#yes her name is stapler

[eggs-can-draw]

Egg posts oc art not clickbait

[hoshinasblade]

second best |1| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

DISCLAIMER: this fic has a detail that hasn't been mentioned in the anime yet. it isn't a big give-away but if you are sensitive about that kind of thing, please do not proceed. pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 3K trigger warnings: author's note: this fic has two parts - part 2 will be posted a week from today :) likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated but please do not repost or steal my writings. this is quite long, but i gotta make you guys work for it. i have also set up a taglist for the second part and the other fics or drabbles, please sign up if you wanna be tagged! as always, feel free to let me know what you think or give me a prompt by sending me an ask here!

hoshina soshiro can claim with extreme conviction that he rarely regrets the decisions he has made so far in his life.

from the time he has set his sights on taking the aptitude exam necessary to be recruited in the anti-kaiju defense force, to following captain ashiro mina to support her as the vice-captain of the third division, to religiously adhering to his daily routine of working out even during his off days so he can stay in peak condition - everything he's done is driven by soshiro's lone motivation: to rise and come on top.  

unfortunately, as he sees you walking in the hallway of the training building with his brother, soshiro realises that this is one of those rare occurrences where he hopes he gets a do-over.

it was barely 6 in the afternoon so there was still light from outside; the rays of the setting sun penetrating the transparent windowpanes cast an orange glow to the furniture in soshiro's office. it made him remember how he used to always be assigned as the student to clean the classroom back in junior high school: he would sweep first then rearrange the chairs before closing the windows and drawing down the curtains. he would rush up to the rooftop, in time to watch the sun dip below the horizon. he would stay for a few precious minutes, dreaming of a chance to get out of their town. he was fifteen then.

soshiro shook his head a bit. he decided that today - of all days - will not be when he will have a trip down memory lane. yes, despite the number of times he would get reminded of his past today, he refuses to get sidetracked.

the floor is eerily silent, save for the momentary opening and closing of doors; soshiro is aware that almost everyone has left, flocking to the local izakaya not too far from the base to celebrate. he had half the mind to prompt himself to hurry up in order to make it to the get-together on time. the long and gruelling application process took three months before the vetting could begin, but finally, the third division of japan anti-kaiju defense force honoured its new officers that morning. as the nominated head of the selection committee, he oversaw the entire thing, and at the end, he could not help but to feel confident that their force would become stronger from here - this year their roster of applicants boasts high-profile names like that of the very daughter of jakdf's director general and the young master of the prestigious izumo family.

okonogi, sitting in front of him at his office, was sorting the personal forms of the recruits, a big stapler in her right hand. "i can take care of this, vice-captain", she said to him, "they cannot miss you there."

soshiro smupled to his swivel chair, obviously fatigued by the task he and okonogi had been trying to finish for half an hour already. fighting and defeating kaiju is the main part of the job, but handling the paperwork proves to be as challenging. "right, make sure the headquarters get this by the morning along with the report of all their numbers -" the sound of footsteps nearby interrupted soshiro's train of thought.

there were three loud knocks and the door opened, a man with the same eyes as soshiro peeping inside. even okonogi glanced over her shoulder to identify who the intruder is. soshiro stood up.

"just wanted ta drop by before i head back ta himeji", hoshina soichiro's undeniable accent dripped. spotting the huge pile of forms littering the desk, he commented, "seems like ya are a little preoccupied though."

"hoshina fuku taichou, good evening." your voice was firm yet jovial as you greeted him, the kansai inflection rolling off your tongue. you appeared beside soshiro's brother, still wearing the same standard-issue uniform you wore during the event several hours ago when you were sworn in as a new defense force officer. the outfit is snug on you - soshiro had noticed at the ceremony earlier, but up close the top looked almost skintight, the skirt coming up a little above your knees. soshiro can be a high-ranking official within the force, but he is also a man. if only briefly, he stared. "aren't ya going ta the party?"

taken aback that you would drop by his office, it was out of his mouth too fast he couldn't stop it - "how about ya? what are you still doing here with him?" soshiro responded pointedly at you, throwing you the same query but not answering what you asked him. it was too late to take it back; he sounded like he was interrogating you about your presence with the captain of the sixth division. soichiro winced; soshiro pretended not to see. "i- i was just thinking ya went with the officers on the way there", he added, calmer this time.

"oh, i was just catching up with hoshina-kun", you replied without missing a beat. soshiro doesn't know if the accidental force in his question just seconds prior did not intimidate you at all or you simply ignored his tone. "i mean with soichiro-kun. considering ya are hoshina too", you chuckled. soshiro stole a glance at the man at your side while maintaining an empty expression. he found his brother smirking at him; soshiro willed himself not to picture soichiro as an ugly kaiju with a butt for a face.

okonogi who is now attentively eavesdropping on your conversation caught your attention. "pardon for the bother, hoshina-san. we'll be off now."

for an instant, it looked like you were waiting for soshiro to say something in response. to say what, he doesn't know. the eye contact between you and him held up for a moment but broke as quick as it began. tension prickled in the air briefly then ebbed as you turned away from soshiro. "i'll see ya at the party, vice-captain", you gave him a bow before exiting the room. soshiro wanted to stop you; he didn't.

soichiro sighed. "it was nice seeing ya, 'lil bro", he addressed soshiro, his hand patting the latter's shoulder once, twice. "i have paperwork ta worry about too so as much as i'd like to, i won't be able ta attend your division's party. just in case ya want ta know." soshiro didn't look like he had a crumb of interest to know about his brother's occupational responsibilities; he shrugged soichiro's hand off.

soshiro saw you standing outside, leaning on the wall, when he ushered his brother out. "i'll be driving her to the izakaya though", soichiro informed him. "ya should visit our folks when ya have the time. ya should come home sometimes", soichiro continued, a hint of concern evident in his voice. when soshiro did not respond, surprisingly the older hoshina did not look a tiny bit disappointed. instead, soichiro put on a charming smile and waved at okonogi. "okonogi-chan, see ya around!" he tossed a playful wink at her.

soshiro merely watched as you and soichiro walked together, your pace matching his. a few meters away, he saw you listening intently to something soichiro was saying - he is too close - and although he is not within earshot to hear what is being said anymore, he knows it is another one of his brother's bad jokes. it looks like you were trying to suppress it, but a smile was about to dawn on your lips. soshiro felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden.

the party was already in full swing when soshiro arrived - everyone is hungrily feasting on the expensive wagyu beef, drinks flowing endlessly from the bar. everyone is enjoying themselves; even captain ashiro mina can be seen having small talk with the newly sworn-in officers who were eagerly taking notes from her.

you had easily made friends with the other rookies who are now sitting next to you; it was thanks to your group that this event was planned - after enduring long sessions of strenuous physical training every day of every week, you all deserved a night of everyone just gathering to have a good time. soshiro seems to be exempt from the festive atmosphere though.

he picked the seat next to his captain, who greeted him with a curt nod. he proceeded to grab the mug of beer served to him; the first sip registered a sharp bitterness through his mouth but soshiro relished on the flavor as it overtook his senses.

"everything alright?" captain ashiro from his side asked without lifting her gaze from her own drink. "you are being -" she paused, carefully searching to find the right words, “uncharacteristically quiet.”

soshiro picked the glass of beer again, and when he was about to put the lid on his lips, he could sense someone’s intense stare locked on him. years of being the vice-captain gifted him with equal parts instinct and paranoia so he could not help but scan the room, only to find you, sitting across the room, watching him with a curious expression.

a rowdy group of rookies surrounds you; they are high-fiving each other, laughing at their silly pranks, not minding that all of you are squeezed together at a crowded circle. soft music in the background swelled as everyone cheered and clinked glasses.

soshiro's eyes remained fixed on yours, lasting for what he felt like forever. the buzz of chatter dulled to a distant hum, fading into an almost white noise. his heart raced as he felt his breath catch and his mouth go dry. the corner of your lips curved into a smile and maybe it is the alcohol in his system, but he is certain his cheeks are flushed now.

"huh", captain ashiro lowly exclaimed. soshiro quickly snapped a glance at her. "you talked to her yet?" she asked him. ah, she caught his little moment with you.

soshiro was on the verge of playing it cool and putting on an act; he was about to outright lie to his captain by saying "talk to who?" as if he had no idea what she was referring to. he settled with silence. he was grateful his non-response only earned him a sigh from the captain who did not press the topic any further.

 "to you newbies, congratulations!" captain ashiro raised her glass, still half-filled with alcohol. her voice rang out over the place, everyone's conversations immediately falling quiet. "may the third division always be victorious in our battles to come", she recapped her speech.

the party showed no signs of slowing down. hibino kafka, a recruit in his thirties has been the centre of intrigue that has spanned for weeks now. hibino ossan - as what the others nicknamed him - had revealed in a bathroom conversation with other male rookies that he grew up with captain ashiro. ashiro mina likes dried squid; ashiro mina used to raise pets in grade school - everyone consumed any and every tidbit of trivia hibino disclosed about the usually stoic and serious third division commander. soshiro was among those invested in the rumor and you knew why. for a while, you also wondered how he would react once the rest of the troops learned about your own past with their vice-captain. would he deny it? or would he brush off any potential gossip that may arise from the revelation? if everyone discovered your shared history with hoshina soshiro, would it make him want to reconnect with you?

“you lot will start duty monday next week, but tomorrow will just be another workday for vice-captain hoshina and i”, captain ashiro said, having stood up from her seat, preparing to take off. “no, you can stay”, she said to some of the newbies who have started to get up too.

“nah, captain, why don’t we bring them along to help us file all the tedious paperwork?”, soshiro interjected in his familiar upbeat tone. the crew bursted into snickers; captain ashiro gave soshiro a perplexed look, obviously puzzled about the sudden shift in his mood. testing her theory, she looked at your direction.

captain ashiro couldn't make out why, but you were giggling at whatever your seatmate had said, elegant hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkled. she understood soshiro then - she was not foreign to feeling uneasy inside when she sees someone so physically near someone she cares about after all. "let's go, hoshina", she tucked her pity for the vice-captain away.

"do you guys think they are dating?" a particularly tactless rookie sitting at your table had asked immediately after captain ashiro and hoshina were out the sliding doors.

"i bet they're not", you blurted out a little too soon, a little too sure. you did not mind clipping your accent, your kansai-ben thick and heavy. your fellow officers looked at you, expecting an explanation for your outburst. "i mean -" you stuttered, "that would be awkward, i guess."

"you know to think of it, you're from himeji too, right?" a few more recruits have started to listen in on the exchange. these people can smell the truth off me, you thought. you wanted to smack yourself in the face.

"we went ta the same high school together, that's all", you admitted, feeling backed in a corner. tomorrow when you get questioned for this imprudent behavior, you can probably blame it all on the alcohol. "and grade school", you continued, loose-lipped now.

you still liked wearing pink bows in your hair when you met him. an only child of kind parents, you never experienced having to ask for something you like; you were doted on and spoiled so you were reasonably upset when a young hoshina soshiro did not give you the time of his day. your family has just moved to hyogo shortly before that, and you were anxious to make friends; since your early age, you had made it your mission to make soshiro acknowledge you.

"you dun wanna play with me, because ya are stupid", you told soshiro-kun once. "oka-san said all boys are stupid", you had the nerve to elaborate after he pouted at you, his unkempt bangs sticking on his sweaty forehead, his clothes dirty from training all day.

"yer pretty", he responded and you felt the blush crept up on your cheeks. "pretty annoying."

"come on, spill some tea!" someone's palm connected with the table, jolting you out of your trance. "we have another hibino-senpai situation on our hands!" they declared, grabbing you by the arm and shaking you a bit. if it was meant to encourage you to tell more childhood tales between you and the vice-captain, it worked really, really well.

"he's always had that haircut even as a kid", you said, misinterpreting the kind of story your companions wanted you to tell, judging by their disappointed looks. “i- i don’t know what else to tell you guys”, you held up your hand in surrender.

“do you have a crush on him?” you choked on your drink, caught off guard.

vexed at his absent-mindedness, soshiro was walking back to the izakaya place alone when he heard the commotion. he is going straight to bed once he gets back to the base, but he would have to retrieve his uniform jacket first from his seat earlier.

“you totally do, don’t you!” it stopped sounding like a question and more of an accusation you could not deny. “you like hoshina-san!”

“i -i do, yes... but what of it, huh?" he couldn’t see you but he would recognize the soft timbre of your voice anywhere. soshiro felt like a victorian gentleman getting a glimpse of a woman’s ankle for the first time listening in on the uproar of cheers after your confession.

“the three of us attended the same high school, soichiro-kun was a grade ahead”, you said. soshiro froze. you are talking about his brother. “he has always been good at everything, t'was hard not ta like him.”

soshiro closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. he always had his suspicions - for the ceremony earlier his brother even took a day off his busy schedule as the commander of the sixth division to attend as a guest. he should have known.

last year, soshiro’s squad fought a lizard-type kaiju with a fortitude of above 8. like the reptile, a cut made on any of its limbs was useless due to advanced regeneration. a fractured rib, extremely bruised arms, and a dislocated shoulder were what it costed soshiro to win against the monster. his bitterness threatening to consume him, he cannot believe that you confirming his worst fears would hurt more than that fatal experience.

of course, he said to himself. it’s not like he can fault you for liking soichiro - everyone did. as the firstborn son, their father always had favored him. soichiro has been the more skilled swordsman between them; he was the golden child, charismatic and talented with an effortless charm - like moths to a flame he would attract people, and even in his silence he would overshadow soshiro.

soshiro didn’t stand a chance against his own flesh and blood.

he was a teenager when he dreamed of running away from the constant but inevitable competition he had with his brother. scouted for the third division, he relished on the freedom. but how do you escape the reality of the one you love loving the one person you could never measure up to?

[corpsebasil]

If you’re taking requests !!!

This may not be much to go off of but maybe reader x Ethan Landry are coworkers and they both have the biggest crush on one another. He’s an awkward mess, but she finds it so cute. It can fluff or smutty, or both 😌😌

yes

“Pass me the stapler, E?” You asked, bent halfway over the receptionist’s desk at the Blackmore Puppy Resort, carefully tapping a stack of papers together.

You’d been sorting for over half an hour, making sure every dog’s paperwork was kept neat and organized for the filing cabinet. Your coworker, a brunet named Ethan Landry, was sitting on the ground near your feet, attempting to fix a broken collar. His tongue was pressed to his cheek, eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the metal and leather contraption. Finally he grumbled, moving to his knees to stretch to the opposite cabinet, snatching the stapler up off the top.

“This is fucking hopeless.” He grumbled, passing you the stapler and dumping the collar in the trash. “Boss is gonna kill me.”

“It’s not that bad,” you told him, stapling together the papers, but when your eyes darted down to the bin and saw the mangled collar, you barely suppressed a snort. “okay, yeah. You annihilated that collar.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, leaning his back against the desk, splaying his legs out in front of him on the floor. “Okay, what if I drove to PetSmart really fast and got a new one? Think she’d notice?”

“Before the owner comes to pick up her dog in—” you glanced at the clock. “—twenty minutes? Yeah.” He groaned again and you cracked a smile. “Told you not to take the collar off.”

“It was bath time.”

“You’re supposed wash them with the collars on.”

