#ignore how crappy this looks!!! I had to get it done before Christmas ended

[hana-bobo-finch]

heartbreaking 💔

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Christmas is for Friends and Family

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: When you tell Rick that you don’t do Christmas because it is a time for family and friends, neither of which you have, he makes it his mission to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 1510

TW: Fluff, Alone for Christmas, Found Family, Language

“Hey, Flag. Whatcha working on?” you asked as you casually sauntered into your partner’s office.

He glanced up momentarily from his computer then refocused on the screen. “Tryin’ to get these reports done so I can go home. I can’t believe Waller is making us work late on Christmas Eve.”

You plopped down heavily on the edge of his desk and grabbed a handful of candy out of the dish just next to your knee. “Seriously? That really surprise you? She’s like the Grinch, Scrooge, and Krampus all rolled into one.”

“Better be careful, if she hears you talking like that, she’ll never let you leave.”

“I don’t care. It’s not like I have plans.”

“Oh, come on, darlin’. It’s Christmas Eve! You can’t tell me you don’t have something planned.”

You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as you said, “Nope. I don’t do Christmas. Christmas is for friends and family. And I don’t have either.”

Rick looked slightly hurt. “I’m your friend.”

You popped another candy into your mouth. “No, you’re my coworker. You have to like me for the sake of the team. I meant people who I hang out with outside of work. Who actually thinks about me once they walk out those doors at night.”

You thought you heard Rick mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “I do think about you…all the time” but you brushed it off as wishful thinking. “No, I’m going to do the same thing I do every Christmas. Sleep in, spend the entire day in my pajamas, and eat three day old leftovers while I binge some crappy tv.”

“So, is that why you’re still hanging out around here even though it’s pretty obvious you are done with work?” Rick scoffed. “You just don’t want to go home to an empty apartment all alone? That’s just sad, darlin’.”

You knew he was kidding around, but the retort hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You stood up abruptly from the desk. “Listen, I was going to offer to help you finish your paperwork in the spirit of holidays and all that, but just forget it.” You stalked to the door as Rick tried to sputter some sort of apology, but you ignored him. Just before you left the room, you spun around to face him.

“Merry Christmas, Colonel Flag.” Then you slammed his door shut loudly.

As you stalked down the hall to your office, you mentally kicked yourself for overreacting. Rick was probably the closest thing you had to a friend either inside or outside the walls of the prison. And the playful back and forth banter was just how the two of you joked around. But ever since your mom died, it had just been you on your own. And you liked it that way. However, sometimes on nights like tonight, the loneliness and isolation hit you like a truck. You had dedicated all your time and energy into your career but what did that leave you with at the end of the day? A one-bedroom apartment and some leftover Chinese take-out.

You sighed as you grabbed your keys and bag from your desk. Turning to leave, you were startled to see Rick standing in your doorway. Part of you wanted to rush over and give him a huge hug, to say how sorry you were for being a brat and storming off. But the part of you that was still hurt by his words was stronger. You pushed past him, jerking your arm out of his grasp when he went to stop you. He tried calling after you, but you just yelled, “I’ll see you on Monday” and kept going.

When you got to your car, you threw everything into the back seat and climbed in. It was only then that you let the first tears stream silently down your cheeks. Once again, you had been given the chance to make things right, and you had thrown it all away. And you wonder why you don’t have any friends.

A knock at your door woke you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you rolled over to see the clock showing 5:48. What the hell! Even on workdays, I don’t have to get up before 6. Whoever that is better just fuck off.

You didn’t hear anything else for a moment, so you snuggled back under the covers and tried to fall back asleep.

BAM, BAM, BAM. You shot up in bed as your front door rattled from the force of the knocking. Grabbing your bathrobe off your chair and your gun from under your pillow, you hurried down the hall. Reaching the front door, you peered cautiously through the peephole, gun raised. But you lowered it with an aggravated sigh as you saw the familiar Colonel on the other side.

“What the fuck do you want, Flag?” you yelled through the wood.

He pressed his face against the other side of the peephole, smiling broadly. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let us in, this hallway is freezing!”

“Then leave! I told you I don’t do Christmas!”

“Well, you do this year. Now let us in!”

You finally realize what he just said. “Wait…. who’s ‘us’?”

Unlocking the door and cracking it slightly, you were promptly shoved out of the way as it suddenly slammed open, and Rick and the entire squad burst into your apartment. You stared openmouthed as each of them filed in with armloads of decorations, food, presents, and lights.

