#i have made pasta like a hundred times before i’m like the only one in this house that does besides my mom. why am i doing this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aerequets · 3 years ago

Text

out sick

a/n: obligatory sick fic that turned into a big heaping pile of pining and conflicted loid. i am a Sucker for a good sick fic. in that chapter in the manga where yuri suddenly falls sick, i thought yor would probably be the same way where she abruptly gets sick out of nowhere. and also i just want loid to care and simp for yor so here we are

posted on ao3

...

After eight consecutive late shifts, it seemed like Yor would be on her 9th one tonight.

Loid, Anya and Bond sat around the dinner table, Yor’s empty seat glaring despite being such a frequent occurrence as of recent. Loid had just set down the dish of food and had been hoping that, against all odds, Yor would somehow be able to make it back early tonight. But no such luck.

“I miss Mama,” Anya whined, looking at her empty seat with a frown. Dinner had been an uncharacteristically quiet affair for the past week. Talkative as she was, Anya didn’t seem keen on chattering away when her Mama wasn’t there to listen along. “I only get to see her in the mornings.”

“She’s very busy at her job,” Loid offered. It didn’t really work as consolation, not that he was expecting it to—he was also a little miffed at how City Hall seemed to be running her ragged these days. Her workload seemed to be rivalling his own, and he was a spy in an understaffed agency. Every morning she would apologetically mention yet another late shift, weary with bags under her eyes, yet she never failed to set off without a bright smile and her best wishes. He really hoped she would be able to get some rest soon.

“So many bad guys to get rid of,” Anya sighed.

“What?”

“N-nothing!” Anya hastily clambered onto her seat and snatched up her fork. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry!”

Loid relented, deciding to let her odd comment slip, and had begun to dish out some pasta for Anya when there was a telltale clinking at the door. He froze, fork in hand. Anya gasped and jumped out of her chair, running to the door with Bond close at her heels. “MAMA!”

Sure enough, the door swung open and Yor stood there, eyes bright. She laughed as Anya barreled into her legs and gave an excited Bond a pat on the head. When Loid came to the doorway, she grinned at him, cheeks flushed. “I’m home.”

Loid found himself smiling without meaning to. “Just in time for dinner. How does pasta sound?”

“Amazing,” Yor sighed as she took her coat off. He noticed her forehead was shiny.

“Is it hot out?”

“Huh? Oh.” Yor wiped her forehead and found her hand slick with sweat. “A little, I guess. I was also in a rush to get home.” She smiled again before heading inside to set her things down, Anya and Bond trailing behind.

They sat down again, this time Yor occupying her seat, and it seemed like a switch turned on within Anya. She began eagerly babbling about a hundred different topics and events in a jumbled fashion as food was dished out, only taking pause when she began to eat. Loid took her pause as an opportunity to talk.

“I’m glad your work finally let you off a little earlier,” he said. “They’ve certainly been...liberal with assigning late shifts, to say the least.”

“Oh, yes,” Yor agreed, her voice airy. “It...has to do with the recent emigrations to Westalis, I think.”

“Ah.” That made sense. Recently, especially in the last week, Ostanians had been moving to Westalis in droves. The reason wasn’t what mattered much to Loid—people would move wherever, whenever they pleased for whatever reason—but rather, the outcome. Radicals and pro-war Ostanians began spreading nationalistic rhetoric, insisting that “deserters” should be treated like traitors. Fights had broken up across the border. People were injured and killed. WISE had been looking into any particular driving force behind the surge in anti-Westalian rhetoric, but they had yet to pinpoint any one source. There were too many people making lofty claims in too little days. Yor, working in City Hall, would definitely have more on her plate. “Hopefully things calm down soon before they get any more out of control.”

Yor hummed in agreement, lifting her fork to her mouth. Her movements were slow and languid. Tiredness, perhaps? But something seemed off. Anya was blinking up at her Mama, and Bond began to whine. An unsettling pit formed in Loid’s stomach. Something was very wrong.

“Mama,” Anya started, pulling at her sleeve with a little hand, “why’s your head so slow—”

Yor’s fork clattered out of her hand and her chin dropped. If Loid hadn’t shot to his feet and caught her head in a hand, she would have faceplanted into her plate.

Her forehead was hot and sweaty under his touch. She wasn’t just flushed like usual when she’d greeted him at the door—she was burning. And her eyes, which he’d thought were just shining before, were glazed upon closer inspection.

He wanted to kick himself. All the signs had been there in his face, yet he’d failed to notice any of them right away. What kind of spy did that? What kind of husband does that?

She was sick.

“Mama is poisoned?” Anya asked frantically. He had no idea where she got that notion from. “Is she gonna die?!”

“She’ll be fine,” Loid assured her, though the feeling of her scalding forehead under his hand wasn’t helping. He needed to get her to bed. “Would you mind opening her bedroom door? I’m going to bring her in.” No sooner than he’d finished speaking had Anya shot off, dutifully heeding his words for once. He gingerly made his way around the dinner table, lifting Yor’s head before hefting her out of her seat. She was solid and still in his arms. Knowing the inhuman displays of strength she was capable of made her limp arms and shallow breathing feel even worse. He hurried to her bedroom, where Anya and Bond stood guard at the door, and laid her down.

Anya struggled onto the bed with Bond’s help and crawled over to Yor’s side. Her lip wobbled. “Papa, she’s going to be fine, right?”

“Yes. I’m a doctor, remember? We’ll make her better,” he said, ignoring the fact that his occupation was not only psychiatry, but also fake. “Wait here. I’m going to bring some things.” He left and returned with some cool water, washcloths, a thermometer, and various other items. Anya hadn’t moved from her position except to wrap an arm around Bond’s neck. She was whispering to the dog—something about telling her something?—that Loid didn’t really pick up on.

The thermometer read 38.8 degrees. Loid slipped Yor’s headband off so her bun wouldn’t get in the way of the pillows before looking at her work uniform. He wouldn’t undress her yet, just take off the outer layers and unbutton her cuffs and the top buttons of her shirt to wipe down her wrists and neck. If the fever persisted for a few more days without seeming to get better...

He’d deal with that then.

“Can you put these in the kitchen?” Loid asked Anya, handing her the tray of items. She took them gingerly, showing more caution than with anything he’d seen her handle. “And please wait outside. I’m going to take care of Yor and then come out.”

Anya looked like she wanted to argue, but after one more glance at her Mama’s still form and the tray in her hands, she gave one jerky nod before descending from the bed and running outside. Loid got to work, sliding Yor’s work vest off of her and rolling her sleeves up. It was when he was wiping her neck that he noticed it.

It was small, almost imperceptibly so. He could have even mistaken it for a mole if he hadn’t already known that Yor’s neck, ever exposed in her usual red sweater, was free of any marks. But it was there, a small, dark red spot on a slightly raised bump of skin, and he knew what it was from firsthand experience.

A track mark. Something—someone—had injected a syringe into Yor’s neck.

...

Handler appeared at his door around noon the next day. He knew why: he’d been summoned via cipher placed in the morning paper, and failed to show up at the meeting spot. She was tapping one heeled foot, arms tightly crossed, when he opened the door.

“Dr. Forger,” she greeted. Her clipped tone was one that agent recruits at WISE saw as a signal to run away. Loid couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. “I wasn’t aware you were taking a day off from work today.”

“My wife’s sick,” was all Loid offered as explanation. It was short, frankly lacking in the etiquette typically required when speaking to one’s superior, but Handler must have seen something in his face because her foot paused in its drumming and her arms loosened slightly.

“...what happened?” She peered around his frame as though she might be able to see into Yor’s bedroom. “Is she alright?”

“Better than last night,” Loid replied. He’d stayed by her side throughout most of the night, monitoring her condition. Her breathing got slightly deeper as he switched out her washcloths and her temperature went down a bit, which was good, but she hadn’t woken up once.

Though, he couldn’t have slept even if he’d tried. There was the issue of the syringe mark. Loid knew he wasn’t mistaken, and it was driving him just a little insane as he came up with countless possibilities behind it. Anya’s odd remark kept resurfacing in his mind, too. Mama is poisoned? But if so, why? How? And most importantly, who? Who dared do such a thing to Yor and expect to come out of it unscathed?

It was then that Anya slipped into the room and sidled up next to Loid, peeking out from behind his legs. “Boss la—er, are you Papa’s boss?”

An instinctive smile found its way onto Handler’s face as she squatted, waving to Anya. “Hello there. Anya, was it?”

“Yup.”

“You were right, I am your papa’s boss. I heard your mama’s sick.” Handler had a naturally soft cadence while speaking to Anya, something which would otherwise be unbelievable coming out of her mouth. “But she’ll get better soon, won’t she?”

Anya nodded fast. “Yes. Mama is strong.”

“All mamas are.” Handler patted Anya’s head before getting up. “I believe there are some patient files to be looked over. Good thing I brought them with me,” she said, while her lips mouthed the words, I know you’re busy, but let me at least brief you.

“That’s quite confidential matter to just be carrying around, is it not?” Loid asked, glancing down at Anya. How will you brief me without Anya hearing?

At that moment, Anya jumped. “Um, Papa! I want to sit with Mama. I’ll be quiet, I promise. Can I? Pleeease?”

Loid blinked. “Oh, uh, sure. Make sure not to jostle her, okay? And come tell me if anything happens.”

“Yup!” Anya saluted before running off into Yor’s bedroom. Handler watched her go with a fond expression.

“She certainly has good timing.”

“Right...” Loid said, a little bewildered. He shook his head and headed to the living room, sinking into his seat with a groan. He hadn’t realized how stiff his muscles felt. Handler followed and perched on the sofa, crossing her legs.

“I’ll get straight to the point. It’s about the border scuffles that have been happening all week,” she said in a low voice. The same issue that had overworked Yor, then.

“Did we find a source?”