Ethan made a noise of complaint and leaned his head against the side of your knee as you worked, continuing to staple papers. You let a small smile form on your mouth. You and Ethan had been working together for months now and had become fast friends; you ate lunch together during your breaks, raced each other to answer the phone, and fought over who got to walk the small dogs instead of the huge, hulking German Shepard that stayed regularly at the kennel while his military dad was on tour.

And, to be honest, you liked him a bit.

He was cute, that was undeniable. And the two of you had a sort of easy friendship that had began practically the first shift together. He looked up at you, brown eyes fixed on the side of your face as you finished up filing some paperwork.

“Do you remember Jess?” He asked and you paused, glancing down.

“Jess as in…your ex?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking towards a spot on the wall. “She texted me yesterday. Wants to go to Shake Shack later and catch up.” His curly head tilted as he adjusted himself, sitting up straighter. “Should I go?”

“Do you want to go?”

“Do you want me to want to go?”

“Do you want me to want you to want to go—?”

“Y/N.” He laughed, tugging at your shoelace as he grinned, a stupidly cute smile that pulled at your heart. “Im asking for your advice right now. Help me out.”

You pretended to ponder for a while, even if the thought of Ethan going anywhere with Jess made you feel slightly violent. You shrugged, sliding him a casual glance as you opened the desk drawer and shoved the papers inside.

“I don’t know.” You said, tightening your ponytail before you moved to the computer, pulling up your schedule. “Maybe you should reconsider doing anything with your ex-girlfriend.”

“It’s not like I have other options.” Ethan said, watching as you tapped on the keyboard slightly aggressively. “Right?”

“You could always use Tinder. A much more advanced, entertaining route than the obvious heartache you’re gonna get from getting Shake Shack with her.”

“Come on, haven’t you ever gone back to an ex?”

“No, because I’m not a dumbass. And I’m going on my lunch break in like, ten minutes, so that’s all the advice you’re getting.”

Ethan stayed silent for a moment and you turned, glancing down at where he seemed deep in concentration on the ground. Then he stood, sighing loudly, and stretched. The boy had no business being as tall as he was, practically towering over you when he was by your side.

“What if we went to Shake Shack instead?” He asked, drumming his fingers on the desk as he peered down at you. You raised an eyebrow and he raised one right back. “What? I don’t want to be thought of as a dumbass.” Your amused smile was enough for him to crack one of his own, his hip bumping yours as he walked by. “What do I text Jess?”

“How about nothing?” You offered, following him as he moved towards the back where the two of you kept your bags. “Block her.”

“I was thinking, ‘I’ve found a better lunch date’, but that works too.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your bag and slinging it over your arm.

“You’re so annoying. But fine. We can get burgers if you want.”

“That’s my girl.” He said, grinning as he flicked your ear, his finger hooking through your belt loop as tugged you along with him out of the back.

—

After lunch and then your afternoon shift with Ethan, the two of you wound up at his dorm, splayed out on his bed as you watched American Psycho. Ethan was laying on his stomach next to you, chin on his arm as he watched the film, both of your eyes glued to the screen.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He suddenly asked, and you glanced over in surprise.

“Hmm?”

“Do you—I mean, are you dating anyone?” He looked away, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. Never-mind.”

“Why?” You asked, propping yourself on your elbow and turning your head to face him. He was close, barely half a foot away, his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink. “You wanna ask me out on a date?”

“No.” He grinned slyly, his mask of awkwardness slipping a fraction into one of recognition at the line. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“You’re so cheesy.” You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder, the scent of his cologne invading your nose as he watched you with amused, soft brown eyes. “Quoting Stab like I haven’t seen the movie a thousand—”

Ethan moved quickly, surprising you, one hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, the other hand pressing the mattress for support as he kissed you hard, an involuntary noise leaving you at the rapid movement. He pulled away, forehead brushing yours as he spoke, the taste of his spearmint gum lingering on your mouth.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N.” He murmured, kissing you again, and you slipped a hand into his hair, tugging him further onto you as you whispered your assent.

—

HELLOO

[secretsideblog1234]

I just want someone to covertly hypnotize me to be literally unable to say anything that refuses a man, to always say yes *VERBALLY* while leaving the rest of my prudishness in tact. This would include not being able to refuse to truthfully answer questions, and not being able to use safe words. I wouldn’t realize it at first but after the “could you hand me that stapler”, innocent enough, there’s the “can you spare some change” and the “would you like fries with that?” Hard to miss it when I can’t stop myself from ordering fries I literally don’t want, just because the female cashier is trained to upsell. I try to figure out what’s wrong, but I don’t figure it out in time. A man approaches me at a shop and asks for my number and to my horror I instantly provide it. He didn’t expect me to agree so quickly, he hadn’t even flirted, just asked a strange woman for her number. so he sees what other info he can get from me. Once he has my email and workplace, he asks for my address too. I feel like crying but he thinks I’m just begging for him to use the info against me. I go home thinking about changing my number, and I lock all the doors and windows, and resolve that tomorrow I’ll call the locksmith for better locks, but tomorrow is already too late. I hear a knock at my door and stay silent, going he’ll leave. He texts my phone asking if I have a spare key hidden anywhere and to my horror I remember I do. As hard as I try I can’t stop my fingers from texting him the exact location. Turns out the whatever is forcing me to agree to everything men ask for applies to text messages too. When he comes in and corners me, he asks if I want him. I want to say no. I can’t. Instead, my mouth says “yes please, take me no matter how hard I fight”. He asks if I want it rough, if I’m a freak who likes to get hurt by strange men. My mouth says “yes”. He gives me a safe word. I repeat it back to him. When I realize I can say it I try to say it immediately after he starts approaching me, to say it for real this time. Nothing comes out. He doesn’t notice my attempt. He asks again if I want this. I’m cowering from him and telling him “I want this”. when he’s on top of me, my instincts finally switch from “freeze” to “flight” as I try to struggle away from him but he thinks it’s all part of the game. He eventually gets tired of my desperate attempts and ties me up, leaving me ungagged in case I use the safe word. he hurts me, and sees me react in real pain. He notices I’m not even particularly wet. He checks in one finally time and asks if I really want this. I try to stay silent, hoping he’ll take that as a lack of consent. The hypnosis forces my mouth to open, telling him I need this. this is how I like to be treated. If my pain and fear make him hard, then I’m happy (I am not happy) One time he asks if I’d like to stop. I get my hopes up about the phrasing like a dumb bitch before realizing that, since I know he *doesnt* want to stop, answering the affirmative would be refusing his wishes. I try to tell him Yes, I’d like to stop and I want him to leave and never come back. I tell him to keep going, to do whatever he likes to me. He asks if he can invite some more friends over and I, of course, tell him I’d love that, wishing more than anything that he’d just leave. By the end of the night, I’ve agreed to everything they say, and all of my “no, please stop”s turn into “harder, hurt me more!” as they leave my mouth so they mostly stop asking me, and just treat me like a piece of fuck meat. I cry more that night than I’ve ever cried before, and they see my tears and laugh at what a freak I must be for liking this so much. At the end of it all, the first man (I don’t even know his name, even though he knows all my personal information) looks at me and says “you know, you seem pretty eager to be treated like this, it’s a bit of a long shot, but can I just take you home with me? It’d be great to have a slut like you just kept at home to rape whenever. What do you say?”

I never made it to work that day. I never made it home afterwards either.

[deuxcherise]

Collar Crimes: Self-Preservations

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, OCs, yandere male, tsundere male, kidnapping, violence against doors, slight fluff (?), slight comfort (?), reader insert, gender neutral reader, includes a picture of cutting board with fruits and a knife (you’ll see why~).

A/n: So! Back with another chapter for Collar Crimes. I had a plan originally to introduce another yandere in this chapter, but the build-up here is quite delicious in my opinion so I’ll save the introduction for whenever the time comes. Basically a tiny time-skip from the last chapter because I was thinking that the problem was that everything that was happening to you, the reader, takes too little time between each “event” so to speak, so yeah! Also exploring some of your personal life outside of Eris and friends. Enjoy~!

Masterlist | Part 0, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (1/2), Part 3 (2/2), Part 4, Part 5 (you’re here!), Part 6 (not yet!)

It has been a month since the Family Portrait incident and life has returned to normality…

But what would be considered abnormal at this point?

Briiing! Briiing! Tch.

“Hello~ This is Lychee speaking~ How may I sweeten up your day today?” you sing into the phone.

“Sweetheart~ I’ve missed you sooooo much!” the caller answers.

Although no one except for your coworkers can see your face, you resist the urge to roll your eyes at yet another cringey lovey-dovey line of your newest client. You have been called a variety of things such as “darling”, “honey”, “sweetie”, “sweet talker”, “beautiful”,  “my special”, “youngster”, “lady”, “sir”, “ma’am”, “dadd— sometimes vulgar things you do not wish to recall at the moment. Whatever the customer wants, the customer gets— aka whatever pays the bills.

Of course, your mind echoes, no one could beat the way Eris calls you “love-”

You bang your head on your desk. The current caller on the line worriedly exclaim, “S-sweetheart? What was that?”

You clear your throat, pressing against the sore area on your forehead. “Nothing at all, dear~ I just accidentally dropped a heavy stapler. It’s been a long day, ah…”

“Aww~ My sweetheart is working so hard… I’ll tell you what. Tonight, I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurant in the city, okay? My treat.”

Wow. Such a grand gesture. This client really has a savior complex. Kind of like-  “Ehhh? Don’t worry about it. And besides, I’m working pretty late tonight so… ”

“Noooo! You can’t refuse,” your client says. “I’ll march right up to your company and kidnap you away myself if I have to.”

“Pffft. Don’t make that kind of joke, Ren,” you fake laugh. If only the police were more reliable in this godforsaken city…

“Ah~ I really like it when you say my name. Do it again.”

“Ren?”

“Again. But more lovely.”

“Ren~” you repeat with a soft and breathy tone.

The caller on the phone giggles manically before they bid you goodbye with lots of kisses and other corny romantic lines. You hang up the phone and give a sigh as you slouch back against your chair. One of your coworkers leans back far on her own chair to show her face past the divider between your desks.

“Long day?” she sings.

Eye closed, you nod. “Mmhm.”

“.....”

“.....”

Sensing eyes on you, you open your own and turn towards your coworker, who looks like she’s about to burst. Eyebrows raised, you ask with amusement in your voice,  “Yes, Cherry?”

She puckers up her lip, humming, “Mmm… ya know~ The usual? Can I? Please?”

You mentally prepare yourself and shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Yay!” She celebrates with both arms raised before she takes a deep breath. “So-”

-----

“-or not? Like how do I know if she really loves me? What do you think, (Y/n)?”

Truth be told, you might have zoned out after twenty minutes before zoning back in during the last few minutes of the hour-long rant. Somehow, there wasn’t a call during the entire time, though your shifts are almost over. “Uh… so what’s the problem again? Didn’t she already agree to date you?”

“I know,” Cherry insists, throwing her hands up in defeat. “But I'm still so worried. Like what if she looks at someone else and finds them better than me? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMPARE??? SHE IS A GODDESS, I TELL YOU. I AM NOTHING BUT A LOWLY BUG THAT SHE NEEDS TO STEP ON OR SO HELP ME-”

You keep silent as she releases her passion out loud, much to the detriment of your other coworkers. Your other adjacent coworker, Azeru, sitting on your other side, leans back on his chair to join the conversation. “Hey, Cherry. If you’re this crazy about your girlfriend now, what’s gonna happen when you finally marry her?” he chuckles.

A glint appears in her eyes, accompanied by tears beading at the bottom of her eyes and a strangely, crooked smile on her lips. “Oh… well… If I had it my way, I’d lock her up with me in our house and we’d stay in bed all day. Just me and my honey~ Isn’t that a wonderful idea?”

Old memories of a familiar dynamic bleed into your head, sending a shiver up your spine. “That’s a horrible idea,” you want to comment, but your voice doesn’t leave your tightened throat. Instead, what comes out is: “Uh… uh…

“Doesn’t your girlfriend like being outside though?” Azeru points out. “If you keep her inside all day, she might come to hate you.”

Cherry’s maniacal face shatters into terror. “I…” Her pupils begin to tremble. “Could that happen?”

“Oh, absolutely. If you love someone, you have to let them have the freedom to roam as they please.” His voice then becomes more dark and gravelly. “That being said, it is a given that you must punish them if they stray too far. That’s why when I find someone one day, I’ll make sure they know they’re on an extended leash…”

You open your mouth to retort, but you start to wonder if perhaps you were born unlucky. Lately, you’ve realized that you might be some kind of magnet for weirdos. Speaking of weirdos, ever since Eris took his friend to the nearest hospital to get treated for a possible concussion, you haven’t seen him around. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been around your home, seeing as your fridge is still stocked with fresh meals and there’s not a speck of dust to be seen in any of the rooms, but the lack of his dopey smiling face is concerning.

…..

You scoff. Regardless, it’s not like anything would change even if he did show up like he used to. It would just be annoying to have to endure his warm hugs and sweet whispers again…

“(Y/n)!?” Cherry shrieks after you bang your head on your desk again.

Azeru snickers. “You must be thinking of lover boy, huh?”

You glare at him through your eyes and voice, your ever-present blank expression lending no assistance. “No. Say that again and I’ll rip out your tongue, Blueberry.”

You can visibly see his shoulders shake as he smirks, containing his laughter. “I really can’t take you seriously when you have such a straight face.” He settles down with an amused sigh, a look of concern replacing his smirk. “But seriously, you seem kind of… I dunno. Out of it lately.”

You wrinkle your eyebrows. “... Really?”

“Yeah! Azeru’s right. Even your Lychee voice is lacking that… that sparkle-sparkle quality,” Cherry adds, mimicking fireworks with her hands. “Are you okay, (Y/n)? You’re even banging your head…” Her red eyes go wide. “You’re not trying to erase memories of those perverted callers, are you!? THERE ARE BETTER WAYS-”

“I’m sure that’s not what (Y/n)’s trying to do, right? ‘Cause if you need forgetting,” Azeru says, patting your back before taking out a black bat with skulls and x’s patterned all over it from under his desk, “all you just need to do is ask. I’ll help you out for free, courtesy as a fellow Fruity Friend~”

“Yeah…” You ignore the happy-murderer look on Azeru’s face, sit up straight, and place both of your hands on your desk with determination. “You know what? I think I need a vacation.”

Cherry and Azeru gasp. “A vacation!?” 

Indeed… You stand up from your desk with such vigor before walking straight towards the manager’s office. A vacation is exactly what you need. Away from work. Away from your apartment. Away from all of these crazy people!!!

-----

“YOU CAN’T, (Y/N)! PLEASE, YOU CAN’T GO ON VACATION. YOU’RE ONE OF OUR BEST CALLERS! Y-YOU KNOW WHAT?? HOW ABOUT I RAISE YOUR SALARY, HUH?”

You click your tongue. “You can’t buy me with mon-”

“I’ll raise your salary to XXXXXX.”

“.....”

-----

You close the office door behind you with a sigh. Looking next to you, you find Cherry and Azeru waiting with bated breath, making the questioning gesture with their palms up to receive the verdict.

“So?” Cherry speaks, her pouty lips making an ‘o’.

You simply answer with a shrug, “I got a pay raise.”

The two of them drop their arms and groan. “I knew it,” Azeru sighs, burying his face in his hands. “The money’s too good to quit!”

