#(( i should go back to my personal but I love lurking here too much oopsies ))

[freddie-weaselbee]

Close Quarters//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, sexual references, partial nudity, like one paragraph of brief smut but no details, mentions of food, accidentally getting lit on fire (oopsie spoiler), angst, rude Fred

Summary: What happens when George moves out, leaving Fred to live with the one person he despises the most? Chaos, that’s what happens. 

Prompts: Roommates and Enemies to Lovers with the prompts “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” “This is the opposite of what I told you to do.” and “You can’t banish me! This is my apartment too!”

Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is for @theweasleyslut’s birthday celebration writing challenge, happy birthday love !! And also the first fic in Abby’s Week of Weasley, enjoy!

~Abby’s Week of Weasley Masterlist~ ~Masterlist~

As Fred Weasley sealed up the last box with an excess amount of tape, he took a second to step back and take in his surroundings. It was the same old loft he had lived in for the past 4 years. There was the couch and armchairs positioned around a coffee table, the Muggle guitar propped up on its stand in the corner, the many pictures of his family scattered around the open space. It was controlled chaos, and to him it was beautiful. But it was all changing, and much too soon for his liking. 

“Thanks for the help Freddie,” called his twin George from the other room. The tall ginger haired boy who had just spoken joined his slightly older brother in the main part of the loft, carrying a box filled with books he had collected over the years. “It really means a lot, Angie got pulled away for work so I know she’d appreciate it.”

Fred nodded and gave his brother a small smile. “Of course Georgie, anything else I can do?”

George took a look around the room. By the door were piles of dozens of boxes, all filled to the brim with George’s clothes and knick knacks. He sighed and scratched the back of his head, a deep sadness overtaking his features. 

“No, I think we’re alright,” he said. “Just need to get these to my new place and we should be all set.”

Fred let out a deep sigh and looked at his brother. They stared at each other for a few short seconds before dropping everything in their hands and wrapping their arms around each other. 

“Do you really have to go?” Fred whispered softly. It was so unlike him to be quiet, and even more unlike him to be nervous and shy. But watching his brother, who he had lived with for 22 years, finally leave and get his own place broke him. “It’s always been us, George, you and me, the Weasley twins. I can’t imagine living without you.”

George squeezed his twin even tighter, a loose tear falling from eye. “It’s not like I’m leaving you, me and Angelina will be just a Floo Network trip away. And you can’t expect her to stay here forever and be forced to live with you as well.”

Fred scoffed and let out a breathy chuckle. “What do you mean, she’s loved staying with us! The second she moved in with you she told me that she couldn’t imagine anything better than living with her lover and his twin brother who’s always around.”

“She was being sarcastic mate, she can only handle one twin at a time and unfortunately for you that twin is me.” George released his brother and quickly wiped his eyes, noticing Fred doing the same thing. 

“Whatever,” Fred replied, “it was getting annoying not being able to walk around freely in my own place without having to see you two shagging on every piece of furniture.”

“Not my fault she can’t resist my charms,” he said, giving his infamous Weasley smirk. “Maybe with us gone you’ll be able to finally find a girl.”

“I think I should focus on getting a roommate first,” he said, plopping down on the couch. “You know I can’t live alone. Remember before Angelina moved in and you stayed at her place for the night--”

“And you showed up at Ginny and Harry’s and crawled into bed with them because you were scared? Yeah, no one in the family’s gonna let you forget that anytime soon.” Fred shoved his brother and crossed his arms, sinking deeper into the cushions. 

“Sod off, you never know what could be lurking in the dark.” 

George laughed and joined his brother, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “You know,” he began, mischief gleaming in his eyes, “I do think I have an answer to your roommate problem.”

“Really?” Fred asked, shooting up. The less time he had to spend alone at night, and alone in general, the better. 

“Yeah,” said George, “I ran into one of my old friends from school and turns out they’re looking for a place to stay and maybe earn some extra money. I was thinking that maybe, since you’ve got the space and we need some help in the shop anyway, they could take the other room and work downstairs on the weekends.”

Fred looked quizzically at his double, trying to read his intentions. “And who, pray tell, might this friend be?”

George just smirked and went to collect the rest of the boxes. “That, dear brother, is a surprise.”

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

You made your way down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, a place you had more recently been finding yourself. Work at the Ministry had been tiring, especially your first few years. But ever since the war ended and everything began to quiet down, you’d had some more free time to finally take in the world around you. 

It stood out like a sore thumb. The bright and gleaming storefront with an animatronic face looking down at you. You had never visited Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes before, always nervous about running into a certain redhead and falling back into the same argumentative habits you’d had at Hogwarts. Fred had always made it his goal to make your life a living hell, and you couldn’t lie, you did the same to him. But after having lunch with George a few days ago and suddenly receiving a letter to come and visit him at his shop, you decided that it was finally time to see the inside of Diagon Alley’s most booming business. 

The doorbell jingled as you walked in, catching the attention of your friend behind the counter. 

“Y/N!” George cried. He hopped over the register, knocking a few things down from shelves, before pulling you into a hug. 

“Hey George! So, this is the place, huh?” The inside was even more spectacular than the outside. The walls were lined with products from end to end, some of them you recognized from the twins’ testing at Hogwarts and others were completely new. An animatronic doll of Umbridge was riding across a rope close to the ceiling, making you laugh and remembering the horrors of your 7th year when the pink nightmare was in charge. 

“This is it!” George had his arm around your shoulder as he showed you around, pointing out different products and trying desperately to sell you one of their love potions, knowing exactly how single you were. 

“This is incredible, George, I can’t believe you guys actually did it.”

“You doubted us? And I thought we were friends!” He clutched his heart and doubled over, accidentally stumbling into a display and making all of the products crashing down. 

“Oi, George what are you doing down there?” You froze at the voice, one you hadn’t heard in years and one that you weren’t too keen on hearing any time soon. Fred appeared on the steps, wearing a dapper purple and orange suit, his hair slightly ruffled. The grin on his face disappeared when he made eye contact with you, being replaced with a scowl. “What’s she doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Weasley.” You smiled at him, a fake mocking smile that made his blood boil, and how you loved getting under his skin. 

“George,” he said, acting as though you weren’t even in the room. 

The man in question shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. “Well, uh, you see…”

“George sent me a letter the other day,” you interrupted. “Said that he had a proposition that he wanted to talk about and asked if I could come in today.”

Realization dawned on Fred and his eyes grew wide. “Oh no, George are you serious? She was the one you were talking about?”

You furrowed your brow in both confusion at the situation and anger at Fred, who had made you upset in record time today. “Talking about what? All I know is that he wanted to ask me something and I agreed to meet with him.” You turned to face the other twin. “What’s going on?”

“Ok, both of you calm down,” he said, hands up in defense. “Let me explain. Y/N, you know how you said you really needed a place to stay, as well as somewhere to work part time?”

It took you a couple of seconds, but you then understood what he was insinuating. “No. There’s no way, how am I supposed to live with you two when he’s going to be an annoying prat every second?”

“You’re not the most lovable person yourself, darling,” Fred sneered. “And besides, you wouldn’t be living with us. George moved out to get an apartment with Angelina. You’d be living with only me.”

Without a second thought you turned around and started toward the exit. “Well, I appreciate the offer George and it was great to catch up, hopefully next time I see you I won’t be bothered by your other half.”

“Y/N wait!” George cried, catching up to you and grabbing your wrist. “Listen, I know these aren’t the most...ideal conditions for you--”

“Same goes for me!” Fred called from the stairs. 

George sighed heavily, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Y/N, I’ve missed you over the past few years. I know that you and Fred don’t exactly get along.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” you said through gritted teeth. “He’s annoying, cocky, inconsiderate, and--”

“And he’s my brother,” said George. “He’s a good person, and for whatever reason you two decided to hate each other, I can promise that the Fred you think you know is nothing like the real one.”

You paused your struggle against his arm and decided to let him continue on. 

“Let’s be real here. You need a place to stay and rent for most places in Diagon Alley is insane. If you stay here you get a nice bedroom, a cozy living room, a great view of London from the roof, and a low rate for rent. You can even work down here on the weekends to get the extra money you need. The only thing you need to do is be civil with Fred, that’s all.”

“That’s a lot more difficult than it sounds when someone’s as much of an arse as he is.”

Fred rolled his eyes and came over to join the conversation. “What would I get out of this arrangement George? I don’t know if you were unaware, but I don’t exactly need money at the moment, we’re doing just fine as it is.”

Great, you thought, he’s a pompous rich kid too. Gets a little money and it goes all to his head. 

“Fred, what were we talking about the other night?” George prodded. “You hate being alone, especially at night. If Y/N’s here, then you’ll have someone to keep you company, someone who’s always in the loft with you.”

“Aww, is little Freddie afraid of the dark?” you mocked, sticking out your bottom lip and jesting in a baby voice. 

He practically growled back. “Shut the fuck up, you--”

George put his hands out, one on your shoulder and one on Fred’s chest to separate the two of you. “It’s a mutually beneficial deal. You both know that you don’t have any other options, and maybe if you two dimwits spend some time together you won’t be at each other’s throat all the time! Now, what do you say? Just try it out.”