“Well... it’s complicated.” Handler sighed and adjusted her skirt. “That’s what we were looking for at the start, but we ended up finding something else. Something unexpected.”

Unexpected was never good in a spy’s line of work. “What is it?”

“A lot of the bigger figures promoting a war and encouraging the border fights were killed. They had hits put on them.”

“That works out for us, though.”

“It does,” Handler agreed. “The unexpected arose when we traced all of their financial transactions and found that each one of them was secretly sponsoring the same underground research facility. So we looked into it.”

“And?”

“New forms of warfare,” she said. “Biological. New poisons, acids, gases. It seems like there’s some breakthrough scientific research happening underground to develop these kinds of things. And they’re more lethal than anything we’ve encountered before.” A frown twisted Handler’s painted lips. “We’ve connected them to whole families that were murdered because they were planning to move. All it takes is one shot to kill a fully grown adult within minutes.”

Loid felt nausea brewing in his gut. “One shot?”

“Half a milliliter, give or take.”

It might have been a stretch to connect what Handler was saying to Yor, but the situation seemed too unlikely to just be a coincidence. A typical shot administered via syringe was half a milliliter. Yor worked at City Hall, which was loosely connected to the border situation, but how would she have come in contact with someone possessing that kind of poison? And why would they give the shot to her, when she wasn’t planning on moving to Westalis? On top of all that, Handler said one shot could kill an adult within minutes, but Yor was alive, if not feverish. All the new information was making his head spin with more questions than answers. No amount of critical thinking was helping him draw conclusions—he was missing a piece to the puzzle. A big one.

Handler cocked her head. “Is something the matter?”

He knew better than to lie to his Handler. She’d trained him; she knew all of his tells. Yet when he tried opening his mouth to tell her about the syringe mark on Yor’s neck, nothing would come out. For whatever reason, he couldn’t tell her. Not when he didn’t know the missing puzzle piece himself.

“It’s just a worrying situation in general,” he said lamely. He fully expected her to flip his seat over for daring to lie, but instead, she softened again.

“Your wife will be fine,” she assured. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I-I was talking about the research!” Loid sputtered. Handler rolled her eyes.

“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered before getting up and dusting herself off. “Do keep me updated on your wife’s condition. I’m leaving now.”

Handler’s unexpected softness thoroughly unsettled him. He was on his guard ten minutes after she left, expecting her to pop in the window and clip the back of his head for insubordination. When he was sure she was gone, he began heading to Yor’s room. Just then, Anya dashed out, head wildly swinging until she saw him.

“Papa! Mama is trying to leave!” Anya cried. Loid ran into the bedroom, where Yor was staggering on her feet, trying to pull on her coat over the work clothes she’d slept in.

“Yor! You need to rest!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. With a grunt, she pulled the coat on, creases bunching up around her shoulders, and grabbed for her keys. They slid off her dresser and landed on the ground with a thump.

“Yor.” Loid stepped forward and gently grabbed her by the shoulders before she could lurch down to pick them up. “Yor, can you hear me?”

She looked up into his face, but her expression seemed far away, eyes unfocused. “I need to get to work.”

“You need to rest,” he repeated.

“I have to go,” she insisted, fighting against his hold. It was a mere iota of her usual strength, which was the only reason why Loid was able to hold onto her. “I can’t miss work.”

“You’re sick,” Loid said. He moved one hand up to her head to feel. Less hot than before, but still warm. “And it’s Saturday. Don’t worry about work and focus on getting better.”

She was still struggling. “I have to go... Yuri...” Loid’s eyes widened. “I need money for Yuri’s school.”

Oh. He knew Yor had raised Yuri from a young age. That probably meant that she had never allowed herself to rest. When was the last time she’d gotten sick? When was the last time anyone had cared for her while she was sick? Had she always tried fighting through it by herself, not letting anyone know until the last moment when her body gave up? The thought of her, young and alone and feverish, made his heart twist in a way he couldn’t quite justify. You aren’t her real husband, he reminded himself. There’s no reason to be hung up over it.

But he still brushed her hair out of her eyes, letting his hand linger on the side of her face probably longer than was strictly necessary. “Yuri is doing well,” he said softly.

She blinked, lethargic. “What?”

“Thanks to you, he graduated top of his class and has a good job now.” He slipped the wrinkled coat off of her shoulders. “You can rest, Yor. You already did everything you had to do for Yuri.”

“Everything I had to do...” She echoed. Loid’s eyes strayed unbidden to the mark on her neck. “Oh. Right. How could I forget?” With a soft laugh, she flopped back onto the mattress, arms splayed out. Within seconds, her breathing had slowed.

Anya had been peeking out from behind the doorway the whole time. “Does Mama not remember things?”

“It’s the fever. Once it dies down a little she’ll be back to her usual self,” he explained. “It seems like she’ll be up later. I’m going to go make some soup. Want to help out?”

“Ooh, yes!” Anya cheered and ran out to the kitchen. “Can I do the chopping?!”

“Absolutely not.”

...

The soup had been made a couple hours ago and sat on the stovetop to stay warm. Anya, who’d tired herself out from the very strenuous job of peeling 3 cloves of garlic, had napped, woken up, and was now watching cartoons. Loid had taken Bond for his walk before sitting down to aimlessly flip through the paper.

Yor still slept.

He glanced at the clock. It was nearing dinnertime. Maybe he’d been wrong about Yor waking up today—she’d probably be up tomorrow. They’d save the soup for her and order takeout for dinner.

It was while he was deliberating this that Anya suddenly straightened in her spot by the television and turned her head as if listening to something. Then, she shot up and ran into the kitchen.

“Anya?” The sound of the tap filling a glass reached his ears, followed by her pattering shoes. “Where are you going with that?”

She ran into Yor’s bedroom, the glass sloshing. He was just opening his mouth to chide her for running with a full glass when he pushed the bedroom door fully open and saw Yor, sitting up in bed.

“You’re awake,” he said, too surprised to say anything less obvious. Yor opened her mouth to respond but coughed instead.

“Oh, you must be parched.” He hurried forward and helped Anya deliver the glass to Yor spill free. She drank slowly and deeply until the glass was empty.

“...thank you,” she finally managed, voice a little hoarse. She smiled at Anya. “Thank you for the water.”

Anya stared at Yor for a total of one second before bursting into tears. She shoved her face into Yor’s lap, still bawling, while her parents exchanged a startled glance above her head.

“You were sleeping for so long,” Anya hiccupped. “An-and your face was always hot! I haven’t gotten to play with you in forever!”

Yor looked like she was holding back tears as she stroked Anya’s head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” She looked up at Loid. “How long has it been?”

“Just a day. You got back after work last night and fainted during dinner.”

Yor’s eyes widened and a hand twitched. Loid thought she might have raised it to her neck. “I...I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“What are you apologizing for? You’re better now, and that’s what matters.” Loid leaned forward and felt her forehead again. “How do you feel?”

“Um—ah, good,” Yor stammered. Loid thought her face was awfully red again, but she seemed clear-minded, so he slipped his hand off.

“That’s good. I made soup—”

“I helped,” Anya said, her voice muffled. She’d stopped crying.

“We made soup,” Loid amended with a smile. “Do you feel like you can eat?”

“Oh... thank you so much. Yes, I think I’ll have some,” Yor said. “Er... I’ll wash up first, though. I feel a bit gross.”

After Yor showered and changed, the family had a late dinner in her room, a tray balanced on her lap as she sat in bed. After their meal, Anya quickly began nodding off, so Loid helped her get ready for bed. It was after he was sure Anya had fallen asleep that he exited her bedroom and turned around, knocking on Yor’s door.

“Come in.”

Loid entered and quietly shut the door before sitting at the edge of the bed. “I didn’t really get to ask you before, but are you sure you’re fine? There’s some more of the painkillers I gave you before. I could also get soreness patches if—”

“I’m fine,” Yor cut in with a laugh. Her eyes, he noted with relief, were shining like usual, none of the disconcerting glaze from the night before. “You and Anya took really good care of me.” She cleared her throat. “Um, speaking of... did I say anything while I was feverish? O-or do anything?”

He looked at her neck. Her hair, damp and faintly smelling of lavender shampoo, was hanging down and covering the mark he knew was there. “Not really,” he replied. “You mentioned Yuri once, but that was it."

"Ah, okay. That's a relief." She fidgeted with the sheets, seeming like she wanted to say something more.

"What is it?"

Her fingers twisted for a few more seconds before she sighed and stopped. "It's just...I feel awful. I worried Anya and was a burden on you both."

"You were sick, not a burden," Loid said. "Everyone gets sick."

"Not me," she mumbled. He felt like he wasn't meant to hear that.

"Actually, Yor..." She looked up at him. He took a deep breath. "I noticed something while I was wiping your neck down. It looked like a mark from a needle."

Yor wore her heart on her sleeve. She was perhaps the most candid person he knew. So when the color drained from her face and her hand flitted to her neck, right where the mark was, he knew it wasn't for show. "I-I... that's..." she stammered.

It was clear from her reaction that the mark was something significant. Perhaps Loid's far-fetched conclusions were even correct, and Yor had somehow fallen on the wrong end of a syringe filled with newly developed poison. But that still didn't answer all his questions. For instance, who gave it to her. Why they gave it to her. And most importantly, what she was doing in order to be close to poisons like that in the first place.

Twilight would coax answers out of her one way or another. That was what spies did—they dug out information from every last crevice and acted as they saw best fit. Twilight would guilt her, maybe, using her urge to act as a good wife against her in order to get her to fess up. Or maybe Twilight would seduce her, tuck a maddeningly lavender-scented lock of hair behind her ear, letting his hand drop to her neck. He'd trace the syringe mark with a thumb before kissing it and whispering a request for the truth against her skin.

"You don't need to tell me," Loid said. Yor froze, eyes impossibly wide. "I won't ask if you can't tell."

"But-but how can you..."