While you failed to acquire approval for vacation, you’re not feeling too bad considering your income has just upgraded from rent money and leftover takeout to rent money and luxurious restaurant dine-in and leftovers. Though, with your fridge stocked, you suppose you could apply the extra funds towards other things…

But what things? you wonder. Other than a place to live, something to eat, and the bathroom, there is not much you desire. Once upon a time, you would’ve desired owning luxury brands and all that stuff but… you found out the hard way that all the sparkling opulence in the world couldn’t afford you any warmth and comfort in a cold, restrictive home.

Out of an old habit you haven’t gotten rid of, you start to caress your left ring finger with your right index and thumb. “Riiight?” you agree, bitterly.

-----

With the end of the work day, employees of Fruity Friends bid their adieus to each other and set forth home or to an outing. You, Azeru, and Cherry head out of the doors of your company building and down the stairs onto the sidewalk.

“C’mooon! Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Cherry whines, behind you with hands on your shoulders.

“Yeah, gonna go home,” you answer. “Wanna sleep.”

Azeru snickers on the side. “What are you? A senior citizen?”

“Hardy har har,” you laugh unenthusiastically, gently brushing Cherry’s hands off your shoulder. “You guys go on ahead without me, okay? Have fun.”

At that moment, a black limousine with tinted black windows drives up the curb and stops into front of you three. The chauffeur comes out, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a fancy chauffeur outfit, and gestures towards you before greeting, “Good afternoon, dear esteemed guest of the Ermine Family. We are here to escort you to your dinner reservation with our eldest son, Eris Ermine.”

You stare like a deer in headlights. “Huh?”

Azeru and Cherry look between you and the chauffeur before teasing you with an, “Ooooooh!”

“Wow~ fancy, fancy~” Cherry nudges you with her elbow.

“Got a dinner date with lover boy, huh~?” Azeru nudges you on your other side.

They said Eris, but… “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person,” you say, jabbing your coworkers with your own elbows at their sides to make them stop.

The chauffeur shakes his head. “I do believe we have the right person. You are (Y/n) (M/n) (L/n), are you not?”

You almost click your tongue, but don’t out of manners. You haven’t seen that stupid guy in over a month and now he suddenly sends someone to pick you up? That’s so… unlike him.

“I’m not. I’ve been mistaken for that person before. Good day,” you say, dragging your coworkers off. Your coworkers luckily get the memo and decide to go along quietly.

“My deepest apologies, dear (L/n),” the chauffeur says, pulling the visor of his hat slightly downward. “I was informed by Mr. Ermine that if you do not come willingly, we are required to use force if needed.”

Upon hearing those words, you swerve your head around just to witness your coworkers collapse to the ground. Little darts are embedded into their necks. Before you can scream or make a move, gloved arms cover your mouth and wrap around your body, lifting you up into the air and towards the limousine. Struggle as you might, your punches and kicks have no effect on the kidnappers and you are immediately thrown into the backseat of the vehicle. The door is slammed shut and the push button is lowered, locking you inside. You hear the chauffeur getting to the driver’s seat. Making a last ditch attempt, you throw yourself against the windows, any windows, but your effort is vain and all you end up with are two bruised shoulders. You turn towards the front dividers separating you and the chauffeur, screaming, “LET ME OUT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I- I- I'LL-”

“Apologies,” the chauffeur merely says, before he drives you off to who knows where. “This is just business.”

-----🔔-----

For unsuspecting visitors who dare set foot in the city of Agobury, it is highly advised to pay close attention to where their foot lands. Else they find themselves six feet underground.

Of course, as humor goes, there is no clear differentiation between the streets. It is often said that only those born and raised in Agobury can survive in Agobury. And those who used to live in Agobury… don’t live anywhere else, if one understands rightly.

However, if one somehow manages to succeed in making a living in Agobury, then it is often said that they have made a deal with the Devil. The May Devils, to be exact, who are rumored to own more than half of the city. The other half is scattered between smaller organizations, but they too warrant respect or fear by their own right.

“Or so they say,” Ollie murmurs, arms crossed as he leans against the wall.

He stands up and straight and looks at his best friend humming a tune while placing a tin full of batter into the oven. The image of Eris dressed up in a pink apron decorated with red hearts and matching oven mitts goes against Eris’s original image, prompting him to demand, “What the hell are you doing? Training to be a malewife or something?”

Eris snaps out of his daydreams and looks over with a bright smile. “Hm? Oh! Nah, I suggested that to my lover already and they refused. I'm just baking a cake for my six-month relationship milestone~”

“Oh.” Ollie deadpans. “That's a thing?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eris answers as if Ollie just asked if the sky was blue. He takes off his oven mitts and tosses them on the counter before preparing the washed fruits on a cutting board. “So make sure your men take extra care in delivering this one, mkay? I'll kill them if my lover gets a mess.”

How is Eris acting like he hasn't been imprisoned behind several reinforced steel doors in one of the May Devils’ homes for the past month? For the last four weeks, he’s been making what used to be an empty stone-covered haunted looking basement into a cozy home for himself and having Ollie deliver the goods secretly, out of the May Devils’ sight. To be fair, those mafioso probably gave the weasel some furniture and a usable kitchen just to keep the violent man occupied and placated with the lack of windows and any access to the outside world. Actually, the better question would be-

“Why haven’t you broken out yet instead of decorating this place and baking cakes?” Ollie asks. “I thought you'd put up more of a fight.”

Eris pops a blueberry into his mouth to test out if it's sweet or not. Finding it at the right level of sweetness, he hums in delight as he imagines you happily enjoying this same sweetness.

“Oh, that. Your parents visited me a few days ago and gave some advice. They said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. I don't exactly agree with that since I feel like I'm dying every day I don’t see my lover,” he says with a smile on his face though his eyes are dark and his chopping of the apples is audibly sharp as if to emphasize the point. “But your parents have been married for so long and have many children together and they still clearly love each other, so I trust them.”

The same parents who have been urging Ollie to make a move on you ever since Eris has been locked up, Ollie almost wants to add out of spite. Almost. Trust is truly a fragile commodity around these parts.

“Besides, I gotta stay away for a while,” Eris continues. “I didn’t realize the flies around my lover were devils.”

“Huh… How kind of you.” And out-of-character! The Eris he knew didn't care about consequences. What kind of sorcery have you casted on that beast of a weasel? Not that Ollie himself hasn't been bewitched somewhat, if he had to be honest… 

Eris’s expression turns wicked with a condescending smirk. “Oh, right. You probably don’t understand ‘cause you haven’t fallen in love yet. My bad~ ” he teases.

One of Ollie’s eyes twitches. “I'll have you know-”

“That our Ollie has fallen in love~”

Eris turns and Ollie twists around to find Ollie's mother, who has appeared out of nowhere along with Ollie's father in tow.

“Mother!? Father!? What are you doing here?”

Ollie's mother pouts and places her hands on her hips. “We can't visit our son and his best friend?”

“Well, that's-”

“But anyway~” Ollie's mother waves her hand, cutting Ollie off. “Our dear Ollie has fallen in love, dear Eris. Unfortunately, it is…” She places a hand over heart and the other over her forehead in a dramatic pose with fluttering eyes. “A forbidden love,” she finishes. Ollie's father nods, placing a hand over his heart and looking forlorn to emphasize the drama.

“Again!? You two! Stop it!” Ollie pleads.

Eris crooks an eyebrow in disbelief. “Forbidden love? Ollie?”

Ollie turns back to Eris, fear in his wide eyes. He wouldn't call what he felt for you… “love” as his parents keep telling him, but… it might be… something close to it. Despite having the back of his head slammed against the wooden floor of your apartment, he still hasn't forgotten how your heavenly happy face made his heart skip a beat-

Ollie would be hard-pressed to call that “love”. It’s not! He barely knows you. It's like, uh, like admiring a beautiful piece of art, okay?? Art prompts feelings. That's what it's supposed to do!

But there's no possible way he could share and work out these feelings with Eris or anyone else without getting beat up or made fun of. Damn…

“It's not love!” Ollie insists.

Eris snorts. “Okay.”

Ding!

“Oh! My cake!” Eris chirps, forgetting about the other people in the room in favor of bringing out the cake and prepping the frosting and icing for when it cools down.

Ollie's mother wraps an arm around Ollie’s shoulder to keep him in place as she leans towards Ollie's ear and whispers behind a hand, “I see you've already made a move on our dear (Y/n). How devious~”

“What??” Ollie shouts in shock.

Eris looks over curiously. Blocking his view is Ollie’s father, who flops a hand up and down, as if to say, “Don't mind them.” The unsuspecting weasel nods in understanding before Ollie’s father points to the bowl of cream in Eris’s hands, which prompts Eris to explain the whole six month relationship milestone thing while the mother-and-son duo are scheming in the background.

Ollie's cheeks are being squished almost to the point of painful by his mother. “Since when have you decided to raise your voice at your mother?” she jokes menacingly before she releases his cheeks and drags him out of the basement. Once the door is closed, his mother crosses her arms with a pout. “What's with that reaction earlier, hm?”

Ollie only looks at her incredulously. “Mother! One, I'm not interested in-” He whispers, trying to avoid his voice from being picked up by the cameras in this house. “(Y/n) like that. And two, they’re Eris's lover. And three, I haven't made any kind of moves.”

“Eh?” She looks at him with confusion. “Well, first of all, there’s no ring so you still have a chance. Two, everyone knows, besides Eris, that you’re interested in them so might as well make your move. And three, how come you made the reservation for Eris and his lover if you’re not attending?” his mother asks.

Ollie's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't make any reservations for them. Did you?”

“No…?”

The two go back inside the basement and interrogate Eris, who is in the middle of deciding what color to make the frosting. Ollie’s father had been assisting with coming up with potential designs for the cake.

“Huh? I didn't make any dinner reservations?” Eris says. “Wait, are those devils letting me go?”

“No. But if you didn't make any reservations, then who is your lover going with?”

“You weren't joking?” Eris's voice goes shrill. His eyes panic jolt all over the place until a particular thought enters his mind. He slaps the palm of his hand against his forehead and groans.

Ollie notices, his own eyes widening in horror. “It's not who I think it is, right?”

“Ah, could it be?” Ollie's mother wonders aloud. Ollie's father tilts his head before his own eyes widen.

“DAMN IT!” Eris roars, slamming a fist on the counter before grabbing the knife and storming towards the door.

Ollie tries to stop him. “Eris, you can't-”

Eris sends the first door flying with one kick. The impact against the parallel wall shatters it instantly. It was only made of mahogany wood so it wouldn't have stood a chance anyway. The rest of the reinforced doors standing in Eris’s way, well…

WOOOO! WOOOO! WOOOO!

The alarm goes off, signaling to the May Devil's security team to come take down their most dangerous prisoner who's on his way to you.

Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always the mahogany…”

[c0ffee-stain]

Whispers

Five Hargreeves x f!reader

Navigation • Previous Chapter: Chapter 6 - 1.06 • Chapter 7 - 1.07 • Next Chapter: Chapter 8

Warning: Contains: fighting, blood, the usual swearing

Nothing But a Puppet

Date: REDACTED, 1955 Location: TEMPS COMMISSION HQ Time: REDACTED

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

The shattering of glass rattled the Commissions first floor and everyone nearby. I reached for anything closest to me, in this case a stapler, and threw it with a great force through a large glass barrier dividing a few analysts and their seniors.

I dragged the back of my hand across the gash cut along my cheek bone and winced slightly after discovering yet again another bruise.

My tongue throbbed slightly, trying to distract my mind from formulating a well-planned murder that involved two people. A blonde with no wish other than to make my life a living hell, and- I couldn’t even finish the thought as it seemed so ridiculous in the first place. Not my plan that’d bring me nothing but glee, but the fact that I had to deal with this asshole in the first place.

I scoffed as blood slowly pooled into my mouth, the rich metallic taste forcing the corners of mouth to twist upwards in rage, forming a smile which didn't reach my eyes.

I took my gun out of my pocket and sighed inwardly, quickly remembering I was out of bullets. But that was fine. It wasn’t like a certain Handlers office was a fully loaded arsenal.

Plenty of weapons to use in there.

With every step I took, a group of eyes would avert my way, whispers of gossip accompanying their intrusive stares as they layed their eyes on my bruised, battered, and bloodied body.

Envy of my past reputation overtook my mind and any ounce of self-respect I once had left was long gone. Before, those pathetic workers didn't dare lay their eyes on me for too long in fear of my reputation and I was able to slip under the radar unnoticed and undisturbed. But it seemed that my previous engagement had circulated around the headquarters faster than I could've disposed of the evidence.

Finally reaching her office, I slammed my bruised fists against her door, repeatedly, trying to keep myself from wrenching the door out of its place and grabbing her by the neck. I slammed my fists once more until the door was pulled open, my eyes meeting the woman’s stare that was clearly trying to hide her irritation. Whether it was the fact that I was alive or that I had interrupted her beauty sleep, I would never know.

“Oh, It's you.” She looked me up and down, forcing a smile onto her red coated lips. “Come in. Or are you unable to control yourself with so many weapons present? It’ll be a shame to cut our deal short.”

“If I didn’t have any self control you would’ve been six feet under from the very moment I met you.”

The woman chuckled bitterly, her eyes drifting to the crowd now roaming behind us, waiting eagerly for her response.

“Why don’t we take this to my office. I’ve got a jar of candy calling your name.”

I followed her in, The Handlers white glossy heels clacking audibly before taking a seat behind her desk.

“You’ve got something on your teeth.” She spoke, watching her nails momentarily after inspecting my dishevelled figure. “Blood, to be precise.” With a manicured hand, she pushed a crystal vase that held mountains of hard candies towards me.

"I'm hoping you're here to tell me how..." The woman's lips faltered into a smirk as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "successful you're assignment went."

“How successful my assignment went...” Exasperation was clear in my voice.

"Yes, I suspect that everything went according to plan."

My teeth clenched as I seethed, "So being on the receiving end of an assassination order from one of your henchmen was part of my fucking mission?"

“Whatever do you mean? I helped you. Put one of the Commissions best assassins by your side.” The Handler leaned back, brushing invisible lint off of her 80’s styles dress. Her electric blue eyes narrowed as an annoyed smile pulled slightly at the tips of her mouth. She watched as I menacingly leaned in and planted my hands firmly onto her desk.

I dragged my tongue along the red staining the white of my teeth. “Now tell me,” A mocking smile adorned my lips. “why the fuck did you send one of your puppets to kill me?”

— ONE HOUR AGO - Date: 2nd of April, 2002 Location: Unknown Location, England Time: 23:55

I tied the cord around his plump neck, watching him squirm and gasp to get as much air as he could into his lungs, his blue veins bulging against the papery white of his skin. The moment the newly lifeless body dropped onto the filthy carpeted floor joining the 5 others, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and sighed.

Here they were. The main members of the Lionheart Mob.

Dead.

I looked around the damp living room, signs of break in and fighting evident in the knocked over and broken furniture, and blood splattered along the walls and already dirty carpet. My nose scrunched automatically at the stench.

I picked up my weapons and slid them back into my pockets, letting my eyes wonder around the crime scene once more after wiping down and ridding any evidence for the police to use from the house, except from one particular strand of hair.