You looked Fred up and down dramatically, letting him know how much distaste for him you had. He did the same back to you but paused for a brief moment at your boobs, causing you to blush and look away. 

Fred was the first to give in. “Fine. I’m willing to try it if she will. As long as we establish some ground rules, starting with you can never come into my room, got it?”

It took everything you had not to slap the shit out of the man standing in front of you, but George was right. You didn’t have any other options. 

“I’ll at least have my own bathroom, right?” you asked George. 

He laughed guiltily and mentally prepared himself for another barrage of yells. “You see, about that…”

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

“Your room’s at the end of the hall, bathroom’s to the right, my room’s to the left, have at it.” 

You dropped the heavy boxes you had been carrying onto the floor and leaned over to catch your breath. Fred was standing nonchalantly in the kitchen, pulling out the bread and jam to make a sandwich. 

“Excuse me?” you asked indignantly. 

“You’re excused,” he replied, not even looking up. 

You stomped over to the small kitchenette and slammed the refrigerator door shut, which Fred just opened again seconds later. You tried again, but he merely sighed and reached for the handle. Finally after not being able to take any more you shoved his hand aside and stood in front of the door, leaning all of your weight onto it. 

“Something I can help you with, doll?” 

The anger coursing through your boy only intensified, nails leaving marks on the insides of your clenched hands. “First of all, don’t call me doll, understand?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the waist, lifting you to the side so he could once again get to his food. “I’ll call you what I want, darling.”

By this point you had completely given into your anger. Pulling your wand from your back pocket you shoved it under his chin, forcing him against a nearby wall and making him finally pay attention to you. “You listen here, Freddie,” you snarled. “Neither of us want this to happen, that’s a fact. But if you get to have ground rules then so do I, and I will not sit here and be quite literally tossed around like some quaffle! Have I made myself clear?”

It was subtle, but Fred gulped. You had always scared him at Hogwarts, which is one of the reasons he picked on you so much. He’d rather be on the offensive than always backed into a corner playing defense. 

“Ok doll--sorry, I mean Y/N. Let’s sit down and go over any rules, ok? As much as I enjoy being pinned to the wall by you, I think we need to defuse the tension, yeah?”

Even when he was trying to make peace he was infuriating. But you relented and slowly let the wand down, pulling out a chair at the countertop with Fred joining right next to you. 

Fred summoned a piece of parchment and a pen (which was always much easier to use than quills) and messily scrawled ‘Loft Rules’ on the top. 

“Alright, you can go first,” he offered. 

You thought for a moment before delivering your demands. “Number one, no nicknames. I go by Y/N, and I refuse to answer to anything else.” He nodded and wrote it down. 

“Number two. You can’t ignore me. I know you think you’re better than me and that I’m not worth your time, but if I’m going to be your roommate then you have to treat me as an equal, and I’ll do the same to you.” 

“Yeah,” Fred scoffed, “just like you did back in Hogwarts.”

“Can we please not focus on the past?” you asked. “I know we were both horrible arses to each other, but we’re not kids anymore. I’ll respect you if you respect me. It’s not that difficult.”

Fred grumbled in agreement and wrote down the second rule. “Anything else?”

“Don’t go through my room or my stuff. I have some very personal items and I would appreciate you keeping your nose out of them.”

Fred put the pen to his chin in concentration, ideas forming in his head. 

“Fred,” you scolded. “No touching my things. That’s final.” 

“Fine, but the same goes for me,” he said. “That’s my rule number one, stay out of my room and don’t touch any of my personal items. Furniture and that kind of thing don’t count.”

You nodded. “That’s only fair. Rule number two?”

“George and I are always working on new products, and usually testing them out on people. We’ll pay you to test them if you want, but if not you need to stay out of our way and mind your own business.”

“I’ll test anything you guys have, I did it back at school and I’m sure you’re much more professional now.”

“What?” Fred asked, completely confused. “When did you test our products?”

“Who do you think was the one who tried, and eventually perfected, the skiving snackboxes? George asked me to help him with them so I skipped prefect duties for a few nights and we figured it all out.”

“There’s no way you were the one who fixed them! I’ve been giving George the credit this whole time, how in the world did you do that?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t top of our class for nothing, Freddie.”

“Oh I know, you never let me hear the end of it.”

Before you could say something in response Fred rushed on to his last request.

“Number three,” he said, smirking widely. “You can’t complain about any of the girls I bring home, and you can’t get in their way or say bad things about me. Believe it or not, I can be quite charming and I give everyone a good time, so no complaints of noise either. And we don’t use silencing spells, so get ready for that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you. Now, I’m going downstairs to help George with a new shipment that just came in. Have fun unpacking your things!” He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before aparating downstairs, leaving you alone in the large loft. You sighed and went to grab the boxes, dragging everything to the room you would be stuck in for who knows how long. 

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

“This is the ugliest uniform I’ve ever seen!” 

“Then it’ll match the rest of your personality! Put it on.”

You scoffed at Fred’s remark but decided not to argue. No matter how much you despised the boy you figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to start off by insulting your boss. Fred Weasley was your boss. You never thought you would reach this low of a point in your life. 

The outfit you had to wear was exactly what Fred and George wore, which was fine for them, two 6’ 3” men. But the oversized male suit that you had to roll up countless times really didn’t suit your figure, and Fred knew that all too well. 

Scrunching up the pant legs and fastening the tie, you made your way out of the loft to join the twins down in their office, running into George on the way down. 

“Hey Y/N, sleep well?” George asked, handing you a latte he had bought from the coffee shop down the street. 

You gave him a grateful nod and took a sip. “Hardly. I didn’t get moved in until about 2 in the morning and I always have trouble falling asleep in a new place, so let’s just say last night was a pretty rough start.”

“Fred didn’t help you unpack your things?” George questioned, looking a little surprised. “That must’ve taken you ages to get everything set up.”

“You’re telling me. But no, he just holed himself up in his room, ordered takeout around 9, then went back to his room and that’s all I saw of him. But I mean that’s pretty in character, yeah? Never really liked me much.”

It took George a few seconds to take in everything you were telling him. Fred was never one to ignore someone, especially someone he was living with. “Yeah,” he said, “but even so he was never actually rude to you at school right? I always thought it was some teenage rivalry fueled by hormones of something like that.”

“I wish it was that simple,” you sighed. “But I always appreciate when he’s leaving me alone. It’s a lot better than some of the asshole things he would say and do when we were kids. Trust me, the less we interact, the better.”

George was speechless with shock, but you didn’t notice. You made your way to some shelves to tidy up before the shop opened, leaving George standing open mouthed. 

He watched as Fred finally exited the office with a stack of papers piled higher than his head. He dropped them next to you, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Fill these out for me will ya? Order forms, due back to me by noon. Shouldn’t be too complicated for you to understand, but let me know if you need me to explain what any of the big words mean.”

“Of course, sir.” you said, picking up the stack and taking it to the back. Fred came over to join his brother, who looked appalled at Fred’s actions. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I love you, but you’re a fucking moron.” George followed you into the back while Fred stared at him, confused on why his brother had for once in his life not been on his side. 

George spent the rest of the morning showing you the ropes until you felt you were comfortable enough with the setup to be able to help them stock products and show people around. It was a nice change from your Ministry job, which was predictable and could be quite boring. This job had you always on your toes, talking with kids and demonstrating some of your favorite products. 

The twins came back from their lunch break around one and were met with a large crowd of kids following you around like lost puppies. They were all grinning widely and laughing at every demonstration you provided, making you mirror their actions with glee. 

You tried to show the kids how to use one of the newer products, but it ended up exploding in your face, making everyone howl with laughter, including yourself.

Fred watched you interact with the kids, enraptured by how easily you seemed to get along with them. When he knew you at Hogwarts he always thought you were a cocky and arrogant student who would’ve hated the idea of his pranks and jokes. The person he was watching now was nothing like the one he remembered. 

“She’s a natural, huh?” whispered George, snapping Fred out of his stupor. “She’s always been good with kids, they seem to love her.”

“Y/N?” Fred asked. “She was so cold back in Hogwarts, I never saw her smile once!”

“Really?” George asked bewildered. “She’s always been a blast! Lee and her were friends and I can’t help but think he might’ve sparked the wild side in her, but I’ve never seen her be cold to anyone. Well, anyone except you.”

Before Fred could see anything you noticed the twins’ arrival. Smiling, you gestured to them and announced their presence in a regal voice. “And there they are, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!”

The kids cheered and ran over to greet Fred and George, bouncing with excitement and berating them with questions about their products. George gave you a teasing glare as he was dragged across the floor while you sat on the counter, laughing at the scene you caused. But when you went to look at Fred, who you expected to be ignoring you, he was doing the complete opposite. 

He was staring at you unashamedly, his eyes burning into yours. You awkwardly looked away, but when you glanced back a few seconds later he was still analyzing you, as if he was trying to figure out everything about you. You cleared your throat and moved to the back office, hoping you could get a start on that paperwork and maybe shake the weird feeling you got when Fred looked at you like that. 