He could finish her sentence without having to hear it. How can you trust me?

"We all have our secrets," he said. Inside his head, Twilight was banging at the walls, screaming his idiocy. He ignored that. "That includes me, too."

Yor shrunk in on herself. "But I caused so much trouble. If I... if only I'd been more careful, I wouldn't have had to drag you both into my mess."

He took one of her hands between his own. "I meant it when I said you weren't a burden, Yor," he said, his eyes flicking between both of hers. "You don't have to bear every burden alone. I..." He thought back to her in the throes of the fever, trying to stagger to work for Yuri. "I know you're strong and capable. I know you've shouldered things alone your whole life. But you're allowed to be weak sometimes—that's what family is for."

It was rich of him to be talking about what family was when he'd built this fake one for the purpose of his mission. But more and more often, he'd forget that their family was fake. More and more often, he'd find himself in moments of weakness, too. That's what family is for.

Why else was he failing to draw the truth out of Yor? Because, loathe as he was to admit, she—along with Anya—was his greatest weakness. It was the reason why he hadn't been able to tell Handler the truth about the mark on Yor's neck. Some selfish part of him knew that WISE would be able to dig up the truth and he might have to let go of Yor. He wasn't ready for that yet. He wasn't sure he ever would be.

So even though he was directly going against every principle that had been drilled into him for over a decade, he didn't ask.

"Besides," he continued, "it was in our vows, right? In sickness and in health."

That drew a watery smile out of Yor, a sight Loid gladly drank in. She looked down at their hands and he jolted, realizing he'd been holding on for way too long. But before he could pull back, she clasped his hands with her other one. In a distant corner of his mind, he noted how small her hands were compared to his.

"I want to tell you," she admitted quietly. "I can't right now, but I want to. When I tell you, would you..." she trailed off.

"I'd stay," he said without a second thought. At her shocked look, he repeated, "I'd stay, because I know the kind of person you are, Yor. Whatever it is you can't tell me, you must have a good reason."

Selfishly, he wanted to ask if she'd stay for him, too. It would be both ridiculous and hypocritical to do so because 1) he was the one planning on erasing Loid Forger once necessary, and 2) she wasn't suspicious of him in the first place. But the urge to hear her reassurance was almost overwhelming. Tell me you trust me, too. Even though I have a thousand lying faces I've told you more truths than I ever should have. Tell me you'd stay even if you knew my truth.

"It's the same for you," she said. This time his eyebrows were the ones raising in shock. "You said you have your own secrets too. But I know that whatever they are, you're still a good person."

It was then that he realized how close they were. He was perched on the edge of her bed. Their hands were clasped together, and at some point they'd leaned in far enough that he could see the shadows cast by her lashes onto her cheeks. The lavender scent was wrapping around him now, filling him up with every inhale.

He could feel himself close to doing something stupid. Like threading his hands through her dizzying lavender hair, or touching the pulse under her jaw. So he wrenched himself back with more difficulty than he'd anticipated and gestured to some used washcloths on her dresser.

"I'll—" Why was his voice so hoarse? He cleared his throat. "I'll put those away. You should rest."

"Right. Yes." She nodded so vigorously that he was afraid she'd give herself a headache. "I will. And, um, thanks for the soup. And the medicine. And, well, everything."

"Anytime," he smiled, before swiftly walking out of her room. He shook his head once he was out, taking deep breaths of—thankfully lavender free—air. That scent must have been driving him crazy.

A few days later, when Yor was feeling better (and promised a tearful Anya that she'd hold off on late shifts no matter what), Loid sent Handler a message that he was ready to get on with the mission. He found himself quite eager this time around.

He was going to give some underground researchers and whoever had used their creations pure hell.

638 notes · View notes

angelplummie · 3 years ago

Text

YOU PROMISED

KUROO X READER ANGST

masterlist

warnings: cheating, swearing, phone sex??? they bang and girly hears it, questionable writing, hysterical kinda lolz, drk what this is tbh just wrote it cuz i’m deranged

part 1 part 2

“Hi Tetsu! I’m glad you picked up, i was just wondering-“

You were interrupted by tinny giggles on the other side of the phone. You stood blinking in the sauce isle, trying to process what you were hearing.

“Tetsu?”

“Shhh! just keep going baby. Hi Y/N, what’s up?”

What was that?

No, because what the fuck was that?

What did he say? You weren’t one hundred percent sure, but a sinking feeling tugged at your gut. You stared down hard at the garlic and tomato purée in your hands as you swallowed.

“I-I was just in at the shops, and I wondered if pasta was ok for tea?” your voice was quiet and quivering.

“Oh sorry babe, I,” he laughed breathily away from the receiver, but you can still hear him, “I’m not gonna be able to make it. Deadlines and shit you know?”

Oh my fucking god.

“Really?” you said dryly, heart racing. You placed the purée down and took a deep breath.

“Yeah I’m gonnna be, hah, haha, kasumi slow down, gonna be late babe.”

Fucking Kasumi?

You were going to throw up. All over everything. This couldn’t be real, it could not be real.

“Are you kidding me?” You breathed dryly.

“What? ohhh yea-“

His voice broke off as you hung up and jerkily put your phone back into your bag.

What.

What was that.

He was cheating on you.

And he answered your call, while cheating on you.

And kept going with her?

With fucking Kasumi?

With fucking Kasai “She’s just a colleage” Kasumi?

What the fuck.

“Pasta for one then,” you muttered dryly. There’s a small pause, the only sounds in the shop the clatter of shopping trolleys and the beep of the cash register, before you snort out a laugh, and then start sobbing profusely in the the fucking supermarket.

Your hands grip the white metal overhang of the shelf and you hang your head forward. You inhale deeply, and the shelves spin around you. Your face screws up like a paper bag, and you hope to god thag no one walks into the isle.

Hot misery thrummed in your mind, gave you an unbearable stomach ache. Your brains burned, and your eyes.

After everything, after all the talks, after he made you trust him.

You remember once when things were really bad.

You had told him that if things couldn’t change, if he couldn’t change, you were going to have to leave him.

It was after he had kissed that girl when he was drunk, when he swore down that he thought it was you. But of course you didn’t believe him. Because it wasn’t just that, it was all those other times, those little throw away fights. He could never reel it back, stop laying it on so incredibly thick with every woman he set eyes on. He said it was just his nature, but this was getting insane.

You had told him you couldn’t live in constant fear anymore. You couldn’t keep having your friends coming up to you gravely and telling you about what he did, who he was flirting with this week. You couldn’t keep worrying every time he left the fucking house, you couldn’t do it anymore.

You were leaving, ok? Unless he wanted to change, if he could, if he cared enough to, you were gone.

And he did.

And he did it overnight.

Suddenly, he wouldn’t even look twice when girls entered the room. He wouldn’t flirt with anyone, he certainly didn’t kiss anyone, he brought you home gifts everyday, Always kind, always thoughtful, always affectionate. He was the perfect boyfriend. Really, he was. Everything was gone in a second, and it was heaven.

Guess he didn’t fucking mean it.

There were times when you’d tell him, ‘why don’t you go out and fuck someone for real so i can stop worrying about it.’

You didn’t fucking mean it.

Sobs wracked your body, and you had to bite your lip to stop them being any louder than they were.

You heard the squeak of shoes as someone entered the isle and then left, because when you looked up no one was there.

This was embarrassing. Maybe it was time to leave.

The ache in your stomach throbbed as you dragged yourself back out to your car. You didn’t end up buying anything. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like you were actually going to cook tonight.

You sighed messily as you slid into your car, shut the door behind you with a clunk and started the engine. Your mind whirred with the motor, and you began to drive.

You didn’t know what you were going to do tonight now that you thought of it.

There wasn’t much to do than to wait for him to come home, and see what he says. You’re breaking up with him, obviously. You just weren’t sure what to do with yourself before then, when he came through the door and begged for your forgiveness. Like he wasn’t giggling on the other side of the line. Like he wasn’t having fun sneaking around behind your back, lying to you, after he promised, promised he loved you.

Fucking dirty liar.

Fucking ratty fuck face worthless piece of shit liar.

Without even realising, you had gotten home. You made your way out the car, into your house, and onto the sofa.

You clutched your scalp as you lay on your back, staring emptily at the ceiling. Fucking ugly ceiling. You hate this house, why did you ever agree to live here? Stupid fucking ugly house.

Your sobs come back, chest jerking to accommodate. You make horrible noises and snot nearly goes in your mouth, but you wipe it away with the back of your wrist a bit too hard. It hurt when you did it, the flesh of your upper lip crushed between the bone of your arm and your teeth.

You feel disgusting, like a little kid throwing a tantrum. You just don’t know what to do with yourself.

You feel out of control, like you’re spiralling and you don’t know what’s going on. Your throat hurts, you should try and calm down.

Another trickle of snot tries to run down your face but you wipe it away again, before clutching your chest and taking a slow, deep breath.

Eyes now closed, you try to focus on the silence in the house rather than the loud of your head. You breathe, and breathe, and breathe, until you can think again. You sit up, movement making you dizzy. God, you’re exhausted.

You rub your temples and think about the immediately pressing issue. What were you gonna eat? You were, admittedly, starving.

Alright. Fuck pasta. What did you want to eat today?

Chinese food sounded amazing, and tetsu hates chow mein. Chinese it is.

Your hands were still shaking as you called for delivery, trying to keep the quiver out of your voice.

“Alright, thank you very much!” your voice broke as you finished the call, and you hung up. A sudden wave of fury hits as you remember, and you chuck your phone across the room. Cringing as you hear the sharp thud against the carpet, you cover your face with your hands and make a huffy little whimper.

You want to scream and scream and scream and break things and smash glass until someone calls the police or you pass from lack of oxygen. Somehow you also want to curl up into a ball in your bed and be silent forever and never speak to anyone ever again. You’re in a bit of a funny mood, not that anyone would blame you.

