himself has room to talk, though.

“I mean, not really, it’s not a big deal.” The ravenette shifts and hides her head from the rest of girls’ cooing.

“Uh huh, sure. You’re not fooling anyone Kiyoka, I’ve seen the way you look at Denki. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other, it’s cute,” you purr, and Bakugo holds himself back from shoving the other guys out of the way just so that he can hear your voice the best.

Squeals and sounds of splashing fill the air, and Sero and Kirishima whisper excitedly and clap their red-faced friend on the back. Denki can’t keep the 50K watt smile off his face, and even Bakugo grunts and knocks shoulders with him, letting him know that he was happy for the human charger.

But then Jirou claps back with her own snarky observation, and the boys fall hush at the new revelation.

“Alright, you wanna talk about ogling Y/N? Then tell me, how’s Deku doing?”

“Or Bakugo, too,” Mina adds slyly, and now all the girls’ attention, as well as the boys’, is on you.

Bakugo felt like he had whiplash. He would’ve been elated, on Cloud 9 even to hear that maybe you had something for him too, had shitty Deku’s name not have been thrown in there too.

And he looks around wildly for the green haired freak, the freckles dusted across the expanse of his face even more prominent from the deep blush quickly forming, his scarred hands holding the sides of his face shaking in awe and gleeful shock.

But the rest of the boys aren’t as oblivious to how Bakugo seethes at his rival’s joy, from the way the water gets hotter from his quirk sparking underneath the rippling waves. Kirishima scoots closer to his friend and gently lays a hand on his shoulder as if to say, calm down, man. Not right now.

And so the hothead leaves it for the time being, opting to hear your response.

“I-it’s really nothing, they’re both just good classmates like the rest of the guys,” and although your back is turned to them, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re embarrassed too, your leg skittishly bouncing in front of you is making your ass jiggle from the back, much to the delight of the salivating boys.

Bakugo wants to spill blood when he suddenly realizes your body is being shown for the rest of these dogs to see

The girls start teasing you, your splutters being drowned out by their playful accusations.

“Come on L/N, whose cuter?”

“Dont act all coy now, I know how nervous you get when you’re all close to Bakugo. I mean I don’t blame you, have you seen his muscles? He could crush someone’s head with those things!”

“Yeah, but have you seen the way she giggles when Deku starts his mumbling tangents? That’s a classic crush right there.”

Bakugo is getting desperate to hear your answer now, some of the boys have left, feeling like they had their full of excitement for the night. They saw some tits and ass, heard some gossip, end of story.

The only ones remaining were Bakugo and his gang, as well as IcyHot and Shitty Deku.

Shitty Deku, who seemed equally eager to hear your response.

It pissed him off that he wasn’t getting the message to fuck off, even after all the growling and death stares he was receiving from his childhood friend.

But he guesses after a lifetime of dealing with it, it doesn’t scare Deku as much as it does anymore.

Maybe he’ll have to amp it up, later

“W-well I mean both of them have their own respective...flaws and strengths I guess..sometimes Deku can be kinda hard to talk to ‘cuz he’s so shy, but Bakugo can be a real jerk at times, too.”

You trail off, and Bakugo scoffs to himself. Him? Flaws? Those two words didn’t go well in one sentence together, but nonetheless he continues to listen. He wouldn’t refute the notion of him being an asshole, he wasnt that delusional.

“And yeah, I mean Bakugo definitely intimidates me sometimes with how aggressive he can be, but Deku is definitely getting up there in terms of physical prowess. But in terms of who I like, I’d have to say-“

“Midoriya! Bakugo! What are you two doing over there?”

Iidas voice booms across the water, and all 6 of the boys jump back, startled at the intrusion.

“No, wait-“ Bakugo hisses, clawing his way towards the hole to hear the rest of what you had to say, but Sero and Todoroki shove him back and patch the hole up with fire and tape, shutting off your confession.

Deku waves his arms around wildly, stammering some excuse of dropping his towel in the spot where they all were sheepishly gathered. They eventually waded their way over to where Tokoyami had set the drinks down, but the blond was shaking with hot rage despite the cool refreshment that was shoved into his hand by a wary Kirishima.