I had instructions to leave the bodies as they are to let the police find them. Two of them had died from strangulation, three from blood loss from stab wounds to the kidney, and the other dying from blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

Just as I was ordered.

I, on the other hand, suffered no injury of any sorts. Some may say silently bragging to the dead would bring one horrible misfortune and fate. Not that it would stop me.

With light movements, I exited the house and closed the door gently behind me, finally being able to breathe in the fresh country air.

The sky had darkened from a soft navy blue to near black, the only source of light being the distant gleams of stars and the half crescent moon hanging idly in the sky. I covered my head with the hood of my jacket and proceeded to walk down the street that dipped downhill, stuffing my hands into my pockets to hide the blood splattered over my palm and under my nails.

For a while, my near silent footsteps were all that could be heard in the midst of the abandoned countryside of England, apart from the occasional drunken screams and wails. But no matter how peaceful the country posed itself to be, the eerie feeling that someone or something was watching me never faltered once.

The blade of my dagger was placed strategically under my jacket, and my gun strapped against my side. Funny how even my most useful and deadliest asset came nowhere close to the sturdiness and swiftness of my weapons.

‘So you think a few rusty pieces of metal compares to the abilities of a God?’

My body jumped at the sudden deep vibrations rattling at the back of my skull.

“Then you shouldn't be surprised that a human like me can't control a God like yourself.” I retorted, my words dripping in sarcasm. "At least I have control over those 'rusty pieces of metal'."

No matter how satisfying it felt to snap back, I immediately regretted my decision as millions of laughs, each barely above a whisper, echoed off of the walls of my skull.

It felt like millions of needles being stabbed into my brain repeatedly.

‘What makes you think you don't have control?’

I kissed my teeth and tried to distract that little part of me that wanted to reply and engage with its forbidden words. I could hear the amusement in its question. "Everything", Was what I wanted to say. But I kept my mouth shut and looked ahead.

They laughed once again.

I didn’t reply but pondered quietly. I had never been religious. My mother had always believed in a higher power. Whether it was the all-powerful being we call God, or many more of His names, or something different all together. Nevertheless, she believed. Something I just couldn’t find myself doing.

The only person I could have faith in was myself. A proportionate fate for someone like me.

It could tell I was deep in thought, my mind wavering from one conclusion to another, oblivious to the threat mere metres away from me. Usually, the voices would warn me when something strange was afoot or of any potential dangers. But it wanted to wait. To see how long I could go without the assistance I had gotten used to having my whole life.

An experiment.

Just like my thoughts, I couldn’t keep my eyes fixed on one place for too long. Every moment my gaze was fixed on something new as if expecting something to jump out from the shadows and swallow me whole.

Finally my suspicions were confirmed once my gaze ended its useless wavering and locked onto another a pair of eyes. My mind immediately flashed back to my case file of known associates of the Lionheart Mob.

The man I was ordered to frame.

The man and I kept eye-contact longer than intended, thoughts of fight or flight running through each of our minds.

There was nothing I could do or say to prevent this from becoming a tiring chase through the isolated region of the country, so I decided on the next best option.

Before the target could give into his flight response, I removed my gun from its once strapped position and began to shoot, a bullet just grazing his cheek before he could make a run for it.

My legs had a mind of their own, sprinting towards the target the moment he ran with my arm stretched in front of me, gun in hand. I took a shot, then another, then another, each missing as the man swerved with the endless streets branching off of the main road.

I was quickly out of bullets.

For every step I took forcing me further into the chase, the feeling of danger deep in the pit of my stomach only grew. My breathing began to deepen as drops of sweat slowly pooled down the side of my head, only to be dried by the ruthless wind whipping against my face.

I watched as he jumped over a fence, and I quickly followed, a grin curving on my lips once a large gate came into view. The man was rather short, so it should take him a few seconds extra than normal to cross the barrier. More than enough time for me close the gap between us.

I grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him harshly towards the ground, smirking as his sliced cheek broke his fall. I threw my foot back and slammed it against his ribs. He released a pained groan and I kicked him again, and again, and again.

“A well deserved punishment for someone making me run for so long, don’t you think?”

The man began to cough violently after another strike to his ribs, blood splattering onto the ground with every cough.

“Seems like I’ve broken several ribs.” I kneeled beside him. “They’ve punctured your lungs. Soon you'll start to drown in your own blood, and well... die.”

“I can help you. Relieve you from your pain if you tell me how you knew I’d be here.” The man watched me cautiously, flinching as I held the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly. “All I need is a name.”

The man swallowed thickly and averted his eyes from one side and back. “It…” He opened his mouth, hesitation clear. I dug my nails into the flesh of his skull, breaking through the layers of skin.

He winced as tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

“It was...”

His eyes shifted to the side.

“…him."

BOOM

I spun my head around the direction the bullet was shot, only to be blinded by a flash of blue and a foot being swung at my face. I barely had any time to react, but was able to evade just in time.

I fell on my back and quickly leapt onto my feet waiting to be greeted by another attack which never came. I furrowed my brows and my forehead creased, letting my eyes scour the area only to come up empty handed with a mutilated corpse right beside me.

The common feeling of blood had drenched my palms in an instant once the bullet was shot through the side of his skull. My brain hadn't fully registered the moments part of his ear were blown off, making way for the bullet to exit his body. I peered down at his mutilated head, the only emotion consuming my body being annoyance and hatred for the man.

This situation, right now, right here, was supposed to be impossible. This mission was crucial to the deal. It was the only chance I had left. Without it, I was back to being The Handlers little bloodhound on a leash, ready to execute all orders with no hesitation. Back to being a creature of sin that couldn't possibly stray any further from God.

In the midst of my endless train of thought was when I saw it. The dim light from a lamppost hit against a small piece of metal a few metres away from me. I approached the bullet, taking it into my hands and held the bloodied object towards the light.

My lips parted as my gaze met a familiar imprint. "You've got to be kidding me..."

The words left my lips in a hurried whisper while I inspected the awfully familiar crest imprinted on the reddened copper. There it was, clear as day like the thousands of alter-egos that bitch of a Handler was housing.

The Commissions crest.

My lips pressed into a sneer. I dug my canines into my tongue to stop myself from saying three specific words that would end this fucked-up situation I've been living my whole life. Three simple commands and the beasts I've been housing for a lifetime would shred The Handler into pieces.

'What are you waiting for, bloodhound? Her permission? Just end it all.'

No matter how much my mind craves to see The Handler kneeled before me and begging for her life, I couldn't do that to him. I had to remind myself that I was doing this for him. Not for my own selfish gain.

It was for Jasper.

I took a deep breath in attempt to reel in my thoughts.

My fingers travelled through the knotted mess of my hair. I couldn't help but scoff. "Of course it was a fucking set up."

"So then you know what happens next." A voice spoke behind me, followed by a cock of a gun.

I didn't bother turning back to meet the hard stare of my attacker, but proceeded to watch the crest deeply, as if trying to fool myself into thinking I was dreaming. But the stench of the corpse, and the rush of the wind yanking me back to reality said otherwise.

I threw the bullet to the side and wiped the blood on my hands against my sides.

"No, I don't know actually." I slowly turned around on my heels to face the man, confronting his hard glare with my own uncaring one. I cocked my head to the side, challengingly. "Why don't you remind me?"

I felt a rush of adrenaline sore through my veins as the whispers began to get louder..

The click of his tongue rang through the alleyway. The man scoffed in agitation.

"Gladly," He began, slimming his deep green eyes, and watched my reaction once the distance between his finger and the trigger narrowed.

A familiar source of power devoured my body. The shadows that stretched against the concrete and towering brick walls shifted manically, dancing in celebration to be alive once more.

My hazed stare flickered from one thing to another as I relished in the tingling sensation burning through me.

'Kill him.'

My pupils dilated.

'Kill them all.'

My heart was racing.

'We know you want to.'

"Any last words?" He called, as if taunting me.

I snapped my head up and focussed my eyes on the target, then at the collection of abandoned buildings a good distance away.

"I think I should be asking you the same thing." My body moved on autopilot, my mind too preoccupied on the sensation burning through my veins. I was now a few measured steps closer to the assassin. "So tell me, then,"

The hardened gaze that I kept sternly focussed on the male hadn't faltered once, opposing the restlessness and unease of the shadows "any last words?"

My wrist snapped upwards before I could properly register what I was about to do. The shadows beneath the mans feet rose around him and the world seemed to stop spinning.

My eyes were pulled wide while I watched in anticipation. The shadows merged into hands as they rose from the depths of the darkness and latched themselves onto the agent, covering his body faster than I could blink. I stepped forwards, pulling my arms back before pushing them in-front of me. The shadows followed suit, launching the man they held captive into the buildings nearby.

Dust and rubble exploded from the collision, along with splatters of blood on the loose debris.

I licked my lips and sighed glad to have squished another pest crawling around in my way.

Next was The Handler.

I picked up the gun he had dropped and walked towards the collapsed building, releasing the bullets on top of the bloody debris while strolling to the agents 'burial site' as I doubted he would be anywhere but smashed under the concrete.

"Rest in pieces, asshole."

I took in several deep breaths to level the adrenaline I felt myself drown in. I couldn’t lose control. No matter how much I itched to dive deeper into the ins and outs of my abilities like I did years ago, it was too risky.

It was too soon. But it wasn’t too soon to kill The Handler as I did to her puppet. I turned around, the taste of freedom fresh of my tongue and my guard lowered.

A fatal mistake.

A hand slammed into my shoulder blade from behind to stop me from moving any further.

"Now, where do you think you're going..." A raspy voice spat behind me. "...bloodhound?"

I twisted my neck to the side just enough for my peripheral vision to catch the large pair of green eyes bearing into mine. Blood dripped from a large gash on his forehead, painting his whole face a deep crimson. His laboured breaths hit the back of my nape making my hairs stand.

"What do you propose we do then," I licked my lips. "number five."

His grip on my shoulder tightened, and I could practically feel the rage radiating off of him through the wide smirk etched across his lips. My body began to respond to the adrenaline pulsing through my veins as the corners of my mouth and fingers twitched in anticipation for another fight. Another excuse to use my powers. The only thing I wanted to do right now, right this second, was-

A flash of blue light engulfed the area, blinding me for a moment before I was able to notice the large piece of concrete being launched towards me, held tightly in his cut hands.

I shifted out of the way, relishing in my increased reaction time, and span on my heel, sending a spinning hook kick to the back of his head. I made contact but it was short lived with his fist suddenly in front of my face and punched my jaw forcing my head to snap to the side, small pools of blood building up in my mouth.

Before his knuckles could leave my face, I latched my hands onto the assassins arm, spinning on my heels so my back faced him and threw his body over mine, slamming him onto the ground. I reached for my knife and towered over the boy, ready to plunge it into his heart, but in a blink he was gone and behind me, holding a long metal pipe and smashed my head in. I stumbled forwards but quickly regained balance before he could repeat his action.

The agent was now in front of me and aimed the pipe to strike the side of my head. But I was faster.

I blocked the pipe with my lower arm and palm-striked the assassin in the nose simultaneously, preparing an elbow to his face only for him to disappear into the air leaving me to bathe in frustration once more.

Blue then caught my eye in the distance. I rapidly slammed my palms onto the earth beneath me, raising an arsenal of shadows and launching them towards the light, smirking with the thoight I had dealt serious damage and possibly killed him.

But a hand latched onto the back of my collar and I knew I had fallen for a trap. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching feeling flooded my senses and my head was being smashed into something hard. Calloused palms were wrapped around my neck as Five prepared to jump again after slamming my head into a wall as many times as he could.

"You won't escape them." Was all I said before the mans grip was torn off of me from the missiles of shadows following his silhouette and launched him into the distance.

I got up, flexed my jaw and sneered at the sight of the man still standing, covered head to toe in blood, bruises and cuts. I could tell he was tired. His shoulders were slumped and head tilted downwards. His Adams apple bounced as he swallowed thickly and took in several deep breaths.

Number Five finally looked up, and I had never been more excited in killing someone than I had now.

FWOOSH

I raised my arm and slashed it through the air, sending a rapid wave of darkness slicing towards him, allowing myself to succumb deeper into the web of voices echoing off of my skull, each of my strikes increasing in power and precision for every time he'd teleport out of the way and into a wave of new danger.

Tired of the constant game of cat and mouse, Five blinked above me, carrying yet again another large piece of rubble and released it. I sent another cut through the air for the shadows to follow, shattering the rubble into pieces.

A gasp left my lips as another gut-wrenching sensation overtook me while a pair of hands grabbed my ankles tightly. My eyes widened and jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and confusion as I felt myself being dangled upside down and mid-air from the roof of a building that was over ten stories high. I tore my eyes away from the daunting scene several hundred metres below me and snapped my head up to see the man dangling me by my ankles.

The first thing I noticed was the slyness coating his eyes as he knew he had the upper hand- literally.

"I'll ask you one more time," Five spoke calmly, trying to contain the anger desperately trying to rip through his throat. The grip on my ankles faltered slightly but tightened just as fast. "Any last words?"

"Yeah," I breathed out in a ragged breath as a plan slowly began to form in my mind. I pulled myself up as much as I could towards the man and seethed between bloodied gritted teeth, "Suck my d--"

The man released his hold before I could finish with a disgusted expression as if he had just killed a bug, sending me plummeting towards the ground.

I raised my hands beside my body as I approached closer to my demise and quickly raised an army of shadows. I twisted to face the assassin, mid-air, throwing my arms towards him with the shadows following suit.

I looked back down and landed on a cushion of molten energy raised from the patches of shadows hovering just above the ground. The shadows had plunged into Five's stomach and forced him off the roof, his body being tackled towards the ground only for a blinding flash of blue to consume him.

My eyes slimmed in annoyance and brows furrowed to the sight of the assassin stood before me with a large knife pressed against my neck.

"You look tired." I eyed him up and down, very clearly mocking him, while I admired all the damage I had inflicted as if it were a piece of art.

Five's black suit was dirty and torn in several places, more prominently at the front, revealing the blood and bruises on his stomach and muscles. His red tie was barely hanging by a thread and the white blouse underneath was all torn up and practically non-existent.

His nose was purple and blue from the palm-strike, with smudges of red streaked across his forehead and upper lip.

Five stepped dangerously close towards me and pressed the knife deeper into my neck, almost drawing blood. He was less than a few small steps away from me and by the looks of it, he seemed eager to close the gap and assert the power he desperately yearned to hold over me.

I looked up at him with a devious grin, daring him to do it.

"How about I slice those lips off of your face. Will you be grinning then?" The man snarled and glared daggers.

I raised a brow. "How about I carve out your larynx so I won't have to listen to that aggravating voice of yours?

My neck began to sting from the knife cutting deep into my flesh, drops of crimson now gracing my collar bone.

The assassin forced out a low chuckle and shook his head slowly while his hold on the knife stiffened. His forest green eyes followed the blood pooling down my neck and raised them to meet my stare.

"Who are you."

"I thought you knew who I was, number five. I'm a bloodhound, remember? Or has all that damage affected your memory--?"

I was caught off guard. Five grabbed my collar and slammed me against a brick wall, pressing the knife deeper into my wound. My nose scrunched in disgust to the smell of blood radiating off of him and the sudden boldness washing over the man.