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

“All closed up for the night?”

You jumped at Fred’s voice, which had distracted you from casting the last of the protective charms needed to keep the shop locked up. With an entire alley filled with wizards who learned Alohomora in their first year at Hogwarts, it was safe to say they needed their fair share of charms to keep the store from being robbed. 

“I was almost there, before you interrupted,” you said, turning back to the final spells you needed to cast. It had been a few weeks since you moved in with Fred and it had honestly been a lot better than you had expected. Of course, you two were still constantly at each other’s throats and the neighbors had complained about shouting matches more than once, but neither of you had killed the other yet and you considered that a victory. 

As you finished up the last of your closing duties you saw George grabbing his things and heading to the Floo network upstairs, trying to rush past and avoid you and Fred. 

“Hey!” you yelled after him. He stopped dead in his tracks and tried to shrink down as if to hide from you. But, being over 6 feet tall, it was rather difficult for him to disappear. “Where do you think you’re going? Stop trying to sneak off on us!”

“Yeah,” said Fred. “We’ve had takeout the last three nights in a row, we need you to stay and cook us a decent meal so I don’t have to smell Y/N’s fast food breath anymore.”

You elbowed him but nodded in agreement, you were getting absolutely sick of not having a home cooked meal. 

“Guys,” George groaned, “I need to get home to see Angie! I’ve been working late for the past week and it’s been a while since we’ve had some...alone time.”

You and Fred both covered your ears and gagged, pretending to pop a puking pastille and subsequently throw up. 

“You’re both so immature, and that’s coming from me,” he said smiling. “Besides, isn’t it high time you two learned to cook for yourselves? What were you gonna do, just have me cook for you the rest of your lives?”

“Yes,” you and Fred replied in unison, shooting each other dirty looks before turning back to your friend. Fred, with his unhealthy obsession with pyrotechnics, and you, with your lack of basic common sense, were never allowed in the kitchen before, and so neither of you had any idea how to cook even the most simple of meals. 

George rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs to the loft, you and Fred following shortly behind him. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, just follow the recipe I laid out for you. It’s spaghetti, I’m sure even you two couldn’t mess that up.” And with that, George had whooshed through the fireplace, leaving only you and Fred in the kitchen. 

You stared at each other for a second, before you came to a decision. “I’ll order the takeout, you want Chinese tonight?”

You picked up one of the many takeout menus you had lying around and began to skim through it when Fred spoke up. “No, George is right. We might as well try to learn, and with two of us we should be able to figure it out.”

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “That is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, and you’ve had some really dumb ideas.”

“C’mon,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “We’re both smart, some of us more so than others. How bad can it possibly be?”

Answer: very bad. 

Fred was running around the kitchen screaming at the top of his lungs while the fire alarm blared all throughout the loft. “Y/N, help! It won’t stop screaming at me!”

“I don’t know what to do!” you yelled, throwing the burning cookbook into the sink. There was still smoke rising from it, which made the alarm continue to beep at full volume. You grabbed the pot of boiling water and poured it down the drain, hoping that it would put out any of the pages that were still flaming. But the water only splashed up at you, making you yelp and fall backwards in order to avoid being burned by the liquid. 

Fred was still scrambling through the rooms and he didn’t notice your body laying on the floor, causing him to trip over you and faceplant into the spilled marinara sauce. 

The two of you tried to get up but your limbs became tangled in each other’s and you ended up on the ground again. After a few struggles you were finally back on your feet, but you were once again off of them as Fred hoisted you into the table. 

“Get on my shoulders,” he said over the sound of the alarm. You climbed on and reached up to fumble around with all of the buttons on the device. “Hurry up, Y/N, I can’t support you for much longer!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” After what felt like ages you had finally pushed the right sequence and the loft was drowned in a sudden silence. Both you and Fred let out sighs of relief as he lowered you back onto the table. You hopped off and took a few steps back, finally taking in the disastrous scene around you.

“Well,” you said relieved, “at least that’s over.”

You turned to smile at Fred but we’re only met with a wide eyed look of pure horror. 

“Fred? What is it?”

It was then that you smelled it. The familiar burning that had just been flooding your nostrils moments before was suddenly back and stronger than ever.

Slowly, you turned your head to look behind you, and your eyes widened even larger than Fred’s had. “I’m on fire!”

Sure enough, your oversized sweater had been dangling in the flame of the kitchen stove, which neither of you had remembered to turn off. The bottom of your outfit was slowly burning, bright orange and red flames climbing up your torso. 

“Fuck! Fred, do something!” you wailed. You began running around the kitchen and spinning around faster and faster to try to put out the fire. 

“I’m trying!” Fred grabbed a blanket from the living room and draped it over you, hoping to cut off the oxygen flow. But the fire only spread to the blanket, making your situation ten times worse. 

“What the fuck Fred?! Do something useful!”

Fred dove under the table, reaching for his wand. He shimmied under a little more, but his right pant leg got caught in the burning blanket, meaning that both of you were now being engulfed by the flames. 

“Holy shit!” He patted the small flames on his pants away, but you were frantically trying to shove yourself into the sink under the running water. 

Grabbing his wand, Fred tried to get up, banging his head on the table in the process, and aimed it at you. “We never should’ve tried cooking! I can’t believe you talked me into this!”

“This is the opposite of what I told you to do!” you shrieked. “Now put the fire out you moron!”

Fred quickly cast Aguamenti, sending gallons upon gallons of water out of his wand and straight onto your flailing body, as well as the burning blanket. You sat in the sink, ass half in the now empty spaghetti pot, completely drenched from head to toe. Fred’s pant leg was still simmering, and his entire face was covered in marinara sauce, which had dripped down to cover most of his shirt. After all of the shock of what had just happened finally passed, a small smile crept onto both of your faces, and soon you were both bent over laughing hysterically. 

Fred lifted you out of the sink, pushing you away suddenly when he realized how much water was dripping onto him. “C’mon, love, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Hey, I thought I said no nicknames,” you teased, falling in step with him as you both rushed to your shared bathroom. 

“C’mon, just this one, please? I deserve it after what you put me through back there.” He gave his best puppy dog eyes but you didn’t fall for it for a second. 

“What I put you through?!” you said, bumping into his shoulder. “You thought we were supposed to light the noodles to get them to soften! I caught on fire for Pete’s sake!”

He laughed at you as you turned on the bathroom sink and tugged at your sweater. It was completely scorched in the back, black all the way up to your collar. You were lucky Fred had put it out when he did, otherwise there was a good chance it could have damaged your hair. 

You took the now ruined sweater off, leaving you standing there in only your bra and a pair of comfortable pants. You could feel Fred’s gaze on your body, making your face turn red and you instinctively covered yourself up. He unbuckled his scorched trousers and hung them in the shower, hoping that maybe he could get some material and fix them later. 

The both of you realized simultaneously that you were each half naked, and you were completely soaked wearing a fairly transparent white bra. Deciding to distract from the obvious tension, you finally broke the silence. “This may sound completely ludacris, considering I was just, y’know, on fire, but that was one of the most exciting and fun things that’s happened in a while. Reminds me of when we were back in school, with all of the mischief and pranks.”

“Back in school?” Fred replied. “I thought you hated my pranks! You seemed like you were so, i dunno, above me. And I thought you hated everything fun and exciting!”

“You’re not serious, are you?” You smiled at his confused expression. “I was friends with Lee and your brother. The amount of trouble I would get in when you were off in detention or shagging some girl in our year...it was fantastic. I never hated your pranks, I just hated you. No offense.”

He shrugged. “None taken. I hated you too. But you’re nothing like I thought you were.”

You took a step closer to him, softly biting your lip as you grinned sheepishly. “You’re nothing like I thought either.”

This time Fred moved a few inches closer, his hand hovering over your hip and eyes taking in all of you. His fingers brushed against your side ever so softly, caressing your side with his fairy light touches. You slowly parted your lips and he did the same, continuing to grow closer and closer until--

“What the bloody hell happened here?!”

The two of you shot apart at the noise, registering that it must’ve been George who had used the Floo network to come back to the loft. You avoided eye contact with the redhead standing next to you as you both exited the bathroom and went to find George, who was looking wide eyed at the complete mess you had created all over the apartment. 

“Y’know what,” he said after looking at the current state the two of you were in, “ I don’t wanna know. I just wanted to come back, grab the papers I left here, and be on my merry way.”

He stopped short, looking over at you again. “Nice tits, Y/N.”

You quickly crossed your arms in front of your chest again and Fred stood in between you and George, blocking his view of your very exposed self. 

“Calm down, Freddie, I have a girlfriend, I’m not going to be ogling your roommate, dear brother.” He tiptoed around the giant mess and grabbed a stack of papers sitting on the coffee table. “Oh, and before I forget, Y/N, remember that guy I was telling you about? The one investor I work with?” he said with a wink. 

“Umm, yeah, what about him?” you asked, still very shaken up about the events of the evening. 

“He said he’d love to get to know you! I told him he’s your type and apparently you’re very much his, so I set up a date for you two tomorrow night. Is that alright?”