“Don’t sweat it dude, it’s not like her and Midoriya are gonna da-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll blast both your and his head off,” he glowers at the redhead, shorting a dark look to where an all-too-happy Deku was chatting with Todoroki, as if they hadn’t been drooling over their naked classmates merely a couple minutes ago.

Kirishima backs off with raised hands in surrender, leaving Katsuki to mull over the situation by himself.

You couldn’t seriously be interested in that green haired freak, right? I mean he could barely talk to a girl without tripping over his own damn tongue, for fucks sake.

Not that he was any better himself. He failed to acknowledge the times where you had merely asked him for an extra pencil, when he snapped at you for being such a fuckin’ dumbass that you couldn’t even remember to bring your own shit. He had done that out of pure impulse, but he regretted it the moment he saw your face fall, his heart clenching at the sight

He’d have to show you that he was the better option, regardless of if you wanted it or not.

And so when they had all gotten out of the water and gotten ready for food, Bakugo already knew what he had to do.

You were all eating outside in the camp pavilion, each at their own separate tables. He was sitting with the boys, all of them joking around and throwing food at each other while he was staring you down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. How could you expect him to, after he had seen half of you bare already? It was sinful almost, the way you were completely in the dark about what he had seen and heard, while he himself was fantasizing about what you looked like and felt like on the front.

So when Deku came by your table, no doubt also having the same conversation of the springs in mind, wanting to get closer to you, Bakugo felt his sanity snap.

The fork he held in his hand started melting in his ignited hand, steam curling from his palm. He watched as the green-eyed fuck made successful shitty attempts to make you laugh, his eyes trained on where you gently laid a hand on his shoulder after something he said that made you throw your head back and howl with glee.

“Hey man, your fork-!” Kaminari yelped, pointing at the disfigured mess of metal in his friend’s steaming hand.

“Huh?” Bakugo was pulled out of his irate daze, and he quickly dropped the fork when he saw what he unconsciously did.

They all looked at him for an uneasy minute after noticing the expression on his face, no doubt understanding he was furious about being compared to Deku once again in front of you.

“Look, Bakugo, don’t really take what Y/N said to heart. We don’t know who she actually likes, and Midoriya’s just her friend...” but Sero trails off hesitantly after glancing in your direction, seeing Deku’s dreamy expression as your hand still continues to rest on his shoulder.

“Just let her come to you, yeah? You don’t wanna force anything on her, that’ll make her really uncomfortable-“

-“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair, and mind your own damn business,” Bakugo interjects, abruptly unscrewing his drink and standing up, unable to lose you to some broccoli- headed bug-eyed fuck.

He stiffly walks across the pavilion to where you two sit, and feigns a swig from his bottle. Your focus is still on Deku, so you don’t notice him approach until he comes up behind you two and ‘trip’s, falling forward and strategically spilling the liquid all over Deku’s back and your front.

You squeal as your blouse is drenched, and Deku shoots up from his seat to grab some napkins while searching for the perpetrator.

“What the- Kacchan?”

“Oops.”

Bewildered, you look at the two while dabbing the wet splotches on your shirt, Mina and Tsu jumping into action to help you.

The boys exchange a weird look, and although Bakugo gave his version of an apology, he doesn’t look very sorry. In fact, if you saw it right he looked almost...smug? With a bit of anger?

Deku wasn’t any easier to understand either. His voice was lilted as usual while he grabbed napkins, but his gaze never left his childhood friends’ and his eyes weren’t exactly the big doe-eyes you had grown fond of.

They were darkened, and narrowed as they bored into Bakugo’s eyes. Neither one of them was looking away from each other, and there was a weird tension in the air that everyone could sense.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, you had to go and wash up.

“I gotta change and maybe take a shower, I can feel it sticking to my skin,” you scrunch your nose in disgust and tell Mina as you stand to leave. Deku offers to walk you, but you wave him off kindly.

As you pass by Bakugo, you can feel his eyes rove up and down your body, very obviously staring at the way your white shirt clings to your chest from the liquid, sending chills up your spine.

But he doesn’t come after you, not yet.

It’s only after everyone has finished up from their dinner and headed off to bed almost 20 minutes later that the showers finally, finally warm up enough for you to dip a hesitant toe in.

Curse the old pipes.

