#it was also partly how long it was. but I don’t have that fear anymore I got through fantasy high after all

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I humbly beg of you, o great dastardly feline bless your loyal servant with some whump 🙇

The crack was horrible.

Simple but loud. Unreal. A body producing a sound like that was anything but healthy. It was unmistakably bone breaking but the hero was smart enough to know the complexity of their body. Muscles and tendons. Skin ripping open, blood pouring — it was all of it, not just calcified connective tissue cracking.

And then, the hero truly felt the pain. Felt how their ankle didn’t want to be a part of their body anymore. They cursed quietly when they were still able to, but they knew it was only a question of time. They knew it would only get worse, would be consistent and never-ending for as long as they were here on the ground.

“Beg.”

Fuck that.

With just as much determination as pain and an awful groan, they turned around on their stomach and pushed themselves up. Their arms shook, blood and sweat mixing on their forehead but somehow, they found enough strength to end up kneeling.

The hero’s nose was bleeding. Their ankle was broken, lying on the ground palsied. Useless.

Nearly unbearable.

They spat on the ground, blood together with saliva.

And then, they grinned.

“Think I can’t take a hit?” they asked. “My nemesis breaks my bones on a daily basis.”

“They also share a bed with you on a daily basis,” the other said.

“You’re really upset about that, huh.”

The superhero looked furious, determined. The hero didn’t know if they were capable of murder. They certainly looked like it but the superhero had also never done it before. They wouldn’t know how to get rid of the body, wouldn’t know how to come up with an alibi, wouldn’t know how to wriggle out of this.

Assault? That was easy. Blaming some villain, saying they were on patrol. A hero getting assaulted wasn’t something new. A hero being murdered was.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“Jealous?” the hero asked, still grinning. The superhero grabbed their jaw, letting their fingers dig into their skin until it burnt, yanking them towards them.

“You don’t get to decide these things. You don’t get to walk around and do whatever the fuck you want.” They squeezed harder, making the hero fear their head was gonna explode. Great. Fucking great. “You do as I say, fucking got that?”

They let go of the hero, nearly throwing them back onto the ground.

“You should be on your knees, apologising. Thanking me for saving your pathetic life. For making something out of you. You’re nothing without me,” the superhero spat.

But the hero could only smirk, laugh as the lightheadedness caught up with them. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Who cared if they slept with their enemy? There was no law forbidding it.

“Think you’re a control freak,” they said. “Breaking your friend’s bones—”

Something in the superhero’s eyes went up in flames.

“We’re not friends. You’re mine, fucking got that?” Their tone had changed, had turned more aggressive within milliseconds. The hero’s smile died and their face contorted. Partly from the pain, partly from confusion.

Thank god, the hero saw shadows moving behind them. Either they were going insane or they were extremely lucky.

“Fucking creep,” the hero mumbled and once again, the superhero’s expression changed, as if they were ready to discuss this on a more mature level. As if they were collecting themselves.

“Listen, I’ve protected you all this time. I’ve watched over you like a lover. Because I care. I care about you.” Insane. The superhero was completely insane. “Please, ever since we met, I wanted to protect you. And I have. I have protected you and I always will. Don’t you get it? You’re mine.”

“Burn in hell,” the hero answered. And that was it.

They heard a shot and watched how their former mentor fell to the ground. It was such a relief, such heaven on earth. The hero exhaled for what seemed like the first time in hours. Exhausted and battered, they let their head sink, trying to calm their racing heart.

You’re mine. What a fucking creep.

The villain slipped out of the shadows and tilted their head, curious.

“Crazy fan of yours?” they said, looking at the perfect shot right through the back of the superhero’s head.

“Please,” the hero said. Begged. “Hold me.”

And the villain did.

[juniperss]

“First Steps First” Jessamine ‘Lark’ Waterson (OC) x Neil ‘Chick’ Harding

A/N: so I’ve really been wanting to write something for Jessamine and Chick for a while but was super anxious and self conscious about it for a couple of reasons. The first being that I don’t write much fanfiction anymore and the second is because I’m not wholly convinced I nail the atmosphere of period shows/movies. But this idea just wouldn’t leave my head so I’m biting the bullet and swallowing my doubts!

This fic takes place in episode 4 during Dye’s celebration party (I can’t get over Harding saying “single fillies”, okay?) and inspired by the song “First Steps First” from the musical Bandstand. The song they dance to is “It’s Been a Long Time” and I don’t care that this version came out in 1945, it’s my favorite LOL

also hey autocorrect pls stop changing Chick to Chuck, thanks

Word count: 1,730 words (😧)

Warnings: none, other than the fact I don’t know how the military works so please ignore inaccuracies🤡😂 this is about the FICTIONAL version of Col. Harding

I saw that you said it was okay to tag you in OC stuff @rosies-riveters, so I hope this is alright and that you enjoy!

“Pardon my brashness, dear

Seeing you standing here

Dancing's more customary

For a soirée."

As much as Jessamine Waterson took pride in her work as a nurse on the Thorpe Abbots base there was no denying the fact that it was grueling, emotionally draining and often went without the accolades that came with other roles in the war. And while most days she was just fine with that, today had been particularly tiresome and Jessamine was glad for the change of pace the evening’s festivities allowed. The anxious energy that had gripped every person on the airbase had been exchanged for easy laughter, jokes, and celebration. After all, it wasn’t every day a pilot and crew successfully flew 25 missions. 

As she sat with Beth and Ginny, an American nurse and mechanic respectively, who had become two of her fastest friends, listening idly to them chat about the dances they’d returned from moments ago, it took much of Jessamine’s will to avoid allowing her gaze to linger for too long on the man who had just entered the room. She had spent months chiding herself for the way her heart started racing at the mere thought of Colonel Harding being so near and despite the effort she put into acting completely normal on the instances their paths crossed, she feared her feelings were all too transparent. 

 It was inconvenient to have a crush during war and even more inconvenient that it was on a man who was not only a good handful of years older than she was, but compounded by the fact that he was an American soldier. An American soldier who was dashingly handsome and confident, who had just looked in her direction and caught her staring. Jessamine busied herself with the drink in front of her trying to ignore the heat burning in her ears.

 “Oh well that was just adorable.” 

Beth’s voice with it’s charming southern accent was usually a source of soothing reassurance and good advice, was now riddled with mischief and good natured humor now that the two women’s attention was focused on their friend. “You know there’s no shame in a little flirting, a little conversation. Why don’t you go ask him to dance?”

Ginny nodded in agreement, leaning across the table, “It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before,” before turning conspiratorially to Beth, “remember how she gave him pain medication for his headache that one time.” 

Jessamine’s hands came up to cover her face, the full weight of her body resting on her elbows as she suppressed a groan and a laugh. Of course the two of them remembered the  first time she had met the Colonel; a simple exchange of names and him asking for something for a headache. Jessamine, partly sleep deprived and partly fighting off the butterflies in her stomach fumbling with the bottle before spilling a handful of pills across the floor of the nurses station.

It certainly wasn’t necessarily the most romantic or charming first meeting on her part, but Col. Harding had only smiled before kneeling and helping her gather the runaways. There had been a quip about how she could’ve just said no that resulted in flustered laughter from her and another grin from him. And her friends hadn’t let her live it down since she confided about it to them the following day over breakfast. 

“I’m surprised he said anything to me after that.” Jessamine admitted and revealed her face to her friends. Though there had been more interactions with the Colonel after that, they remained confined to mostly professional settings save for a few pleasantries while off duty. “And to answer your question, Beth, I’m certainly not going to bother him and ask for a dance!” 

Ginny rolled her brown eyes and tossed her head back in a sign of exasperation, looking up to the ceiling pantomiming someone experiencing a great tragedy which in turn caused another round of laughter at the table. “Well, if he asked you to dance, would you say yes?” Beth finally asked.  This time all the hints of teasing had left her friend’s tone and there was nothing but curiosity and sincerity. 

Jessamine nodded slowly, allowing the fantasy to tease at the corner of her mind just for a moment but unable to answer because just as she parted her lips to reply another voice cut in. 

“Excuse me, ladies.” Colonel Harding’s voice sent a rush of heat through Jessamine’s body and she felt her posture straighten. She pried her eyes off of Beth to glance up, up, up at the tall soldier now standing beside their table and found that, despite him addressing them all, he was looking determinedly at her alone. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Waterson for a dance.”

“You’re not interrupting at all, sir.” Ginny chimed in, eyes flitting from the Colonel to Jessamine, “In fact, we were just talking about how much Jessamine was wanting to dance.”

Oh, that Ginny was going to get stern talking to later, Jessamine promised herself, but at that moment she was already standing. Hardings’ hand reached out and enveloped hers as he guided her to the dance floor. 

"Isn't the band sublime?

And as it happens I'm

Just in the mood to do

A two-step, Do step

Out on the floor with me.”

The two of them found a place surrounded by three or four other couples just as the band changed from the upbeat, two step to a slower tune that made Jessamine’s heart pitter faster. If Harding felt any nervousness at the now much more intimate situation the change of song put the two of them in, he didn’t show it. Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist with the ease and confidence of a man who knew what he was doing. Her breath hitching just slightly before she felt him placing the flat of his hand lightly, respectfully against her back. 

Every nerve was firing at once, each hair on her arms standing on end, she was sure of it as her mind raced. She was trying to remember just how one slow danced fighting through the nervousness, when she felt the firmness of her foot under her own. 

“I’m so sorry, colonel.” The apology came out high pitched and squeaky and with the attempt to pull away from the man in front of her. But Harding kept his gentle grip and shook his head.

 “It’s not the first time someone’s stomped on my foot. At least this time it wasn’t on purpose. And Neil is fine, or Chick if you think Neil is too familiar.” 

There he goes again, Jessamine thought, being so effortlessly charming and saving me from my own awkwardness. Sometime in the desperate squeak of an apology she had been repositioned to properly be dancing. One soft hand held in his much larger one, the other placed on his shoulder, and her face precariously close to his as she found herself peering up at him. The rhythm was easy to find with Neil leading and the familiar trumpet crooning at the stage and Jessamine had to fight to keep her eyes from closing. 

“Might you be charmingly coerced

No need to be so shy

Take reassurance, I

Know how to guide you through

The worst steps, first steps first

 “It’s not too late to admit you picked the wrong dancing partner.” Jessamine finally found her voice and the confidence to add just a bit of a teasing tone to it, a smile itching at the corner of her lips. Her cheek had come to rest just slightly against his shoulder as they swayed to the music and as a result her voice was slightly muffled by the material of his dress shirt.

 “You’re selling yourself short. It’s been at least a minute since we’ve had another incident. You’re a natural.” Each time he spoke she could feel the rumbling of his chest against hers and her head felt dizzy with the warmth and solidity of him. 

“And I’m certainly not going to say that after I finally got up the guts to come ask you for a dance in the first place.” Neil’s confession took Jessamine by surprise and she pulled back to look him in the eyes searching for any signs of jest but only finding an intensity that sent her stomach exploding into a storm of butterflies. 

“You...you had to work up the courage to ask me?” The image of Colonel Neil Harding having to work up the nerve to ask anything of Jessamine was too comical to be taken seriously but there was no denying the truth behind his statement. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jessamine. And smart and successful. Hell, you’d have every reason to reject a dance from an old colonel like me.” 

This was almost too much for Jessamine to take and she struggled to wrap her mind around his confession. All she could do was blink dazedly up at him as her cheeks flushed bright red. A smile broke out across Neil’s face and he laughed, arm tightening around her waist for a moment. “I hope that wasn’t too out of line and that I haven’t just read this entire interaction incorrectly. But your friends made it pretty clear to me earlier that you felt the same about me.” 

Oh…oh…oh it was all coming together now.

Jessamine couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. His own rumbling laugh was mixing with hers and soon Jessamine had relaxed with the words of his confession replaying in her mind. The song faded and another slow ballad picked began, nothing but their breathing and the shuffling of shoes on the floor mixing with the music to fill the space between them.  “So,” Neil murmured, dragging Jessamine’s attention to his face once again, “you do feel the same?” 

This time, Jessamine didn’t shy away from the intense and earnest way he was looking at her. Instead she lifted herself up on the tip of her toes just enough to bring her lips to his cheek. 

 She would have words with Ginny and Beth about this. But later…after another dance. 

Yes, after another dance with Neil.

[stuckasmain]

While the book may provide a deeper insight to what’s happening in the scene, and have a bit more visually complex elements such as the universe being inverted or an abandoned ship yard. I find myself bias to the movie scene for a similar reason as to why I prefer pod bay doors> airlock and that is its showing of Dave’s character, partly in credit to Keir’s performance.

It’s mesmerizing, it’s trippy and a master class in sound design. But my favorite part has to be the splicing of Dave throughout the scene in different states of abrupt panic. How the walls of his composure absolutely crumble and yet he is still put together. His screams are silent (or masked by the moment) he squirms in his seat but he never fully cries or panics in a way most people understandably would.