Fred snapped his head in your direction but you refused to look at him. What had happened in the bathroom was a mistake, an adrenaline induced mistake that almost changed everything for your roommate dynamic. You couldn’t mess things up now, not when you and Fred had finally been getting along. Besides, you had been dying to get out and date, and George had at long last found you someone that wasn’t a complete asshole. You’d be a fool to not give it a shot. “Y-yeah, that sounds great.” 

“Perfect,” he replied. “I’ll see you two tomorrow then. And please, don’t ever cook again. I promise I’ll be here to make you a nice meal next time, alright?”

George disappeared once again, leaving you with the man who had almost kissed you in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Fred moved away quickly, going to clean up the mess the two of you had made. You tried to follow and help him, but he just shooed you away and back to your room. 

Just a few seconds ago Fred was mere millimeters away from you, but now he felt like he was millions of miles away. 

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

“Ready, Y/N?”

George was standing in the opening of the bathroom door, watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You decided to put your best foot forward tonight. No use wasting a great opportunity just because of some unwanted confusions from the other day. Turning to face you friend you did a little twirl, dress flying up and spinning around you. 

“How do I look?” you asked bashfully. 

“Brilliant,” George replied, a proud grin on his face. “Let’s get you downstairs, he’ll be waiting to meet you.” 

The two of you made your way to the staircase leading out of the loft, when a very upset and very tipsy Fred stumbled by the two of you. He pushed past and didn’t even stop to say anything before heading out of the shop and down the street. 

“Where’s he off to?” you asked. 

“Oh, just to shag another random girl he finds at a bar. It’s a weekly occurrence for him at this point. It stopped once you moved in though, this is the first time he’s gone out since you’ve lived here.” George looked longingly at his brother, who had always turned away from his problems and instead focused on firewhisky and girls to temporarily ease his pain. 

“So, he doesn’t really date then? Just the hookup type?” you prodded, hoping against all odds that George would give you the answer you wanted to hear. 

“He used to, back in school and before the war. But something just happened after he got out of the pile of rubble,” he said. “I haven’t ever seen the same girl around here more than once or twice. But hey, as long as he’s alright it’s really none of my business. I just gotta look out for him, y’know?”

You gave George a reassuring smile. “You’re a great brother, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Now get out there and get yourself a man!” George gave you a little shove in the right direction and you set off for your date. 

Although you were hoping that this could be a change of pace, a push in the right direction, the date did not go anything like you were wishing it would. 

The man George had told you about, Jason, was a perfectly fine guy. He was polite, charming, very handsome. But while the two of you wined and dined, you couldn’t help but compare him to something else. Someone else. No matter what he said, what jokes he would crack, it just wasn’t what you wanted. 

You thanked him for a wonderful evening, but it was fairly obvious that neither of you had intentions of seeing each other again. As you sulked through the dark streets of nocturnal Diagon Alley, you couldn’t help but mentally kick yourself for giving up so easily. One date and you decided that this man wasn’t worth your time. And for what? An unrealistic expectation you’d conjured up in your head about what your ideal person would be. 

As you trudged up the stairs to the loft, thinking about how in the world you would ever be able to actually find someone else to go out with, you heard shouting from inside the apartment. You reached to open the door, only to have it yanked open and a young woman, clothes hastily thrown on and pure fury etched across her brow, came charging out. 

“This must be her, isn’t it? This is Y/N!” she turned her back and yelled. Fred suddenly appeared, shocked to see you home so early. “Well, answer me!”

Fred and you both stood there speechless, Fred not knowing what to say and you now knowing what was going on. “Y/N…” he finally said, so quietly that you could barely hear him. 

This just set the other girl off again. “What are you, his girlfriend, wife maybe?” 

You shook your head fervently. “N-no, not at all! We’re just... roommates.”

The girl seemed to calm after this, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. “That’s a relief I guess. I thought I had just become an accidental homewrecker!”

“Homewrecker?” you exclaimed. You didn’t even know this girl, she was just one of Fred’s random hookups, but she thought that she would be breaking up a nonexistent relationship between you and Fred. 

“Yeah,” she said, “he brings me home from the bar, sweet talks me, gets me naked, and you’ll never guess whose name he moaned as he--”

“That’s enough!” Fred yelled, shoving the girl out past you and grabbing your wrist to pull you into the loft. “Look, I’m sorry Marcy--”

“It’s Macy, you dumbass,” she said, fixing her messed up hair and putting on a look of confidence. “And the night is still young, so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go find someone else who can actually remember my name!” She slammed the door shut behind her, the thud echoing across the walls. 

You clicked your tongue, trying to fill the absence of noise without wanting to bring up the very interesting news Macy had provided. “So, I’m sorry about your date--”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he interrupted. “I’m going to bed and I don’t want you to mention this to anyone else, understand?”

You didn’t give him any attention as you went to your room, trying to comprehend everything that happened. “Well, my date was a bust too, thanks for asking,” you said as you copied the earlier actions of Macy and slammed your door shut. You undressed and removed your makeup, hoping that a long night’s sleep would allow you to decompress and somehow sort out everything you were feeling. 

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

Your goals of a long and peaceful sleep were shattered as a high pitched, incredibly annoying alarm clock beeped from the room adjacent to yours. You groaned and covered your ears with your pillow, trying to block out the noise to no avail. Rolling over, you saw your clock displaying 6:00 am, a time you definitely didn’t want to get up at on your day off. 

You thought Fred would have woken up by now and turned off the horrid sounds, but it continued to ring through your ears, getting louder and louder each time. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and you jumped out of bed, storming over to Fred’s locked bedroom door. 

“Frederick Gideon Weasley!” you screamed, banging on his door. His blaring alarm was only adding to your awful mood, caused by the terrible night you had before. You didn’t think you could stand one more second of the noises and you were practically screaming Fred’s name. 

“Turn that off, right now! Fred I’m not kidding! This is your last chance.” You continued to pound your fist against the door to the point where you knew you were going to bruise if you had to continue. Completely fed up with the situation and with Fred in general you pulled out your wand and unlocked the door. 

“Fred Weasley for the love of--” You stopped abruptly and took in the scene in front of you. You’d never seen the inside of Fred’s room before, but you had to imagine that it didn’t always look this bad. This...dark.

 The drapes were hanging from the windows, covering any source of light that could’ve possibly come in. Clothes were strewn across the floor and small knick knacks were thrown everywhere with no care. The alarm continued to blare, but you couldn’t focus on that at the moment, the only thing you could focus on was Fred. 

He was curled up in his bed, Muggle headphones covering his ears and blasting music so loud that you could hear it clearly from across the room. He was clutching a pillow into his chest, head buried into it and his body shaking with what you thought to be sobs. No, it couldn’t be. Fred couldn’t be crying. 

Suddenly he jerked up and threw off his headphones, finally noticing your presence. “Freddie…” you said softly.

“Get. The fuck. Out.” he growled. He wiped his tears away and the sadness you had just seen in him had completely turned into something else. Complete anger. 

You ignored his command. “Fred, are you ok?”

Shooting out of bed, clothed only in his boxers, Fred grabbed his wand and almost charged at you. “I said get out!” he screamed, tears continuing to stream from his face. “Go! Leave! I don’t want to see you again!”

You backed out of the room, hands in the air as the tall infuriated figure towered over you with his wand in your face. “Yeah, ok I’ll just, umm, go back to my room.” 

You tried to rush back to the safety of your bedroom but a harsh hand grabbed your shoulder and turned you around. “No,” he seethed. “I said get out, that means get. out. Get out of my apartment.”

“Freddie…”

“Don’t call me that!” He wasn’t even trying to hide the tears now. They came streaming out, drowning his face. “Leave the apartment and don’t come back. You’re… you’re banished!”

“Excuse me?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“I said you’re hereby banished from the loft and from my store!” 

“You can’t banish me! This is my apartment too!”

“Banished! Leave! Go!” He ran into your room and started pulling clothes out of your drawers, throwing everything onto piles on your floor. 

“Fred! Stop that, what are you doing?”

“I said banished and that’s final, get your things and leave.” He continued to pack your clothes, not even paying attention to what he was tossing and barely being able to see through his tears. 

“Well...you’re banished too!” you screamed at him. “You’re in my room, that’s one of the rules! Get out, you’re banished!”

“No, you’re banished, I said it first so only mine counts!” 

“No, you’re banished”

“No you are!”

“No--”

“Just get the fuck out Y/N!” Fred yelled, louder than he’d yelled anything before. “I can’t stand seeing you anymore and you need to go!”

“Why?” you pushed. “I see you crying one time and suddenly you can’t stand me? Are you really that scared of being vulnerable?”

“Yes!”

You both froze, taking in what he just said. He sucked in a deep breath and wiped his face with one of the shirts he was holding, coming close and staring straight down into your eyes. 

“Yes. I don’t want you to see me curled up in my bed, crying into my fucking pillow because I miss my twin brother! Because I can’t handle being alone, and even when someone's living with me I’m still alone! Because you hate me, and I can’t even tell the girl I live with that I love her, because then you’ll laugh at me and leave! And maybe it’s easier to just make you go rather than being abandoned, again. So, Y/N, you’re banished, from my apartment and from my life.”