You turn to Rick in astonishment, “How…What…?”

He beamed back brightly, throwing one arm around your shoulder. “Waller’s out of town so I was able to pull a few strings. Everyone’s got to be back by tonight, but I figured none of us should be alone for the holidays. Especially not when there are people who care about us that would love to spend them together.”

You watched as Harley organized the presents, Boomer frantically struggled with a box of tangled lights, Abner fiddled with your oven, DuBois and Lawton argued over the best spot to set the tree, and Cleo controlled a hoard of rats into stringing garland from the ceiling.

You were speechless. The tense ache that had been throbbing in your chest since last night slowly began to fade. You looked up at Rick through misty eyes, “I don’t know what to say. Especially after how I stormed out last night.”

“Ah, it’s okay, darlin’. I took it too far and I shouldn’t have teased you about being by yourself. I mean, I’m one to talk! Before I thought of this, my plans for today were eating a microwavable pizza while I reorganized my gun safe!”

You could feel his deep laugh reverberating throughout your body. It felt so comforting and safe, that you couldn’t help but lean your head into his chest. He glanced down at you and smiled, before murmuring in a softy voice so only you could hear, “Hey, I know this job can be tough. And there are times when you feel alone or isolated. But I’m here for you, always. You are so much more to me than just a coworker. You are the best partner and friend a guy could ask for. And I’m sorry if I never said that before.”

“No, I feel the same way about you. I don’t know why I said that last night. You’ve always been an amazing friend, Rick. And I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. And this?” You motioned to the chaotic merriment throughout your apartment. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” You rolled out from under his arm to stand chest-to-chest facing one another. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at his face. “But I do have one question for you.”

He ducked his head lower until it hovered just above yours. “And what’s that?”

Lowering your voice, you whispered, “Did Cleo bring those rats with her or were they already in my apartment?....You know what, I don’t want to know.”

Rick chuckled again as he pulled you closer against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your back. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything else, Harley popped up holding a wilted piece of parsley over your heads.

You eyed her curiously. “Uh, Harls…. What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t find any mistletoe. And I figured neither one of you would ever make a move on your own so…” She shook the pathetic plant for emphasis.

Rick and you quickly exchanged an embarrassed look but then he stared deep into your eyes. “It might not be the real thing, but it is a tradition.”

You smiled coyly back at him. “Colonel Flag, are you asking if you can kiss me?”

He blushed slightly as he muttered, “Well, you know… the mistletoe... and only if you want to.”

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him down towards your lips. “You never needed an excuse to do this.”

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Christmas is for Friends and Family

Day 12: Found Family (Fluff)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Word Count: 1510

@amonthofwhump

“Hey, Flag. Whatcha working on?” you asked as you casually sauntered into your partner’s office.

He glanced up momentarily from his computer then refocused on the screen. “Tryin’ to get these reports done so I can go home. I can’t believe Waller is making us work late on Christmas Eve.”

You plopped down heavily on the edge of his desk and grabbed a handful of candy out of the dish just next to your knee. “Seriously? That really surprise you? She’s like the Grinch, Scrooge, and Krampus all rolled into one.”

“Better be careful, if she hears you talking like that, she’ll never let you leave.”

“I don’t care. It’s not like I have plans.”

“Oh, come on, darlin’. It’s Christmas Eve! You can’t tell me you don’t have something planned.”

You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as you said, “Nope. I don’t do Christmas. Christmas is for friends and family. And I don’t have either.”

Rick looked slightly hurt. “I’m your friend.”

You popped another candy into your mouth. “No, you’re my coworker. You have to like me for the sake of the team. I meant people who I hang out with outside of work. Who actually thinks about me once they walk out those doors at night.”

You thought you heard Rick mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “I do think about you…all the time” but you brushed it off as wishful thinking. “No, I’m going to do the same thing I do every Christmas. Sleep in, spend the entire day in my pajamas, and eat three day old leftovers while I binge some crappy tv.”

“So, is that why you’re still hanging out around here even though it’s pretty obvious you are done with work?” Rick scoffed. “You just don’t want to go home to an empty apartment all alone? That’s just sad, darlin’.”

You knew he was kidding around, but the retort hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You stood up abruptly from the desk. “Listen, I was going to offer to help you finish your paperwork in the spirit of holidays and all that, but just forget it.” You stalked to the door as Rick tried to sputter some sort of apology, but you ignored him. Just before you left the room, you spun around to face him.