Both in an interview with the actors and partly text itself, Bowman and Poole were selected due to having such a good grasp on their emotions. Despite being in situations where freaking out would be justifiable they’re able to push it down and keep moving- though Dave is silently losing his shit the whole film. Even in the pod- a moment he has no guarantee of surviving he stays calm. I like how the book explains it’s this eerie state of fear but also… not really being able to get scared as he’s too captured by everything, too confused for any of it to fully register.

Honestly the wide eyed, silent and unmoving terror mixed with fascination we get in the film is such a perfect scene. The pod comes to a stop and he just sits there, trembling for several long minutes, maybe hours, time doesn’t work the same anymore. He shakes and he just stares. The best detail is that his hair is white. Something that can happen after intense fear/trauma. His hair is a stark white in the suit- some may say it’s the aging sequence starting but i don’t quite see it that way. I see it as the last bit of entirely human David, as in the book the second he trusts the room enough to eat and take the suit off he’s gone/it’s begun.

[anamericangirl]

I remember seeing this post about a design for a transsexual flag. I thought the new stripe meanings were a good idea, and I wanted to ask if you could choose, you would prefer people using this flag instead of the other trans flag, since that one has some negative implications nowadays since it’s attached to the transgender movement.

https://www.tumblr.com/theconstitutionisgayculture/719699006978129920

Also, I have additional questions since I find this viewpoint extremely interesting:

I don’t know much about trans terms, but I thought transsexual was supposed to be a derogatory term for the group, or was it just a regular term/original name before getting replaced with transgender?

Would you have less beef with the whole “community” if they didn’t say that some procedures/side effects are reversible, were less aggressive about society affirming them, didn’t involve children/minors, or didn’t see surgeries, like phalloplasty, as a good idea (I find the idea extremely scary, but that might also partly be my fear of surgical procedures)? I’ve also seen Blaire White listed in both the link and the answered ask I saw from you (I’d have to look for the link but don’t want to make this any longer), the former saying that she accepts that even though she isn’t biologically a woman, she still enjoys living as the opposite sex and feels secure in her transition, so I’m assuming that she’s a positive example?

I’ve seen some reblogs about how top surgeries can also be harmful, and I can understand why since most surgeries will be very difficult to live with afterwards, but in what ways is it more risky than beneficial, and what is something you think would be a better alternative, if there is one?

Why do you think that there isn’t any medication for true gender dysphoria yet? One of the things I’ve read actually made me think about that. If it’s considered a mental illness, then why isn’t there any evident research for creating a medication for it?

Other than that, hope you’re doing well so far

Personally, I'm kind of over the idea of pride flags in general. But if people want a transexual flag then that one seems like a nicer idea to me and isn't so divisive.

1.I honestly don't know what terms are supposed to be derogatory or offensive anymore lol. They change so fast and no one in the community even agrees so I really don't know. If I remember correctly it wasn't that long ago that it was used pretty regularly so I'm sure it's offensive™ now but I wouldn't know why.

2. Yeah, I'd have essentially no problem with them at all if they didn't spread disinformation, aggressively go after people for not agreeing with them and prey on children. Those are really my only issues with them. I might not personally agree with their ideology and think they make some bad decisions but I wouldn’t be actively against them as a community if they didn't use their transness as an excuse to censor people, lie, and target children. But I absolutely would consider Blaire White a rare positive example. Even if Blaire didn't acknowledge the reality of being a biological male and knows that no matter the amount of procedures or treatments her gender can't be changed that's not necessary to just be a decent person. Which Blaire White is.

3. I think top surgery is more risky than beneficial because it comes with a physical health risks. It's a major surgery and the only benefit of getting it in the context of a sex change is that it makes you feel more like the gender you want to be. It doesn't have benefits on its own merit. So on one hand it's a major surgery that is irreversible and is a drastic change to the body that comes with possible physical health risks but on the other it might give you some superficial peace of mind. And that's why it should only be an option for adults.

4. That's a good question and honestly there's a lot of reasons I think could contribute to that. First, mental illnesses are hard to treat and often a medication doesn't do much other than alleviate symptoms. Therapy is probably the best option for any type of dysphoria in my opinion because dysphoria can go away and most of the time does if you actually seek therapy and treatment rather than "affirmation." I've seen studies done on detransitioners and the main reason given as to why they detransitioned was they realized their dysphoria was related to "other issues" which is something people typically find out in therapy. Another reason I think there's not much headway in a medication for gender dysphoria is financial incentive. Medical and gender affirming institutions get a big check for every one child who transitions and they're more interested in making money than anything else. It's not healthcare at this point. It's just activism.

[lyon-amore]

What if...? Duskwood Chapter 37

Chapter 36 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

*Macie POV*

I feel like a fool for getting so angry and nervous. But at the same time, the guilt of not having been paying attention drags me down. The more I talked to Thomas, the more I calmed down. He loves Hannah very much and fears that she is dead. Like Richy. He's freaking out every time we find out something else, powerless not to do something. I read the chat I've had with him.

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

 Thomas Hanna is dead. And so is Richy The others are just trying to ignore all the facts. And I’ve really tried But I can’t I just can’t do it anymore

 Macie Thomas, listen to me Amy was found, but Hannah wasn’t This is a relatively good sign ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I try to believe the words I have sent him. I want to believe that Hannah is alive because of Jake and Lilly. Everything else doesn't matter to me. The matter with Jennifer has nothing to do with what I'm investigating, that's what the police will take care of when this is all over.

 Thomas hates being in the house hiding and not being able to do anything. I know. I understand. I hated that I couldn't do anything for Jake when he wasn't around, and even though the I Am Jake article and photo worked, I felt like I didn't really do anything. Just hide behind words. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Thomas Macie? If you were Hannah If you had done something so horrible in your past Would you have told your partner? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I keep reading the question. I don't think I've ever done anything wrong… I think… I don't want to blame myself for that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Yes I think I would And I would expect the same from my partner ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I watch Jake fixing access to the phone. He told me the truth. He told me that the government is persecuting him for getting into things where he shouldn't. Since then, I think that confidence in both has been improving.

I put my hand to my neck, but this time I don't think about the kidnapper, but about Jake, at bath time. Little by little we are getting closer, but... It seems that fate always interrupts us when we are about to get closer or I get nervous when he jokes. Will we ever break that barrier?    "You are more calm?" He asks me from the computer.    "Yes... I'm better... Sorry..."    “Do not apologize, Macie” I hear him sigh “, I know I pushed you pressure on the phone, I am sorry."     Well, at least he always ends up apologizing when he knows he makes mistakes. But I also know that this phone is important to communicate with the kidnapper. Without him, I cannot write to him. It is the only way to try to reason.

I get a message from the group and smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Cleo Right Dan and I are finally arrive

 Macie Then you’re all there no

 Cleo Yes 🙂

 Dan What’s the stich? You got a free in bed or something? 

Macie Haven't you been in bed long enough?

 Dan I’ll give you that one ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Before arriving, they had taken a detour at the accident area. Dan's idea. The poor thing for having been in bed all this time that he had not been able to help us much. I can partly understand it, it's a bit boring to do nothing and be wanting.

Cleo has told me that she suspect that they have not kicked him out of the hospital already, but that he has left on his own and it would not surprise me at all, knowing how I have known Dan, I see him very capable of having done it. He would have to be doing rehabilitation to walk again. He's going to give me a nervous breakdown with this whole group at this rate.

I sit up in bed and look out the window. Night is starting to fall. The sun is already hiding. I let out a long, exaggerated melodramatic sigh.    "It's been a long day, right?" I tell Jake.    “I agree with you” he admits without looking up “even though it is ranked number two on the long-day list."    "So there's a first."    “Depending on how it ends, it will still be number two."     He sounds very tired… I wish I could do something for him. I'm going to the forum again. I don't know how many posts I've read and commented on today but I think I've broken my record to my teenager ages.    "Macie?" I look up when I hear him call me "I have done it" I get up from the bed, approaching him ". We have access to Hannah's cell phone again."    “Good, that means I don't have to strangle Thomas.” I say as I hug him from behind, stroking his hair lovingly.    "No, I suppose you can spare his life." he answers with a laugh.     I roll my eyes, laughing too. I get a text and see it's Lilly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Lilly Hi Macie I saw you were online I'm not interrupting you two anyway, am I?

 Macie Mmm… I don't know I don't know….😜

 Lilly 🤭

 Macie No, don’t worry

 Lilly I don't want to keep you But we’ve just lit the fire and Thomas just went to get his guitar So I wanted to give you two a heads-op so that you’ll be on your phone 🙂

 Macie Thanks for letting us know, Lilly. That’s something we are not going to miss for the world 😁

 Lilly Haha, right 🙂  I thought you two could do a with a bit of a distraction, too Like all of us Ok. I'll call you 🤭 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “I just read through Hannah's browsing history.” He moves to invite me to sit down and I do. Can I say without a doubt that I never need another seat in my entire life? Sitting on top of him is enough for me.    "I already did that too." I smiled at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.     He smiles proudly at me. Ah… It's good that it is for me…    “One of the last pages Hannah visited was that of  the Pine Glade festival.” He brings up the website, and I pay attention "Michael Hanson mentioned it in connection with his daughter disappearance."    "Yes, I remember" I answered, remembering the audio with Alan "The Aurora was packed because of the festival, that’s why he had no time for Jennifer…” I drawl out slowly, until I remember why I was really here. Because of work. For the article. But not only that. It was something more important "Jake, that festival is tomorrow!"     I see you frown, thinking.    “I think you should ask the others about the Pine Glade festival” he commands me with a new task ", and the one ten years ago, to be exact."    "Nobody will remember" I commented a little doubtfully ". Who knows how everyone was that day ten years ago..."    "I sincerely hope not, but for trying" He brushes my hair back from my face, stroking me carefully ", and even if they remember only fragments, we must understand how this accident came to pass, and I believe that Hannah was probably at the festival with one of your friends."    "Yeah, I think so too..."     Lilly's video call interrupts us and I look at Jake, smiling.    "Access my phone from the computer." I tell him excitedly.    "Why?" What is happening?    "Just do it, I promise to watch from my phone so they don't see you."     He looks at me a little doubtfully, but he does. I accept the video call and the first thing I see is Thomas playing the guitar. The fire from the bonfire is like going through the screen, I can feel the heat. I smile when I see the quiet group and my gaze accidentally drifts to the computer, to see it much better. Jessy seems intent on listening to the guitar music, her eyes closed. Cleo seems to be thinking, surely Hannah and her mother, she had to leave Duskwood to protect herself. Then there's Dan, in his wheelchair drinking whiskey. I have to have a serious talk with him when I can, I'm quite worried about his health. But there they are all together... Protected... Calm...

I sigh when Thomas finishes and the video call hangs up.    “Well then.” I hear Jake say.    "Well, I like it." I commented, placing my head on his chest.     I look up and see that he smiles. It's finally a relaxed moment for us too.    "Let's give them a little more time to rest" I commented, not wanting to rush them by still asking about the festival "Just a little bit…"    "Alright."    “Which means” I rise from him, grinning “we deserve it too."     He looks at me without much desire.    "Come on Jake, you've been busy getting Hannah's phone back and I almost killed Thomas" he laughs and I continues "so we're going to have our own proper break, too."    "Alright" I see that he puts on an interested look "And what is your plan?"    “Let's dance” he rolls his eyes and I turn around to prepare one of my playlists "and I won't take no for an answer."     When I turn to see him, I find him already standing before me, offering me his hand. I look at him shyly, I thought it was going to cost me, but no. What a surprise. I accept his hand and place the other on his shoulder, while he places one on my waist. We move slowly while Ed Sheeran's 'How do you feel' starts playing in the background. The atmosphere could not be more romantic.    "You really would like to be with them right now, would you not?" He asks me slowly "I have seen it on your face."     I make a face doubting whether to answer or not. But I can't fool you.    "Yes, I’d like that a lot." I say a little sadly "I want to protect them."    "They will be far from Duskwood, don't worry."    "Wouldn't you like to be there too?" I ask at the same time that he makes me spin on the spot. I thought that he didn't know how to dance and that's why he had pouted. I wonder who taught him.    “I think would feel incredibly out of place."    "But you wouldn't be" I reach out to him, trying to wrap my arms around his neck, though I manage to grab my hands. But it's okay, because we're pretty close together "You’d be exactly where you belong" I whisper, looking into his eyes, little by little it's hard for me to breathe ", with them... With me..."     Jake eases his hand down my face, up to my lips, resting his thumb under them. He fixes his eyes on mine, intense. He leans in slowly as he also tilts my chin up, our lips brushing against each other.    "You give me the feeling of belonging somewhere for the first time in my life..."     I don't know which of the two takes the step. I don't know if he or me. But finally our lips meet. It's a slow kiss, one of those you see in the movies and you don't want them to ever stop, because it was what you most expected to see. I try not to be clumsy, because I don't even remember how to kiss, I let him guide me a bit, although… I also notice him nervous.