As he finished his rant you stood there, not knowing what to do or say. The ever-happy, cocky, overbearingly confident man in front of you had just vented out everything he had been feeling for the last few months. You couldn’t think straight or come to a rational decision. So you did the first thing that came to your mind. You grabbed his cheeks in your hand and pulled him down, enveloping his lips in yours. 

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back aggressively, all tongue and teeth. It was nothing like any first kiss you’d had with anyone else; it wasn’t sweet or loving. It was passionate and needy, and it was both of you confessing everything you’d held in your hearts for the past few months, and if you’re being honest, for the past decade. 

In seconds you were on the bed, legs straddling the person you had despised for years. Neither of you could let go of each other, only coming up for air when absolutely necessary. Hands on each other’s bodies, clothes abandoned on the floor, screams of each other’s names and moans of ‘I love you’s echoing off the bedroom walls, until the two of you were tired and panting, your head resting on his chest and his arms around your waist. 

You twisted your head to stare up at Fred’s sweat-glistening face, the tears long since dried and his expression showing none of the negativity it had before. Snuggling into his bare chest even more, you murmured something too quiet for him to hear. 

“What was that, darling?”

“I asked if you still wanted to banish me after that.”

He laughed and squeezed his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Definitely not. I mean, unless you want to go.” He shifted nervously, fears of abandonment and rejection resurfacing. What if this was just a heat of the moment thing? What if all you wanted was a one time hookup and you didn’t have real feelings for him? What if he was bad? No, that last one couldn’t be it, your screams had said otherwise. But everything else…

“Of course I don’t want to leave Freddie, but you did break the “no nicknames” rule a second ago, so maybe I should banish you.” He ruffled your hair and glared at you before chuckling and slowly closing his eyes. 

“Hey Freddie,” you asked quietly. “Did you mean what you said? About loving me?”

“Course I did, love. Why do you think I was such an arse at Hogwarts? You were too pretty and perfect and the stupid guys were always talking to you. Made me bloody pissed. I’m sorry about everything I’ve done to hurt you, really I am.” You could hear his heart beating faster at his apology. You traced your cool hands in patterns on his chest, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Well I was never an angel either,” you said. “One time I snogged Roger right outside the Gryffindor Common Room just because I knew you were gonna be leaving for Quidditch practice soon and I liked getting under your skin.”

“I knew that was planned!” he said, shooting up and making your head hit the headboard behind you. “No one believed me, but I knew you were a little minx just trying to get under my skin. But I see nothing’s really changed, has it?”

“Oh shut up!” you said, suddenly self conscious of your very naked body being on full display, Fred’s eyes raking you over. You covered up and snuggled back into the bed. “I love you too, y’know. I’m sorry I’m such a stuck-up snob sometimes.”

“S’okay, darling. I know you were just like that in response to me. Sorry for pushing you away so many times. I guess I tend to do that a lot.”

“Hey.” You raked your hands through Fred's messy ginger hair, pulling strands into tiny braids. “You know that George didn’t abandon you, right? He loves you more than I’ve ever seen someone love before.”

Fred nodded softly, tears forming in his eyes again. “Yeah, I know. But it’s hard. We shared a room for 18 years straight, both at home and at Hogwarts. Then we shared an apartment, and now it feels like he’s not even here anymore. Which is bloody stupid because I see him downstairs every day. I just...I want to be able to come home and tell someone all about my day, and talk about dreams and goals until 3 in the morning, and--”

“And try to cook dinner together only to end up on fire?” you interrupted with a smile on your face. “I know I’m no George, but I want to be there for you in any way I can. Stay up late and go on adventures and go on double dates with your brother and Angelina. I wanna be yours. I mean, if you’ll let me.”

Fred cupped your cheek and pulled you into a chaste kiss. “I’ll do more than let you, I was about to ask anyways but you had to beat me to it, didn’t you?”

“It’s a habit,” you shrugged. “I’m glad you tried to banish me.”

“I’m glad you wouldn’t let me. Looks like your stubbornness finally paid off.” You shoved his chest lightly and wrapped your arm across his torso. 

“I love you Freddie.”

“I love you too.”

A few silent moments passed with the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. “Hey Fred?” you said, finally breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Can you please get up and turn off that bloody alarm?”

Tag List(specific fic): @lucymfer

Message me to be on my main taglist or any of my series taglists!

[mooglesorts]

man. it's weird, because there's a lot of things about me that are Very Badger Primary, to the point where i would probably pick it with a strong bird model over anything else at this point... except that i hate dehumanization. i saw primaries described recently as 'things you wouldn't be you anymore if you went against,' and more than just about anything else that's it. even when i think people are monsters, i can't see them as not human; i'd be hard put to define exactly what i consider a 'monster,' but it's more about like. good faith than personhood, i suppose?

it's not necessarily a permanent status to be one--people can change--but my deeply held instinct is that once you have done something monstrous you will always be a person who has been a monster by your own choices, and that it's your duty to learn how to accept that while still living your life, and act accordingly from thereon out. you have to reconcile that you are a person with the fact that some doors are closed to you now, and it's up to you to decide what you do from there.

just. like. even when i hate someone and as far as i'm concerned they can go fuck themself, even in the multiple Heavily Badger social environments i've been in over the course of my life--church, progressive circles, the way the structure of the internet kind of just affects you in general--even on occasions where i've gotten swept away and given in to the pressure to dehumanize (or perform it) for a minute, there's always, always been a voice in the back of my head saying this is a person. this is a person. this is a person. this isn't right.

unintentional dehumanization sets off my '...should we really be doing this? we are getting into not good territory here, it's time to pull up and start questioning' alarms. explicit, intentional, purposeful dehumanization sets off the whole ass tornado sirens. if people on my side are doing it it's enough to throw me into a system-destabilizing crisis, because NO NO NO I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE, I WANT NO PART OF THESE PEOPLE'S MORAL SYSTEM, I FEEL UNCLEAN. it's a good way to make sure i will never, ever, ever trust someone again.

things that are Really Really Badger, off the top of my head (after the cut because Long and trauma talk):

[[MORE]]

---

-i've always loved playing adoptable games, pet simulators, etc? any game with randomly generated characters that are Yours Now and a Community, in a deeply badgery way. including games where they can die (the satisfying part is making sure they don't). except that, no matter how much fun the gameplay is, if it gets to the point where they start feeling disposable, and the only way to really keep playing is to stop humanizing them, i lose interest. it's super fucking depressing. it feels like part of me dying inside a little. i don't like it at all.

-i've always been drawn to fandoms and roleplaying communities. i was fiercely loyal to, and proud of, my first rp community on dragoncave as a 13-year-old. when my abusive mom found out about it and completely isolated me for half a year, the promise of being able to make it back to them--just sneakier this time--kept me going; when i finally got back and the group had drifted apart in my absence, it.... was absolutely devastating. i never really recovered from it. even then, i spent years trying to get the group back together every now and then, until i finally gave up.

-i am always keenly, painfully aware of the life cycle of a community. every time i hear the sentiment 'you guys are all great and i love this group' my stomach drops, because i know it's only a matter of time before things go sour or the group dissolves. rp groups, skype chats/discord servers, fandoms, you name it, i am always bracing myself or staying away entirely to avoid the inevitable and it hurts. and it hurts to see people taking part in a community i don't dare be part of, which makes lurking in fandoms... really rough. frankly, it takes me a lot of courage every time i express my appreciation for the shc community because i've been burned so many times.

-on that note: i went through some really traumatic stuff at the end of 2020 that completely turned my life upside down, and i was doing bad until i stumbled across the shc community. the moment i started engaging, it was a huge boost to my mental health, and my ability to cope with circumstances under which i was about to break down spectacularly. and it has been ever since! contributing to The Group Project and seeing other folks being friendly with each other gives me the happy feelings.

-i used to go out of my way to build and run spaces, mainly fandom and rp spaces, and took a lot of pride in engineering them so that they Functioned Well. unfortunately it wore me the hell down over the years for Burnt Badger Reasons, and now i'm too jaded, bitter, and exhausted to give a shit about being a mod/community leader anymore because of it lmao

-among those burnt badger things i relate HARD to the Red Ledger narrative. hoo boy.

-i wish i could find it again, but there was an mlp comic i saw once which went into luna's observations of what each element of harmony Means. with the element of friendship, she says that twilight has a massive amount of love to give; right now it's all focused on celestia, but when she learns to expand it outward she'll have grown into her full potential as a person, and she'll change the world. that struck a chord with how i used to feel, hard, and it's really stuck with me ever since. (hello, unhealthy snake model)

-emphasis on 'used to feel,' lmao

-got super invested in a really toxic '''mental health''' community at a low point in my life; exploded HARD trying to help everyone i could; got into vicious, protracted fights with the shitty mods for years about the harmful way they ran their community until i finally managed to go 'fuck this it's not getting better' and leave.