"Listen hear you piece of shit." Five seethed. His veins bulged against his neck and his teeth were clenched and bare. "As you see, you have no fucking where to go. So you better answer my questions if you want to live the rest of your vulgar, pathetic life in peace. Got it?"

A tense silence fell between us. I felt the mans warm breath fan over my lips and his knuckles press against the end of my neck as he held my collar tightly. The distance between us was almost non-existent, causing discomfort to stir in my stomach.

I wanted to vomit.

But I did the next best thing.

I held eye contact with the assassin before I descended into laughter right in his face. I took a deep breath in and titled my head up towards him, watching his expression slowly unravel through hooded eyes.

"Even after beating you relentlessly, you still don't have the slightest idea of how dangerous I actually am. I seem to have overestimated your intelligence, Hargreeves." I neared my face up towards his, smiling cruelly at the anger he poorly contained.

I spoke before he could cut in. "Yes, I do know who you are, and you don't know who I am."

"And we're going to keep it that way."

Date: REDACTED, 1955 Location: TEMPS COMMISSION HQ Time: REDACTED

"Did you kill him?" The concern was evident in The Handlers voice, making me raise a brow. Nevertheless, I knew her concerns were directed at her future plans, not the welfare of some field agent. But then again, Five Hargreeves wasn't just some field agent.

My lack of response seemed to fuel her agitation, my eyes noticing the quick clench of her jaw and flex of her fingers as she awaited my reply. In retaliation to the assassination attempt, I decided to not ease her fears.

Not one bit.

A deep sigh caught her attention, followed by an amused scoff.

"You're seriously asking me, the bloodhound, if she spared some second rate assassin?" A twisted smile pulled at my lips and I sighed again dramatically. "After years of working together and you still don't know me at all."

"Stop playing these games and answer my question." The Handler, who usually handled things with a certain measure of grace and passive aggression, snapped clearly annoyed at my antics. She quickly realised her mistake however. The woman cleared her throat and took a long drag of her cigar, blowing the toxic fumes right at my face.

With a few steps towards the display of weapons sitting behind The Handlers figure, I decided to test the already fragile boundaries of the situation.

I traced my finger along the surface of the weapons. "I've always been jealous of your collection." My voice held a certain playfulness. One I knew the woman behind me despised. "Especially ever since I saw this glorious artifact hanging on your wall and collecting dust, never to be used again."

The sound of a blade being unsheathed echoed through the room. "The very Turkic-Mongol sabre used by Genghis Khan in battle."

The Handler flinched ever so slightly at the press of the cold blade against her exposed neck. A significant movement that most would miss.

She proceeded to look ahead, not faltering once as she said, "You know very well that even if you kill me, I'd just be replaced by another desperate senior waiting to have their shot at such a powerful position in such a powerful organisation." The woman turned to face me and a shiver ran down my spine. Even when confronted with death, her expression was void of emotion. And for a moment I saw someone I wished to have long forgotten. And The Handler knew that. "Take this cog out of a machine and it will soon be replaced by another. But they won't give you the same leniencies as I have with your dear Jasper. So I recommend you consider your decision very closely, darling."

She took the weapon from my hands as I stood there, mimicking a child frozen in a trance, realising they were in no control of their fate.

A hand crept on my shoulder and a pair of lips whispered against my ear, "Because this is the best you'll get."

She took her seat and released a relaxed sigh. "Now then, you were about to tell me what you've done with little Number Five?"

“His heart is beating.”

“Good.” She purred, coating an extra layer of lipstick on her lips. “Did you use—”

“Yes.”

I felt her tense for a split second before her shoulders relaxed once more.

This time her voice is serious. “Does he remember your… abilities?”

“No.”

“So he remembers the fight but not the powers. Interesting.”

A loud alarm screeched from outside the commission, followed by a woman's scream and the slam of a car trunk. That's when an echo of a recently familiar FWOOSH rang in the room, revealing the asshole I longed to kill.

"You." His voice came in a growl. The mans eyes were wild, like those of a predator stalking their prey. His hair was a mess with random strands stuck onto his skin from the sweat and blood in his face.

"Five Hargreeves," The Handler's voice pulled the assassin back into reality. "Meet your new partner."

I could hear the smirk and utter joy in her voice as she spoke my name, forming the deadliest partnership the Commission had to offer.

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The taglist has been bugging and for some reason some accounts that want to been tagged, aren't. Sorry if this is you.

Thank you all for your support and patience waiting for the next chapter. I know how annoying it is when fanfic writers are on some hiatus for ages but I'm finally back!

I don't have a strict writing schedule but I will notify you as accurately as I can for when the next chapter comes out.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you find any errors let me know.

[limetameta]

I want to write a fanfic with the Joker absolutely having the funniest mental breakdown of his life and title it: Yes and

Like he just Yes ands his way into even worse levels of mental tear

Genre: comedy

Like he takes a bit too far and everyone is concerned because it appears he doesn't know how to exit the bit

The bit is that he's Bruce Wayne's newest secretary and it just so happens that this whole yes and thing starts becoming a problem when he picks up Tim Drake from school. Tim Drake who sees through the disguise. And is just like oh my god I need to call Bruce.

The way I'd write this would be that the readers are very afraid that smth might happen to Tim and that the Joker may be non violent towards the kid NOW but he might escalate with the yes ands

But near the end it turns out that this is a Batjokes established fic and the Joker is just genuinely distressed about being unable to stop being the secretary because the bit hasn't had its natural conclusion. Like he'll stop when he's had enough. But now he's driving out of Gotham with Tim and they stop to have McDonald's (Tim calls Bruce to check if it's okay, Bruce tries to do that we have food at home thing and the Joker just goes off on him like HE WONT DIE IF HE EATS OUT FOR ONCE) so like you kind of get that Batman isn't rushing to save Tim (he is but he also knows that Tim won't die or get hurt, he's actually more worried about why the Joker is having an episode he can only call self destructive)

Harley Quinn tries stopping the Joker.

He's like *stapler gun pointed at her, because that's what the secretaries wield duh* WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

HQ: MISTAH J THE FUCK??? WEVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YOU WHATS WRONG??? YOURE NOT OKAY

J: My name is Timmy (Tim Drake sips his McDonald's smoothie) and I am Bruce Wayne's secretary here to pick up his kid and I won't have anyone stopping me

HQ: oh my god pudding *pinches the bridge of her nose* This is all a bit, right?

Joker: OF course its a bit! But how do YOU know its a bit? *gestures to Tim and himself* I thought only the Kid and me were in on it

Tim: I'm in on it?

Joker, visibly distressed: You mean to say you aren't?? Did I just ruin the bit???

HQ: Nahhh Mistah J! The bit is still grand even if Tim here is in on it. Ain't that right Timmy Jr?

Tim: sure. *turns to the Joker* do you want me to call my dad to pick us up? Maybe you got lost driving me back home.

Joker: I am the best secretary Bruce Wayne has ever had, Mr Timmy Jr (Tim scowls), and I will not be dealing with such slander! *stomps his foot on the car* SLANDER! I am a professional. *a pause*

Tim and Harley staring

Joker, leaning back in his drivers seat: I don't know how to end the bit

Tim: We could have McDonalds again. Maybe bring a happy meal to Batman

Joker, wheezing: Oh that'd be funny. *laughter starts dying down* But not funny enough.

*they drive off, leaving Harley at the side of the road as she signals to Red and some other companions to give chase*

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

daredevil fam x teen!intern!reader [pt. 1]

CLICK HERE FOR PT. 2

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 1.5k

request: yes / no

original request: DYING over your matt post– i'm a sucker for casual family hcs with teen readers, it's always the cutest !! could i request something similar like the whole team (nelson, murdock, & page) taking care of an intern? just a teen who usually takes care of filing ends up wandering into the whole found family dynamic they have set up? thanks !

dynamic: daredevil fam (nelson murdock & page) x teen!intern!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, foggy nelson, karen page

a/n: hiii tysm for this request!!! i love found family hc's too -- especially with daredevil bc i feel like i haven't seen many :( if y'all ever have more daredevil requests like this i would be more than happy to write them!!

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form if you'd like to be on my taglist!!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

your school had an internship program.

basically, during the last few weeks of the year, everyone in your grade was matched up with a company to go be interns!

and sometimes that led to summer jobs which was cool

anyways so you were pretty excited

you had been looking forward to getting your assignment for a while now.

you had told the people who assigned the internships that you were interested in law, and you were holding out for a good assignment

but you were kind of worried because a lot of people were interested in law as well

so finally the day came

and you were confused to see someplace called “nelson, murdock, and page” listed there

like who the heck were these people

even worse, a couple of the really egocentric & mean kids got internships at landman & zack.

LANDMAN & ZACK

and they were really rubbing it in.

“y/n, where did you get assigned?”

“uh.. nelson, murdock, and page.”

“huh, never heard of them. i got assigned to landman and zack!!! aren’t you happy for me?”

blech

anyway the first day that you were supposed to go came finally

the one upside to being assigned to nelson, murdock, and page was that it was fairly close to where you lived

like only a block or two!!

you honestly weren’t sure what to bring so you kind of overpacked

well not crazy but still

you probably wouldn’t need three packs of pencils AND two staplers

but hey, this was new york! anything could happen.

you took a deep breath as you walked in, and as you approached the door, you could hear what sounded like an argument inside.

“listen karen, i’m not gonna take it anymore! the shamrock shake is gross!!”

btw i agree with that statement not that it’s relevant but still its nasty spearmint is blech

oop back to what i was writing

“foggy, you’re wrong. it’s what really makes spring for me!!”

“hey, you two. there’s someone outside.”

and just like that, the two who were arguing turned to face the door. 

you gave a sheepish wave, embarrassed that you hadn’t just walked in.

“aw, no way!! are you the intern? uhm… your name… uh..” said the shamrock shake hater

“y/n.” said another man, the peacekeeper, it seemed. 

you had remembered the internship assigner telling you one of the lawyers was blind

and judging by the red glasses, this was the one.

“yeah, that’s me. you must be murdock… i think.”

“call me matt.” he said, extending a hand for you to shake.

then the woman, (shamrock shake lover), also extended her hand.

“i’m karen. it’ll be nice to have someone new around here!!”

“yeah”, said the shamrock shake hater, “nice to have someone to do all the filing!”

“oh.. filing?” you asked, brow furrowing. 

you could feel yourself deflating a little bit.

“don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of interesting stuff for you to do y/n.” matt spoke, a small smile on his face.

“foggy, how about you show them how to do it?” karen said right after, pointing at shamrock shake hater.

foggy, now.

“aw, karen!! you know i’m no good at filing!!”

“that’s a lie. you just pretend to be bad at it to get out of doing it.” karen replied, and matt nodded.

a big dramatic sigh from foggy

“al-RIGHT, al-RIGHT! jeez. c’mon y/n. seems like we have work to do!!”

you couldn’t help but laugh bc these people were ridiculous

in a good way

at least for now!

turns out foggy WAS good at filing

and apparently you were too!!

he made a game out of it to see who could unlock the cabinet & put the folder in the right spot first

and not to brag, but you always won :) 

he even bet his lunch that you couldn’t beat his time!

“don’t mess with them, foggy. i think they’ve shown they can run circles around you.” karen laughed as he challenged you

and yet he still did it!!!

and you won!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!

so you had a delicious sandwich & chips for lunch courtesy of foggy nelson :D 

the rest of the day was pretty nice too

like most of it was filing but matt told you about some of the cases they were working on

and karen was so sweet like y’all were gossiping fr

she told you about all the crazy stuff that happened at the firm

and honestly, you were so glad you had been assigned to this firm

because were the people at landman & zack having this much fun???

no i don’t think so!!!

plus it helped that they all hated landman and zack too

foggy told you all about how stuffy and uptight everyone was there

so it was kind of a relief!

-----------------------✰----------------------

I HAD TO DO THIS IN TWO PARTS SO HERE'S THE SECOND ONE

CLICK THIS FOR PT. 2

[nudgeling]

Part one

The cheery tune of Queen's "Crazy little thing called love" rang out three times in the hungover silence. Each one chipped a little bit away at Pearl's unconsciousness, but the final third one became the straw that woke her up. She denied the call and turned her head back into the corner of the couch. Her head felt like lead. It rang out twice more before she groaned and finally picked it up.

“Hello?” she grumbled into the cell, eyes still closed.

“Pearl!” The volume made her head spin and ache. “Where the hell are you? I got home and you’re not here, and no one knows where you are, and you haven't picked up your phone in-”

“Please. For the love of God. Stop shouting.” Angry Scottish was annoying at the best of times, but at the moment it was straight up painful.

“I’ll stop shouting when you tell me where you are, I thought you’d been kidnapped or something!”

“Fine, fine, just quiet down, my head’s killing me. I’m…”

She sat up and nudged the sleep-fog out of her eyes with a yawn. When her vision cleared and her surroundings came into reality, she promptly nudged them again because she must have done something wrong the first time around. Then she did it a third time. Everything about the room she found herself was still completely unfamiliar. She came to the begrudging realization that she had no idea where she was.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Maybe I have been kidnapped.”

“What?”

It was a college student’s apartment, that part was clear. Barely three steps to her left was a kitchenette, to the right an ajar door she presumed led to a bedroom, and the hall and bathroom were squeezed in between the two, yet the host still managed to afford a flat screen TV and a PS5. Not to mention the place was as messy as a junkyard, which made her inner cleaning lady scream. Right in front of her was a low table with a collection of various paraphernalia scattered from one end to the other, one of them catching her eye, as it was probably supposed to.

“Oo, hang on, there’s a note.”

It was a striped paper with ripped off stapler-holes on the edge, with a handwriting that was thankfully pretty legible. She skimmed over the words and mumble-read it to Scott on the other end.

Hey, if you wake up before I do, don’t panic. You’re not kidnapped and we haven't hooked up or anything either. You were really drunk yesterday so I was giving you a ride home, but you passed out before you could tell me the address so I let you crash at my place instead. The door is unlocked so you can get out any time you want. Please don’t steal anything.

Martyn

“What does it say? Are you safe?” Scott asked. Apparently her mumbling hadn’t been that effective.

“Do you know who Martyn is?” she asked, ignoring his question because it was second nature to be petty to Scott. It sounded vaguely familiar, though she was terrible with names.

He went quiet for a second. “With a ‘Y’ or an ‘I’?”

“A ‘Y’, it says he brought me to his place when I passed out yesterday. I passed out?”

“I…”

“Not kidnapped anywho, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she muttered, a bit bitterly but she was only human.

“Pearl. Do you remember anything about last night?”

“I fear my head will explode when I think too hard, so no.”

“Oh. Well. Probably for the best. At least you’re safe… hopefully. Just, please be careful around Martyn.”

“Hah, sure, always am.”

“I’m serious, Pearl. If I were you I’d get out of there.”

“So now you care about me?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Naww.”

“Nothing has changed because I don’t want you to be dead. I’m just here to pick up some stuff, call me when you get back.”

“Scott, wait-”

The line went dead. Great. She threw her phone to the floor with as much force her hungover body could manage. It thudded weakly on the floor.

Getting up to a standing position made stars flood to her head and the floor tilt like a funhouse, and she soon fell right back into the squeaky couch. The second attempt was slower but better, and she only had to combat a slight dizziness, plus the ever present beating headache, as she made her way over to the door on her right. She gently pushed it open.