 In the end, we managed to calm our nerves and I even ran my hands through his hair, making sounds of satisfaction as I felt his tongue play with mine. Jake runs his hands down my back, down to below my waist. He pulls me so close to him that it's like I'm going to melt into his body.

There comes a time when we need air and with a little sadness we separate a little. I can see it in his eyes. The desire. Will he see them in mine too? As if he understood me, I nod and slowly we approach the bed. He takes his hands to my blouse and begins to unbutton it and while I unbutton his pants. We later exchanged the task, until we were exposed. He stares at me, running his hand over my shoulder.    "Please…" I say, in a pleading voice "Please don't stop now…"    “I wanted to completely admire you” he answers, slowly starting to lay me down on the bed ", I have never been with an angel."     He takes my breath away listening to him speak. I don't hesitate to kiss him again, hugging him against my body.

 It has been even better than in my dreams. Jake's hands have traveled all over my body, leaving no place without being caressed. And now I can say with more certainty that he is good with his hands. But it's not just that, it was because of the affection that he treated me, although his eyes looked hungry, he was as careful as possible, even when he left kisses on my neck, telling me that he was going to make me forget about the pain. Sometimes I even begged him to kiss me, I envy my body, it was being kissed by him, but my lips wanted another kiss. Another kiss that silenced my moans. Ah… He really knew how to handle the situation. Had he also dreamed of this? Had he wanted it too? I think from the way he pronounced my name, he seemed like he had been doing it all his life. Or so I wanted to believe.

 I had finally felt contact with his skin. My hands had run up his back, I was lucky I have short fingernails or he would be marked by me from how tightly I gripped to him.

 The music plays all over the room, it's romantic, slow. It's the perfect environment right now. I admire him as I lie on top of him and his hand slowly caresses my back. I can't stop smiling, I think I already know how it feels when you do things with love.    "What are you thinking about?" He asks me, giving me a smile.    "That I don't want tonight to end." I answered, approaching him a little more up to get to his face "And you?" I ask, tracing circles on his body.    "That you are better than the government and everyone who is after me." he says with a laugh.    "Why?"    "Because you were the only one to catch me."     I kissed him intensely after hearing his words. Jake tries to pull me closer to him, as if that's possible. There was not a gap between us. We were finally where we wanted. Together. If all the breaks we are going to have are like this, I think I will want to work a lot more to have this reward.

 My phone rings and I complain. I didn't want the job so soon.    "They claim you." he whispers into my lips.    "They can wait." I replied, giving him little kisses.    "Maybe it is about the case."     I grumbled. He's right. It can be important. I sit up getting out of bed, then I fall into something for a moment.    "Did you do it to see me standing up and naked?" I ask curiously.    "No, I swear." He replies, sitting up on the bed.     I frown, approaching him with the phone, seeing how he now smiles mischievously. I sit on top of him, kissing him again before seeing the message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan What’s up honey ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "It's Dan." I replied, resting my head on his chest.     I listen as Jake grumbles, reading it.    "Hey, I am going to take a shower, can you watch the computer?" He asks me, pointing "And so you talk a little with your friend." I hear how he drags the word and I laugh.    "Okay, as soon as I'm done, I'll go." I replied, letting her get up.    "Do not let him entertain you too much." I see his back as he picks up new clothes. The famous tattoo I can finally see it completely.     I bite my lip when I see him. It's much better than I imagined.    “Stop looking at me like that.” he tells me, even though his back is turned.    "It's not my fault you're so sexy." I tell him, sitting up on my knees in bed.     Jake leans in and kisses me, caressing my body slowly.    "Do not be long..." he whispered.    "I won't…"     He separates from me going to the bathroom and I admiring him. I grabbed his sweatshirt from the floor and put it on to cover me while I got cold, sitting in the chair to talk to Dan. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie That’s Macie to you

 Dan You have taken a long time to answer Where were you? In the bathroom? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     <<No, with the sexiest guy in the world.>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Doing some exercise to defeat the man without a face 😜

 Dan Haha, very good that one! Aren’t we in a merry mood today You have no idea how good it is to finally by out of that hellhole of hospital

 Macie I think ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 He hands me a picture of him with his Wishkey glass in hand. Well, despite everything, I'm glad he's okay… But I'm mad at him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie So, what’s up with that fancy new wheelchair you’ve got?

 Dan Don’t know what you mean ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I pass him the proof that Cleo sent me. He's not going to get away from this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Dan Hahaha Do you like it?

 Macie But that’s just temporary, right?

 Dan Yeah ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I try to get him to confess that he had left the hospital. What was he thinking? He still had a little more to recover, it was okay to wait a bit. At least in the hospital he was safe. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Why would you do this?!

 Dan You’re one to talk I’d have expected you to be here before me Because you are in Duskwood And you're all alone You aren’t the one who should be angry with me, but the other way around

 Macie Hey! Don't give it back to me! Unfortunately mine is for work I have to get up early But I accept your concern, Dan, even though I'm fine. 

Dan How not to worry, little detective If it had been you instead of me You would have done the same

 Macie Maybe, who knows Probably 😒 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe if Jake and I hadn't met here, I probably would have gone with them. I knew that at the moment he can't show himself to more people, too risky. Only three people know what Jake looks like: Hannah, Lilly, and me. The people closest to him at the moment. And it's risky enough for him to do it. It will always be so.

Dan hands me a photo of the girls and Thomas, talking quietly by the campfire, though Thomas seems a little more lost in thought of him. Thinking about our conversation for sure. In Hannah. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie So it's about protecting others? I warn you, if anything happens to you...

 Dan Then what?

 Macie Then I'll personally make sure you never leave that wheelchair again

 Dan Oh my I’m much more afraid of you than of that raven dude. Totally If that feathered freak really comes here Then I’m the only one who’d have the guts to do anything And you know it And I owe it to Richy ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I massage my temple. Unbelievable… Dan was risking perhaps losing his life a second time. And by the least indicated person. Still, he's an incredibly cool guy, I have to admit. When he doesn't go stupid and open up, you can clearly see that he's not like everyone else thinks too. I don't know, I think  of him as the older brother of the group. I welcome him to the group of detectives and he laughs.

 We received a group message, Cleo wants a meeting with everyone.

 I wait for the news when I get a message from Hannah's phone. There was a connection again and I was already starting to ask myself when he would text me again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Unknown Do you remember what I told you on the phone? I'm coming, Macie And I am going to kill them all

 Hannah I won't let you I really feel sorry for you I understand you At least I’m trying to understand you It’s been ten long years You saw no other way of finding peace Give up and tell me where you are ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I bite my nail, nervous. Hoping my words work. He don't have to go through with this. Just that everything comes out honestly. It will make his situation worse if he continues like this, he won't look any better than Hannah.

 I get the messages. Messages that scare me to read. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Unknown I set a trap for you And you didn’t even realized *Jake POV* 

I did not think I would break the rule I set for myself about not involving my feelings towards someone when I had to leave home. I was alone for four years. No friends, no family, no co-workers… No one. Me and my mental conversations. Changing places every month. There was nothing I cared about and I didn't have to worry about anyone but myself. 

Well, that day I met her, the days I spent with her, that rule was breaking more and more and the barrier that I imposed on me became thinner. 

Tonight I have forgotten all the rules written in my head to feel Macie in my arms. I have forgotten why I am really here or what I had done in the past to end up losing everything. Because she has made me feel that I do not need anything more than her to be complete. 

I have loved every part of her and I have not been able to restrain myself from whispering her name on some occasions or kissing her neck so as not to leave any trace of what that man did to her. Now only the traces of kisses that I had left her remained. There is nothing about her that I have forgotten to caress or kiss.

Macie is taking a while to come to the bathroom, could something have happened to the group? Has something happened to Lilly? I finished showering and I grab the towel, wrapping it around my waist. When I come out, I see her sitting on the chair with my sweatshirt on. It's quite big on her... I do not know if I will want to wash it now that she is wearing her scent.    "Is everything alright, Macie?" I ask concerned "You took a long time."    "Yes, sorry, the talk with Dan has been extended."     I lean towards her and kiss her. Every time I do it, my mind does not think of anything other than making her mine again... Does that sound bad? I do not want to sound possessive, but I can not stop thinking about something else right now.    "Now I'm the one asking you if you're okay." She tells me with a laugh.    "I was… thinking."    "Oh yeah?" Macie stands up, playing with my towel. She is tempting me too much "in what?"    "I'm sure you already know that." I whispered, starting to slowly pull the sweatshirt up.     We are going to kiss again and her cell phone rings. I see on the screen that it is a video call with Lilly. Just in case, I back off a bit.    “Hello Lilly.” Macie says, sitting up on the bed.     I sit next to her, watching closely.    "Hi Macie." I see her looking everywhere "Are you “busy”?"    "It depends on the definition." she replies, looking at me with tempting eyes.     I try not to get nervous, because on top of that, it is my sister she is talking to. Now I do not know if I prefer that they get along like before so as not to go through this or that they be friends so that I do not have to worry about the situation of splitting myself in two.    "Well, I'm sorry to spoil your moment" she sighs, genuinely annoyed for interrupting us. "In case you didn’t see it in the group chat, Cleo just ask us to come in to discuss something.” She focuses on the ground for a second "I thought that you shouldn't be excluded and that's why I called you."     She walks into the house and we see Cleo and Thomas sitting up and Dan in the wheelchair. A 'What going in?' had been heard in the distance. Jessica.    "Guys, I called Macie too" Lilly announces "she's also part of the group and she's probably interested it."     I see that she turns the cell phone around for them to greet her.    “Hello Macie” Cleo says “. I'm glad Lilly brought you over too."    "I never miss a party, even if it's virtually." she replies, in an amused tone.     I avoid laughing so they won't hear me.    "Well, this party is over" Cleo looks angry, her arms crossed. I do not like this ". Sit down” she tells him, looking at Jessica ". So I was actually looking for a lighter, but instead, I found this." She turns a little and takes out a gun naturally, leaving it on the table.   I watch Macie look worriedly at the gun. Jessica gets up scared and Dan adjusts his glasses to see the gun.    "What the f-" Jessy has a terrified look on her face.    "Is this a real one?" Thomas asks, in a tone of genuine surprise.    “Yep.” Dan picks up the gun for a second and puts it down again.    "Well? Whose is it?" Cleo asks, pointing at it.    “Definitely not mine.” Jessica replies.     Macie seems to scan their faces, looking for the person who had taken it. Some reaction. Dan is completely calm and Thomas shakes his hands.

In the background we begin to hear the slight sound of a cell phone.    "You hear that?" Jessica asks, looking at them all. "It's coming from the hallway."     One by one they begin to move away from the table, except for Dan who does it slowly because of his wheelchair.    “Hannah's phone.” Thomas says.     He is the first to enter the room and turn on the light. He could hear the phone much more closely thanks to Lilly.    "A call..."    Jessica goes over to the phone to see who she is and she looks at them confused.    "No number." she says, not knowing what to do.    “Pick it up.” Cleo orders.     Frightened, Jessica accepts the call.    "Hello?"    "I know where you are now!" A distorted voice sounds through the other line "You were too confident, but you fell into my trap."    "What?" I see Macie's face, expression completely changing. She was beginning to be afraid for her friends.     I go straight to the computer, to see how he could possibly know where they are now.    "I'm coming now" I hear Michael's words clenching my teeth angrily ", and then I am going to end this."    "What the-" I hear Jessica say, after that a scream.    "Guys?!" Macie yells.     I move away from the computer to get closer to her.    "What's going on?" I ask nervously.    "I-I don't know! The lights!"    "Stay on the cell phone." I commanded as I returned to the computer, to find out why he knew where they were.

    According to the data, it seemed that the cell phone's GPS was the cause of the location. Shit, it was my fault, I should have paid attention. I try to see what other things they could also have located and I read some messages. Macie had talked to Michael. And she hadn't told me. I look at her and she seems more relieved looking at the phone screen.

 Why have she been keeping these messages from Michael from me?

Chapter 38

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

yet another post on simon and labels

For the record, I feel the need to clarify that when I talk about Simon and labels, it’s not because I want him to label himself. He could be a fifty-year-old that’s like “what am I? hell if I know” and that would be fine and gucci (it’s how I personally approach my identity; it’s okay to not have all the answers! it’s okay to have no answers at all!). I think it’s important that both the authorial intent and the main takeaway for the readers is to see how hard it can be to figure yourself out, to still fall in love despite not having the answers. If I never interacted with or even seen this fandom at all, I would’ve walked away with “canonically unlabeled main character” and left it there. 

At the same time, and perhaps in the interest of analysis (to a certain extent, perhaps with the same kind of curiosity one wonders whether Simon will ever know his mom visited) I’ve seen people wonder. Leaving something open usually invites speculation... Because this is a fictional (emphasis on fictional; I’ve been unfortunately cursed with the knowledge that people get on twitter dot com to do this to real people, which is beyond fucked up) character, I don’t think it’s wrong to wonder for character analysis purposes, (or for fanfic purposes, if one wants to understand something because they have a specific story to tell). Or perhaps in attempts to figure oneself through fiction.