He really did it. He did what you always thought he would do, and somehow you’re still shocked.

But that’s because he changed!

He changed, and he was perfect and for once in your life you were happy, for once in your life you didn’t have to worry about being alone forever and being unloved forever. He gave you everything you wanted, you were so happy.

You thought he meant it when he said he couldn’t lose you.

Your hands were still covering your face, and you sighed. Sniffling, you wiped your face, it was quite damp and puffy now, your eyes hardly open. You blink into your living room, hands cupping the sides of your face. Breathe.

So, you just sat there, in a warm kind of misery. Tears plopped down your face .

Then the doorbell rang. Sniffing, you jumped up and jogged to the door. You must look awful, but it’s whatever.

You drew in a breath and opened the door, heart heavy in your chest.

“H-Hiya.” you gave the delivery guy a watery smile as he drew his arm out to give you the heavyish bag.

“Here, got any plans for tonight?” he said, eyes still down on the food.

“Y-yeah, well, no. Just a qu-quiet night in.”

You chest hurt as you kept in the surges of sobs thag came every now and then.

He glanced up and you saw the shock as he figured out something was wrong.

He wasn’t sure what to do, and you couldn’t blame him so you took pity on him and gave him another watery smile before thanking him and closing the door.

Poor guy, it’s not his fault you got cheated on.

You plonk the bags on the table and sigh. You had settled into a fuzzy sort of numbness, a blanket of tired overwhelming all else as you settled down in the kitchen to eat your food.

You had no time for plates or cutlery, simply using the containers and disposable chopsticks. You started on the choi mein. It was really good. For some reason that made you want to cry again.

Your nose was blocked, so you couldn’t really chew with your mouth closed. Head throbbing away, you ate with your mouth open, gasping and hiccuping and sighing at the fucking amazing egg fried rice.

You were relatively calm, if not completely miserable, until a worrying thought troubled you. Kuroo would be back soon. It was 6:50, he gets home at 7:10. That’s twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes.

That’s not enough time is it? He can’t see you like this, what are you even going to say to him?

Panic welled up inside you, bubbling and churning in your stomach.

What if he tried to make you stay? What would you do?

Surely, you think, you would never stay with him. But Kuroo is very smart, and you’re very tired.

No, come on now. You’ll remember, you’ll not be fooled. You are breaking up with him, you are. You won’t be hoodwinked, there are no more lies that could possibly fool you.

Still, a part of you longs to trust him. You want him to hold you and tell you it was all a huge misunderstanding and he would never, not in a million years. You know it’s over, but you need him right now. He is your one source of comfort, but he’s also the source of your pain. You can’t be with him anymore, no matter how much you want it.

You come back from your thoughts when the container is empty and there is no longer food going into your mouth. You sigh a great big back relaxing sigh, and chuck the packaging into the rubbish bin. A trudge along the hallway and youre back on your trusty sofa.

You ache, your brain aches, you legs ache, everything ows and you just want to curl up but it’s not long before he’s home. You will be strong, you will be. You trust yourself.

Your stomach twists as you force yourself to remember what he did. The thought of him walking towards you with the body that touched someone else. You think of him touching you, putting his dirtied hands on you and trying to be soft and loving and gentle and trying to make you feel special, it makes you sick. He was with someone else. He touched her how you touched him and how he touched you, only last night. And when you were done, he held you and kissed your cheek. He acted like he loved you, and he did it so well.

Don’t forgive him.

You’re sure now. You will never forgive him.

“Hello?”

The door shut quietly as he stepped in, keys clinking in his hand. He was home.

thanks for reading!!! reblogs appreciated!! masterlist

#haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq x y/n #haikyuu angst #angst #haikyuu fanfiction #hq angst #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #dirt bag kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

1K notes · View notes

azurelyy · 2 years ago

Note

Congrats on 100!

For your event, hopefully it’s not crossed off, fluff 23 w Edward Elric? :) thank you and again congrats !!

Hi, sweetie! I apologize for this taking too long, but I feel like me giving the same spiel every time I get to an event request is getting old, so I will just leave it at I hope you enjoy this!

There wasn't a fluff prompt 23, so I went with 20 - hopefully this is the right one! <3

Words: 2.5k

☁️ Prompt: "What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word..."

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, mild NSFW hints, domestic fluff, established relationship, angssst, takes place after the events of the show

With a heavy sigh, you set down the plate of dinner - grilled vegetables and chicken, a standard rotational meal for you - and sat across your husband in silence. It wasn’t Ed’s fault that life had felt dry and stale lately, not at all. He was busy assisting Al with a big research project. It was Top Secret Government work, involving way too many NDA’s, so he couldn’t really discuss the scope of the project with you.

Typically, that wouldn’t be an issue, but work had been monotonous for you recently and wasn’t a very engaging conversational topic, either. And you could tell Ed was only listening half-heartedly, nodding along when appropriate, smiling at you gently when you would mention getting a big order or a cute new design for a cake. He was tired, you knew that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You both knew the unspoken truth - you were in a relationship rut, and it was sinking the both of you into the Earth deeper and deeper each and every day. He wasn’t listening to you; he was tolerating you.

Ed played with his mashed potatoes as you babbled on about something completely irrelevant once again, an order of cupcakes that you had accidentally put whipped frosting on instead of buttercream, right as the sound of his ringtone saved you from a story you yourself knew wasn’t at all entertaining or interesting.

Ed groaned, glancing at the caller-ID. “It’s Roy… I’m sorry. I have to take this.” He pressed the answer button and quickly stood from his chair, scraping its legs against the hardwood floor with a loud moan as he smiled at you before turning to leave with a “This better be good.”

The room filled with loud silence as you sat at the table for one, Ed’s plate of dinner hardly touched, contemplating whether or not to put it in the microwave for him.

“Is this really my life now?” You questioned yourself as you stood up to wash your plate, ignoring the pile of dishes that were leftover from cooking earlier. You could hear Ed’s muffled voice droning on from the office and you briskly walked by without a second glance, deciding to just go straight to bed. You shook the guilt that lingered from your soul as you removed your shirt and jeans, swapping them out for one of your favorite pajama sets.

Lately, you had been leaving the dishes for Ed to do on nights when he was home. Part of you felt bad, but another part of you wondered if anything mattered anymore, so dishes be damned. Besides, he should understand why you do it. It was one of the first agreements the two of you had come to upon moving in together, after all.

“I have to be honest,” you had told him with a smile as he leaned against the kitchen sink, amber eyes shining in the golden hue of the sun. “I hate doing the dishes.”

He laughed that melodic laugh of his that captured your heart every time. “What? But you’re a baker. I bet you do hundreds of dishes every day!”

“I do,” you hummed, walking over to bop his nose with your index finger. “Which is why I hate them.”

“Eh, no problem.” Ed said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ll do the dishes for us. But you have to cook most meals. Trust me, you don’t want me cooking for you anyway. Back when Al first got his body back, I made the mistake of making him some pasta and he was convinced he was still in hell.”

You laughed into his warm mouth as he kissed you, tangling your hands through his golden hair. The two of you had moved in together just a week later, and Ed kept his word about doing the dishes - until recently, that is. Now, he is gone most nights until the early hours of the morning, or the late hours of the evening, depending on how you look at it. Now, he barely looks at you and you both eat in awkward silence. Now, he kisses you out of obligation before mumbling something about needing to work. He’s worse than a stranger to you - he’s distant, a ghost in your home, haunting your halls and the bed for such a brief time that you barely even notice he was there at all.

Rushing water from the kitchen sink and the metallic clanging of pots and pans drifted your mind back to the dreadful reality that was your life. You blinked the tears away as you sank into the mattress, throwing the comforter over your head in a futile attempt at shielding your sorrow from the world. Low weeps and sniffles echoed throughout your bedroom and you were having trouble breathing through the bottled up emotions that poured from you and soaked through your pillow.

The bedroom door creaked open and Ed’s hesitation hung in the air like weapons pointed at your chest. Through your pounding heartbeat, you listened for his footsteps to signal his entry, but he stayed rooted on the other side of the door, waiting.

“You okay, little love?” He asked. There was a gentleness to his voice like raindrops falling on pavement that made your hands tingle. You sniffled as he sat next to your legs, placing a hand to the blanket above your shoulder. He was warm and comforting, and naturally, your body melded to him.

“Yes,” you whispered, peeking out from the blue cotton. “I’m fine.”

“You call this fine?” He chastised, pulling the blanket down further so he could fully see your face. Heat crept to your cheeks when Ed’s honey eyes trailed down to your lips before flickering back to yours, instantly electrifying your soul.

Silence. Ed’s fingers twitched as he reached to brush the tears from your cheek before he recoiled and rested his hand on your knee instead. He knew you were retreating from him; could see the sadness that formed and hid behind the beauty of your eyes for months now. He understood that you were pulling yourself away from him to give him space you thought he needed, making yourself as small as you could for the sake of him. But he hated it. Hated the space between you, hated the time wasted on nights where you go to bed early, hated how your body shifted from him whenever he reached for you.

The lack of you was a weight on his soul, dragging him through an empty life now that your smile had faded and your touch disappeared. He wanted you back, but he didn’t know how to get to you. Ed had waited on the sidelines too long, watching you drift out to the tides, hoping for a current to draw you back to him that never came. And now you were only a faded figure in the distance, and he was too late.

Ed’s warm hands cupped your cheeks as he leaned his body over yours. The two of you hadn’t been this close in so long, and right as his breath skated across your lips, you crumbled. A sputtered sob burst from your chest as Ed took you into his arms, cradling you to him like a small child who was lost in the woods, shushing you through reassurances that everything was going to be alright now.

His grip around you tightened and his body began trembling, bending around you like an abandoned willow tree as the hours of neglect and unintentional ignorance washed away in the closeness of his contact. You wrapped your arms around his neck and realized it had been so long since the two of you had held each other like this - the shape of him seemed new and foreign, almost enticing. His hair tickled your cheeks as your lips found his temple and kissed their way down the skin of his face, his maple shampoo reminiscent of the spring festival Ed had taken you to on your first date together all those years ago.