It was way darker inside of Martyn’s bedroom. Thick gray blinds covered the windows, creating black squares with sunlight edges. On the queen sized bed lay a bulging shape beneath the sheets, his shoulders and blonde head peeking out and both hands nestled underneath the pillow. His face was featureless in the dark. She leaned against the doorframe and knocked gently on the door until the figure roused. A couple seconds of bleary orientation passed before he seemed to clock the situation.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hi.” She gave a small wave. “You said no stealing, but do you by any chance have some aspirin I could, uh, borrow? My head is murdering me.”

“Yeah, uh…” He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Pearl sympathized. “Ibuprofen ok?”

“I’ll take anything.”

“Bathroom cupboard, top shelf, blue box.”

“Thanks.”

She closed the door. She hadn’t recognized the voice, so maybe she didn’t know the guy after all. It would be nice to get a proper look at him before she left, but she wouldn’t go out of her way to wake the poor dude up again.

The bathroom was somewhat cleaner than the rest of the apartment. The shower had sleek green curtains, adding a bit of color, which was pleasant. There were two toothbrushes as well, one blue and one green with a red floral pattern. Girlfriend, maybe? She really doubted this guy had a roomie.

Less pleasant was the mirror on the cupboard where she caught sight of her reflection. She looked like she felt; like shit. Sticky hair, smudged makeup, baggy eyes. Her whole body felt heavy and sweaty, and a sniff beneath her arm made her wrinkle her nose and add “stinky” to her current list of adjectives. She hated not being clean. It made her itch.

The blue plastic box was easy to find, and so was the ibuprofen laying on the top layer of part medicinal items and part random junk like hair clips and rubber bands. There was also a fuck ton of bandaids, a bottle of adderall, and a testosterone injection kit, because she couldn’t help being nosy. However, there was a far more interesting item peeking out from the bottom, a prescription bottle that didn’t catch her attention until after she had downed the painkiller and was about to put the box back on the shelf.

It was one of those drugs, those who cartoon characters in TV anti-drug campaigns warned against and doctors only prescribe under uttermost vigilance. The kind she used to take great care to stay away from, the same way she did with cigarettes and alcohol. But that person felt very far away as she held the bottle in her hand. Funny how much 48 hours could change a woman.

She put three pills in her pocket, not knowing until far later the twist of fate that one action had just caused.

Martyn was heading across the living room when she got out. Her wish to see his face was granted. He was dressed in a green T-shirt and jeans, and had the same familiar headband around his head, just like he used to.

"It’s you!" She blurted.

He startled, stopping in his tracks. “It’s… what?” he buffered.

Martyn. That’s why it was so familiar. If she’d been asked to name Grian’s old friend with the bandana she probably could have shaken up the answer sooner or later, but as she hadn’t sent a thought his way for years at that point, the idea that this Martyn was that Martyn hadn’t struck her for a second. He was a background actor in a background memory. Considering the lengths he'd apparently gone to help her, it made her feel pretty guilty.

"I had totally forgotten your name and your voice has dropped by like an octave, I'm so sorry."

He seemed to connect the dots, and suddenly barked a laugh. "You thought I was a stranger?”

“Kind of?”

He chuckled. “I mean, fair, I suppose. Awfully confident asking a stranger for meds, though."

Pearl shrugged. "Fear don’t got much on me these days."

Martyn hummed, like he’d unlocked new character info and was storing it away under the 'Pearl' file.

"Right, well now that you figured out my identity," he continued, "I need to clarify that I'm not normally this messy."

"Girlfriend away or something?"

He went silent, cluing Pearl that she was wrong.

“Boyfriend?”

He went to say something, then hesitated and spoke anew. "I mean, yeah, in a sense. The first one, that is. She uh… we broke up."

“Oh.” As if feeling like trash wasn’t enough, she now felt like an idiot as well. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Silence followed. Fantasies about sinking through the ground or being pelted by a legion’s stash of arrows floated through Pearl’s mind. She cleared her throat.

“Look, I’d like nothing more than to get out of your hair, but is there any chance I could borrow your shower real quick first?”

“Oh, sure, go for it,” Martyn perked. “Want a change of shirt?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, I know, just… Would you like one?”

"Uh… do you have anything that fits?"

"I'll see what I can find."

He walked off without another word, and Pearl, after buffering a bit herself, slid back into the bathroom. Scott’s words of warning came back to her, which she found increasingly hard to believe. If Martyn had been flawlessly charming and clean, then she wouldn’t have had any trouble judging him as a problem and potential danger. Instead what she’d been met with was a messy, awkward, probably heartbroken boy who still put his foot forward with kindness. Screw what Scott thought, she liked this guy.

She locked the door, just to be sure.

[eggs-can-draw]

hay for the little art thing what about A1 or B1 for your little oc stapler!

(Feel free not to if your uncomfortable with it!)

MY GIRLYPOP!!!

[farcry5seedfamily]

The Confession|| John Seed (Special Scene of "Radio Calls")

||Once again John's chosen ones captured the deputy, taking her to the Bunker to finally confess her sins, but in that place she is not alone, Deputy Hudson is with her, now John must start with the torture and pain||

Deputy: *She found herself bound to a chair as she heard whistling approaching her, it was a familiar song, but she couldn't find the name of it in her mind as she was a bit preoccupied trying to figure out her next move. A red light tinged the room which gave it an even more eerie vibe, and quite an uncomfortable one at that. She noticed a workbench with things stapled to the back of it, what looked like pieces of animal hide, or so she hoped. Suddenly, her eyes open to see her partner, Deputy Hudson, who is tied to the chair with her hands behind her back and her ankles as well, then she see that she has the duct tape on her mouth, where you can see the fear in her eyes. Hey Joey, everything is going to be fine. No matter what happens, I'll get you out of here, that's my promise.

||Suddenly the Deputy is silent when she saw John's figure came into view as he walked towards the workbench, placed a small blue toolbox on its surface and brushed his hands along the top of the workbench to remove any debris or dust, all while happily whistling the familiar tune.

It was agonizing, listening to his incessant whistling combined with watching him pull out a tray from the box and place it on the surface, stopping to dust of the top every so often.||

John: *Finally, He must've heard Deputy's thought as he stopped and turned to her, smiling a content smile as he leaned against the workbench* My parents, were the first to teach me about the Power of Yes. One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground. And i experienced pain after pain, after pain, after pain *He slams the stapler on his workbench like a psychopath, scaring Agent Hudson who is terrified by the way he expresses himself.* And when i didn't think i could take anymore, I did. Something broke free inside. I wasn't scared, i was, , ,clear. *he walked over and picked up his tattoo gun and plugged it in as he spoke.* I looked up at them and i started to laugh. All I could say was. . .Yes. *He turns on the tattoo gun without taking his eyes off his sinner then turns it off, leaving it on the small table next to the Deputy.* I spent my entire life looking for more things to say 'Yes' to. . .*he stepped towards her, his hands grabbing the neck of her t-shirt and ripping down her chest to expose the top of her bra, and show just enough cleavage that she felt herself blush.* I opened up every hole in my body and when those where filled. I created more. *He seemingly stared for a moment as he then gazed up at her eyes.

||John looked back down at her chest as he brushed his finger tips on the soft skin of her collarbone, down her chest and between her breasts. The Deputy had a feeling this wasn't customary, but she closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together, doing her best to hold back her emotions.||

John: *He began wiping her chest with a sponge and warm water as she heard Joey begin kicking up a fuss behind him.* But it was Joseph who showed me just how selfish I was being, , ,Always receiving. Always taking. The best gift isn't the one you get, it's the one you give. Giving takes courage. The courage own your sin, to etch it onto your flesh and carry its burden. And when you have endured, when you have truly begun to atone - to cut it off, like a cancer and display it for all to see. . .My god that's courage.

||The Deputy gulped hard, finally realizing that those pieces on the back of the workbench don't belong to any animal, no, they belonged to humans - and John intented the same for her.||

John: *He picked up a screwdriver and began speaking again* I'm going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say 'Yes' so you can confront your weaknesses. Confront your sin. You will swim across an ocean of pain and emerge. . .free. *He seemed to grow more and more angry as he concluded his speech, breathing heavily and his grip tightening around the handle of the screwdriver* For only then can you truly begin to atone. *He walked over to Deputy as he pointed the tip of it at her, placing it under her chin and moving it to force her to make eyes contact with him, a devious grin splashing over his face as he glanced at her chest once more. He walked back over to the workbench and leaned against it* So, who wants to go first? Hm?.

Deputy: *She looked at Hudson who she could see was shaking her head, telling her not to say yes. Obviously she didn't want to say yes, she wanted to run far away from this sick bastard and get out of the county.*

John: Which one? Hm?. . .This is lesson number one. *He is waiting for the Deputy to say what he wants to hear, ignoring the screams from Hudson* Someone's got to choose.

Deputy: Okay, alright, you win, you want to hear my answer. . .Yes, I want to confess, I will atone. *she lowered her head, in surrender to John where he is happy for the answer of saying "Yes"*

John: Yes. YES! *He stepped towards her, pointing the tip of the screwdriver at her, making eye contact with the deputy* You won't regret this. I promise. *There was a sincerity behind his words, like he truly believed himself when he said it* Now, before we begin, i think it's only proper that Deputy Hudson goes back to her room. Confessions are supposed to be private, after all.

||John began pushing Joey towards The Deputy as Joey clearly objected and began trying scream from behind the duct tape. He brought her closer, close enough that Deputy looked her friend straight in the eye.||

Deputy: Joey, don't worry, everything will be alright, I'll get you out of here. *She tries to calm Joey down by the look in her eyes that she's scared, and not to leave her alone. That's my promise.

John: Shh, shhh shh shh. I am not here to take your life. i am here to give it to you *He pushed his way over to Deputy and looked her in the eyes again, causing a lump to form in her throat as her heart rate picked up dramatically* I am going to open you up and pour your worst fears inside you, and as you choke, your sins will reveal themselves. Only then will you truly be able to understand the Power of Yes. *He smiled kindly after he pushed away from Deputy and held onto the back of Joey's chair.* I'll be right back. *He said as he began pushing her out of the room, causing Hudson to yell her unwillingness to cooperate the whole way out.*

||The Deputy looked around the room. The frightened sound of Hudson's crying and screaming could be heard as John was wheeling her off to her 'room'. Deputy slammed her eyes shut as she heard a loud soud and tried to keep her mind from thinking about it.||

The night, that same night they came to the church to arrest Father Joseph Seed, but everything changed when The Deputy had the opportunity to leave instead of putting on the handcuffs and taking Joseph outside of his church and lead him to the helicopter. All this changed when her companions were taken from the peggies except for her and Burke, but he did not have the same luck when they captured him at the edge of the forest, it was at that moment that she began to fight with the resistance to put an end to this madness, but What decision is there? she wants to end everything that happens but is there any hope?

||The Deputy pushed the memory out of her head as she searched the room for any sign of an exit. To her left, she noticed a stair case, and that was good enough for her. She used her abdominal muscles and her heels to pull and direct herself to the top of the stairs. It's a good thing John liked using the wheelie chair's for that dramatic effect.

There had to be at least fifteen stairs. it was definitely going to be bumpy and painful. The Deputy took a deep breath in as she released it and then shimmied herself to the edge of the step. The chair tipped as she tucked her head into her chest to keep her neck from getting smacked on the way down.

Moans and groans came from her lips as tha chair smashed, granting her release from her restraints. She pushed the now loose ropes of her wrists and slowly stood up, gaining her bearings.

The Deputy held onto the hand rail as she took a deep breath in and straightened her back, only to have the wind knocked out from her sails when she saw a blackened silhouette standing at the top of the stairs, she knew it was John.||

John: Where are you going my little sinner, is it the right time for you to confess your sins, have you told me "Yes" and still run away from me? Tsk tsk tsk, that's wrong of you *he says shaking his head, slowly going down the stairs. the only thing the deputy could think of doing was maybe not the best idea - she ran. Where? Anywhere* Awww, don't be afraid, It won't hurt when I place your sins on your skin.

||The Deputy took corners carefully, as she saw a group of peggies up ahead and she crouched behind a white wooden box. She didn't think John had followed her, but word would be out that she had escaped and his men would be searching.

Just find a staircase. . .going up. . .and get out of here. She sighed to herself.

But she thought about Joey, there would be no way the deputy could get to her. . .not now. . .not alone, she needs a plan to free Hudson from John's bunker.

The Deputy moved through the hallway using the makeshift cover as best as she could. A familiar voice was playing overhead as she tried to block out his voice and continue on her mission to find a way out of this hell bunker.

Things could be worse, you know?

His voice was so crisp, like it was almost in her head.

Here, you just have to confess! in the East, well, let's just say too much bliss can go to one's head. Faith created her Angel's, but she never did treat them all that well.

The Deputy kept moving swiftly as she came up to another fork in the road. Left or right? Then, screaming; an all too familiar scream. Joey.

She followed the cries as she bolted to the right, not seeing one Peggy down the corridor. She then saw a figure go to the left, so she followed only to see a large bunker door slam shut and the locking mechanism spin shut. Noticing the window in the door, Deputy cautiously approached and placed her hand on the wheel to try and opent the door, which as she thought, was futile.

Looking through the window, she saw John fixing Joey's restraints, just a second before either of them noticed her standing at the door. John didn't seem particularly surprised, but that didn't mean he was all too happy about it. The Deputy took a moment to glance at Joey, making eye contact and silently telling her to hold on.

John raised his hand at The Deputy as he began walking towards her peering through the window, eyes full of concern and terror.||

John: I know your sin. It drives you. Every thought. Every action. Your sin, is wrath. *he let out a very satisfied laugh, as if he had just cracked the code to Deputy's everything.* So, I'll indulge you. Become wrath. Let it fill your body, consume your soul. Because in the end, you'll still be empty. *The Deputy's eyes welled up without permission as she gazed into John's eyes. Her fingertips touched the glass softly as her lips parted, preparing to interrumpt John's speech.* And in the end. . .

Deputy: John, please. Listen to me, I beg you to release Hudson, I give you my word that I will confess, I swear, just let her go. *She cut him off as his eyes darted inquisitively to Deputy's as her fingertips laid on the thick glass separating them, begging and pleading for him to just listen to her, though she didn't have the faintest idea of what to even say to grant Hudson's release.*

John: Oh. Begging? isn't that beneath you, Deputy?

Deputy: John. Let her go. Please. She. . .She didn't do anything. It was me. It's all me. It was my fault in arresting Joseph, but I didn't want to, I was just following orders, if you want me to confess so badly, let me take Hudson's place. . .Please John. *John let out an amused chuckle as he touched his chest with his tattooed hand. Joey's eyes met Deputy's as she shook her head desperately, trying to tell her to run.*

John: I am not doing this out of anger, Deputy. I am merely doing what needs to be done. To give your life. To help you, confess and reach atonement so you can walk through Eden's Gates. *Deputy placed her palm on the window in a attempt at desperation* Go. Become wrath. I'll be here, waiting. . .we both will. *He said as he walked back, his hand reaching out to Deputy as he stepped backwards before grabbing hold of Hudson's chair and dragging her off. He raised his free hand as he pushed a button, and deputy immediately began hearing a constant and loud buzzing sound, like a door was either opening or closing.*

He was letting her run.

As John disappeared and so did Joey. So did her chance at negotiating her friend free. There was nothing she could do. so again, She ran. . .