When I log on to say “he makes so much more sense as in the ace spectrum” I’m not just analyzing, I’m also working through assumptions about intimacy and the ways in which the books challenge how attraction is perceived and I find that meaningful. There’s a reason why so many people who identify somewhere in the acespec feel drawn to these books. When I say “the kid is likely gay but struggles with not wanting to be perceived as gay/fears experiencing homophobia” I don’t mean to undermine him not wanting to be labeled (which, by the way, is also fitting for someone who has been defined by labels for so long: to just simply go unlabeled as he finds out who he is and what he wants, unburdened by expectations at last) I’m partly responding to the seemingly popular idea (which remains as an impulse, despite him being canonically unlabeled) to paint him as bisexual (which, at worst, results in people writing off the series as bi-erasure, or judging it for things it never attempted to do, so forgive me if I come here to yell about people being loud and wrong in my little blog). I also discuss him likely being gay because I do think the ways in which the books capture how heteronormativity and comphet can fuck us up (for the record, I know bi folks can also experience both!) it’s worth discussing. Our fear of not belonging, or not wanting to be gay because we’re afraid of not being accepted or being in danger because of it (Simon literally has the instincts to look over his shoulder to see if they’re being watched when he first kisses Baz!) being captured in a story where ultimately, the gays are alright and happy and together... for me? it’s worth discussing. (I’m also a serial over-thinker. Shit along the lines of “but tumblr user sailorblossoms, how can you say he is or isn’t interested in [whatever] when Simon thinks [insert quote]?” has sparked many posts haha)

I probably wouldn’t have been on here saying “Simon is likely gay” and “I’m confident this guy isn’t a woman-liker” without My Rosebud Boy, and AU written by the author, attempting to capture the essence of her characters in a different scenario, that has Simon in his early thirties saying “I’m gay. I used to have a problem with being perceived as/being gay, but not anymore.” Because this for me validated the perception I had with certain things that I was seeing in the books. If you asked me to speculate (because I ain’t a mind-reader) based on interviews and things I have seen the author say on social media, I would say that when CO came out, the author did genuinely not what Simon was, because the intent has been that it’s okay not to know from day one. Sexuality can be complicated, and the main intention was to not define him. But by the time MRB comes out, well... Simon says it. But also: this isn’t at odds with the intent in the trilogy. Simon is barely not a teenager there. He’s a thirty something adult in MRB. Different circumstances, different life stages, etc etc (I have lots of thoughts on that AU but I don’t want to lose the thread). The other thing the author has said from day one (before the sequels were even a thought) which remained consistent, is that good ol’ Simon is a “Baz-sexual.” That, for me, is among the big takeaways: Simon has not experienced true attraction before Baz. I’m not here saying this guy is interested in guys in general either – as soon as Baz is in the picture, it’s game over (who notices a match when you’re in the middle of a forest fire?). There are many people (and fictional characters) who experience attraction to a lot of people, all the time, even when they’re in love with one person. But Simon ain't one of them. He doesn’t say he’s “a Baz-romantic.” He says “a Baz-sexual” with his whole chest. 

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Painting the Town Red

So I’ll be adding it in the tags, but there’s a trigger warning of a child being beaten, and a very brief mention alluding to kidnapping, if there’s anything else I should add to that, let me know!

Oscar bounded after his dad after leaving Fairytale at the stables with Long Memory. They were visiting the town today to run some errands, and Oscar was ecstatic! He so rarely got to go into town, partly because they had what they needed to live at the farm, but partly because dad was a little over protective, and said it was dangerous. But he was going today! He was so excited, he could just explode! In fact, he kinda was! Little green magic fireworks shot off randomly from his head, sometimes his magic would do funny stuff when he was feeling something really strongly.

He bounced along his dads side, half listening to the itinerary of the day. Hot cocoa ingredients, new horse brushes, blah blah blah, potions from aunt Glynda! But she wasn’t in today… so they would get them from her assistant Gray, boo. Seeds, blah blah blah.

Oscar looked around in wonderment at all the stalls and built shops around them. People selling clothes of bright hues to the left, someone cooking delicious smelling meat to the right, and ahead some someone yelling about how amazing their jewelry was, another was arguing about prices.

Oscar pressed a bit closer to his dad. It was… so much. He’d been to town a few times, but they didn’t go through this part… Was there an event? Was something special happening? It was hot outside too… His head was starting to  spin, people were yelling, some calling out to him, everything was so bright, it hurt his eyes. He tried to cover his ears and close his eyes, but people shoved into him and made him stumble, they glared or even shouted at him. He didn’t immediately register he wasn’t with his dad anymore.

His breathing was heavy and erratic, he felt hot and uncomfortable, his clothes were clinging in all the wrong ways and places and he felt tears brimming in his eyes. He wanted his dad! He wanted to go home! This was a bad idea! He should have stayed on the farm today! He wanted to go home!

Finally he stumbled into an alleyway between two shops and was able to scurry away from all the noise and heat and light. He curled up, putting his head between his knees as he sobbed softly. This was turning into a horrible day… He felt gross but in a bad way, not in the “just worked the fields and now I’m gross” way. He’d lost his dad, he had no idea where he was, and he was too scared to leave the alley…

He didn’t know how long he cried for, when someone roughly grabbed his hair and yanked him into the air, making him cry out in pain. He wriggled and kicked, fearful tears coming faster now. He sobbed, looking into the eyes of the man that held him. He was clean shaven, and smelled like something sweet and cigar smoke. The smell was oddly comforting, since his dad smelled like cigars sometimes.

 He had bright red hair that covered one of his eyes, the visible one was a bright flashing green. He wore a white trench coat, his hands bore black gloves with orange jack-o-lanterns faces on the backs. His shirt was a black blouse, a gray ribbon tied around the neckline, with gray pants and black shiny shoes. He also wore a bowler hat, with a dyed pink, brown, and white feather in the band.

His companion was a small girl, with half pink and half brown hair, little streaks of white running through the dual colors, her eyes matched. She wore a white three quarters sleeved sheath dress with a slit up to her thigh up the side, and a half pink half brown demi-loop corset that had black lace around the edges.

“Well… look what we have here? A little brat all alone. Where’s your mommy?” The man holding him up asked mockingly, shaking Oscar and making him cry out in pain.

“I-I don’t have one, let me go!” He pleaded, but it only made the man laugh at him, the girl smiled cruelly.

“Awwww! He doesn’t have a mommy!” he cooed patronizingly. “How sad! Say Neo, you want a kid?” The girl, Neo, gained a look of utter disgust and spat on Oscar.  “Woof, tough break kid. My partner here doesn’t seem to like you.”

He shook horribly, his head hurt so much from where the man was holding him, and he wanted his dad more than ever right now. “W-what do you want from me?”

The man scoffed and jostled him roughly with another cry of pain.“There’s nothing a pipsqueak like you could really give me. But I’ll take whatever you have, and since I’ve had a rough day, I think I’ll take it out on you. Sounds fair?”

Oscar grunted in pain as he was suddenly thrown to the ground, his head banging against the curb, making stars dance in his eyes. And then… pain exploded through his abdomen as a hard kick connected, making him gasp, gag, and wretch horribly. Tears dripped down his cheeks as darkness blurred across his vision. 

Another blow rang out, but this time it wasn’t aimed at Oscar. A rock clattered to the ground, one that had been thrown at the man, hitting him square in the forehead. “Ah! What the- who would dare- Ow!” He cried out as another rock hit him, and another and another! It was a malstrom of projectiles.

Oscar looked to the end of the alley where the rocks were coming from. Three teenagers stood there, throwing the rocks at his assailants.

“Get lost creep!” the shortest girl cried, hurling a large rock at the pair. Her hair was short and a bit choppy, like she’d cut it herself, and a bright pale orange. Her eyes were a bright baby blue. She wore a white long sleeved shirt, a pink heart painted on the front. A dark grey sweater where she seemed to have endless rocks stored, was around her shoulders. And her skirt was a pink and blue plaid design, a white petticoat under it.

“Yeah! Leave him alone!” The blonde boy agreed, though his voice was shakier. He had blue eyes and a little brown cap on his head, and brown fingerless gloves. A black hooded cloak with a gray bunny on the front was around his shoulders. As well as a white blouse and blue pants, with brown mud caked boots.

“Go away! Get out of here!” The boy with the pink streak in his hair huffed, using vines to throw more pebbles at the pair. He had bright pink eyes, like the geraniums his dad planted last year. He wore green overalls with a pink lotus on the front chest pocket, a pink long sleeved shirt with black sleeves, and black boots with gold laces. His hair was tied back with a white and pink ribbon.

“And don’t come back!” The tall girl nodded, levitating some of the stones to hurl at the two. She had bright green eyes, but not like the mans, hers were kinder, even in her furied state. Her hair was long and red, held back by a black cord and kept neat with a gold circlet that had a green emerald in the center. She had a brown blouse with a braided design on the sides of the chest and a collar. Her knit sweater was a dark red color and seemed a bit big on her. She wore a golden yellow skirt with matching suspenders, black tights, and brown boots with gold heels.

The pair looked ready to attack the group of teens, but realizing they were outnumbered, and that the four were magic users. They shared a look, glared at Oscar, and ran, leaving the scent of cigar smoke and something sweet. Oscar didn’t get up when they left, the kick was strong and Oscar was sure the man had been wearing some kind of metal shoe. His stomach ached, his head was throbbing where the man had grabbed him, and he was sure he was bleeding… “Hey, are you ok?” the short girl with orange spiky hair asked, kneeling next to him.

Oscar shook his head, whimpering softly. “N-no…”

“Here, this might help.” the boy with pink eyes knelt next to him and hovered his hands over Oscar. They glowed a bright pink color and Oscar felt his pain easing and he breathed a sigh of relief. Healing magic… Not an easy thing to learn.

“Thank you…” he said softly, slowly sitting up with the aid of the tall girl and the blonde boy. “You saved me.”

“Awww, it was nothing. We just saw a creep and knew we had to put the beat down!” the orange haired girl declared, sticking out her hand. “My names Nora! These are my friends!”

“Jaune.” the blonde one smiled sheepishly.

“Lie-Ren.” The one with pink eyes bowed slightly.

“Pyrrha!” The red haired girl chirped. “And what’s your name?”

“It’s-”

“OSCAR!” there came a cry from the end of the alley, and Oscar’s heart leapt to his throat.

“DAD!” he cried, trying to stand to rush to him, but could barely take a step before falling over. Luckily, his dad was there now, and he caught him.

“Oscar! Oh Oscar! I lost you in the crowd! I was so scared! Oh never scare me like that again!” his dad all but sobbed, holding onto him like his life depended on it. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“I-I don’t know… One was named Neo I think…” he sniffled, holding tightly to his dad.

“Neapolitan and Roman Torchwick.” Ren informed, “Known criminal kingpins of Vale. Guess they were having an off day.”

“We scared ‘em off though! They ran like a couple’a babies!” Nora smirked triumphantly.

Oscars dad breathed slowly and stood, holding Oscar still. “Thank you. All, I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

“No payment needed!” Pyrrha laughed a bit nervously, pausing as Jaune whispered something in her ear. She went a bit red and quickly snatched the circlet off her head. “Just uh- doing the right thing!”

He smiled and kissed Oscar’s head. “Well… why don’t I at least buy you all some treats, hm? Candy floss or ice cream perhaps? You did a great deed, let me thank you.”

Before Pyrrha could protest Nora was already tugging the older man by his coat, “Both! Can we do both! I want both!”

“Nora, remember your manners.” Ren chided as he followed along, Jaune trailing behind, holding Pyrrha’s hand as they followed his dad like ducklings.