You paused over his mouth, parting your lips and trying to think of something to say: an apology, a love sonnet, a ballad of his beauty, but the words were lost in the moment and you instead chose to crash your lips to his; to wrap him in your love with an unyielding force. The kiss was needy and passionate, cathartic. Ed’s tongue swirled around yours as his fingers found purchase against your soft hips, gripping onto you as though he was afraid you would float away at any moment. You wrapped your fingers around the base of his neck and moaned against him, pushing your body against his to bridge the gap between you forever, wishing you could always be this close to him.

“M’sorry,” Ed gasped, shoving words between kisses as he towered over you, pushing you gently to the mattress. “So sorry, little love.”

You nodded as you grasped at the base of his shirt, tugging it up. Ed leaned back, helping you pull his shirt up and off over his head before his lips were on yours again. He was needy, so sickly in love with you that he thought he might collapse from sheer happiness alone. Clumsy hands pulled desperately at the waistband of your pajama bottoms and panties, dragging them down as much as they could while his lips stayed firmly planted against your own. Ed’s tongue tattooed your body in golden runes; his whispered apologies branding you as his more than even the ring on your finger.

“I love you so damn much.” He kissed your nose as his punctuation. “How’d I let this happen to you? How can I make it up to you?”

He pulled back, smiling at you softly as his hands continued roaming over your body. Your fingers knotted in his blonde hair and you tugged him back down, kissing him softly and sweetly as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Just don’t stop touching me.” You whispered, doing everything in your power to bring him closer to you. “Never stop touching me.”

Ed smirked against your mouth, a sensual thing that almost knocked the wind out of you. Every nerve in your body was ignited with seething passion as flirtatious teeth skated across your jaw and nipped at the skin of your neck, pulling you deeper into the flames.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured. “Gonna stay right here.” He bit your shoulder as he slowly started unbuttoning your silk shirt, teasingly taking his time.

“But there’s gotta be something else I can do for you.” He hummed when you groaned at the innuendo, bucking your hips so you could feel the way his arousal bumped against where you needed him the most. He laughed as the final button came undone and he trailed his finger up your body, slowly swirling around the pulse point of your neck.

“C’mon,” he whined, kissing the side of your mouth. “What do you want - you want the moon? Just say the word, and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

Your tiny whine when he thrust his hips against you was so innocent and vulnerable, piercing straight through his soul. You were so desperate for him, for his touch; he can’t believe how neglected you had become. Ed’s heart melted in his chest as he nosed his way to the shell of your ear, curtaining your face in his golden hair.

“Hey, that's a pretty good idea,” he murmured, his warm hands kneading at your chest. “I'll give you the moon."

The two of you spent the rest of the night drowning in assurances; from his mouth, his heart, his hips. You could feel it in the air, in the way his body melded to yours, in the way his soul sang for you - his love leaked from him and pooled into your bones, filling the void he had created. And through it all, there was the singular reminder that served as your religion: Ed loves you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

Please consider reblogging to support my work <3

#azurelyy.100event #edward elric #elric x reader #ed elric #ed elric x you #ed elric x reader #edward elric fluff

112 notes · View notes

lukeevangelista · 3 years ago

Note

hiii hope you're having a good day/night, I was wondering if you could do one request based with the song stay stay stay by taylor with jack Hughes? 🥺 Lots of love and good vibes ❤️

hi baby, i’m so sorry for the delay for this!! thank u for being so understanding! but at last, it is finished and here you go!! if you don’t like it, please message me and we’ll get it rewrote!! 🤍🤍

PLEASE DO NOT FORGET MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

———————————————————————————

“i’m pretty sure we almost broke up last night.” you said as you took a bite of the pasta you had ordered. you were currently at dinner with a couple of the other girls.

you laughed as you watched nico’s girlfriend choke on her bread, “wait what?” she asked, all the eyes going to you causing you to shrug, “no ma’am. you don’t get to blurt that out and not explain.”

“i saw some stuff.. on my phone about him. i got pissy with him and i might have tossed my phone at the wall.” you said, holding up your newly cracked phone, “i couldn’t help but be upset. he doesn’t understand how it is to be his girlfriend when he has so many female followers.”

a couple of the girls nodded, clearly understanding your frustration, “did he stay?”

“he did. he never left. he slept on the couch after i suggested we should talk about it later.” you started, “ya know, because apparently you’re not supposed to leave a fight unresolved, according to something jack read. he literally refused to leave. i told him to go stay with ty, but he refused.” he continued, “but he did come in wearing his helmet.” you laughed, “i guess he thought i was going to throw something else this morning.”

the girls let out a chuckle at this as you told the story of that morning.

————

“i’m not leaving!” jack shouted at you as you tried to shove him out of your apartment, “i’m not leaving this unresolved and i’m damn sure not going to bed with you angry at me baby.” he said as he crossed over to you.

“jack, shut the hell up.” you whispered as you finally had enough of him talking before you let out a scream, tossing your phone at the wall, “why did i have to fall in love with you?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“i don’t know baby.” he whispered as he fell to his knees in front of you, “but i am glad you did.” he admitted.

“you know, I’ve only ever dated manipulated assholes before you, someone who took their anger and frustrations out on me.” you admitted to him, “i expected the same from you, but its so different. like i feel like you could never hurt me.” you started, “like my god, you carry my backpack and my damn groceries in, just so i don’t break a nail.” you laughed, “and that. you always have some sort of joke to keep me smiling and laughing and i just don’t understand. i don’t understand how you stayed with someone like me.”

“well baby, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i think you’re the funniest when you’re upset with me, even though you hate it. and i hate it too, but god, you’re the cutest and i can’t help but love you all the time. you took the time to live out my fear, hopes, and dreams with me and i couldn’t thank you enough for that.” he said as he pulled you into his chest.

“no one will ever love me like you do.” you stated, “no one.”

“i’ve been loving you for quite some time now and i don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“i think it would be best if you stayed.”

“glad were on the same page baby.”

—————

you had finished explaining the fight before showing off your left hand, the new jewelry adorning your ring finger.

“oh my god, he didn’t!” they squealed as mile’s girlfriend grabbed your hand, her eyes scanning over the rock, “it’s beautiful.”

“he did such a good job!”

“definitely a keeper!”

“i one hundred percent agree.” you smiled, “even though we were upset with each other, he never left and that made me realize i never want him to leave, even if i’m the maddest i could ever be at him.”

it didn’t take long for you to start into the proposal and how it all went down.

———

“baby, look at me.” he whispered, lifting your chin up to look at him, “i need to talk to you.” he said as he stood up, pulling you up with him.

you watched as his eyes scanned your flushed face. you had calmed down after your fight, but jack knew how to push your buttons and he had caused your blood pressure to rise.

he let out a laugh before cupping your cheeks in his hands, “god, you’re the cutest.” he grinned.

“stop.” you muttered, placing your hands on his wrists, holding on.

“i can’t,” he started as he took a step back, “i really hope you’ll let me do that forever because i want to do that as long as were both alive.” he stated as he knelt down, “y/n, I’ve been in love with you for a long time now and some how, you agreed to be my girlfriend, which the boys still don’t know how i managed that,” he joked, “its like you said, no one will ever love me or understand me like you do. i’ve been loving you for a while now and i want to do it forever.” he continued as he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a navy blue velvet box, opening it to reveal a gorgeous ring, “will you marry me?” he asked as he watched your face change through the emotions.

“yes.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

290 notes · View notes

sunsents · 4 years ago

Text

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight. This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.” he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

759 notes · View notes

carlottawllms · 1 year ago

Note

Hello YOUUU, I can't tell you how much I misses sending these

Lately, the stress with the transfer, moving up to Manchester, settling into a new team and finding a permanent home had prevented you and Mason from spending lots of time together. OH BABIES, BIG CHANGES IN YOUR LIFE🥹

Simply being with each other without planning anything or thinking of what had to be done next; just cooking, cuddling and loving one another. THIS HAS TO BE THE DESCRIPTION OF THE BEST DAY EVER

There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his arms, head on his chest with his evenly beating heart right under your ear, the duvet and his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and the occasional chuckles that made his chest rumble. THAT'S SO SWEETTTTT, I NEED THAT, THANK YOU PLEASEEE

And for Mason, having you in his arms and feeling at home was just everything he wanted. He didn’t need dinners in fancy restaurants, suits and ball gowns, he didn’t need overpriced food and overhyped places, he didn’t need hundreds of people around and paps taking photos. He just needed you. You and only you. OH, I'LL CRY NOW🥹🥹🥹

You’d been completely surprised when Mason had woken you up this morning and kissed you softly before he’d told you to get dressed comfortably. You’d asked what he was up to, but he’d only said that the bags were packed, and you should hurry up. THAT, THATS THE PERFECT WAY TO SURPRISE PEOPLE, YOU CANT MAKE ME CHANGE MY MIND

Both of you had swapped your joggers and hoodie against jeans and t-shirts at Jaz’ and then Mason had taken you out for lunch to your favourite restaurant. One you’d discovered very early on in your relationship when he’d taken you to Portsmouth for the very first time. It was an Italian who made the 2nd best pasta in the world – only topped by Mason’s self-made one. OH, SWEETIES...BUT HONESTLY THE ITALIAN ME IS NOT CONVINCED ABOUT HIS PASTA...SORRY 🤣🤣

You remembered vividly how he’d blushed when you’d told him that. He’d chuckled shyly, but his eyes had shown brightly. MOUNT DON'T TAKE HER TO ITALY, TRUST ME...YOUR HEART WOULD BE BROKEN