__________________________________

Note: I hope you liked "The Confession" of John Seed, where this is a special bonus scene from "Radio Calls"

If you guys want me to do these kinds of scenes with Jacob Seed, that will be later. . .

I will be reading your comments

Take care of yourselves and I love you all. . .💖😊

[prvtocol]

is there anyone that your muse works with that they cannot stand? why?

ON THE JOB ( accepting ) ᠂ ⚘ ˚

Yes, and his name is John Mercer, the "Executive Vice President of Frontier Operations” in the Western Frontier. Little sidenote: I headcanon he gave himself that fancy title because there are enough reports that refer to him as a director and he often has to interface with other directors who seem on the same level (he even has a beef with the Settlement Director). He too answers to Charles Stringer, who’s the Administrative Head of the RDA Pandoran Division (who does not go by the title of "President," I might add).

In any case, Mercer is pinned as a “shrewd and ambitious businessman” and “as a dangerous visionary who is intelligent, manipulative, and vindictive, hungry for power and the admiration of other people. He has little to no respect for the Na'vi, calling them primitive and savages, and wanting them dead for opposing the RDA.” 

Colonel Angela Harding, the SecOps personnel assisting Mercer in colonizing the Western Frontier, had this to say about him:

ANGELA HARDING: General Ardmore. I am losing confidence in Director Mercer's ability to sustain operations in the Western Frontier for much longer. He has grown prone to becoming sidetracked, even obsessed, with issues stemming from our first campaign on Pandora. He is also actively unloading any of his missteps onto others in the surrounding organization. Just to speak freely for a moment, Ma'am, that man's a damn psycho. You should see his office. Everything at a perfect right angle. He's not just into neatness. He's a control freak. Everything set just so. I picked up a stapler once, and it's like I'd slapped him. Made me put it back before we could continue, and even then, had to set it at exactly the same angle as his pens. Which is to say, Director Mercer is showing some erratic behavior which may end up sinking this operation. I would like us to discuss a contingency plan to minimize losses to SecOps (x).

From someone called “ruthless” and who carries the nickname “the Angel of Death,” this lack of confidence is damning.

Brianne’s objectives to expand SciOps into the Western Frontier means she needs to work closely with Mercer. It’s an uphill battle, and one that necessitates traveling there twice to convince his cooperation. The first time to start the programs and the second to vie for her scientists' safety when it proves severely lacking from the reports being sent back to HQ. She describes him as difficult to work with and mildly obsessed with his own unknown objectives (which the game explores). If her professional politeness ever felt extremely stretched thin, it was around him.

[the-firebird69]

There's a large amount of people wondering what Chrissy was talking about and our son and daughter saying are you a lot of work it seems like they don't get many things or profit and did you get problem and people thank them you decide affected her profoundly a lot of people are dying when you're not and he wanted to borrow a stapler is up and over the top nr2 said it's a lot of pressure this particular job it's very hard and we understand just like these people out here don't do anything like that they're running around saying stupid s*** but without them so she says okay and he asked why is it so hard now son and daughter say not really sure maybe you can answer the question and she says the first round of banks are in Boston and this one is still in westborough engine said oh Minneapolis so it's a double whammy is she trying to get ready and they heard their name up in lights about iron Man and they Jesus trying to fix it and they don't seem to be able to do it so we decided to point out a couple things and your master is calling the torch road they were so smart until their son about. I'm trying to get people off them and you're looking for the design for both space Marines and iron Man they're threatening them quite a bit they said the job rights in the first place which really not that great and they are in trouble with it but it is working a little your son says the trumpster comes up he starts bothering please say oh hello Sydney then they can identify them and it's not work and stuff like we have to cut the artificial mayonnaise out after that and artificial sugars and she says that's an intelligent thing to say they get that and they said this it's nowhere near as cost because they're doing because and his wound his mom is having a tough time his mom and stuff is going through it again and what he says is I need to try and fend for myself because it looks like nobody is wishing a little mad says I've been doing it for years Danny says you're trying to sue me I don't have any money and everybody's angry and she says you are coming at me just know I wasn't and since she has doing it because they're stupid and we're going to sue her for having them put in the swimming pool stuff I'm not paying him that's what these guys want what was his good most everybody who's doing that is dying for real and we're going to open up the lawsuit fairly soon Louis said Sarah says a lot stupid s*** to us after cleaning a lifetime of knowledge about what we're like in other words they don't think that we exist and she knows he's valuable and didn't care so we don't care about her either have and they both suck really bad and need the attention she wants to pretend pretend she's her and we don't want that either these people are a bunch of winners they're collecting equipment the jobs not done these guys are telling not to we didn't call and they said we need it elsewhere so we're bringing it elsewhere and really they sit there with this equipment outdoors and they don't maintain it they're very lousy Town people never write to move it and they suck and they let it rot and they might get a back yard they might get charged for it cuz other things to report and we'll do that in a minute

Bitol and Goddess Wife

And we said the top part and we have a lot to report so he's going to go sit down

Thor Freya

Yes reply a lot of effort just to get around here it sucks

Hera

Olympus

[waitimcomingtoo]

Bad Romance ~ P.P

chapter five: off with your head

series masterlist and series playlist

“Okay. I think we found our next victim.” You said as you excitedly rubbed your hands together.

“Who?” Venom asked as it came out in its snake like form and floated around your head.

“Harry Osborn. He’s Norman Osborn’s son. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them on whatever planet you’re from but they own this huge corporation in the city called Oscorp. Anyway, Harry allegedly killed this girl named Gwen Stacy, one of his dads employees. People said they saw Harry taking her up on his dads glider but apparently the technology wasn’t ready yet. He dropped her and she died. His dad tried to cover it up but Gwen’s boyfriend has been protesting outside of Oscorp for weeks to get the truth out.”

“Okay. Let’s get him.” Venom decided.

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll contact the boyfriend so we can get a full account of what happened for the report.”

Gwen’s boyfriend was more then happy to give you all the information you needed on her wrongful death. You typed up a detailed report of what Harry and Norman had done and made sure to include the hidden “WE ARE VENOM” message. You printed it out and stuck it in your pocket before turning into Venom. You then jumped out the window and climbed from rooftop to rooftop until you reached Oscorp.

“Which office is his?” Venom asked you.

“Probably the biggest one.” You answered. Venom crawled to the top of the building and broke through a window. Harry Osborn gasped as glass shattered all around his office.

“What the hell is that?” Harry asked as he got out of his desk chair.

“Not “what”, “who”. The better question is “Who the hell is that?”, Harry.” Venom growled as it stalked up to Harry. Harry backed up until his back hit a wall and he let out a little gasp. You felt excited that he was as scared as you had felt that night in Andy Andersons office.

“What do you want?” Harry asked. “Money? I’ll give you all the money you want. I swear.“

“We don’t want your money.” Venom growled.

“Then what do you want? A job? My watch? Please, I’ll give you anything. Just let me live.”

“Let you live? Like how you let Gwen Stacy live?” Venom asked as it pinned Harry against the wall by his throat. Harry’s eyes widened when he heard Gwen’s name.

“She left me. She was my girlfriend first and left me for that loser.” Harry explained as he gasped for air.

“So you kill her?” Venom snarled and squeezed Harry’s throat tighter.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I just took her up on the glider to scare her. I swear. I didn’t mean to drop her. I just wanted to scare her. Please don’t kill me.” Harry pleaded. Venom smiled to show its rows of razor sharp teeth before lifting Harry of the ground by his throat.

“Did it work? Was she scared?” Venom growled as it leaned in closer to Harry’s ear.

“Yes.” Harry gulped. “She was scared.”

“What about you, Harry? Are you scared?” Venom asked before licking the side of Harry’s face with its forked tongue. Harry let out a whimper and gasped for air.

“Yes. I’m scared.”

“Good. Fear makes men taste so much better.” Venom grinned before swallowing Harry hole. You transformed back into yourself and shook your body out before taking out the report you had written. You grabbed a stapler off of Harry’s desk and stapled the report to the wall so that when someone came looking for him, they’d know exactly where he went. You looked around the office for a minute before seeing a picture of Harry and Norman framed on Harry’s desk.

“Hey V, are you still hungry?” You asked as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Always.” Venom growled back.

“Let’s go pay his daddy a visit.” You said as you transformed back into Venom. You could feel your morals slipping away more and more everyday. Before you bonded with Venom, you could never imagine harming another person. Now, you killed people on a weekly basis and didn’t bat an eye. You felt a sort of cognitive dissonance when you went hunting with Venom. Part of you knew what you were doing was really really wrong, but another part of you found it exciting. The power you felt when you were Venom was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You felt like you were a different person, and you were okay with that.

Venom dragged its claws along the walls of the building as it looked for Normans office. When you found a door with his name on it, you kicked it in and went inside. Norman barely had time to scream before you swallowed him whole. You turned back into yourself and sat down at his desk to open up a word document. You typed up a quick report about how he covered up Gwen’s death and left it open on the screen.

“There. Perfect.” You smiled to yourself and transformed back into Venom. Venom jumped out of Normans window and ran through the streets on all fours until it heard a strange sound nearby. Venom stopped running and looked around the corner just in time to see Spiderman webbing some guy to the wall. Peters spidey senses went off and he quickly turned around, jumping when he saw Venom staring at him. This was the first time he had ever seen Venom so he had no idea what he was looking at. Peter thought back to the “WE ARE VENOM” message he found hidden in the reports and something inside him told him that the creature in front of him was the one who left that message.

“Spiderman?” Venom asked as it took a step into the light.

“Venom?” Peter asked to confirm his suspicion.

“Spiderman.” Venom snarled as it lips curled into a grin.

“Venom.” Peter gulped. He quickly shot a web at a nearby building and swung away. He could hear the sound of Venom running after him on all fours and swung away faster. He was not interested in being the next victim of the deadly creature behind him so he ran for his life. Peter accidentally turned down a dead end and panicked until he remembered he could climb walls. He started to climb up the wall when Venom grabbed his leg and threw him to the ground. While all of this was happening, you were silently watching it unfold in a panic. For the first time ever, you could not stop what Venom was doing. Venom was in total control and no matter how hard you tried, you could not turn back into yourself. You didn’t want to hurt Spiderman but it seemed like you didn’t have a choice.

Venom dragged Peter by the leg and threw him against the wall as you cried out for Venom to stop. You watched as Venom grabbed Peter again, by the head this time, and throw his body into the other wall. When you looked down, you saw that Peters mask was in your hand. You looked up and saw Peter curled in a ball with his hands covering his face. He was whimpering and shaking with fear, bringing the same ache to your chest that you had felt when you saw Peter cry. Venom started to walk up to Peter to deliver the final blow but you begged it to stop.

“Venom, wait. We can’t kill this guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” You pleaded.

“There’s no such thing as can’t.” Venom growled back and continued to walk towards Peter.

“Venom, please. Don’t do this. It’s Spiderman! He isn’t a bad guy! He helps people. Please, don’t kill him.” You begged. Venom said nothing as it stood over Peter.

“Venom, we will never be the hero if we kill Spiderman. The city will hate us. This is an innocent person. We don’t kill innocent people.” You tried one last time. Venom ignored you and raised the fist that had Peters mask in it. Peter let out a scream and covered his face as much as he could as he accepted his fate.

When Peter didnt feel an impact, he slowly lowered his arm from his face and opened his eyes. He saw Venom silently handing him his mask back with its free hand covering its eyes. Venoms body was turned away so that Peters identity would stay concealed. You sighed in relief and felt like you had control again.

“Thanks.” Peter said softly as he took his mask. He looked at it in confusion before putting it on, wondering why Venom gave it back instead of killing him or exposing his identity.

“Are you okay, little guy?” You spoke through Venom to ask.

“Little guy?” Peter scoffed weakly. “I’m a man.”

“Yes.” Venom nodded. “A little tiny man. Who screams like a little girl.”

“I don’t normally do that.” Peter cracked a smile under his mask. “But I thought you were going to eat me. Why didn’t you? I thought you were a bad guy.”

“Bad guy?” Venom growled, taking control again. “Why would you ever think we were a bad guy?”

“Because you look like a bad guy.” Peter said, instantly regretting it. Venom turned its head, as if it was listening to something Peter couldn’t hear. Peter watched this and was reminded of how you often did the same thing. Venom sighed reluctantly after a minute and turned back to Peter.

“Spiderman, just because you are tiny and we are big does not make us a bad guy.” Venom answered in a kinder tone.

“I was really talking about the rows and rows of sharp teeth and reptile tongue.” Peter explained.

“Reptile?” Venom got angry again. “Did you call us a reptile?”

“There’s nothing wrong with reptiles.” Peter said quickly. “I love reptiles! And look at me. I’m named after an arachnid. All great creatures. No insults being thrown here.”

“Sorry.” Venom relaxed. “We know we need to work on our aggression.”

“It’s okay.”

“We were not talking to you!” Venom roared.

“S-sorry.” Peter stammered. “Who were you talking to? Who else is here?”

Venom turned its head again and grumbled something that sounded like an argument that Peter could only hear one side of.

“Who are you talking to?” Peter leaned in a little and stared at Venom with curiosity.

“Our host.” Venom snarled before going back to the argument.

“Host? You mean…you mean there’s someone inside you?”

“Yes.” Venom said like it was obvious.

“Wow. That’s incredible. So do you guys have a parasitic relationship or something?“ Peter asked as his excitement grew. No matter what, he was still a science nerd in his heart.

“Parasite?” Venom growled.

“He didn’t call us a parasite. He said parasitic.” You quickly assured Venom. Venom grumbled a little but said nothing.

“Where did you come from?” Peter wondered as he continued to stare in awe.

“Space.” Venom shrugged. You watched this interaction through Venoms eyes, secretly loving the way the eyes on Peters mask widened every time you told him something new.

“Space? That’s amazing.” Peter gasped. “I went to space once. I saw a couple aliens, but none that looked like you. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. That’s how I got my powers. I don’t think it came from space, though. I found it when I broke into lab.”

“That’s funny.” Venom smiled. “Our host found us by breaking into a lab too.”

“That’s another thing we have in common.” Peter smiled back. You stared at each other for a minute, the sweet understanding of each other settling in.

“I’ve never met anyone like me.” Peter admitted. “Every other enhanced person I’ve met doesn’t hide their identity. But you do and it’s nice to meet someone else that knows what it’s like to be carrying this huge secret and I just…I really want to get to know you.”

“You do?” Venom asked skeptically. “Don’t we scare you?“

“Not anymore.” Peter shrugged, making Venom smile. You looked at each other for a minute before Peter got an idea.

“Do you want to hang out?” He asked you.

A few minutes later, you and Peter were still sitting on a rooftop of a building with your legs hanging over the edge. You spent hours up there as you talked about anything and everything. He was still in his suit and you were still Venom, but you felt like you were just two people talking.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter asked you.

“Sure.”

“How do you decide what men to take?” Peter asked, something he had been wondering for a while.

“Our host put out an anonymous ad for women who had been wronged and needed justice. They give us the details of what happened and we hunt down the men who hurt them.“

“Oh. Hm.” Peter said as he thought about your response.

“We only hurt people that deserve to be hurt. The justice system does not work nearly as fast as we do. Criminals can’t commit crimes if they’re not on the streets.” You continued when you noticed how quiet Peter had become.