-had to numb myself emotionally to the people around me for a long time once i really started learning about mental health and trauma stuff, because now i was seeing signs of their pain and baggage everywhere i looked, and i couldn't handle not being able to help.

-the imagery with which i think about my bird primary is overwhelmingly negative. whether it's my actual primary or a model, i uh. i feel like a healthy relationship to one's primary doesn't involve associating it with gore.

-i saw a conversation recently about how birds think of morality in terms of 'if you can, you should,' and how that's scary for badgers because their definition of 'can' involves destroying yourself for the sake of that 'should,' and... yeah, that's a mood. that's a BIG mood. thinking about bird primary stuff is hard--and i had to pick up my lion model to deal with it--because it's so easy for me to spiral into a self-shredding spiral of other people are counting on you to do the right thing, how dare you pull back for your own health and sanity. how dare you turn your back for even a minute. how dare you rest. the work is never done.

which is... a very exploded badger approach to exploded bird morality. whoops.

-fix-it and time travel fiction in which Everything Went Right This Time and It's Going to Be Okay are one of my very favorite self-indulgent fantasies. i will enjoy putting characters through the wringer in all kinds of creatively horrific ways which may or may not end on a downer note, certainly, i love that shit, but i will also 90% of the time have a backup version of the arc or dynamic that's softer and lighter and Actually Healthy This Time. it's the dichotomy there that really gets me tbh, a story where Everything Ends Happily by default will mmmaybe pull me in? but stories where there's the constant shadow of this could end horribly, it's supposed to end horribly, and we got a happy fucking ending anyway are just... that shit will make me cry, man.

it's also why i kind of really hate stable time loop stories where it initially looks like this is going to be The Good Timeline this time around, but OOPSIE everything went to shit anyway! we're right back where we started, just like it was meant to be all along! it's a tired cliche by this point and an unsatisfying one for me, and it makes me roll my eyes every time.

-this is relevant to the bird vs. badger because like... my gut instinct is to prioritize people over systems. when shit hits the fan, when someone's fallen into the machinery and is about to get hurt, i don't feel right about it if i just let it happen. i'll break the machinery if i have to to keep it away from them; i won't feel great about that, and it might cause problems, but fuck it, we'll figure it out later. throwing people into the gears of a system when i'm convinced it's the only option makes me feel Awful.

-related to the above, another trope that really speaks to me in fiction is when a character defies the rules of reality through sheer force of will. no, this is not happening, i don't give a shit what the limits are supposed to be. i refuse to let this be the way things are. (there's that lion model.)

-i've just kind of... always wanted to be an Everyone Badger. it makes me sad how much of that i've lost over the years as i've gotten more cynical, but it's what i wish i could be.

---

doubtless i'll think of more the moment i hit send, and there are just as many things about me that are Super Bird Primary, but like... mamma mia that's some spicy badger. the main thing stopping me is the Can't and Refuse to Dehumanize bit. i also... hm. i think i can function okay without a community? they just help a lot, and it sucks when i'm confronted with one i don't have a (stable) place in. any thoughts? is it possible for a bird system's foundation to run so deep that eventually it overrides the bird?

[conspiraships]

🌹 SRY I CANT THINK OF A F/O

🌹 - Beauty and the Beast AU

was originally gonna write Gale/Andy but then i remembered stupit bitch Krycek exists and that’s what’s gonna happen. ill write Gale/Andy l8r … but for now… Mercy/Krycek … this is rlly long … oopsie (4,962 words)

“there’s a monster in the woods, Alex” his mother used to say. “it lurks, waiting for disobedient little boys who won’t go to bed on time”

“like, it’s just sitting in the woods, waiting?”

“oh for fucks sake, Alex. just go to bed please. im begging you.”

“i want milk”

“fine”

of course no one believes the stories about the monster in the woods. it’s just because their town is surrounded by thick, tight woods with very few paths in and out of it. but there’s nothing but wolves, moose, wild animals living there. it’s dark, deep, unwelcoming, but there’s no monsters.

and even when his mother went missing when he was 13, Alexei Krycek refused to believe it was anything like a monster. her horse went missing too, and he knew for a fact that it meant the wolves got them. (that didn’t ease the hurt. his mother was gone, and he was only 13. he didn’t know how to live without her at 13. but it wasnt a monster in the woods who took her from him.)

he still doesnt believe in monsters even when the Man Who Smokes Too Much takes him in, and the Man Who Smokes Too Much’s eldest son is absolutely CONVINCED that there ARE monsters in the woods who WILL come for everyone in the town unless they’re all very kind to nature.

Alex finds a reprieve in Jeffrey, the youngest Spender son. they grow close, and when the Man Who Smokes Too Much dies, Jeffrey and Alex are the ones who start to find work while Fox spends his time buried in books, studying, and reading about the mind and mythical

“Jeffrey you can’t go now,” Fox says one day. they’re all well into their twenties and Fox can’t hold a job he likes because everyone knows him as the boy with his nose in his books, the boy who used to leave out picnic baskets for the Monsters even though there was a food shortage.

“Fox.” Jeffrey and Alex say it in the same tone and Fox grins at them both but he sobers up when Jeffrey keeps packing. “i have to go,” Jeffrey says. “if i dont, we could lose the house. and out of all of us, Fox, you need this house the most”

“Jeffrey … there have been several cases of missing persons between us and-”

“if they arent traveling right, they are going to attract wolves,” Alex says. “we learned that from your father.”

“i’m still pretty sure the monster in the woods took him,” Fox says disdainfully

“grow up,” says Jeffrey. “you want me to bring back anything specific from the city?”

“actually,” Fox says before Alex can say anything, “remember those roses he brought us…”

“the day your mother died?” Jeffrey and Fox exchange a sad smile and Alex is reminded that he doesnt fit in with them. hes not part of them. he’s not a Spender or a Mulder. he’s a Krycek. his father never smoked more than enough for three people and his mother used to tell him fairy tales that would make Fox explode with happiness.

Jeffrey leaves, and Fox goes back to psychoanalyzing everyone in the town and keeping up with as many detective cases as he can. Alex works.

Alex works, and works, and works until Jeffrey doesn’t come home. it’s not the monster, he tells himself as he packs up supplies to go search for Jeffrey (or, more realistically, his body and his horse probably half eaten by wolves). the monster was a bedtime story for everyone in the town. (Fox disagreed, and gave him a spray bottle of something that smelled of lemon and onions to ‘keep the monster away’)

Alex takes his horse to go look for Jeffrey. halfway between Foxhunt and the city, he finds Jeffrey’s horse with her reins snagged on a tree. she makes a break for it as soon as Alex sets her free, but he has hope. maybe Jeffrey is alive after all. he follows a small broken path next to the tree he found Jeffrey’s horse trapped on, but the deeper into the woods he goes, the darker and colder it gets.

wolves howl. but he knows its wolves, and not monsters.

“God dammit Fox,” Alex snarls, directing his horse down the path, toward the wolf howls.

when he breaks into a clearing, his lips are blue. but in the clearing is… not a house, but a mansion. it’s not even close to being a castle, but it’s too large to be a simple house. no lights are on but the door is open. if anything, it’s a place to warm up if it’s abandoned

(it’s not. and Alex hates himself for a while after he walks in there. he finds Jeffrey, gets him out, but gets knocked out before he can join Jeffrey. he hates himself when he wakes up in a room lushly decorated. silk curtains, a thick plush carpet, soft cotton sheets and an ornate comforter. he hates himself for enjoying the rest for once, not having to share a room with Jeffrey, sleeping on a twin bed that’s too old and uncomfortable. he hates himself)

Mercy is irritated.

not one, but two people have invaded their home in the last 48 hours. they let the first one, Jeffrey, go. but Alex? he actually came into their house. he didn’t rob their garden, that they can forgive. they’re roses. their mother loved roses, and their mother probably would have forgiven someone for taking her roses after a few days. but Alex… Alexei… he walked into their home without permission. they don’t like that very much at all.

“you should really let him go…”

“Monica,” Mercy warns.

“it’s going a bit far,” says Monica. “maybe just… i dont know, make him pay you or something? but locking him up?”

“i gave him Mom’s room. the door doesn’t lock, so he’s not exactly a prisoner.”

“if he feels like one, it’s the same thing,” John points out.

“I hate both of you please get the fuck out of my living room.”

they don’t raise their voice, but the cutting glare they send them and the way they bare their teeth, fangs glinting in the firelight, send John and Monica from the room. Mercy pretends they can’t hear their whispering and heads upstairs to deal with their… Guest

he screams when they walk in, and Mercy can’t help but look over themself. they hven’t looked in a mirror in years (Monica covered them up long ago) but Monica brushes their hair. and their fur. and makes them take baths regularly. but they are wearing some of John’s clothing. maybe that’s what’s alarming.

“what the FUCK are you?!” Alex shouts, putting the bed between the two of them.

wow. wow. just wow. so Mercy grins, baring their teeth. their fangs, prominent and long, make Alex recoil. “I’m the Monster in the Woods,” they say with a dangerous growl. “and you have trespassed onto my property.”