*******

He watches you from the dark, the only light you’re provided with is the dim emergency light from the rusty bulb, the camp counselors having been shut the facility’s lights off merely a half hour ago. But you were stubborn in waiting for the water to warm up so you were left alone in the showers, shifting uncomfortably in your sticky wet clothes.

And then miraculously you get up for the umpteenth time to check the temperature of the water, and it’s finally deemed appropriate for you when you sigh in relief and start taking your shoes off.

He hides in the door partition, his cock hardening slowly as he thinks of you alone with just him and his mercy. You were going to pay for almost breaking his heart and prancing around with stupid fucking Deku instead.

But asides from his rage, he still liked you, a lot. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you, so he decided to try and attempt to make your first time with him as gentle and as special as he could in the dirty cabin showers.

Bakugo waits with bated breath for the right moment, and the second your hands grip the end of your shirt to pull it up, he slowly emerges from the dark.

“You know, I’m glad you came here alone, at night. It’s almost like you wanted this.”

You jump violently at the low voice coming from seemingly nowhere, and you wildly look around for the source until you see him...coming at you slow from the inky abyss of the room, like a predator stalking his prey.

His figure seems to loom even larger than he actually is, the shadows of his tall body bouncing off the walls and grazing over the top of your head. He seems to be in no rush, taking his time with his hands in his pockets, eyes flashing dangerously at you as he stalks forward until he’s backed you up against the deteriorating wall, chest to chest with you.

“W-what the hell, Bakugo,” you stammer nervously. “This is the girls room, you can’t be here-“

And the hand you raise to push him away is caught in his calloused ones, your other wrist is quickly seized as well and slammed above your head. You cry out in pain and try kicking out, but he wedges a bulky knee in between your thigh and shoves his face mere millimeters away from yours, a mean leer adorning his normally-attractive face.

“What, I can’t be here? And here I was thinking that you almost liked me. But oh, I forgot, Deku’s your favorite, right?” The grip on your wrist tigthens and his leg flexes from in between your thighs.

You squirm and sob, about to ask what the hell he was talking about-

Oh.

Oh no.

He sees the understanding pass over your face, and he laughs cruelly at the horror that comes with it.

“You heard me? How?”

“Not just heard. I saw you, too.”

He lets his eyes drop from your neck, to your chest, and then to the juncture between your legs which was being massaged by his knee.

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize he was watching you this entire evening in the springs. How he got away with it, you didn’t want to even know.

“I saw your hair open for the first time, and not in that stupid hairdo you always do for school.”

He trails his hand softly up the sides of your body and up your neck until he reaches his big hand into your scalp. You whimper and gasp as he laces his fingers through your locks, seeming to caress you but then harshly yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at him head on.

“I saw your ass pressed up against the rocks, and I wished it was up against my cock instead.”

He removes his hand from your hair and snakes it down to your bottom, kneading and slapping it lightly. You writhe even harder now, too scared to make a noise in case he hurts you even worse, just wanting him to get the hell off of you.

“But I didn’t see the front of you. I imagined what you would look like with tears streaming down your face while I was stuffing you full of me”

He plays with the edge of your shirt, a dark look in his eye as he plays with you. You try to budge your hands but to now avail, only serving in annoying him and shoving his knee up further into your crotch. The pressure on your clit is immense, and your legs start shaking as you’re forced to be suspended almost midair on his knee.

“Take this off,” he says softly, the rasp catching in his voice.

“Bakugo, please. You don’t have to do this, I swear I won’t tell anyone-“

“You think I’m worried about if you’ll tell anyone? Hah! I already know you won’t, wanna know why?”

He leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair and grazing his nose along the side of your neck. You force yourself to breath in and out, feeling an impending heart attack.

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of everyone, especially on Deku’s broken body.”

And then you can’t stop them, the tears fall from your body shaking in pure fear at his threat.

You knew he wouldn’t actually do something like that, but hearing it snarled in your ear so softly made you believe it all the same, the power he held while you were fucked, literally and metaphorically.

“Now I’m not gonna ask you again. Take this shit off before I burn it, bitch.”

You don’t want to piss him off further, so with trembling hands you lift the edge of your sticky uniform and start to pull it off, but he stops you with a frustrated grunt.

“Slowly. I wanna savor this while no ones here.”