Oscar smiled softly, sighing contently as his dad slowly wound his own healing magic through him. Maybe this trip to town wasn’t as awful as he thought…  

[theaterism]

pspsps what are the siblings' thoughts on fox and wren's relationship? <3 (hi this was inspired by that one charlie thing and it can be answered ic or ooc if u want, I am just so incredibly curious ABJBXJ)

!!! ok i actually think abt this often so like AGDGDG -

i’ll start with victor because his feelings toward their relationship are more straightforward!! victor doesn’t dwell on romance in general, both when it comes to himself and when it comes to others. however, he knows foxtrot well enough to understand that it takes a LOT for him to trust someone as deeply as he trusts wren. he can also see that wren visibly makes foxtrot happier. he appreciates wren for brightening foxtrot’s life, and he’s glad foxtrot found someone like them. essentially, he supports their relationship a bunch! he hopes it remains stable and that they continue making each other smile for a long while.

okay,,, charlie’s feelings are Complicated so i WILL end up rambling and i am sorry in advance!!!

at first, charlie was delighted by foxtrot and wren’s growing relationship. she loved having a chance to tease foxtrot about it — both to his face and behind his back when chatting to victor or wren. she enjoyed encouraging him as well, though. she could tell how happy wren made him. she wanted him to be happy. she wanted him to feel accepted and comfortable getting closer to them. she wanted to support them both in any way she could. the slow burn aspect of their relationship was PAINFUL to her, though; she was desperate for them to confess agdgdg

when they finally, finally confessed and they started dating properly, charlie was thrilled!! she supported foxtrot accepting his feelings wholeheartedly. again, she wanted him to be himself and feel comfortable, and she appreciated wren for making foxtrot happier. she still enjoyed teasing foxtrot whenever she could, but she also liked contributing to their relationship in small ways, like making the map for wren’s birthday.

now, a brief shift in topic that will become relevant in a moment. it’s important to emphasize that a large part of charlie never grew up. part of her is stuck in the past — when the triplets could rely on no one but each other, and when they cared about each other even when no one else truly cared about them.

charlie remembers when they were young children and foxtrot was shy and frightened and oftentimes depended on her when his fear overwhelmed him. she stood up for him. she felt like he needed her.

okay, back to foxtrot and wren. as the exciting novelty of their relationship faded and time passed… reality started sinking in for charlie. foxtrot had sometimes hung out with her during work or after work, but now she often couldn’t find him because he was hanging out with wren instead. he didn’t talk to her as often. she didn’t see him as often in general. he had gained independence from charlie over the years, but now he seemed to shut her out entirely.

he doesn’t need me anymore, she thought. he’s got wren now. he’s leaving me behind.

jealousy, bitterness, and fear began kindling in her despite charlie’s best efforts to stifle these emotions and to focus on foxtrot’s happiness. partly to justify these feelings, she began fixating more on how wren never discouraged foxtrot from his riskier hobbies, like stealing and thrill-seeking. if anything, they seemed to encourage these habits. charlie worried foxtrot would end up getting hurt because of them.

foxtrot and wren’s relationship was a huge reason behind foxtrot and charlie’s halloween fight, actually. it especially underlined charlie’s dialogue here:

“You— you never want to spend time with us anymore… You used to talk to me more, even after you blocked me out. Now you only care about yourself and stealing and— and you don’t want to stay at the theater with us… We’re all together, and we’re safe, but that isn’t enough for you, is it? You really only care about Vic and I being safe, don’t you? You want something else. You want to go away someplace and never come back.”

really, charlie barely restrained herself from saying:

“Now you only care about yourself and stealing and— and Wren… You want to go away someplace with Wren and never come back.”

and then the fight spiraled, and foxtrot ran away, and everything came crashing down on charlie.

in the aftermath, experiencing the consequences of her actions, charlie felt a rather healthy dose of guilt. she still has a lot of maturing to do, but she gained some self-awareness about the harmfulness of her mindset, especially when she finally mustered the courage to discuss the incident with foxtrot. i never finished writing the drabble about their conversation after their reunion, but i still saved the portions i wrote so like agdgd here’s a rough snippet from it:

“I know you want me to stay,” Foxtrot said, quiet.

“I want you to be happy.” The words slipped out, and she knew they were honest, though she struggled to keep speaking. “So you can— you can do whatever makes you happiest, even if that means leaving. As long as you take care of yourself, yeah?” She took a breath. “And I, um… I know what happened doesn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself. You were in a bad spot, because we’d argued. It wasn’t your fault. So… I bet you’d be fine as long as we don’t argue again before you go.” Something cold twisted in her stomach. She faltered, and her gaze fell. “But I just… I don’t want to be alone. You and Vic have been the only ones who’ve stuck with me no matter what.”

“But things are different now. It’s not like when we were kids, when it was just us. You’ve got other people aside from us. Friends in the theater. Even if we were both gone, you wouldn’t be alone.”

“But I’m bad at telling if people are lying. And most of those people are actors as well, so I’m not sure if—” She broke off, her throat tight, and tried again. “What if they’re just acting? What if— what if they’re just pretending to like me?”

“They aren’t,” he said firmly.

“What if they get sick of me after a while, then? What if they decide I’m too loud, or annoying, or— or something else, and they leave?”

“I don’t think they will. And if they do, then they were rubbish friends to begin with, and you’ll find better ones. You’re good at making friends. Much better than me. You’ve given me advice on it. And you could always call us. We’d still be there for you, even if we’re not with you.” A pause. “But… it makes sense why you wouldn’t want us to split up.” A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “We have stuck together for a long time. Vic’s alright. Dunno how I’ve tolerated you so long, though.”

Humor laced his voice, and Charlie couldn’t help smiling. It was a relief to slip back into joking. “I’m positively delightful, actually. You’re lucky to be stuck with me. Dunno how I got stuck with you.”

Foxtrot gave a low hum of feigned discontent. Then, “See? You know you’re delightful.”

“… I guess.”

“So anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.”

their conversation didn’t resolve all the tension between them, but charlie realized that if she valued his happiness, she needed to give him some space and trust he still cared about her. she apologized to him a lot as well. she is still a bit bitter, but she also witnessed firsthand that wren cares about foxtrot’s wellbeing as much as she does. she trusts that wren will make sure foxtrot is okay when he needs help and she isn’t there to support him herself.

at the same time… she saw wren’s anger when they snapped at her. she recognized how it mirrored her own anger in ways. she worries, sometimes, what will happen if they ever turn that anger against foxtrot. whether he would run away. whether he would shut down altogether. she hopes it will never happen, especially because she doubts he would reach out to her for support if it did. she knows how much their relationship means to foxtrot and how significant it is that he trusts wren. she doesn’t like to imagine how badly it would hurt foxtrot if he lost them.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Just a massive rant and mental health pity party

I know I’m mentally ill, and I know I’m pretty incapable of a lot of things, but because I am on the dsp and I don’t work and I don’t really DO anything, I think it’s easy for me to forget how mentally ill I am. Because my “routine” isn’t affected by my mental illness. Because my routine is just being at home. I can be depressed and miserable and not shower for a week or not look after myself and it doesn’t really affect me. I’m in my room anyway. I’m at home anyway. I just sleep when I need to.

But then when I try and step out and do things and get to the point where I’m integrating more external things into my routine I’m just smacked in the face with how inept I actually am. Though I know that probably just sounds like I’m extremely lazy and I probably am. I think the things that are going to stop me are my ocd or ptsd or body image issues. And they do. But it seems so often it’s just a combination of my depression and anxiety that prevent me from doing anything. I’m just genuinely so tired all the time. It gets to the point where thinking about catching the bus and then catching the train makes me want to sleep. Or I get so anxious over the idea of being outside for that long with no quick way home that I make myself exhausting. I think of the next day and the next day and the next day and the next day and I’m just so inhibited by fear and tiredness. I shut down. I just go to bed.

And I partly know why. I know I’m alive for the sole purpose that one, I’m apparently too chicken to make any of my attempts more then an overdose because I don’t want to traumatise anyone, and I feel as though death is something I’m not allowed access too because again it will traumatise those around me. So I just feel stuck here , waiting. And there are times where I TRY to better myself or do things that are fulfilling or enriching or might make life something I want for myself and not just other people. But they are either extremely superficial (like buying books) or I can do them once and then suddenly the thought of ever doing it again sends me into a spiral (like the course or going to a play). And I just can’t do it. I want to retreat back into my room, close my eyes and forget about everything. Because I’m weak and I’m a coward and I have no backbone. As soon as that prickling feeling hits me I close my eyes and go to sleep. Because sleep IS my death. It’s the death I’m allowed access to. But I’ve also been doing it for so long that genuinely my body has little energy. It’s so accustomed to sleeping that now even when I’m not stressed or upset I’m still tired.

It makes me fall into this weird pit of feeling less guilty in some areas and more in others. A part of me is like , ah see! You really do need the dsp. You really are very mentally ill. It’s okay. And then another part of me is like you need it for THIS???? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just go out and do things. If you don’t force yourself it’s never getting better. You will be stuck in your room forever. Rotting away as the world goes around. Ageing into nothingness. Finding nothing worthwhile in life. Having no dreams or aspirations or goals and achievements. Just rotting flesh. No friends, no connections, no job, nothing.

But I feel so unbelievably apathetic to try anymore. Because whenever I DO try it’s so short lived. I said I wanted to complete this course so I could have completed SOMETHING since high school. So I could look back on my birthday and think at least I did something. But even that’s fallen through. I want to just throw in the towel, and shut myself away from the world because I’m exhausted. I feel this deep seated tiredness that just never seems to go away. Even now I feel like I can hardly keep my eyes open and the only reason I’m pushing through is because I’m hoping the tingling and other somatic pains that are crushing me because of my emotions will go away.

It so often feels like life was a gift given that I had no choice in and have no way of returning. I feel so unbelievably stuck and pathetic. Like there is just no point in trying to get better or make plans or push myself because I always let myself down and can’t do it anyway.

[brokenbones-singsongs]

Things that bother me that I don’t bother speaking about

1. Nothing fits me anymore. None of my clothes. Certainly none of my dresses. Nothing. I’ve gained so much weight since December that the $200 dresses I bought for my brothers wedding etc. this year don’t fit and the wedding is next week. I feel disgusting. I don’t take pictures anymore. I rarely ever wear anything but sweatshirts and yoga pants and I can’t buy anything from my favorite store literally ever anymore.

2. Because of the above, it’s taking everything I have in me not to fall back into my 15 year old selfs habit of just ✨not eating✨ but still working out and running miles every other day just to feel like I was skinny enough for it to be acceptable. I think about it every day and quite honestly it’s very hard for me to eat more than one meal without hating myself. Groceries are too expensive to manage an actual diet and be healthy. I have no extra income. It’s hard and frustrating and unhealthy and I’m exhausted and I HATE myself.

3. I spend every single one of my days wondering how my best friend of six years could just leave and not tell me why.

4. I also spend every single day thinking about how I ruined another girls life both entirely on accident and on purpose because even after I found out the truth of things I still pursued. I’m literally the asshole I swore I would never ever be.

5. I wonder all the time if I’m going to wake up one day and be told by my husband that he hates the way I show love and always has and he doesn’t know why he married me (because it happened before) and I don’t think I’ll survive another heartbreak like that

6. I want to do something constructive with my time like a regular yoga class or a gym membership somewhere structured and take care of myself and whatever but I can’t because I am a mom and it’s expensive. I’m lowkey resentful of my fiancé for having jiu jitsu even if he gets paid to do part of it. He gets to fuck off for several hours every week and do what he loves and I just…don’t. Ever. I’m always at work or always a mom and even when I go out with friends etc. I’m still a mom. I have to take the baby everywhere and I’m tired and I just want to exist outside of being depended on literally every second of the day. There is no reprieve.

7. I don’t like one of our dogs.

8. I’m not even sure I want to have any pets ever again after the ones we do have are gone. They’re like kids and some days it takes everything in me to get out of bed and pay attention to them.

9. I quit my job partly for money but mostly because I have a debilitating fear of failure and the moment I started getting micromanaged over missing the expiration on some fruit despite spending an entire day going above and beyond to be as perfect as perfect can be…something shifted and I spent days wanting to throw up over the stress of fucking up again. I can’t do it. I’m also beyond sick of the “social media content” I’m supposed to create EVERY. FCKING. DAY. Work isn’t they interesting and put menu rarely changes. I can’t take 900 pictures of the same damn thing. 3-5 images a day is asinine and I hate myself so why would I post videos of myself doing anything? Look like a gd land 🐋

10. I want to tell a lot of people to stfu up and I literally don’t care when they tell me their problems. Like literally 99.9% of people. I’m so tired of negativity and always having to try to figure out how to respond without sounding disingenuous.

11. I didn’t think I was depressed but nothing is bringing me Joy or has in a long time. I’m simply existing and dealing in a neutral state and idk if that’s testament to the coping skills I learned year ago or if I’m just in a weird kind of autopilot. But the more time goes on the more I start to realize I might actually need professional help.

12. I’ve started stuttering and having a harder time getting words out in the last year or so and I wonder if something is amiss. They thought I had a stroke when I was pregnant that was really just a horrible migraine…but what if something is really off?

13. I think I fucked up by not getting my tachycardia meds refilled thinking it was only exacerbated by pregnancy and I’d be fine because I’ve almost passed out several times lately. The cause could also be I’ve gained my baby weight back. It’s stupid and I’m worried. I like that it still beats and I’m alive.

That’s all for now.