“Merry Christmas, Colonel Flag.” Then you slammed his door shut loudly.

As you stalked down the hall to your office, you mentally kicked yourself for overreacting. Rick was probably the closest thing you had to a friend either inside or outside the walls of the prison. And the playful back and forth banter was just how the two of you joked around. But ever since your mom died, it had just been you on your own. And you liked it that way. However, sometimes on nights like tonight, the loneliness and isolation hit you like a truck. You had dedicated all your time and energy into your career but what did that leave you with at the end of the day? A one-bedroom apartment and some leftover Chinese take-out.

You sighed as you grabbed your keys and bag from your desk. Turning to leave, you were startled to see Rick standing in your doorway. Part of you wanted to rush over and give him a huge hug, to say how sorry you were for being a brat and storming off. But the part of you that was still hurt by his words was stronger. You pushed past him, jerking your arm out of his grasp when he went to stop you. He tried calling after you, but you just yelled, “I’ll see you on Monday” and kept going.

When you got to your car, you threw everything into the back seat and climbed in. It was only then that you let the first tears stream silently down your cheeks. Once again, you had been given the chance to make things right, and you had thrown it all away. And you wonder why you don’t have any friends.

A knock at your door woke you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you rolled over to see the clock showing 5:48. What the hell! Even on workdays, I don’t have to get up before 6. Whoever that is better just fuck off.

You didn’t hear anything else for a moment, so you snuggled back under the covers and tried to fall back asleep.

BAM, BAM, BAM. You shot up in bed as your front door rattled from the force of the knocking. Grabbing your bathrobe off your chair and your gun from under your pillow, you hurried down the hall. Reaching the front door, you peered cautiously through the peephole, gun raised. But you lowered it with an aggravated sigh as you saw the familiar Colonel on the other side.

“What the fuck do you want, Flag?” you yelled through the wood.

He pressed his face against the other side of the peephole, smiling broadly. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let us in, this hallway is freezing!”

“Then leave! I told you I don’t do Christmas!”

“Well, you do this year. Now let us in!”

You finally realize what he just said. “Wait…. who’s ‘us’?”

Unlocking the door and cracking it slightly, you were promptly shoved out of the way as it suddenly slammed open, and Rick and the entire squad burst into your apartment. You stared openmouthed as each of them filed in with armloads of decorations, food, presents, and lights.

You turn to Rick in astonishment, “How…What…?”

He beamed back brightly, throwing one arm around your shoulder. “Waller’s out of town so I was able to pull a few strings. Everyone’s got to be back by tonight, but I figured none of us should be alone for the holidays. Especially not when there are people who care about us that would love to spend them together.”

You watched as Harley organized the presents, Boomer frantically struggled with a box of tangled lights, Abner fiddled with your oven, DuBois and Lawton argued over the best spot to set the tree, and Cleo controlled a hoard of rats into stringing garland from the ceiling.

You were speechless. The tense ache that had been throbbing in your chest since last night slowly began to fade. You looked up at Rick through misty eyes, “I don’t know what to say. Especially after how I stormed out last night.”

“Ah, it’s okay, darlin’. I took it too far and I shouldn’t have teased you about being by yourself. I mean, I’m one to talk! Before I thought of this, my plans for today were eating a microwavable pizza while I reorganized my gun safe!”

You could feel his deep laugh reverberating throughout your body. It felt so comforting and safe, that you couldn’t help but lean your head into his chest. He glanced down at you and smiled, before murmuring in a softy voice so only you could hear, “Hey, I know this job can be tough. And there are times when you feel alone or isolated. But I’m here for you, always. You are so much more to me than just a coworker. You are the best partner and friend a guy could ask for. And I’m sorry if I never said that before.”

“No, I feel the same way about you. I don’t know why I said that last night. You’ve always been an amazing friend, Rick. And I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. And this?” You motioned to the chaotic merriment throughout your apartment. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” You rolled out from under his arm to stand chest-to-chest facing one another. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at his face. “But I do have one question for you.”

He ducked his head lower until it hovered just above yours. “And what’s that?”

Lowering your voice, you whispered, “Did Cleo bring those rats with her or were they already in my apartment?....You know what, I don’t want to know.”

Rick chuckled again as he pulled you closer against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your back. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything else, Harley popped up holding a wilted piece of parsley over your heads.