(they hate themself for taking pride in the fear and disbelief that seem to cross his face. he recoils further, and he can’t look at them for days. he doesn’t leave their mother’s room, and John tells them that he eats only the bread and drinks only the water they give him. they hate themself for loving the power they have over people. and they hate the disappointed look Monica gives them whenever they revel in frightening him)

“Monster.”

“I have a name, darling.”

“I’m leaving, Monster. and if I never come back, it would be too soon.”

“cute that you think you can escape me.”

(he doesn’t leave. they’re human enough that sometimes he’s not scared of them, but there are times where their fur stands on end and their hair swirls in the air around them and their eyes take on a terrifying yellow color and their fangs seem to grow, and Alex Krycek cannot move past them when that happens. and they always seem to stake out the door whenever he wants to leave)

(”Mercy,” Monica says in disappointment.

“he’s not free yet. he doesn’t know how violated he made me feel.”

“maybe you like having him around,” Monica offers, flinching when Mercy’s hair starts to swirl around them and their eyes turn yellow.

“why would i enjoy the presence of a human, Monica? why would i keep him around? let him stay? he is being punished.”

“your mother was a human.”

“and humans killed her. and now i am this.”

Monica can’t argue that.)

“Doggett,” begins Alex as John sets down a tray of food. “why do you stay here?”

John looks surprised, and sits on the bed beside Alex. “Eat,” he orders. “Mercy is…”

“Mercy?” Alex asks sharply.

“the Monster. Their name is Mercy. they are… lonely. we stay because we love them. and Monica and i know deep loneliness. when we found Mercy, they were halfway between human and beast, curled up in the rose garden. we were drawn off the trails by their sobs. they lost their mother when they were very young to hunters who mistook their foraging mother for some kind of animal.” Alex looks stricken, but John continues speaking. “Mercy … attacked him, as best we can figure. they didn’t kill them, but the hunters went back to their town with injuries.”

Alex dips his bread in his soup and asks, “why are they a monster now?”

“if you didn’t believe in monsters, Alex, i don’t know if you will believe they were cursed.” Alex snorts. “exactly. but one of the hunters had married a witch who cursed them. she cursed them to become the beast the hunters thought their mother was, and to be the beast they seemed to attack like.”

“a curse,” Alex repeats in disbelief.

John shrugs and stands from the bed. “believe it or not, but you cannot deny the face of the beast that keeps you from leaving, Krycek.”

“you have a rose garden.” it’s a statement, not a question, and Mercy laughs aloud, their eyes bright with amusement.

“do i?” they tease.

“i want to see it.”

“and i want my home to return to a private dwelling with no trespassers.” they return their gaze to her book. “we can’t have what we want, Krycek.” they’re not going to show the man who only calls them ‘monster’ and not their name their most sacred spot. he doesnt deserve it if he cant acknowledge them.

“show me the rose garden, Mercy.”

they stand behind him stiffly, and he notes that they don’t look at the roses. their gaze is firmly toward the sky. Alex could make a break for it, but the roses…

for a … monster who won’t look at the roses, they are tended to quite well.

“why is this bush missing roses?” he asks. a shudder runs through him at their disgusted scoff.

“perhaps you should have asked why i was being so cruel to Jeffrey.”

“actually,” Fox says before Alex can say anything, “remember those roses he brought us…”

“the day your mother died?” Jeffrey and Fox exchange a sad smile

“ah.”

Alex ran his fingers over the stems that were missing roses. was Fox’s mother worth this? his mother … Mercy’s mother… perhaps they both were, in their ways. if Alex’s mother had loved roses, he would understand the sacrifice Jeffrey was making for his brother.

“they’ll grow back.” Alex flinches at the sudden proximity of Mercy’s voice. to his credit, he doesnt hiss when one of the rose thorns snags his palm but he does grimace at the blood. “let me see.” his body tenses when Mercy’s … hand… definitely a hand, even though they are covered in fur like a wolf with claws to boot, comes up behind his to hold his fingers open.

“it’s a cut,” he says flatly.

“come inside. we’ll get it cleaned up and wrapped.”

“you will do that for me?”

“please. I’m not a monster.”

he may keep the cut open longer than strictly healthy. but Mercy’s hands that look so monstrous bandage him so gentle and their eyes glow yellow in concentration, their tongue sticking out of their not-quite-mouth-not-quite-muzzle in a way that Alex wouldn’t call… cute, but it’s cute.

they tell him stories of their childhood after re-wrapping his hand. they speak with a fond sadness that Alex knows all too well. he lost his mother when he was young as well, and he has something of a found family too.

Mercy tells him how their mother taught them about plants, for survival, for food, and just for knowing.they tell him how their mother took them into the forest to help her forage and how once they encountered an elk so tall they thought he was a monster at first, and how he stared at them with eyes too wise, knowing they wouldn’t hurt him.

he learns about the constellations from them. they tell him how their mother showed them the stars, and that night Mercy takes him to the roof of the mansion and shows him the stars the way their mother did.

they show him some of the techniques their mother had for woodworking and they build a small bird house together.

when Alex’s hand is healed and no longer needs bandaged, Alex tells them about his own mother. they snort derisively over his mother’s stories of the monster in the woods (but for different reasons), but Mercy is enthralled with his mother’s other stories. Alex tells them which herbs his mother favored in her cooking, and how much he misses that. he tells them how he used to brush her hair and how she would run her fingers through his and sing him to sleep.

they both remember their mothers with a fond sadness.

and Alex no longer fears them, because he knows she isn’t the monster in the woods.

“come with me.”

“excuse me?”

“did i stutter, Krycek?” Mercy demands. he tenses, ready for their fur to stand on end or their hair to swirl around them but it doesn’t. they just look… impatient. not mad, just impatient. Alex heaves a great sigh and climbs out of his bed. he wasn’t doing anything, but having them treat him like a dog can become grating.

“where are we going?” he asks when they lead him from the room. they don’t answer, but lead him through the mansion to a room he’d never been to before. (in all fairness he’d never been to many rooms in the mansion.)

“here” Mercy says with a smirk. they push open both of the double doors dramatically and Alex rolls his eyes, stepping into the room after them. “it’s … it was mine and my mother’s. she was an avid book collector. so… was i.”

Alex stills as he looks around the room. it’s not as massive as a public library or a rich prince’s personal library might be, but there are several floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with books. crammed is a more accurate descriptor. its… amazing. Fox would be jealous, and thats all the motivation Alex needs to approach the nearest bookshelf.

“you can come here whenever you want. i…” Mercy hesitates when Alex looks away from the shelves and to them. “i understand that it’s quite boring here. i… would let you go but because it’s winter… i don’t want you getting hurt on the road.”

a sneer crosses Alex’s face. “its not like i have anything to get back on.”

Mercy’s fingers twitch and whatever openness they’d shown him vanished, a darkness settling in their eyes and a scowl spreading over their not-quite-muzzle. “John has been taking care of your horse in the stables. when the snow melts, i’ll have John and Monica pack you supplies and send you off.”

“…wait. what?” Alex tracks them as they walk over to a bookshelf and piles a few books in their arms.

“you can leave when the weather is better. John and Monica will take care of you.” they give Alex a cruel look. “you don’t have to deal with a monster anymore.”

they leave while Alex is still processing what they said

(when he asks after them, John and Monica can only shrug. not even they’ve seen the monster… Mercy. they’re eating. John tells Alex that they take the meals they leave for them, but they don’t leave their room as far as they can tell.)

Alex spends most of his time in the library. Mercy’s collection isn’t as big as the town’s library, but it’s incredibly diverse, and he’s only found about ten books that overlap with what he’s already read.

he’s so involved in studying psychology books that Fox would salivate over that he doesn’t realize the time or that he’s exhausted. but he wakes up with a pillow instead of a book under his head an a thick blanket wrapped around him, his books off to the side with clear bookmarks.

John and Monica swear up and down that they didn’t go into the library after Monica took his dishes from dinner away.

(Alex thinks the blanket might smell like Mercy, but he doesn’t know what smells like them and what just smells like the house.)

he sees them once before the snow melts, and it’s from the library window that looks out over part of the rose garden. some of the roses started dying, but Alex was no botanist, so he wouldn’t be able to offer to help Mercy even if they were speaking to him.

Mercy stood in knee high snow, no coat but seemingly unfazed by the cold. their head was bowed as they held a rose in their hands. the bush was completely empty except for the one Mercy stood over so reverently. Alex watched them until they moved away from the rose, leaving it swaying in the wind.

the day the snow melts, Alex pretends to be asleep all day. he listens as John and Monica discuss what else he’d need as they packed up his few belongings (mainly borrowed clothes from John he insisted he didn’t need anyway).

Mercy didn’t come through at all. the next day, it rained and Alex used it as an excuse not to go. he went out and brushed his horse but didn’t leave.

the third day after the snow melted, Jeffrey shows up with Fox in tow.

they pound on Mercy’s front door, but they don’t show their face. Jeffrey yells at Monica and John, and Fox asks an absurd amount of questions that his host’s family can’t keep up with.

“Jeffrey said there is a monster,” Fox says when he sees Alex. Alex clutches his pack tightly, the psychology book he’d stowed away pressing into his stomach.