[phox-129]

twirls hair so i heard ur interested in the dndads perhapse,,,,

Yes!! I have been interested since I saw you liked it but since my attention span to podcasts has gotten increasingly worse I did not think I would get into it. But that fan art has made me want to rise to the challenge perhaps

[thatanimewriter]

GOLDEN RETRIEVER

➳ request: Hello! Can I request headcanons for Makoto and Nao (seperately) from Free! with a happy-go-lucky, puppy-like!s/o but they had an agressive side that they want to hide from their boyfriend. One day, they suddenly see their s/o get in to a quarrel with someone who backbite their bf. What will they react to the situation? Please make it comfy and with some nagging. Thank you very much for doing my request again <3

➳ character/s: tachibana makoto, serizawa nao

➳ warnings: swearing, like, a lot of swearing

➳ notes: what joy :D this ended up being quite fluffy in the end. also, don’t mind the aggressive language in these headcanons, i’m an aussie and swearing is just a norm lmao

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 + 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬

──  𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐎.

dead.

he’s gone

you’ve killed him with cuteness

likes hugging you from behind

forehead kissessssss

hugs you and sways from side to side

HOW-FUCKING-EVER

he was wrong

as labrador-like as you are

you do have scary dog privileges 

even if you’re cute

because lord have mercy if you’re mad

it started with rin

who was in a pissy mood

and misdirected it at makoto

then you POPPED OFF

you thought you were gonna, yknow

not expose this side of yourself

but the temptation to say

‘SIT YOUR ASS BACK DOWN AND STOP LETTING YOUR FUCKING EMOTIONS CONTROL YOU FOR TWO SECONDS. YOU’RE LITERALLY AN ADULT, FUCKING ACT LIKE ONE-’

was too strong

makoto let out the loudest gasp at your language

but when he asked you about it, all you said was

‘no, he should get his shit together and see a fucking therapist if he’s this bad >:((’

a while after the incident, you felt extremely upset with yourself over it

he caught you lying in bed with the covers over your head 

and when he asked if you could come out

you said no with the slightest waver in your voice

which made him squat next to your bed and gently pull the covers away from your head

partly because he wanted to see you, but also because he didn’t want you to suffocate in bedsheets

he gave you a soft lil kiss on the forehead when he saw how upset you were 

and he joined you in bed when you told him what was wrong

he felt bad that you thought he didn’t love you anymore after being aggressive ;v;

bro was not gonna ditch over something so small

he will admit it was kinda (extremely) terrifying

but as long as it doesn’t get you in massive trouble 

he’s chillin

──  𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐎.

he loves you so much ;v;

you’re too adorable

he give you the softest of cuddles

has so many photos of you

filled his camera roll

and his phone backgrounds-

but there is a new side to you

that he definitely does NOT want as his phone background

because it will strike fear into his soul

he’d never seen you angry

and boy does he not want to be on the receiving end of your anger

it was interesting to see it, but never again

he actually wasn’t there for the start of it

he just heard yelling down the hall

and then his name

it was embarrassing on your end

because you intended on keeping this part of you hidden from nao

but here it is, so...

really, you should’ve known better when you yelled

‘YOU MIGHT THINK NAO’S HAIR MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A GIRL, BUT HE’S TEN TIMES THE MAN YOU’LL EVER BE, YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH. SUCK A DICK, WHY DON’T YOU?’

nao then had to step in and take you away from the scene

he appreciated that you stood up for him

but he didn’t want you to go THAT far

it was weird though

because you avoided him for, like, a week??

he didn’t say anything about it, so he was quite confuzzled

you ended up talking to him alone on the rooftop

where he found you sitting on the floor with your knees up to your chest

and a relatively untouched bento

when he asked about it, he opened his arms to cuddle

because no, he wasn’t gonna leave you for having emotions :((

he also expressed that he’s happy he has someone to advocate for him

it eased your nerves, but it was still embarrassing

it actually made nao slightly more vocal about things

because he wanted you to feel less alone in speaking up about teasing and stuff

even though it wasn’t anywhere near as close to your level

[fruggo]

the boys x tough f!reader (part 2)

requested by : @dranonymous

i love this idea and i hope you all enjoy part two! :D here’s part 1 with the original request.

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dwight is really cute, danny is an asshole, jake is that cute “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope because i say so

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

you are so cool. like ,,,,,so cool

dwight admires you so much. you just got here and yet you are breaking pyramid head’s ankles—dodging his trail of torment left and right, the killer just can’t touch you.

and how did you feel about everything? terrified, honestly, but nobody would ever be able to tell because you didn’t let it get to you. it was like you had already been here before, because the second you learned how to do something, you had it down no problem. fixing generators came naturally, and you could also run the killer for the whole trial if you had to. teammates could easily rely on you to do whatever needed to be done.

that was what made you and dwight such a powerful duo. from the moment you met, you knew you felt comfortable around this guy. he was sweet, maybe a little timid sometimes, but he knew how to step up and be a leader for everyone despite his fears.

you both knew what to do, and you fit together like a glove. your minds worked in very similar ways, which made communicating that much easier and efficient; the second a decision needed to be made, dwight was on top of it, encouraging the teammates and helping them get on their feet. you were already ahead of them, so dwight would just nod to you, knowing you could do your job well.

of course, there were times when dwight’s anxiety got the better of him, and you had to be the one encouraging him.

dwight hated the hag. despised her. he could not stand her jumpscares when a trap was triggered, he would swear he was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t admit this at first, but you figured it out when feng min was hooked and dwight stuck to the generator, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. he always went for the saves, so something was obviously wrong.

“dwight? why don’t you go save her?” you asked, eyeing him from your side of the generator.

he didn’t respond, looking over his shoulder again.

you decided to rescue min, but when you got back, you were going to chew dwight out until he gave you a straight answer.

you crawled up to the hook to avoid triggering a trap and gently lowered min to the ground. the two of you inched away carefully until you were far enough away to patch her wound.

“dwight, get off your ass and answer me,” you demanded (affectionately) once you were back at the generator, which was nearly finished. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes conveyed nervousness in every sense of the word; they darted all around, searching for any incoming danger. this was your first time seeing him like this, so you were confused. was he alright?

“it’s just…the hag,” he started, still fiddling with the wires. “her traps, i can’t…”

oh. was he anxious about the traps?

“i just can’t deal with them,” he finally said with difficulty. that was understandable; when they caught you off guard it definitely made you leap out of your skin.

“dwight, listen,” you said. “you’ve dealt with every other killer in this realm, haven’t you? you’ve bested the nurse, the huntress, micky myers, and even the spirit, who’s a bitch. i know hag’s traps are fucking terrifying, but you’re dwight! you are a leader, and you are good at being a leader. you can get out of here, i promise. and besides, with me here, you have nothing to worry about. i’ll kick that witch’s ass, got it?”

your very inspirational speech got him to smile. you were right, anyways—you could definitely kick the hag’s ass. what could go wrong?

nothing, actually. genuinely nothing went wrong. you took chase for the rest of the trial so that dwight didn’t have to worry about a thing, and everybody escaped with no problem. he didn’t understand how you were so good at evading capture—but perhaps you would tell him about your past eventually. you hadn’t yet decided.

back at the campfire, you and dwight comfortably sat side-by-side, patiently waiting until your next trials.

“thanks,” he said.

“for what?”

“for that very motivational speech you gave me,” he laughed.

you wiped imaginary dust off of your shoulder, giving him a confident smile. “i got your back. and man, that hag lady really is a bitch, huh? i can see why you hate her.”

that comment unintentionally caused one of dwight’s long, angry rants about his least favorite killer, and all you could do was watch him and listen with a soft grin on your lips. you’d never seen him angry before—it was adorable. made you wonder if you should just piss him off for fun sometimes.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

this guy has hella respect for you

you’re independent and easy to teach, and that’s everything he could ask for.

now and then, the other survivors basically gave newbies to jake to teach them everything about the realm—they considered him the expert on all things survival. you were one of those newbies he was forced to take care of.

jake normally hated teaching new survivors more than anything, because it was never his choice and they were all so difficult. but you were different. you were responsible, reliable, and smart, and it made his job so much easier. as time went on, he grew to be quite fond of you.

word eventually got out that the new girl had managed to charm jake out of his “hermit ways,” but he insisted that it was not true (he also disagreed about the “hermit ways” part). it was never spoken of between the two of you, but it definitely floated around in the air waiting to be addressed.

it really couldn’t be ignored any longer. anytime you were seen anywhere within 24 feet of each other, the other survivors would give you looks and wiggle their eyebrows or shoot you a thumbs up—all of which were unwanted. it created a weird tension between you and jake that wasn’t there before, and you really didn’t like it.

you missed when you were first starting out, and jake had just realized how competent you are. those days were fun—he respected you a lot; you could see it in his face when he looked at you. you always knew when he was pleased and when you did stuff right, because he would have the tiniest, most subtle grin on his face, but you could see it, and it made you feel accomplished.

you knew he still respected you, but you had basically jumped the learning curve of the realm and quickly adapted to every killer, every challenge, and every task. how you did it, nobody could ever know. but you were almost sad, because there was kind of no reason for you and jake to spend a lot of time together anymore. if you did, then everybody would freak out for the wrong reasons, and it would ruin your friendship.

so what if you had a few small feelings for him? no one gave a shit—you knew jake probably wouldn’t give a shit. to him, you were just another annoying survivor he was forced to teach. besides, you didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

man, were you wrong, though. he really, really wanted to be around you, but you already knew everything, so he didn’t know what to do to spend time with you. his way of initial bonding was sharing knowledge, but that had already been done, so…what now?

then came the one trial that changed everything.

it was normal at first. the killer, blight, was doing well, so you had to step up your game. one generator was completed and he had 4 hooks on three different people—you were the only one not hooked yet.

he was after you, and you were expertly dodging every rush and swing he threw your way. unfortunately, you accidentally ran to the generator that jake was working on, and things got a little complicated.

when the blight rushed at the wall, then at you, jake ran towards you while you ran towards him—you were both looking over your shoulders—and alas, bonk. you crashed into each other.

oh, no!! how terrible!! looks like jake fell on top of you :/ what an unfortunate situation to be in /s /s /s /s /s

wowwww near proximity ! you’d never been so close before and it was awkward but nice (?)

then you remembered there was a crazy drug addict or whatever over there and he was chasing you, and the moment was ruined. jake quickly rose and pulled you up with him, and you went in opposite directions, both nervous and wide-eyed now.

lol

after that, the trial went quite south. everybody was sacrificed. perhaps the loss could be partly attributed to you and jake avoiding each other like the plague. but who knows, right?

back at the campfire, you began feeling overwhelmed by all the weird stuff happening lately, so you excused yourself to the edge of the woods to have some quiet time to yourself. a few minutes later, jake came to check on you bc he is a fucking gentleman and yes i will die for the “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope. fuck you

it’s slightly awkward at first, but then you start talking like normal and things feel a lot better. a little bit of the tension eases away, but not completely. what the fuck do you do with feelings like this?????

you simply composed yourself as best you could. it would have to do.

now that you felt a little more normal (lie), you trekked back to the campfire to wait for your next trials side-by-side. there was no one you felt more comfortable with or more respected by than jake. he appreciated you for your competency, and that was one of the best things you could ask for.

and to your surprise, jake actually took your hand and laced your fingers with his own. and it felt nice. never in your existence would you have thought he would be okay with displaying public affection, but you smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

maybe the entity gave him drugs.

or he just liked you that much. either one would make sense.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny hated you. he really did.

you were so unbothered, so calm, so good at knowing what to do. it really pissed him off.

you got so much attention from the other survivors for your skill and that really pissed him off too. it’s not like you cared or wanted it or anything, but how dare they even touch you when you so clearly belonged to danny?

…who knows wtf that even means. so anyways-

when you realized how much time danny spent chasing you in trials when he should have been patrolling generators, you began to get suspicious. especially when he would take you to the hatch and then close it in your face, watching you die to the entity. he obviously had some kind of beef with you.

you were determined to find out what he had against you, so you began to tease him a bit in chases. your favorite and most frequent phrase was something like, "can't catch me? lil baby man? lil baby? lil baby man gonna cry?" you were really testing your luck with that one, and that's why you loved it.

once, you told him his fly was down, and he actually fell for it, making you nearly keel over in laughter. you got moried without even being hooked after that.

despite the horrors that frequented this place, you were never in a crisis about it. you simply learned what had to be done, and then you did it, much to the chagrin of danny. you had skipped the big "useless baby survivor" phase, and that one was his favorite :( he loved trials with new survivors because it was so easy and fun!

but alas, from the beginning, you were always on top of things, always slamming pallets onto his head or saving teammates with a flashlight.

oh, don't even get him started on your flashlight usage. you were the absolute worst to go against--every pallet stun, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. every time he picks up a survivor, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. you were a bitch with that item.

he finally began to get so fed up with your behavior that he decided you must be taught a lesson. somehow, countless mori and tunneling and camping incidents had not even managed to bother you. you literally did not care. but he had something different in mind this time.

the realm was haddonfield, of course. all of the killers despised this map, and for good reason--you ran danny around the entire neighborhood for three generators. did he have to chase you? no. but he needed to for himself.

he finally caught you in a dead zone, rejoicing to himself as you fell to the ground in defeat. "wow, that was a good chase," you mumbled under your breath, feeling accomplished. one of your best against danny, probably.

you were expecting him to pick you up, but instead he snatched the flashlight from your grasp and chucked it as far away as he could. and before you could protest, he pulled you up to stand again and yanked you towards himself, gripping your wrists so tightly you swore it left bruises.