Mason squeezed your hand gently. “It is. I mean, yeah people still recognise me, but it’s different. It feels like all the pressure from Manchester is simply washed away and I can be a normal person here. Just someone spending time with his girl, you know?” YEAH, NO NEED TO WEAR GLASSES OR BIG SWEATS

“No, y/n.” Mason shook his head as he came to a halt before he tipped your head back. “You’re home to me and you are where I can be just Mason. Yes, it’s special to be here and it’s easier to blend in here, but no matter where we are, I can always be just Mason when I’m with you.” OH, WOW, THIS JUST MELTED ME

When you looked up at him in surprise, Mason leaned down and kissed you softly. “I mean it, y/n. I know it sounds cheesy, but you’re everything I need to be okay.” STOP IT OR YOU’LL KILL ME FROM SOFTENSS

You spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, just sitting cuddled up with each other, talking about everything and nothing and simply staring at the waves breaking on the sand, as the gentle breeze continued to brush through your hair. CAN I HAVE THAT NOW?😌🥹

“You know, a couple of days after we had our first date, I came down here to talk to Jaz about you. We sat on the pier after she’d talked me into getting ice cream and just talked. I was terrified of letting you in because of everything that had happened before, although deep down I already knew that you were different, and Jaz just looked at me and told me to take you to Portsmouth and do all my favourite things with you.”, Mason explained with a soft smile on his face as the tips of his fingers danced up and down your arm. WHY CAN I COMPLETELY IMAGINE THAT HAPPEN?🥹 BIG SISTER MOOD ACTIVATED

You shook your head, laughter still spilling from your lips. “That’s okay, Mase. I’m glad I passed and we’ve made it this far.” Ahhahahah, CAN I DO THIS TEST TOO?

“Oh trust me, so am I.”, he said, a cheeky smile on his lips. “And you’re not allowed to leave ever again.” CARLOTTA ALL OF THIS IS TOOOOO SWEETTTT, I CANT HANDLE IT

“There’s one more thing for tonight.”, he smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and walked you up to the street. Back at the car, Mason grabbed two hoodies and a picknick blanket from the trunk and you half expected him to grab a basket too, but instead, he closed the trunk and held a hoodie out for you to take. It was actually your favourite one of his. NOT ME PRAYING THAT THEY'RE GOING TO THE OPEN AIR CONCERT

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking questions.”, you grinned as you leaned your head against Mason’s arm. GOOD GUESS Y/N🤣

Fun with what? You were dying to ask, but you knew Mason wouldn’t answer anyway, so you kept quiet and simply followed along. The both of you passed some more gates until you eventually came face to face with the wide space of the centre of the park. People were gathered everywhere, many with blankets just like you, chatting amongst each other and you let your gaze wander across the space, taking it all in. CARLOTTA I KNEW ITTTT

“You know, we haven’t been able to spend much time together lately because of the transfer and all that.”, he started, pulling you a little closer into his side. “And you’ve been so amazing and supportive through all of it and I know you don’t think of it as a big deal, but to me it was. You’ve put me and my baggage, my fears and doubts first, helping me to fight them all and I wouldn’t have made it without you. That’s why I wanted to give you something back.” LISTEN MOUNT, YOU'RE TOOOO SWEET TODAY

“A couple of weeks back, I saw that she was coming to Portsmouth, but I didn’t want to tell you right away cause I wasn’t sure I could make it and when I eventually knew I could take you, I just wanted to make it special and surprise you with today.” THAT'S MY MANNNN😌😌😌

Until ASHE came on stage, Mason and you kept talking a little about the fun things you wanted to do once everything had settled properly. There was a big holiday he’d planned for the two of you, day trips around the UK to the places he wanted to see with you. He always talked about getting a dog which made you laugh a little, but after giving it a thought, the idea of having someone at home with you when Mason wasn’t made you smile. CAN I HAVE HIM PLEASE?

“No, just wanna stay here with you and enjoy the night.” 🥹🥹🥹🥹

He kissed your cheek once his favourite song came on and although he would’ve loved for you to hear the song from her as she very obviously was the better singer, he couldn’t stop himself from singing the lyrics quietly into your ear, hoping that despite the song being about friendship, you’d understand how much you meant to him. OHHHH, THAT'S SOOO CUTE AND SOFT AND SWEET AND ROMANTIC AND EVERYTHING

“I love you so much.”, he whispered before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and even though I still don’t understand that you keep choosing me every day, I will do everything to keep you by my side.” 🥹🥹🥹🥹 THAT'S TO MUCH FOR ME

“Stop making me cry, Mase.”, you sniffed, once again wiping the tears from your cheeks, but the fond smile on your lips told him everything he needed to know. Mason turned you in his hold until you could sink sideways into his embrace, head right on his chest as his arms kept you wrapped up against him. “As if I’d ever not choose you, you muppet. I’ll never let you go. You’re mine you know? Just as much as I’m yours.” OK GOODBYE, IT WAS LOVELY MEETING YOU ALL🥹🫠

SHE IS BACK AND I DIDN'T REALISE HOW MUCH I MISSED HER UNTIL I FINISHED READING THISSS

THAT WAS SOOOOOO SWEEEEETT, PERFECTION

YOU COULDN'T THINK ABOUT A BETTER DAY WITH HIM AND YOU COULDN'T WRITE IT BETTER

I FELT ALL THE LOVE BETWEEN THEM🥹

YOU'RE AMAZING CARLOTTA, NEVER DOUBT THAT, PLEASE 🩷🩷🩷🩷

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THAT

AND DON'T RUSH YOURSELF ABOUT POSTING, WE'LL (ME FOR SURE) ALWAYS BE HERE WAITING YOU AND CHEERING FOR YOU🩷🩷🩷

Sorry for hurting your Italian heart 😭😂 I honestly still don’t know what his pasta is so 😂

Also thank you so much. I look forward to these so much, honestly. Your reactions are so wholesome 🥺🩷🩷

Idk this one was just so soft and loving and I’m so so glad you loved it 🥺

3 notes · View notes

sswissy · 2 years ago

Text

𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝖑𝖚𝖎 𝖘𝖆 | 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

Cardinal Copia had begun to notice there was a discomfort between his future prime mover and himself. It could've been the multitude of hours that he spent holed up with his paperwork and rats but something was terribly wrong. He understood that Dahlia was nervous about the role she'd now be playing but wasn't certain if that was the only reason she was uncomfortable.

When Sister Imperator had come to him with the idea of taking a prime mover, Copia was unsure of the outcome. Especially with the fact she was uprooting someone's life to just marry him for the sake of a new bloodline. Dahlia Amato had been a great choice with her dedication to the church and love for helping others in the congregation. But it didn't seem like the woman was entirely happy to be taking on the role, he couldn't blame her for it honestly.

His ghouls even seemed unhappy as of late too with the date of the ceremony beginning to close in. Especially for the lead guitarist who was seething every time at rehearsals this month. Copia didn't at first understand where his sudden hatred towards him started but had slowly started to put the pieces together. He honestly didn't want to believe it at first that his fiancé might be involved with one of his ghouls. But it was somewhat of a relief to him. Copia was to become Papa in a few months and that alone was taking up his time preparing for. There was no room mentally to take care of a wife and soon children.

"Is something bothering you, Copia?" Dahlia questioned. It wasn't entirely unusual for the man to drift away mentally during their talks. There was an awful lot on his plate like herself but he had been silent for longer than usual this time.

"Could I ask you a personal question, cara?" Copia wanted to ripe the bandaid off fast. Knowing was a whole lot better than just making assumptions because he overheard things. Like what if he was wrong and was looking at his fiancé in such a harsh light? It wasn't entirely fair even though he had a sinking feeling it was true.

"Of course, I'm an open book." She shrugged before taking a bite of the lukewarm pasta. Usually Copia was full of questions so it didn't come as a surprise. Plus it was best to just act like everything was completely normal rather than come across as stressed as she really was.

"I overheard that you maybe uh" Copia coughed trying think how to approach this lightly. Her eyebrow raised with curiosity, twirling the pasta on her fork waiting. "Are you romantically involved with Dewdrop?" He wanted to die of embarrassment right there. Copia wasn't sure how he would recover if he was wrong.

Dahlia heard the clink of the fork against the china before fully realizing she dropped it. Sister Imperator had been adamant that the Cardinal wouldn't find out about it. But it seemed like that flew right out of the window and Dahlia wasn't sure how to go about it. Was it better to just tell him? Maybe he'd be able to help her? What if he was angry and told the Imperator? She'd definitely be executed no questions asked. Dahlia gulped while trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"I'm not sure where you heard that but it's definitely wrong." Dahlia weakly smiled. If Dew found out about this, she'd one hundred percent be punished later. Honestly the thought kind of thrilled her, he went practically feral when teaching her who she belonged to. Dahlia coughed trying to pull her focus back into what was happening rather than Dew pounding into her later.

"Sorella, we're getting married next month and if you have something to tell me I'd rather you be honest with me now." Copia watched the woman in front of him slowly crumbling. He was surprised the see the hint of fear swirling in her eyes.

"Please understand I came here to marry you, Copia, but everything changed so fast. I wanted to have more self control at first but there was a lot more to it than just some affair." Dahlia made sure it was worded carefully rather than just spewed out in a mess. There was a sense of relief slowly being lifted off her shoulders with every word.

"I of course had no idea coming here that I was going to be Dew's mate. I'm so incredibly sorry that I couldn't fulfill my duty to the church." She wanted to burst into tears for admitting everything to Copia but she just couldn't. It was better for him to know especially with the ceremony so damn close at this point. How would she be able to hide her relationship with Dew if she was supposed to bear Copia's children eventually?

"It's not your fault, cara. This was beyond your control." Copia wanted to seem shocked. Granted he was surprised that his hot headed ghoul had a mate in the first place. He was wondering at that point how Dahlia even put up with him because he obviously needed some pointers.