You bite your lip and suppress a scream as you do what he says.

And oh, does he ever savor it. The shirt clings deliciously to your breasts, and he licks his lips as it ruffles up and over your head. Your skin is perspiring from the humid air, a sheen of sweat lightly decorating your collarbones. Bakugo can’t hold himself back any longer, and you yelp when he comes at you suddenly.

He lunges at your face and pins your arms down by your side again as his lips mesh against yours, his kiss filled with clacking teeth and a thrashing tongue against your lips. The knee you’re straddling is bouncing lightly up and down, jostling you on it and causing your cunt to pulsate with heat.

You let out a distressed moan, and he swallows it greedily, using the advantage of your open mouth to delve deeper into your wet cavern. You open bleary eyes and flinch when you find his already wide open, staring back into unforgiving vermillion orbs.

He pulls back slightly, panting. “I bet Deku didn’t get this kind of treatment, huh? It’s all for me right?”

You don’t know if he’s genuinely asking you or just being insane, so you don’t answer him. Fortunately and unfortunately for you, he doesn’t care for your response, rather more focusing on dragging you by your neck towards the hot showers.

You slip and stumble as he shoves you in a stall, gaining your balance only too late when he turns and locks the door.

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, just forget you saw or heard anything at the springs, it was just girl talk, stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything-“

“-even if it didn’t mean anything to you I’ll make sure you believe what you’ll feel after I fuck you senseless.”

And with that, he tugs off his clothes and licks his lips at the sight of you cowering against the wall, naked and oh so vulnerable.

He slowly shifts towards you, pressing his body flush against your trembling one. You can feel the outline of his erection on your thigh, and you swallow at how big it is.

“I don’t wanna have to close your mouth or restrain you when I’m balls deep in that tight cunt. So don’t do anything stupid and this’ll be a whole lot easier for you.”

He reaches a hand down and lightly strokes your labia, relishing in how you whimper and jerk against him, but don’t dare try to stop his hand.

Smart girl

Another hand finds its way to your tits, tugging and pulling at your hardened nipples. You gasp and arch into his touch, slowly coming undone from his ministrations. He humps against your leg like a teenage kid, grunting while he does so.

His mouth is attacking yours once again, but now you’re too tired from the constant surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins to even move your head. You just let him play with your body, your heart, your soul.

“I think the princess is wet enough for me now,” he leers at you when he pulls his fingers away, scissoring his digits to show the strings of wetness he pulled from your pussy.

You squeal and grab onto his chiseled arms as he suddenly hikes his hands underneath your upper thighs and picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his middle for support.

He slams you against the wall, the water cascading down your head is making your hair stick to your face, and in a strange and sudden show of intimacy Bakugo softly moves your locks away from your eyes. Your gazes lock, yours desperate and tear filled while his scarlet hues show no signs of mercy, but rather a strange predatory hunger.

Your arms scrabble behind his head and on his shoulders for balance as he slowly sinks you down on his length. You hiss and throw your head back at the sensation of being filled, and he eats it up.

He watches the way your mouth opens, your eyes widen, as every sinful sound your body can make escapes you.

As if he needed more of an ego boost

You wail as the last inches are sucked into your dripping hole, and he lets out a mean breathy laugh.

“Fuck, you really were ready huh? I should’ve taken you weeks ago, little slut.”

Your brows furrow and you try to turn your face away but he snatches your chin in a hardened grip.

“Uh-uh, none of that shit. You were doing so well, don’t turn away from me now.”

He slowly starts to roll his hips minutely into yours, not exactly thrusting but enough movement to make your cunt flutter and throb.

“What do you want me to say? You got what you wanted!” You whisper to him, more tears falling down freely down your cheeks.

He can’t help himself, he groans and surges forward to lick the salty rivers up, gripping your ass tightly when you flinch.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me how much you want me, how much better I am than that green-haired bastard and I won’t shove it up your ass.”

You can feel his abdomen clench and shake from the effort he’s making not to completely batter your cervix so you give in quickly, afraid of what he’s like when his thin strands of self restraint snap.

“I...I love you Bakugo. I really want y-ooh!”

The last bit of your sentence is choked off as he lifts you up all the way to his tip and slams your hips down his length. You gasp and weave your hands through his hair for support, your legs violently shaking at the pain.