"what's wrong...lil baby man?" you said with a pout, trying not to laugh. "is baby man angry?"

you were slightly scared if you were being honest, but you couldn't let him know that.

danny sighed. you really didn't know when to stop, did you?

"bitch," he spat, voice dangerously quiet. "cut that shit out."

"what shit?"

he squeezed your arms tighter, provoking an "okay, okay, i get it!" from you.

"do you?"

"sure. what's the worst you could possibly do to me anyways?" after those words left your mouth, you got a weird feeling that the killer was smiling behind his mask.

"listen, uhh, danny, is it?" you said, putting as much nonchalance into your voice as you could. "i just wanna know why you hate me so much. remember that time you closed the hatch in my face? the fuck was that for?"

he frowned at the use of his name but responded regardless, "you're a little bitch, and you deserved that."

you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "ouch. that one hurt."

"i can make you hurt a lot more," he said darkly. you probably should have been scared, but you just really couldn't take him seriously.

so you laughed. it shouldn't have been funny, but it just was and now you couldn't stop. "you're just--you--i can't--" you wheezed, shaking from the laughter. "i'm sorry, it's really not funny."

danny didn't understand you. anybody else would have been sobbing if he so much as touched them, and here you were acting like it was a joke.

what could he do if you truly were not afraid of him?

perhaps it was time to let it go.

while his guard was down, suddenly you reached above his head and plucked his mask off, revealing his face and continuing your bouts of laughter at his shocked expression.

you threw the mask in the same direction as the flashlight, composing yourself and putting your hands on your hips. "you look pretty nice," you said, nodding.

wow. what the hell was danny supposed to do with you? perhaps the only completely unbothered, completely unserious survivor? he knew you were smart, and you knew what you were doing. he didn't even want to kill you anymore, you were just that fascinating.

that trial ended in you standing at the exit gate, your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. danny couldn’t care less at this point--he was done with your shit. but somehow he still liked you, and this definitely would not be the last time you saw him without his mask.

[sunsents]

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.”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐴𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑆/𝑂 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warning: This reaction contains NSFW content that might not be suitable for some. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

❁𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was very well aware of how innocent you were, yet he never teased you about it nor babied you like others would. And he especially never pressured you or even brought up anything remotely sexual. He knew you'd let him know when you were ready to take that step in the relationship.

When the moment did come, he was surprised by your actions. You came into the room and straddled his lap.

"Baby? What are you?-"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence as you began kissing him hungrily, your hips grinding down on him. He was shocked by your sudden boldness, but he wasn't complaining. He kissed you back, his hands roaming down to grip your ass, taking control of your movements. You may have initiated this, but no way was he going to let you be in charge.

When your hand tried to slip into his jeans, he stopped you and smirked.

"Hold on baby. There'll be plenty of time for that later. First.."

Without warning, he got you off him and sat you down on the bed, his hands swiftly pulling your pants and panties off from you. Feeling shy again, you closed your legs, making Hongjoong chuckle.

"Not so brave anymore, are you love?"

Taking hold of your ankles, he pushed your legs apart to take in the sight of you. He had waited so long for this moment and he couldn't believe it. He got down in front of you, loving the way your cheeks turned pink and looked at him, waiting to see what he had planned.

"Don't worry baby. Just relax and leave everything to me."

He sent you a wink before he buried his face in between your legs, unable to hold back anymore. You gave him the green light and he was going to go for it.

❁𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa loved how pure and innocent you were. It was no secret he got turned on by the thought of one day ruining you and staining your innocence, with your consent of course.

He wanted to hear you beg him to fuck you, to claim you as his and only his. He wanted you to writhe and moan underneath his body. But to get that, he had to make you want it.

That's why he often did little things to make you frustrated: whether it was by working out in front of you shirtless, caressing your sides while you tried cooking, kissing your neck more and more, whispering in your ear, and even licking off crumbs of food that got on your lips.

"What?" He'd often act like he didn't know what he was doing when you looked at him with a surprised expression.

The final straw for you was when he came back from a meeting, dressed in a suit. God how you loved it when he wore a suit, it just made him more irresistible. And you had been frustrated since the morning when he came out of the shower in a towel and his wet hair made you picture dirty scenes in your head. Gathering your courage, you suddenly blurted out:

"Seonghwa please fuck me."

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and your courage vanished, thinking maybe it wasn't the time to say that. But Seonghwa smiled, feeling accomplished of himself. He began unbuttoning his suit jacket, never taking his lust filled eyes from you as he commanded:

"Strip for me baby."

❁𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Even though he was a fearsome mafia boss, Yunho had the utmost respect for you. He loved you, adored you so much. He showed you the side of him he himself had forgotten he owned: the soft, caring and puppy like personality he was capable of showing. But it was only reserved for you and only you.

He knew you were a virgin and for that reason never even thought of overstepping any boundaries that would make you uncomfortable. 5 months later and he was still asking for permission to hold your hand.

He was elated yet scared when you told him one day that you wanted him to be your first.

"A-are you sure love? This is a big decision. I don't want you to regret anything." He voiced his concerns for you.

But after assuring him you wanted this, he gave in. He took utmost care of you, making sure to pleasure you and prep you so it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for you. He wanted you to feel safe and loved during your first time. He also made sure to shower you with praises.

"You're doing so well love. You're so beautiful."

He kept a slow and steady pace, his lips constantly kissing yours or your forehead, his hands holding onto yours as he looked down on you with love and adoration. He felt your nails claw his back and your legs wrap around his waist, your clenching walls signaling to him that you were close.

"It's ok baby, just let it go. Cum for me."

Yunho swears there's no more beautiful scene than watching your face contort with pleasure as you moan and whimper underneath him. He came inside you just seconds after, unable to hold back anymore.

But finally you were his and he was yours forever.

❁𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang lived for teasing you. He found it adorable how your cheeks would turn red every time he did or said anything mildly suggestive. Not one day went by when he didn't make you get flustered by his actions or words.

He especially loved making even the most innocent of situations turn suggestive and when you called him out on it, he'd feign innocence and instead would say you were the dirty minded one, making you get even more flustered and unable to say anything anymore.

You were in the process of baking a cherry pie one day. You wanted to make something special for yours and Yeosang's anniversary. Yeosang walked in and saw the current state of the kitchen.

"Babe. What's this?" He eyed you curiously.

"It's to make a pie." You explained as you began taking the stems off the cherries.

Yeosang chuckled as he caught you more than once popping a cherry into your mouth instead of the bowl.

"If you keep popping the cherries like that, there won't be enough for the actual pie you know."

You pouted a little.

"Can't help it. They're just so good."

Picking one up, you held it out for him to eat.

"Wanna try one?"

Yeosang couldn't pass away the opportunity. He leaned in and ate the cherry from your fingers, making sure to suck on the tip of one of them, making you widen your eyes just a bit. Clearing your throat, you asked:

"I take it you liked it?"

Yeosang hummed before responding:

"Sure.....but that's not the cherry I wanted to pop today."

He winked at you and left the room, leaving you stunned at his words.

❁𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

Every one often wondered how was it that the infamous Choi San was in an actual relationship, a serious one. And it was even more puzzling for his friends when they met you.

You were the complete opposite of San. You were such an innocent little thing, while San was known as the biggest Casanova in the mafia world. They often questioned his loyalty to you, which he proved time and time again that he was faithful to you and that he did love you. His friends were so happy to see him finally settle down, to actually love and be loved by someone.

Was it your innocence that attracted San? Partly yes. But San also knew you weren't all that innocent, at least not after you got involved with him. Everything about him is sinful, and he was bound to corrupt you sooner or later, which he loved doing.

He loved how you were currently trying to hold back your moans as he pounded into you from behind. You let your head hung low, unable to see the reflection in the mirror, blushing hard.

"Nuh uh sweetheart. Don't pretend to be shy now. You were practically begging me to fuck you when you came in dressed like that."

San grabbed a hold of your hair and made you look up at the mirror, watching as he smirked at you through hazy eyes.

"Don't deny it. Beneath that innocent face, we both know you're just my little cockslut."

❁𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Your innocent and pure nature was exactly the reason why Mingi fell for you in the first place. He remembers that moment very clearly.

He was standing all alone in the rain, his heart feeling as dark as the black night. He was in really low spirits. He saw no point in life anymore. It seemed to him as if there was nothing left in this world that was good. He just saw bad everywhere. A long life of crime often makes you think that.

Suddenly he felt the rain above him stop. He looked up and saw an umbrella held over him. Turning around, he saw you. You were on your tip toes, holding the umbrella as high as you possibly could, which wasn't easy since Mingi was a giant.

His heart melted when you smiled at him and said:

"It's too cold and unsafe to be out like this. Do you want me to walk you home?"

He was used to having people fear him, yet here you were, not afraid of him nor looking at him like he was a monster. And even after spending time with him and finding out who he was, you didn't look at him in disgust or repulsion.

He couldn't help but fall for you then. He loved you and made it his mission to keep you safe and protected from the dark, cold world he was a part of.

He especially loves coming home to you. Wrapping his arms behind you, he inhales your scent as you stir the food in front of you.

"Mingi." You call out to him.

"Mmmmm?" He mumbles, already dozing off in your embrace.

"I need to get something." You tell him.

"Hold on. Just let me stay like this a few more seconds."

But you know it wouldn't last just a few seconds. Not when his hands began roaming around your body, not when the chaste kisses he pressed to your shoulders turned more heated and he bit down on the exposed skin.

Pressing a kiss to your ear, he whispered softly:

"Let me make love to you."

❁𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung didn't even want to attend the meeting with the other mafia boss. He knew he was a stubborn old man who never agreed to anything and always looked down at Wooyoung for being so young, though in reality he knew he just resented him for being successful at such a young age in the criminal world.

But he doesn't regret it. Not when you, the old geezer's daughter, came in for a brief moment to give dear old dad a message. Wooyoung's eyes lit up when he saw you. And you yourself were captivated by him. Having been so sheltered by an overprotective father, you rarely ever saw men your age, and especially not as handsome as Wooyoung. You were so innocent, so naive and having met Wooyoung, you wanted him to ruin you. And he was more than happy to seduce such an innocent little thing like you.

That's how your risky romance started. First with tiny notes that evolved into risky text messages, and the once stolen kisses in corners turned to love scenes in Wooyoung's bedroom.

"Look at you being such a dirty girl. What would your father say if he saw you like this?"

You threw your head back at Wooyoung's words, the thought of your father catching you both terrifying and thrilling you.

Wooyoung smirked as he felt you clench around him.

"Oh you like that don't you? Who would have thought the perfect angel was such a little whore?"

His hands gripped your waist as he thrusted his hips up at you, hitting a new angle that would have you coming in seconds.

"Go on baby, I want you to scream my name as you cum. I want everyone to know that only I can make you feel this good. That this little pussy is mine and I own it.....

I want your dad to know that I'm the one who corrupted you, my little angel."

❁𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

When his friends said they wanted to go out and have fun, this wasn't what Jongho had in mind. Even though it was common for mafia bosses to go out once in a while, get wasted, have half naked women grind on their laps, and maybe take 1 or 2 home with them, it wasn't his cup of tea. He never enjoyed these types of things.

His eyes began to scan the area before they landed on you. You were just sitting there in one of the tables, looking completely out of place. You were dressed a lot more conservatively than what the environment asked for and judging by your untouched liquor, he could tell it was your first time in these types of places. The way you awkwardly looked over at your friends was an even bigger clue.

He couldn't help it when he let out a soft smile at you, amazed by your totally innocent and quiet aura. San and Wooyoung tried to snap him out of his trance, then looking over at you, they finally understand what was wrong with Jongho.

"Hey man, if you're into girls like that, you could have just said so. I'm sure it won't be so hard to get her into bed."

Jongho glared at San's suggestion.

"I'm not a fucking pervert that just thinks about getting his dick wet like you idiots." He scoffed.

Wooyoung snorted.

"So what? Are you going to go over there? Ask her for her number and take her on a date?" He teased the younger male.

They never expected him to, but he did. And not only did he get your number and a date, but he actually started a relationship with you...... and he eventually did get you into bed with him, but to him that's just the bonus in all this.

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[hanoella]

A Matter of Time (1/2)

Pairing: Bucky x healer!Reader

Word Count: Just under 3k

Summary: Healing others took a lot out of you. It was only a matter of time until it was going to be too much on your body.

Warnings: Hardcore angst, blood, grave injury, explicit description of injury, medical life support, needles? still not good at this stuff.

A/N: Another @wkemeup writing challenge prompt! Thanks so much everyone for all the love and support on my first fic!

Prompt: Believing they’re about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.