"You aren't upset with me?" Dahlia questioned. His reaction was quite anticlimactic after being so worried he'd possibly run off to the Imperator ready to kill her. That was still very possible once she found out that he knew.

"How can I be upset, sorella? You can't control Lucifer's wishes, he chose for you to be Dew's mate and I'm not going to disagree with our Dark Lord." Copia shrugged returning to his meal. Dahlia blinked a few times in shock trying to piece things together. How could he be so nonchalant about everything?

"So what are we going to do, Copia?" Dahlia wanted to be free of the chains tying the two of them together. Even if it meant having to go back home to a very disappointed father. But as long as Dew was able to come with her, things could become normal eventually.

"I'll talk with Sister Imperator to resolve some things and you're more than welcome to stay here. You'll just have other duties to the church of course." Copia explained. He knew Sister wouldn't be thrilled that this plan of hers failed after succeeding for so long. But this beyond their control for all the parties involved.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Copia. You weren't suppose to find out." Dahlia was internally panicking. She was certain she'd be dead before the wedding bells rang. There was no way she'd be getting out of this unscathed.

"You'll see, I'll fix everything cara. Now eat, I'm sure you need all your energy to deal with that ghoul hm?" Copia joked trying to calm the woman down. It definitely wasn't working but Dahlia reluctantly took another bite of the cold food. She envied how calm Copia could be after everything coming to light. Perhaps he knew all along and just didn't want to believe it? Or perhaps Aether said something hoping he'd be able to help them? Either way, Dahlia had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was absolutely screwed here.

translations:

cara - dear

sorella - sister

lui sa - he knows

taglist:

@chiggennuggie

@florenceivy

#ghost bc #ghost band #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop x reader #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #lost without you fic

28 notes · View notes

camels-pen · 3 years ago

Text

a blanket for three

Summary:

Picnic dates are a lot harder to organize than Tucker thought. He can't complain with the results though.

For @ghost-pasta's DP Valentine's prompt list Day 5: strawberry

Ao3 Link

Now though, Danny could only marvel at the beautiful scenery. The fields of grass lightly swaying in the wind with not a patch of sand in sight. The island’s miniature sun beaming down on the plant life where it floats in the swirling green sky, providing warmth to all under its rays. The large yet sparse acacia trees in the distance. The… camels?

He put on a short burst of speed and when he saw a familiar figure on the beach, he took a nonsensical route for a few moments, letting his tail light up with ecto-energy before flying down to stand in front of them. The bright green letters, several shades brighter than the sky and practically blinding, made the woman on the island wince lightly before pulling out a pair of sunglasses from under her cloak.

“‘I heart you’?” Sam snorted, a fond smile growing on her face. “Dork.” Danny smiled. She glanced at the blanket in his arms and raised an eyebrow. Danny’s smile grew wider as he unfurled the plaid blanket.

“Just like old times, right? I asked one of the seamstresses to make it.” His smile faltered slightly. “Uh, where’s—?”

“HERE! I’m here, I am… right here,” Tucker said, panting as he pulled himself out of a small sand dune not far from them. “Just… just give me a second.” He leaned his hands on his knees, bracelets and necklaces jingling as he struggled to catch his breath.

“How far did you go?” Sam asked, concerned.

Tucker waved her off, though he didn’t protest Danny dusting sand off his shoulders and hair. He spit out a few grains of sand before replying, “Just… the other side… of the island.” He groaned. “God, I wish I could fly. Sand movement is so wack.”

Danny laughed, surprised. “Holy shit, I haven’t heard that in so long.”

Tucker furrowed his eyebrows. “It hasn’t been that long since it’s been popular.”

“Nope, that’s a straight retro meme, Tuck. Hasn’t been used in decades,” Sam said with a smirk as Tucker gaped. “Oh how the technogeek has fallen.”

Tucker shook his head. “Okay but that is actually a retro meme. Wack isn’t retro.”

“Considering it was popular after we finished college, I’m gonna have to disagree with you.”

“No, nuh uh, I refuse. I’m in the right here.” Tucker pulled out a small metal bracelet. “Here, I’ll look it up and show you.” He pressed a button and a 3D display popped up in front of them. After typing in a few key words, Tucker pulled up the date of origin.

“There, 2012,” he said, smug. “Never doubt me again.”

Sam made a confused face. “It’s gotta be older than that.”

“He’s right Sam, look.” Danny’s voice trembled with laughter. “It was popularized in 2014 by”—he snorted—“‘your butthole’.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Oh real mature Mr. two-hundred-year-old-king.”

“I never claimed to be mature,” he said as he continued to fail at reigning in his laughter.

The sound of a small bell chiming caused Danny to look around. “Uh, did you guys hear that?”

“Oh nice, that means they’re done. Thanks, D.” Tucker gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Did you guys have your stuff?”

“Yup. One large blanket, big enough for three people.” Danny held up the fabric for Tucker. “And I’m pretty sure Sam will just conjure up the right flowers for us once she sees the scene.”

“Nope.” The two men turned to her. She nudged at the sandy ground with her boot and three small cacti of varying heights of shapes popped out. “Already made them. A Fine Sands specialty. Usually takes an assload of work to grow a cactus even with my powers so I waited until I got here, but, as you can see, they need a bit more time to get bigger. And I can’t move them right now or I might mess up their growth so I’ll have to poof them near us when they’re done.” She huffed.

“Oooooh, can’t wait to see them fully bloomed. They’ll probably look great, and it’ll fit in well with whatever Tuck has in store. Oh and by the way,”—he pulled out a small cylindrical container from his shirt pocket—“Ellie sent me over with some tea she’s been growing in the garden. She said it’s good for digestion, so uh, tell me now if you’re gonna try killing me with spicy food again.”

Tucker’s face blanked for a moment before he buried it in his hands. “Fuck.”

“Ah, you forgot.” Sam patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just grow something.” She pulled a few seeds from her belt and threw them on the ground a few feet away. With a wave of her hand, she made a small patch of fertile soil and coaxed the seeds under the top layer and with a snap of her fingers a fully grown strawberry bush burst from the ground in an instant. Tucker gaped at the sight before flailing his arms.

“You can grow strawberries here?!” he all but shouted. “Why didn’t I know that?!”

“Because it’s extremely difficult. They hate hot and dry climates. I can do it because—” she waved a hand at her belt with numerous pockets and then gestured at her whole body.

Tucker whined. “Oh come on!” Danny patted the top of his head while Sam plucked the berries and tied them up in the blanket.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just get going.” Danny scooped Tucker up into his arms to which the man responded by sticking his face in Danny’s shoulder.

“No, just let me die in my shame.”

“Literally impossible, but okay.” Sam gripped the tied up blanket in one arm and threw the other around Danny’s neck. As Danny started floating upwards, his tail curling tight around her waist, Sam added, “Where are we going exactly?”

Tucker finally extricated himself from his shame bubble and gave approximate directions beyond a mountain peak.

“High ho, ghost horse, onward,” Sam said as she hiked herself up further on Danny’s back, wrapping her legs around his semi-wispy waist.

After carefully adjusting his precious cargo for a safer trip, Danny spoke up, “Fast, medium, or flashy?”

“Can’t we just go slow?”

“Not an option today, sorry.”

Tucker groaned. “Fine, medium.”

“You got it, boo.” Tucker groaned louder, but closed his eyes and leaned into the long smooch on his head. “One medium, no flash, coming right up.”

In a little less than half an hour, they touched down on the other side of the island where a large grass field stretched as far as the eye could see. Tucker instructed Danny to put them down by the shade under a large acacia tree.

As Sam set down the blanket and started smoothing down the edges while keeping the strawberries in the center, Danny took the time to really appreciate the landscape.

He hadn’t been to this part of the Fine Sands in a few years since most of the time, the three of them tended to spend time in Danny’s plush, not sand filled castle or Sam’s traveling cabin. Not that Tucker’s palace wasn’t fancy and filled with comfy furniture and fabrics, but the guy himself tended to prefer not being there at all. If it wasn’t for the whole ‘reincarnation of a famous pharaoh’ thing that kept him tied to the island, Danny suspected Tucker would’ve moved in with one of them or switched between their places for the rest of eternity. Not that that was a problem for him, but it meant he and Sam usually didn’t see much of the island despite the many decades they’d spent living in the Infinite Realms.

Now though, Danny could only marvel at the beautiful scenery. The fields of grass lightly swaying in the wind with not a patch of sand in sight. The island’s miniature sun beaming down on the plantlife where it floats in the swirling green sky, providing warmth to all under its rays. The large yet sparse acacia trees in the distance. The… camels?

Danny knew, logically, that there were ghost animals living on the island. He also knew there were a few camels roaming around, but… “Is this every camel in the Fine Sands?” he asked, eyeing the hundred something camels roaming around and enjoying their own meals or simply resting by a small watering hole.

“Every ghost camel,” Tucker corrected before grumbling, “The living camels are all wimps and kept demanding more shit. I mean we don’t even ride them and they roam free wherever they please—”

“How long did it take you to get them all to come here?” Sam grimaced. “How many times did you have to move under the sand?”

Tucker sighed. “Too many times. They were spread out all over. The farmers helped though.” He shook his head. “But that’s not important. Y’know what is important?” He pulled Sam and Danny down to sit on the blanket and splayed himself over their laps with a satisfied grin.

Sam chuckled. “Alright, message received.” She used one hand to run her fingers through his curly black locks and the other to loosely tug Danny to lean on her side before running hands through his glowing white hair as well.

Both boys practically melted against her. Danny hugged her around the waist with one arm and pressed a soft kiss to her neck before nuzzling his face into her shoulder. He reached out with his other hand to intertwine with Tucker’s and squeezed lightly. Tucker used his thumb to rub circles on the back of Danny’s hand and left his free hand to reach for a strawberry and hold it up for Sam to eat.