“If they’re not on the streets, where are they?”

“We eat them.” Venom said simply.

“Oh. Y-yummy.” Peter said weakly. He had been wondering for weeks about what happened to the bodies and now that he knew, he felt sick to his stomach.

“It’s not that bad. It just tastes like-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Peter cut Venom off.

“Okay. We won’t.”

“Why do you stay anonymous?” Peter asked. “I’ve always wondered that too. I mean, I found your secret message in the reports but I don’t think other people have. Why don’t you take credit for what you do?”

“Because people would not like us if they knew what we looked like. We are scary. They would never understand that we are trying to help.” Venom answered in a sad tone, making Peter feel slightly guilty.

“What about the reports? Why do you leave them?”

“We don’t want people to think these are senseless killings. We want them to know what these men have done so they know why they were killed. Then they’ll understand that we’re trying to help. And if they understand that, they won’t look at us and think we’re a monster.”

“That makes sense.” Peter shrugged. “You know, I’ve actually been following this case from the start. I have all the reports you’ve written taped up on my wall. You’re actually really good writer. Or, I guess your host is. They could be writing for the Daily Bugle.”

“We would never write for them.” Venom said immediately as you got flashbacks to that night in Andy Andersons office.

“Why not?” Peter asked. Venom got quiet and the wheels in Peter started to turn. He thought about the first victim, Andy Anderson, and how a report was never written about him. Andy was the CEO of the Daily Bugle, the very place you seemed adamant about never writing for.

“What happened to Andy Anderson?” Peter asked quietly. Peter could see Venom stiffen and thought it was strange that such a large, menacing creature could look so scared. After a beat of silence, Venom spoke.

“The same thing that happens to all our victims. We ate him alive.”

“But why? There was never a report about him. What did he do? Why was he the first victim.”

“He…” Venom began and trailed off. Peter couldn’t help but think about how you were supposed to have an interview that night but supposedly never went to.

“He was a bad man.” Venom said finally. “And he did a bad thing. So we got revenge on him. Then we started thinking about the women who can’t get revenge on the bad men in their lives. Not the way we can at least. So we put the ad out. And we started to hunt bad men down.”

“This bad thing he did, did he do it to you?” Peter asked, making Venom go quiet again. Venom looked up at the night sky and Peter did the same, letting the silence speak for its self.

“Have you ever had someone you wanted revenge on so badly, you didn’t care how you got it?” You asked after a beat of silence. Peter noticed that your tone was different. You didn’t sound like the big scary monster you looked like. You sounded young and vulnerable to Peter.

“I definitely know the feeling. But I don’t do revenge.”

“Really? There’s no one you would want to get revenge on?”

“Maybe this one guy.” Peter admitted.

“Who?” Venom asked. This time, Peter was the one to get quiet. He looked up at the sky again before starting to speak.

“When I was 14, my uncle Ben was shot and killed right in front of me. I had gone out one night to a bodega after fighting with my aunt and uncle. The fight was all my fault too. I left to blow off of steam and my uncle Ben went out looking for me.” Peter said, voice cracking as he spoke.

“It’s okay, Spiderman. You can tell us. It’s okay.” Venom said as it put a hand on Peters shoulder, careful not to scratch him with its claws. Peter nodded and felt like he could keep going.

“The bodega ended up getting robbed. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just watched. The man who robbed it ran out and tried to get away so my uncle Ben tried to stop him. He…the man…” Peter trailed off again as tears slid down his face under his mask.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it if it’s too painful.” You spoke through Venom as you looked at him.

“No. I have to say it. I have to say it because it’s my fault.” Peter sniffled. You stayed quiet so that Peter could speak without interruption.

“He shot him.” He said after a minute. “He shot my uncle Ben. I tried to stop the bleeding but it was too late. He died in my arms.”

“We are so sorry, Spiderman. But what happened that night was not your fault. It’s entirely the fault of the man with the gun. His decisions are what led to your uncle getting shot. Not yours. You can’t blame yourself for his death. You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“But I should’ve-“

“No.” Venom cut in. “Nothing you did or didn’t do would’ve changed what happened that night. If that man went in there with a gun, he had plans to use it. It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you.” Peter smiled softly under his mask. “Thank you for listening. I haven’t told that story in years.”

“You’re welcome, Spiderman.” Venom nodded. “What happened next? Did they ever catch the man?”

“No. They looked but ended up dropping the case after a few days. The police said they had a new pile of crimes to look into every night and my uncle was no longer a priority.”

“I hate them. I hate the justice system. It doesn’t work. That’s why New York needs people like us on the streets. We protect people. Not them.” Venom growled. Peter stayed silent, not wanting to say that he didn’t agree. He trusted the justice system, even if it had let him down in the past.

“Did you ever go looking for that man?” Venom asked to break the silence.

“I tried. He wore a mask and sunglasses so I only saw a little bit of his face. But I didn’t see a tattoo of a-“

“Star. On his left wrist?” Venom asked. For some reason, you knew exactly what Peter was gonna say before he said it. The story Peter had just told you felt all too familiar. You were hearing it for the first time, but you somehow knew the ending.

“Yeah. How did you know?” Peter asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “I just knew.”

You and Peter looked at each other for a long time but said nothing. You had no idea that you knew each other’s identity beneath your disguises. Peter had no idea that he was taking to you, and you had no idea that you were talking to Peter. The feeling of sweet understanding returned and you smiled at each other.

“Would you want to do this again sometime?” Peter asked you when he realized the sun was starting to rise.

“Yes.” Venom replied. “We would really like that.”

“Cool. Catch you later, Venom.” Peter saluted to your before diving off the building. Once Peter was gone, you transformed back into yourself and smiled a little.

“Catch you later, Spiderman.”

Tag List 🏷

you @snowangelsinosemanverse wish @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah you @xo-spidey never @tom-holland-lover ever @asoulsreverie met @espressopatronum454 her @tom-hollands-wifey at @rebellsgf all @20fandomfangirl @dhtomholland @queentorresstuff @3lutforsmut @liltimmyst

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel Is the Sexiest Woman Alive

Those liquid lips, those pearly ankles, those Boulder shoulders -- Jessica Biel is a woman of many parts, all of which we have been assembling in the pages of Esquire over the last five months. Now, at last, she is whole. Behold.

I know the body climbing out of that SUV alarmingly well. I know it better than the body of any other human being, with the possible exception of my wife's. I've been staring at photos of this body for weeks now -- thinking about it, scrutinizing it, asking lots of probing questions about it. For those who haven't been paying attention: In each of the last five issues, Esquire has unveiled a different body part of the Sexiest Woman Alive. We started at her toes in June and took you to her lower lip last month. Until now, her identity has been kept hidden even from our friends and family. Our readers have submitted a flurry of guesses: Angelina Jolie? Kirsten Dunst? Kay Bailey Hutchison?

It has been my job to phone this mystery woman every month and ask her about that issue's body part. (This is journalism, after all, not prurience.) The first time I spoke to the Sexiest Woman Alive, we had a fifteen-minute discussion about her feet. It was the kind of phone conversation that, under other circumstances, would have required the use of a credit card."What color are your toenails?""Red.""What color red?""I'm not sure of the name.""Um, do you like getting your feet massaged?""Yes.""Hard or soft?""I like strong hands. Someone who really gets in there and gets the knots out.""Can you pick up objects with your toes?""Yes, actually, I can.""Like what? Pens?""Yes, I could probably pick up pens. Maybe a big marble.""What about a stapler? Could you pick up a stapler?""Yes, I could probably pick up a stapler, too."

After several equally refined conversations, I have become planet Earth's greatest expert on this body. I know about the blue tattoo of a dove on her stomach and the scar on her left shin from slipping on a tractor. I know about her preference for shaving over waxing because waxing feels like a flyswatter on her skin. I know her thighs are strong from riding a big white horse in Prague this summer for the movie The Illusionist. I know she loved having pumped-up shoulders for her role as a vampire slayer in Blade: Trinity. I know her opinion about her breasts: "I feel comfortable with them. And, uh, I like them."

And now, finally, I am looking at the sexiest body in the world in three dimensions, live and unplugged.

Jessica Biel steps out of the SUV and jogs toward me. She's wearing tight jeans, a sparkly gold shirt tied at the waist, a low-cut white T-shirt underneath. No doubt about it: It's an impressive body. And I should probably stop staring. Right now. Or now. Okay, I've officially started to creep myself out.

Before I met Jessica, I decided we needed to elevate our relationship. So I asked her to meet me at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Can't get much more highbrow than that, right? I also brought along my wife and kid. This, I figured, would show Jessica that I'm not a John Wayne Gacy-like perv.

When Jessica meets my seventeen-month-old son, she leans in and says, "Hello, gorgeous." He smiles vacantly -- a common enough reaction by men. Her voice is husky like Lauren Bacall's. In fact, it's deeper than my voice (an observation she doesn't contradict, sadly). We start strolling into the Greek-statue section.

Jessica is hardly new to fame -- she started her career as a preacher's daughter on the WB drama 7th Heaven, battled an evil robotic plane with Jamie Foxx in Stealth, has a bunch of worshipful fan sites -- but at twenty-three she hasn't yet passed the threshold into surreal, fighting-off-the-paparazzi fame. And yet something about her sends off an invisible celebrity signal. Maybe it's the famous-person sunglasses. (Hers are reddish tinted.) Or maybe it's the star posture. She has the best posture I've ever seen. She could hold an apple between her shoulder blades. The signal goes to work immediately, causing museum-goers to stop her every few feet. One of her admirers requests and gets a hug. Another, an oily teenager who looks as if he spends a lot of time searching for the secret sex scenes in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, manages to stop her twice -- once for an autograph, and minutes later for a picture.

We've been in the museum all of ten minutes when I decide we need a mission to stay focused. Naturally, I find myself taking the relationship right back into the gutter. "What if we tried to find the sexiest woman in the museum? You know, because you're the Sexiest Woman Alive?""Okay, sure. Sounds like fun." Jessica starts scanning the crowd, sizing up the German tourist ladies waddling toward a sarcophagus. "Oh, I actually meant the sexiest painting or statue."I may not be Ted Koppel, but I'm not that crass.She seems relieved. But you've got to love her for agreeing to critique the relative attractiveness of fat European tourists. This much is clear: She's a game girl.

We come to our first candidate, a frighteningly steatopygous Babylonian statue. "Well, a fertility goddess," she says. "You can't get much sexier than that." Nevertheless, we decide to keep searching.

Jessica was a child actor, and when child actors get older, they seem to fall into two camps: They either self-destruct into liquor-store-robbing messes, or they become adults long before they should. Jessica falls into the second category. She seems far too poised and stable and directed for her age.Still, she is in her early twenties. She gushes about a drink she pounded in Prague: lick coffee grounds off hand, take a shot of vodka, finish with a lime. Her friend named it "the molester." And on her twenty-first birthday, she tells me, she downed "about fifteen shots in fifteen minutes," went to the bathroom, vomited, then rode in a mechanical-bull competition and won. But that aside, she seems far older than a girl who still can't rent a car. She doesn't uptalk or giggle. There aren't a lot of likes or ums in her conversation. She actually asks questions about other people -- bizarre for a celebrity. And she has a healthy lack of pretension about her status as an actress. During interviews for the military movie Stealth, journalists kept asking her opinion about the latest weapons. "Sometimes I'd say, 'I am totally in favor of unmanned combat-aerial vehicles during wartime.' And the next time I'd be absolutely against it. I'd change it up to keep myself from getting bored. Because my opinion on a subject like that doesn't really matter."

My wife points out a Paolo Veronese portrait of Venus squeezing a stream of milk from her breast. Sexy? Well, there are Websites devoted to those who would say yes. But Jessica deems it "too functional." She does like the size of the painting, though. It's huge. "I went to the Louvre," she says, "and I was a little disappointed by how small the Mona Lisa was.

"I didn't know she had been to Paris. It's one of the few facts I didn't know. In addition to my monthly interrogations of Jessica about her body parts, I wrote the clues to her identity we gave each month. Which means I read far too many Jessica Biel profiles. So now I know that she started out doing Pringles commercials. And that the pilot of the WB's Christian-themed 7th Heaven featured a scene of her being taught how to kiss by her onscreen brother -- a plotline that was wisely deemed too weird. I know that her friends call her Jesse. And that she dates actor Chris Evans (the Human Torch from Fantastic Four), who spread rose petals all over her apartment on her twenty-first birthday -- presumably before the vomiting incident.I know she grew up in Boulder, Colorado. That her dad is a former business consultant, and her mom used to do "spiritual healing." I know she attended Tufts University for a year and that the Tufts mascot is Jumbo the elephant. (In fact, the only friend of hers who guessed she was the mystery woman was a Tufts alum who decoded the elephant clue.) I know swordfish is one of her favorite foods. I know that she's starring in Elizabethtown, Cameron Crowe's comedy, which opens this month and in which she plays Orlando Bloom's bitch of a girlfriend.

I also know that Jessica does not do nudity. She's made that clear in interview after interview. She'll do sex scenes, like the one with James Van Der Beek in The Rules of Attraction, but she won't bare anything naughty. In fact, a good part of that scene was a close-up of Jessica's face. She says that Van Der Beek wasn't even on the bed with her. So: no nudity. The reason, not surprisingly, has a lot to do with a quasi-infamous photo shoot for Gear magazine.

Back in 2000, when she was starring as a good Christian girl on 7th Heaven, Jessica posed for a series of topless photos. They weren't completely topless, mind you -- there was a carefully placed arm covering her breasts -- but close enough. She was seventeen. Aaron Spelling, the show's producer, was pissed; Stephen Collins, the actor who played her father on the show, called the pictures "child pornography"; and her role on the show was chopped down to guest appearances."

A lot of people said to me, That was the bravest thing I've ever seen anybody do," she says. "But I was miserable. It was horrible. I was humiliated. I just wanted my family to forgive me....I was taken advantage of in many different ways. Now I can look at the pictures and not be disgusted, and I don't have to cry about it. I look at it as a learning experience."

Which makes it all the more remarkable that she agreed to pose for our project, a life-size, multipart, heart-stopping photograph revealing her as the Sexiest Woman Alive. While wearing nothing but a scarf wrapped around her privates. "The shooting of that photo was very hard," she admits. "I felt all the emotions coming back from four or five years ago. I went home after the day was done, I called my mom and cried to her on the phone. But actually, it was almost cathartic in a way. And I feel really happy with the outcome."

In fact, she says, she might not be opposed to baring herself for the camera in the future. I know it's a cheap question to ask, but we happen to be within spitting distance of some very naked Rubens women. "I don't know how I'll feel in two years, five years, ten years," she says. "I heard about an actress -- someone I admired -- who said she wished she had done more nudity when she was twenty-something, since now she's older and it ain't pretty anymore."

Finally, we come upon one more candidate, a painting of a beautiful biblical heroine draped in robes. Jessica thinks she looks a bit like Juliette Binoche. Though the scene is a little incongruous, Jessica wants me to know that the woman is definitely sexy. "It's not because of her great body, either," she says. "It's because she's hardcore and confident. That's instantly sexy." I have decided to ask no more impertinent questions. We are standing in front of Massimo Stanzione's portrait of Judith gripping the decapitated head of Holofernes, her oppressor.

Source: Esquire Magazine, October 2005

[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.”