---

           It was only a matter of time.

          Healing always took so much out of you. One day, it was going to be too much for your body to handle. You hadn’t explicitly told anyone that it drains you. Only the observant picked up on it. It’s the reason why Natasha never asked for your help with minor things. It’s also why Bucky plain refused your help nowadays. He was hyper aware of everything around him and that included you. He always saw the light sheen of sweat forming on your brow, the way you became slightly breathless, and the increase in your pulse. When there was a major injury, he was very well aware of the tell-tale signs of exhaustion.

          The very first time that he let you work on his shoulder, he had asked what it was like out of curiosity.

          “Well… it’s kind of like projecting the pain onto myself. I’ve always been very in tune with my body. So ever since this,” you pause to gesture with your hands. “I can usually tell what the problem is. For example, I can tell that this specific muscle is bothering you,” you say as you gently put pressure on the specific aching tendon in his arm. Bucky winced before feeling the warmth reach deep into his muscles. He let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Turning slightly so that you could partly see his face, he thanked you. For a reason he couldn’t understand, a big smile slowly developed on your face.

          “What?” He asked.

          “Nothing, I’m just glad you finally let me work on it. I can see now that you’ve been… suffering. I’m just happy you’re feeling better.”

          Bucky felt his face flush slightly and turned back to face forward. Amused, you started humming lightly as you continued your work.

           Not that he would admit it but since then, there may have been… other reasons why he is always paying close attention to you. You reminded him of Steve. Somebody who was truly selfless. The one to make the sacrifice play. You may be less on the forefront of the battles but the work and the sacrifices you make for the world were just as big. Bucky found that he admired you for that. It stirred up feelings in his chest that he chose to ignore. It also made him nervous.

           Every time you were needed, he was assigned as your bodyguard. You could handle yourself better than the average civilian, but you wouldn’t consider yourself a fighter. Considering that he preferred to stay out of the spotlight, as well as the fact that his relationship with the public was still rocky, it ended up being the ideal position for him. At first, he was nervous because he was protecting something incredibly important. More so than any jewel or riches that existed. You were someone that could practically bring someone back from the dead. If he couldn’t protect you, he was practically sentencing anyone who would need your help in the future, to death. Certainly, a weighty responsibility that would make anyone nervous.

           It grew to be more than that though. Each time he protected you from a threat, no matter how small, your appreciation made it worth it. Your gratitude, which manifested itself into words, notes, and small gifts, sustained him. He had a hidden drawer filled with smiley faces on post it notes and cute little Tupperware containers that had held homemade sweet treats.

          But his favorite reward was not anything he could bring back to his apartment. It was your touch. The small brushes against his arm grew into touches and squeezes. In turn, it grew into grasping his hand while thanking him and once, a quick hug before you jumped back and apologized. He blushed lightly and looked away, letting you know that it was okay, he didn’t mind. Actually, Bucky would’ve preferred for that moment to have lasted forever. Because when you pulled away, he was suddenly aware of how starved he felt without your touch. That one action had been the gateway to a life filled with longing. He would chase that feeling forever; He could not bear the thought of being without you. That’s what made him nervous. He felt like he couldn’t think clearly anymore around you. He was going to make a mistake.

          It was only a matter of time.

---

          Waiting in the Quinjet with Bucky, you listened for updates on the mission. This time, they had gotten intel about a subbranch of Hydra dedicated to chemical warfare. Fearing another threat like anthrax, you set out to stop it. Everyone was in the building and you were on standby in case any pathogens got loose. Wanda could contain it, and you could eradicate it by healing all of the infected, and then they could disinfect the area. Hopefully, though, it was just a precaution.

           The atmosphere was calm, the lights off since the night sky was clear in the mountains. Moonlight filtering in through the front windshield, you were taking Bucky through the latest playlist you had curated for him when Nat radioed in.

           “We’ve almost got the lab secured. No injuries.”

           “Word.” You radioed back casually as Bucky looked at you confused.

           You were about to explain the response and pull up urban dictionary when Steve radioed back as well.

           “We had a group escape, some guards protecting the head researcher. They’re headed towards the jet. He blocked off the tunnel he used to escape so they’ll get to you before we can reach him.”

           “Copy that.” Bucky radioed back as he got up.

           When you got up to follow him, he gave you a look.

           “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not completely useless. Besides, I think I could take on a lab lackey.”

          “I don’t want you to get caught up in the rest of it.” He responded seriously.

          Looking at him and realizing it wasn’t up for debate, your expression sobered up.

          “Okay. Just be careful, please.”

          He nodded as he heard voices approaching. He headed down the ramp and met them outside of the jet. You peaked out of the opening of the ramp as he took them out one by one. When all five were on the ground, you came out and checked to make sure he was okay.

          “Wow, impressive.” You commented, nudging one of the guys with your foot.

          “Wait,” you said, eyebrows scrunching together. “None of these guys are in a lab coat.”

           Just as he was about to respond, he glanced to the side and quickly pushed you out of the way. The lab coat tackled him where you had just been standing. They went rolling towards the edge of the cliff and you shouted his name.

           “Bucky!”

           He kicked the researcher away from him while still on the ground. As the man started rolling off of the cliff, he grabbed Bucky’s leg. Bucky started scrambling to find a grip as the scientist slid off the cliff, trying to take Bucky with him. You ran over to the edge, grabbing Bucky’s arm to support him as he tried to kick the guard off of his leg.

           “With you out of the picture, the path forward will be successful. Hail Hydra.” He shouted as he grabbed a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into Bucky’s thigh.

           Bucky grunted loudly as the scientist took the knife out and stabbed it back in. You strained to hold him up as he struggled to kick him off, blood streaming down his leg. With one more heavy kick, the man lost his grip and fell down the mountain. At the same time, the force of the kick had loosened the ground under you. There was a crack and you locked eyes with Bucky in panic.

          You cried out as you used all of your strength to bring him back up over the cliff. It started falling away as soon as Bucky had found his footing and he lunged towards the jet while grabbing you. He held you with one arm and kept you from hitting the ground as the other forearm took the impact and held you both up. Looking incredulously at the strength of his arm and then turning your head back to look at him, he gently set you down. You were both breathing heavily as you lifted your head to see the platform you were just standing on was now gone.

           You laid your head back down and closed your eyes in relief. Bucky took the opportunity to take you in. Your hair formed a halo around your face perfectly as it was spread out on the grass and the moon’s light made you look like your skin was glowing. You looked ethereal. Before you got the chance to see him gazing at you, he flopped over onto his back next to you, catching his breath. You looked over at him, the stars now reflected in your eyes, and started laughing lightly. He didn’t know what you were laughing at, but it made him start laughing. As it subsided, you sat up and faced him.

           “Can I please heal those?” You asked, gesturing towards his leg. You had never worked on his thighs and you wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

           He paused, partly out of shyness and partly not wanting to tire you out. Your gaze lingered on the wounds and he saw how much it worried you. He nodded and you leaned over to take a look. As you moved the blood-soaked fabric out of the way, he winced. The wounds were deep and bleeding still. You focused your hands overtop the injury and concentrated. The soft white glow enveloped your hands and his leg. He watched as the bleeding started slowing. After a few moments, the wound started closing and the pain started easing. Bucky tried to get up as soon as it became bearable, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him. Though your breath was slightly strained, the determination in your eyes stopped him and he slowly laid back down. Soon enough, he couldn’t even tell that anything had happened. Once it was completely healed, you then flopped down next to him.

          You both settled, watching the clouds pass in front of the moon and stars. After you caught your breath, you spoke:

           “Bucky Barnes, I owe you my life. Several times over. Thank you.”

           “I think you’re the one who just saved my life, doll.” He said, amused.

           “Ooh, doll. Somebody’s finally warming up to me.” You said, laughter in your tone as you stood up. “Do you call every damsel in distress you save a doll?”

          The answer to that question was “no” but before he could respond, you held your hand out to him. Bucky sat up and accepted it, standing all the way up. As he let go of your hand, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, cheek resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Bucky swallowed and then slowly brought his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. Content.

          Unexpectedly, he stiffened. Something was wrong.

          “Bucky?” You called his name hesitantly as you stepped out from his grasp.

          You peered at his face and saw his pupils so blown out that you could barely see the blue anymore.

          “Bucky!?” You shouted as he fell to the ground.

          He couldn’t control anything except for his eyes as muscles all over his body started twitching. You knelt down and panicked, laying your hands against his chest, searching for an explanation. You hovered your hands over his heart and felt it so tight and strained it was barely pumping. You felt as if you were choking, and you weren’t even feeling the full effect.

          Cardiac arrest. How is this possible?

          You racked your brain for explanations. You instantly thought of the researcher. You traced a strange substance you felt through his veins until you found where it originated- from the knife wound.

           Poison.

           At this point, it had reached his heart. What little it was pumping was spreading the poison. It’s completely taken over his blood. You locked eyes with Bucky and saw the pain and panic in his eyes, his clenched jaw, and the tendons in his neck, outlined clearly by the strain. He was suffering.

          No. Much worse.

          He was dying.

          You had to save him.

          You interlocked one hand over top of the other and started doing compressions on his chest. What was normally a soft white light was now blinding. You could see the outline of his heart, and with each pump, the white light travelled an inch down his veins. Slowly, with each thrust, the white light made it further and further out from his heart.

          “What happened!?” Steve shouted. You hadn’t even heard the team come back.

          “We saw the light and came back as fast as we could!” Sam said.

          You shrugged Steve’s hand off your shoulder as you continued compressions.

          “Poison.” You panted.

          Thump.

          “He’s-”

          Thump.

          “Dying.”

          Thump.

          You hadn’t realized you were crying. Tears now spilled freely onto Bucky’s jacket.

          Steve stayed kneeling next to you as the rest of the team stood back, watching in amazement as the light made its way through Bucky’s body.

          Bucky locked eyes with him. He placed a hand on Buck’s head and wiped the sweat off of his brow.

          “You’re gonna be okay, Buck. You’ll pull through.” He said with a small reassuring smile.

          It wasn’t himself he was worried about. He’d never seen you exert yourself this much. He was in so much pain but dying would be better than seeing you go through this.

          You shouted with each thrust, trying to keep yourself from tiring out and stopping. The white light had made its way back around to the heart and Bucky’s entire body started relaxing. You felt relief as he stopped seizing and his eyes started closing. As you wiped the sweat off of your face, you realized your nose was bleeding. Just as you were about to sit back, you froze.

          There’s no heartbeat. You desperately connected yourself back to his body and felt that his organs were shutting down. You started compressions again, this time more vigorously. You were going to have to filter his organs for multiple rounds to reach every part, every cell affected by the poison. You wailed, crying harder as you felt his ribs crack from the force and then heal, only to be cracked again. You were starting to get lightheaded, and your muscles were burning. You could not keep it up for much longer. Desperate to get him back, you call to Steve beside you.

          “Steve. There’s. Adrenaline. In. Jet.” You gasped between each push.

          Steve was so distraught between seeing the both of you that he didn’t move right away. Natasha instinctively ran to the jet and brought it back, digging through it until she found the syringe and uncapped the needle.

          Natasha knew she didn’t need to confirm whether you really wanted to do this.

          “Injecting now.”

          She thrust the needle into your thigh and clicked the top, releasing the spring and shooting the needle into the muscle.

          You wailed again in anguish, fighting through the pain until you felt it hit your heart. The light had turned into a pillar, a beacon in the sky. Your hair once again in a halo, floating around you. The team had to shield their eyes and brace themselves against the force that hit them. You put newfound strength into each push until you could feel that every single drop of poison was filtered out of his body. Finally, Bucky opened his eyes.

          You stopped pushing on his chest.

          “Bucky?” you asked hoarsely.

          He was still coming to but was well enough to sit up. He clutched at his chest and found no pain. He then looked at his hand.

          “How did you-?”

          You fell over.

          Bucky scrambled over to you and pulled you into his arms. You coughed against his chest, bloodying his shirt. He looked at you and then at Steve, mouth agape. Steve could only look sadly back.

          He cradled you and brushed the hair out of your face, blood from your nose and mouth smearing before being covered by the new blood steadily streaming out.

          “I’m sorry,” You said softly, the sleepy look on your face deceivingly masking the gravitas of the situation.

          “Don’t apologize.” He said quietly, pausing to keep the tears from showing. It proved to be pointless as his voice cracked, asking:

          “Why would you do this? You should’ve just let me die.”

          You closed your eyes.

          “Because I love you, Buck. Always have.” You slurred tiredly.

          You whimpered and then stilled.

          Bucky cried while rocking you in his arms.

 ---

Part II

          You opened your eyes to a black room. No, not a room. There were no walls. You glanced down at your hands. You could still see them so it wasn’t dark, just… black.

          “Well, hello.”

          You spun around and saw the source of the voice.

          A serene, beautiful woman who had long dark hair and dressed in a green tunic addressed you.

          “What has brought you here, young one?”

Read Part II Here