Sam hummed her thanks before asking about how things have been going for the boys. They kept up the conversation, except for a few pauses from Danny blowing raspberries in Sam’s neck to disagree with her, which resulted in giggles that jostled her hand from Tucker’s hair, which resulted in whining and tugging at Danny’s hand in retaliation. This all went on and on in a cycle of mild annoyance that left the trio laughing loudly and pulling away briefly to recompose themselves before winding around each other again.

The three spent the rest of the day feeding each other strawberries and relaxing under the shade talking about nothing in particular. The camels continued grazing, undisturbed with the nearby picnic date. Eventually, Danny, Sam, and Tucker became a pile of cuddly limbs and fell asleep with full bellies, content smiles, and tangled up with their favorite people.

End note!

The cacti didn’t finish growing by the time Danny and Sam needed to get back to their responsibilities, but neither of the boys were hung up about it and Tucker said they could come over for another date when the cacti do bloom.

#nemo the writing ho #danny phantom #everlasting trio #immortal trio au #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #this was some v nice fluff to write #thanks for the prompt list spaget <3 #i got to include both parts of my namesake so i am content #btw sam is a witch in this fic

83 notes · View notes

keanureevesisbae · 3 years ago

Text

oblivious - c.3

Summary: When Ivy wants to wind down after a long day at work, the dear captain knocks on her door with a favor.

Captain Syverson x Ivy Sullivan

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warning: None

Masterlist // Oblivious masterlist // Previous Chapter //

‘Fucking finally,’ I groan as I sit on the couch, ‘a little down time.’

Normally I love it at work, but today was draining. The women in my yoga class kept on giggling while I was being serious and on top of that, there was a group of men in the gym, who kept ogling me. Almost as if it were karma, one nearly broke his nose and one of his limps, when he slipped on the treadmill and rolled off with a pretty quick speed.

Let’s just say I pretended not to see that and have my male coworker fix this.

I grab the bowl of chips, when someone knocks on my door. Seriously? Talk about bad timing. I just wanted to chill. If it is someone who wants to sell me something, I’m roundhouse kicking them off my property.

I push myself up from the couch, when the knocking becomes more impatient. ‘Have some patience!’ I yell, before opening the door.

Much to my surprise, it’s Sy. Uncle Sy had made quite the impression on me. While initially I wanted to despise him, deep down I felt a little bit sorry for him. Not only was he not born to be a caregiver, he also is so grumpy and irritable, he involuntarily makes the girls despise him.

And that is kinda sad, because he is sort of trying.

‘Sy, what a lovely surprise. What do you need? Someone to yell at? Be a second mom to your nieces?’ I ask him. ‘Because I think you got that all covered with your eldest niece.’

He glares at me, probably murdering me in his head. ‘I truly need your help, so I’m just gonna ignore that.’

I lean in the doorway. ‘Enlighten me then. What’s up?’

‘I have this thing from work,’ he says. ‘I have to go there, but I can’t leave the girls alone. I don’t know how long I’ll be out, but I’m hoping to be home by ten. It’s just, I can’t take them with me.’

I nod. ‘And?’

He groans, visibly hating me for not making this easy for him. ‘And I hoped you could sit for tonight. Just make sure they eat dinner, they are in bed and don’t die.’

‘Don’t die?’ I ask. ’Sy, who do you think I am?’

He cocks an eyebrow. ‘A little birdie told me you ignored a man who rolled off the treadmill.’

‘If he was gawking at you like some sort of pervert, you would’ve done the same. Don’t pretend to be holier than the damn pope.’

Sy pushes his hands in his pockets. ‘That pervert is a friend of mine. He kinda broke his wrist, hence the reason I’ve got to go to work.’

What a small world, I think to myself. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Okay, anyways… What do I get for it?’

‘I’ll give you one hundred dollars.’

Gosh, this man is desperate. I chuckle. ‘I was actually kidding and willing to do it for free, because I love those girls, but since you kindly offer me hundred bucks, I’ll take it.’

‘You’re quite insufferable, Ivy.’

‘Lemme grab a sweater.’

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

With Sy going off to this work thing (which had to do with the pervert falling off the treadmill—I now sorta feel a minuscule bit sorry), I am together with the three lovely Syverson girls. They are absolutely adorable and I don’t think I have ever been around so many well behaved girls. I know for sure I wasn’t like this when I was their ages.

When I ask Erin how much homework she’s got, she’s at it straight away, while Aurora is playing patiently with Clover and I actually get to have my little down time after all.

I’m relaxing in this very boring house, which has no personality whatsoever. Where are the pictures, the drawings the younger girls made and the millions of giveaways that tell everyone three young girls are living here?

We ordered and shared two pizzas, because we were all too lazy to cook and besides, the only thing we could make, was pasta with pesto. The girls told me they had that this entire week and were sick of it.

Poor Sy, he is probably a terrible cook as well.

I put Clover and Aurora to bed. Clover is already deep asleep by the time I place her in her little bed and I close the door of her room, before I go to Aurora’s bedroom.

‘Ivy,’ the middle girl says with a smile, as I sit on her bed. She’s tucked underneath the thin blanket, her hair in two braids, because she really wanted me to do that.

‘Yes, darling, what’s up?’

She places her hand on mine. ‘Are you gonna stay?’

I frown a little. ‘Stay?’ I ask. ‘What do you mean? Like now?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, forever.’

Oh no, leave it to this girl to ask this question. Whatever I answer, it will break her heart, now or eventually. I let out a sigh. ‘I’m gonna stay as long as I can.’

‘But why can’t that be forever?’

‘Because I can’t promise those things. I can’t look into the future, know what it’s gonna hold. But I can promise you this: as long as I can, I’ll be right here.’ I give her a kiss on her forehead and she smiles. ‘Goodnight, angel.’

‘Goodnight, Ivy.’

I close the door behind me and walk back to the living room, to see Erin sitting on the couch. From the looks of it, she’s waiting for me. ‘What’s up, kid?’

‘Nothing,’ she says.

‘No, no, no, I know that look,’ I say. I tilt my head, taking in her entire face. ‘You’re in love.’

Her eyes widen. ‘How did you know?’

‘I know a look of love when I see one,’ I chuckle teasingly. ‘Besides, you had it written all over you with that shit eating grin on your face, the way you kept giggling when you looked at your phone.’

She blushes. ‘Ivy, have you ever been in love?’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. I mean, I liked guys from time to time, but I never really fell in love.’

‘Have you ever been in a relationship?’

‘I’m not the relationship type of girl,’ I say, as I plop on the couch. ‘Tell me all about this mystery person who you have a crush on.’

‘Well,’ Erin says, ‘he’s this boy in my class. His name is Teddy and he is really cute. He sometimes gives me some of his lunch, especially on days where uncle Sy forgets.’

Oh, look at that. The preteen has a better love life than I have. ‘Oh, honey, if he gives you his lunch, it’s serious.’

‘You think?’

‘Duh, men and food? They’re almost like Siamese twins. I remember when I was younger, guys would never let me have some of their lunch. This is a sweet kid. I like it.’ I lean back in the couch cushions and say: ‘But let’s be serious now, aren’t you a bit too young to be in love?’

She shrugs. ‘Why wouldn’t I be in love?’

An excellent question. ‘I don’t know, maybe I’m just projecting myself onto you, which isn’t really fair to you. I just want you to know that no matter what happens, you’re more than a relationship or a girlfriend. You are Erin Syverson, who doesn’t need a boyfriend, because she’s one bad bitch. Oh crap, I shouldn’t say bitch in front of you. Sorry, honey.’

Erin chuckles. ‘It’s okay? You really think so?’

‘Yeah, I do. Just remember that the one person you need to make sure is happy and healthy is you.’

She wraps her arms around my shoulders. ‘You’re the best, Ivy.’

‘I know,’ I laugh. ‘Okay, now show me a picture of Teddy. I wanna see what he looks like.’

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

After Erin is in securely in her bed, her schoolbag ready for tomorrow, Sy’s truck comes up the driveway. With a grumpy expression, he walks inside and hangs up his jacket on the coatrack. ‘Ah honey, you’re home,’ I say in a sarcastic tone.

‘Very funny.’

‘I’m hilarious, you just lack a sense of humor.’ I push myself up from the couch and grab my sweater. ‘Well,’ I say, ‘I’ll just go.’

‘Fine.’

‘And the hundred bucks, please?’ I hold up my hand. ‘Cough it up.’

He reaches in his back pocket and holds a hundred dollar bill. ‘Here.’

I actually didn’t expect him to actually give it to me. ‘Thank you so much,’ I say. ‘Well, everything is all set and done for tomorrow, so you and the girls can get ready in a blink of an eye.’

Sy groans. ‘You’re making it very hard to not like you.’

I laugh. ‘Of course I do, because I’m a ray of sunshine. See you later, Cappie.’

He nearly chokes on his spit. ‘Cappie?’ he repeats, disgust dripped all over the word.

‘I took the liberty to snoop through some of your stuff and found your military things. Turns out uncle Sy used to be Captain Syverson. Very impressive if I may say so.’

‘If you call me Cappie again, I swear—’

‘You won’t kill me, because I am a very reliable babysitter and your nieces love me. Goodbye Cappie.’

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Oblivious taglist: @diegos-butt // @oddsnendsfanfics // @crazybutconfidentaf // @chaiwithchrisevans // @thelastsock // @angelcavill66 // @eldarwen333 // @abschaffer2 // @shewritesinthethirdperson // @thereisa8ella // @funfickgirl22 // @offtheclockcilantro // @liecastillo @heather-c-m // @its--fandom--darling // @coldmuffinbanditshoe // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @calwitch // @pterodactylterrace

#oblivious #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #asian ofc #henry cavill fandom #captain syverson x asian ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson x oc #captain syverson x ivy sullivan #ivy sullivan

131 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said.

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said.

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders.

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said.

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head.

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled.

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it.

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...”

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath.

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids.

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed.

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut.

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said.

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

619 notes · View notes