“it was enormous,” Jeffrey agrees. “with fangs like a wolf’s… claws! not quite a muzzle but not a human nose either! covered head to toe in fur!”

Alex snorts. “it’s not like you, Jeffrey,” he says. “to buy into Fox’s shit.”

“it’s not shit,” Fox snaps.

“and you know i’m right,” Jeffrey spits. “i saw it when i left this place. you’ve been here all winter, and you’re telling me you haven’t seen it?”

John shifts, a scowl on his face. Monica’s expression is carefully blank but three months in their company taught Alex how to spot how Monica felt. and she is angry. (had she been so angry when Alex first met them? he didn’t know.)

“ive only seen these two.” Alex gestures to the humans next to him and raises a brow when Jeffrey opens his mouth to argue. “why would i lie about something like this? if there was a monster, i would have seen it by now. but i’ve only seen people.”

he misses the dubious looks John and Monica exchange, but doesn’t miss the looks Fox and Jeffrey exchange. any further pushing gets the same results from Alex. a willing silence, secretive and cold.

“he protected you”

“he still left.”

“but he didn’t let those men try to hurt you.”

“he still left.”

“Mercy.”

“he left! he’s gone and he’s not coming back. get out! get out get out get out get out get out!”

“Alex, come inside. you’ll catch cold.”

“that’s fine.”

“you’ve been out here since dinner. Fox and i are worried about you. you come out here every goddamn night, ever since we came back. Alex, what the hell is going on?”

Alex points at the sky and traces his finger along a particular path. “Corona Borealis,” he says.

“what the ever loving hell are you talking about, Krycek?”

“it’s a constellation, Spender. created when, after Dionysus fell in love with Ariadne, Ariadne threw her wedding crown into the sky. the jewels of the crown are said to be the stars of Corona Borealis.”

Jeffrey scowled at him. “you sound like Fox.”

“leave me alone, Jeffrey.”

mid spring, about a month after the snow melted, a caravan comes through, absolutely demolished. they claim to have been assaulted by a monster in the woods.

with an ‘I-Told-You-So’ expression on his face, Jeffrey uses this as an opportunity to prove that he was right and arranges a hunting party to find and kill this monster in the woods.

Alex can’t deny it when he sees the wagon destroyed and several people injured, one person even missing an arm. there is a monster in the woods, and he thinks he knows who it is.

(he’s unaware of Fox following him when he sneaks out that night, somehow oblivious to the second set of horse hoof beats an horse snuffling)

“Alex Krycek,” greets John when he opens the door to cease Alex’s pounding.

“where are they?” Alex demands. John sighs, but doesn’t try to play dumb.

“in the rose garden.”

Alex storms out of the mansion, still oblivious to Fox entering the clearing. he doesn’t see Fox and John speaking, too focused on finding Mercy. the monster.

he believes the caravan and her people when he sees Mercy watering their roses. the not-muzzle has elongated into a full and proper muzzle and their lower half has become wolf-like. an impossibly terrifying bipedal wolf-human beast, watering roses.

“why?” he spits at them.

they still, ears that have grown to a furry point twitching at his voice. 

“the roses need watered,” they say, not looking at him.

“that’s not what i’m talking about and you know it!”

this time they do look at him. their eyes are still human. still brown. Alex can remember the kind concentration when they bandaged his hand. remembers the sadness when they spoke of their mother. the excitement sharing the stars and the earth with him.

“my darling,” they say, voice thick with some unidentifiable emotion but dripping sarcastic sweetness, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

suddenly, words threaten to spill out that Alex bites back like bile. ‘why can’t i forget what you smell like? why can’t i forget how your hands felt around mine? why can’t i forget how warm it was to sit next to you? or how your eyes lit up when you looked at the stars? why can’t i forget the sweet sound of your voice? or how you sound when you sing? why can’t i forget how i hurt you that day in the library? why can’t i forget you?’

Mercy stops watering and cocks a hand on their hip.

“Krycek,” they snap.

“Why did you attack all of those people?” he shouts suddenly, unbidden. a bird shrieks and takes flight from one of the bushes. Mercy’s eyes widen and he watches them flicker as they take in his question.

then they laugh. throws their head back and laughs until it becomes a series of barks and they’re hunched in half to catch their breath.

“i’ve attacked people before,” they say when they can breathe again. “but that was years ago. when i found the men who killed my mother. i haven’t harmed anyone since.”

not physically, Alex wants to yell, his heart aching an racing in his chest. “a caravan came through this forest. they were utterly demolished. explain that, monster.”

their eyes harden and turn yellow as they stare at him. their hair begins to swirl around them. their lips curl and their fangs are bared.

“i have never harmed an innocent person,” Mercy, the Monster in the Woods, snarls at him. their watering can falls from their grip and they advance on Alexei Krycek who seems frozen in place. “i have harmed, my dearest Krycek, but only once, and for revenge. for my mother.” they stop mere inches from him and lean in, arms holding him still. “how dare you accuse me of this heinous act, when you know what i’ve been through. who do you think you are? get the fuck off of my property and never come back.”

he’s released with a shove, only saved from falling when Fox catches him. Fox…

“they’re beautiful,” Fox whispers to him as he helps Alex stand. Mercy’s ears twitch but they don’t look back at them, instead picking up their watering can and resuming the watering process. “is she telling the truth?”

Alex Krycek swallows. “yes,” he says, barely audible.

Fox releases him and steps forward. “what’s your name?” he asks Mercy. they snort.

“they call me the Monster.” their voice drips with bitter hatred, and Alex flinches.

“but you must have a name?” Fox presses. they don’t answer. “Alex believes you. but that means someone or something else in this forest attacked that caravan. and until we can figure out who it was… everyone will think it was you.”

“only three people outside of my home know i exist,” Mercy snips.

“And Jeffrey Spender is leading a hunting party to put you down.”

both Fox and Alex flinch when the watering can handle shatters in Mercy’s grip.

“when?”

“before sunset,” Alex supplies.

Mercy flies into a frenzy. they rush to the mansion and starts packing up everything. Alex, Fox, John, an Monica trail behind them as they tear through the mansion. the last thing they do before they speak to them is seal the library.

“take John and Monica far from here,” Mercy says to Fox, handing John and Monica the two bags they’d been packing.

“what?!” exclaims Monica, dropping the bag to grasp Mercy’s arm. they don’t look away from Fox, and Alex has to clamp down on the envy he feels.

“do you understand me?” they snarl. “get them to safety.” only when Fox nods do they look away. with gentle hands, Mercy puts the bag back in Monica’s hand. “go with them.”

“no!” protests Monica.

“please,” Mercy whispers. “please go with them. you can’t be caught in this. i can’t let you die. Monica… please go.”

“and leave you to die on your own?” demands John.

Mercy bares their teeth in what Alex thinks is supposed to be a grin. “A fitting death for a violent monster.”

they’re alone. the sun is low in the sky, nearly set, and Mercy is alone. if Jeffrey is going to kill them, this is how it should be. they find themself in the rose garden, standing before the bush with only one rose.

“i’ll see you soon, Mother,” they say to the rose, dropping to their knees before the bush. they bow their head.

John and Monica have each other. they’ll be alright without them. they might be in pain, but they’ll make it through.

Mercy once thought that when they died, no one would be left alive to mourn them. and only six months ago they were sure that John and Monica would be the only ones to mourn them. and a day ago they thought Alex hated them. four hours ago they thought he hated them. and now they know they’re leaving behind three people to mourn them.

“i’m so sorry,” they say, digging their claws into the dirt. they squeeze their eyes shut and tears leak out into their fur. they don’t move when they hear hoof beats. they won’t give the hunting party the satisfaction of killing a beast. they’ll have to kill Mercy as Mercy pays respects to their mother and mourns for those in their life.

he can’t be too late. please don’t be too late. please please please please please.

his heartbeat pounds in his ears an his legs are trembling with how tightly he’s squeezing his horse. his knuckles are bleached white and his fingers are cold as he grips the reins.

he can’t be too late. he can’t be too late.

he’ll never forgive himself if he’s too late to keep Jeffrey away from them. he’ll never forgive himself if he’s too late to tell them. to save them. to be near them one more time, even if they can’t forgive him for the things he’s said.

his horse bursts into the clearing of Mercy’s home but Alex doesn’t slow to a walk. they sprint across the yard, alert for any other sounds. he hears nothing and his horse whips around the side of the house. Alex pulls the reins and jumps down before he even comes to a full stop.

“mercy?” he gasps out, stumbling into the garden.

“why are you here?”

he faces them sharply.

“well?” Mercy bites, glaring up at him from their place on the ground.

Alex stares at them for a few long, silent moments.

“i will not leave you alone. i will not let you die for a crime you did not commit.” he drops to his knees beside them and presses his forehead against their shoulder. “i won’t let you be alone.”

Mercy’s tense, he can feel it. their words come out even more tense than he’d imagined. “monsters deserve to be alone.”

“then,” Alex Krycek says to Mercy, the monster in the woods, the creature, the person he loves, “it’s a good thing you’re not a monster.”