He grunts and starts really giving it to you, setting a fast pace as he bounces you on his cock. Your head is bobbing around, you’re fairly certain there’s drool coming down your lips but you can’t find it in you to care as he fucks you into oblivion.

After a couple of more painful thrusts he pushes you against the wall and removes your hands from his hair, holding them above your head against the wall. You’re trapped with your upper half plastered against the dingy tile while your lower half is wrapped his dick.

Your cunt swallowing him down is the only leverage you have, so your whole body weight presses down on his shaft. He moans loudly at the pressure on his tip, your gooey hot walls clamping around him from every angle and you yourself can’t help it when your eyes roll back at the sensation.

He rocks his hips up, and up you go as well, whining and clawing at the wall behind you, desperately grappling onto your sanity as well. Your tits bounce with each thrust, and his glinting eyes take perverse joy in their obscene movements.

Bakugo starts moving in earnst now, deeming the slow strokes enough prep for you. He batters your womb, reaching places not even your fingers could access, making you go cross eyed.

He sees this and snickers at your pathetic state.

“Fuck yeah you little whore. You’re gonna learn no one else can satisfy this slutty pussy like I can.”

You give him nothing but a choked gasp in response. You head moves like a bobblehead, you can’t even see clearly from the water cascading into your eyes. He’s just a towering blob of ashy blond hair and large muscles.

His hips start stuttering in their rhythm, drawing to a close from his contrasting pounding minutes earlier. Your nails rake over his forearms, holding on for dear life as he pants and groans into your ear like an animal. His dick spasms inside you for a second or two, and then Bakugo suddenly holds you tight against him, wet bodies pressed against each other as he cums.

He lets out a loud moan as you whine into his shoulder at the sensation of his hot seed filling you up. You’re held against his heaving chest for a moment of two, the both of you catching your breath until he slowly backs up and lets you slip to the ground.

It’s suddenly very quiet, the sound of the shower is drowned out by the ringing in your head. You’re shaking, shock overcoming your abused body as you refuse to look at him.

But he won’t have any of that. He steps forward, and you flinch yet again, scrambling backwards to put very necessary space between him and you.

“You got what you wanted. Please leave, I won’t say anything to anyone.” You breath out shakily.

He’s silent for a moment before you hear him chuckle. His low chuckles grow louder and more derisive, he’s booming with sinister laughter and you snap your head up in horror at him.

“You think this is done?”

He crouches to your level suddenly, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head at you, eyeing your naked body that he so recently claimed as his. His gaze travels down to where his cum seeps from between your legs, and you quickly cross your limbs over to prevent him from seeing the lewd sight.

“You’re mine now, Y/N. I already told you, you’re not gonna be talking to Deku, or any other guy apart from me. You think they’ll even want you when they find out how you loved being fucked in the dirty showers? Everyone’s gonna call you a slut, nothing else.”

“No, that’s not true you-“

He crawls to you, and it’s so mesmerizingly terrifying to see a man of his build crawl to you like some deranged humanoid that you shut up, words caught in your throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says softly. “You’re my bitch now, and you’ll do whatever the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Bakugo might’ve felt a little bad to see the girl he liked so scared of him all because of his doing, but the way you trembled and crossed your legs like the stupid, helpless little girl that you were erased every hesitancy from his mind.

He grabbed your cheeks and smushed them together, paying no mind to the pleas and whimpers you let out in retaliation.

Licking a long stripe up your neck, you shivered when he growled, “now clean up and be outside in 10 minutes, you’re sleeping in my bunk tonight. The guys are all asleep so we’ll just take an empty room in the cabin.”

He released you and stood back up, grabbing a towel for himself along the way. Drying his hair off, his back was turned to you as he started picking his clothes up too.

You just sat there in a daze, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was dressed, and he was at the door now.

“If you think about doing anything stupid or take longer than 10 minutes, I’ll come back in and get you personally. And I’ll make sure that we stay here for the rest of the night, just in case you like your little time alone that I’m giving you too much.”

#tw: noncon #bakugo smut #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo x you #bakugo mha #bakugo bnha #yandere bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha yandere #yandere Bakugo #bnha yandere #bnha smut #mha smut

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sunsents · 3 years

Text

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

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