You eyed her curiously. “Uh, Harls…. What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t find any mistletoe. And I figured neither one of you would ever make a move on your own so…” She shook the pathetic plant for emphasis.

Rick and you quickly exchanged an embarrassed look but then he stared deep into your eyes. “It might not be the real thing, but it is a tradition.”

You smiled coyly back at him. “Colonel Flag, are you asking if you can kiss me?”

He blushed slightly as he muttered, “Well, you know… the mistletoe... and only if you want to.”

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him down towards your lips. “You never needed an excuse to do this.”

[dccomicsimagines]

Enough is Enough - Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by Anon -  Can you do a Jason Todd x Reader imagine where they both have strong feelings for each other and the reader gets tired of waiting for Jason and decides to make the first move and tell him how they feel? Thank you!

Requested by Anon - A christmas with Jason Todd!

Author’s Note - I put these two requests together. Hope you don’t mind!

***

“What the hell was that?!” Red Hood stormed toward you. Your first instinct was to back up, but you held your ground. 

“I was saving that cop’s life.” You crossed your arms, hiding the shaking of your hands. He stopped in front of you. You studied his face. He had ditched the full helmet to go with a hood and a domino mask. You took a moment to appreciate his jawline, almost forgetting he was yelling at you. 

“A bad cop!” Red Hood threw his hands up in the air. “Gotham would stink just a little less with him off the beat.” 

You shook your head, ignoring the tingling in your abdomen. He took a step toward you. You backed up until you bumped into the wall. He leaned closer only inches away from your face. You licked your lips, wondering what he would taste like. “He has a family. I couldn’t let his family lose him on Christmas Eve.” 

Red Hood deflated, staying where he was. “You’re a bleeding heart, you know? It will bite you in the ass someday.” 

“Maybe.” You sighed, closing the gap between you to the point where you felt his breath on your lips. His eyes widened through the lenses of his mask.

“Well, I better get going.” He jerked away from you, giving you his back. 

Your heart sank. You should have kissed him if he wasn’t going to kiss you. “What? You have somewhere to be for Christmas Day?” You smiled, pretending you weren’t ready to cry in frustration. 

He snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m going to sleep then wake up to patrol.” He glanced back at you. You saw the tension in his shoulders, his hands shook. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him? Why didn’t he do it then? 

You frowned. “You’re going to be alone?” 

“I’m always alone.” He ran off, jumping off the roof and grappling away to end the conversation. 

“Must have hit a sore spot,” you mumbled to yourself. You kicked a rock off the roof. “We’re always dancing around each other. I want you and I know you want me.” You turned to look out at the city lights of Gotham, brighter due to all the Christmas decorations. A smirk pulled at your lips. You might just have to take matters into your own hands. 

***

Jason groaned, reaching his hand over to touch the pillow next to him. It was cold and empty. His heart sank. He had a lovely dream where he had kissed you on the rooftop and brought you home. Cold reality washed over him, remembering he had chickened out and he was alone like always.

He opened his eyes to stare at the empty side of the bed. You were so beautiful in his dream. Shaking his head, he sat up. “I’d just hurt them anyway,” he mumbled to himself. He got out of bed before freezing when noise came from his kitchen followed by the smell of delicious food. 

“Son of a bitch.” Jason grabbed his gun, slipping out of his bedroom in only his boxers. He headed to the kitchen, ready to kill whichever Batfamily member invaded his safehouse. They didn’t invite him to the manor. How dare they come here?

Turning into his small kitchen with gun raised, he snarled. “Get the hell out of my house...”

You turned away from his oven, eyes widening at the sight of his gun. Jason lowered his gun, heart skipping a beat. Did he bring you home? How were you here? “It’s just me, Hood.” You gave him a shaky smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Wh...What?” Jason set his gun on the counter, rubbing his eyes. “Am I still asleep?” 

Your laugh made his skin tingle. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms. “No, unless you’re sleepwalking. Which if you are, I should be concerned that you carry your gun around.” You came over and clicked the safety on his gun. Jason took a deep breath, throat catching at the scent of the lotion you used.

“Why are you here?” Jason crossed his arms, pretending he wasn’t melting inside. You were wearing a Christmas sweater, cheesy but sexy at the same time. Only you could pull off such a thing. Jason didn’t understand it.

“You said you would be alone, so I thought I’d come over and make you dinner.” Your eyes lingered on his bare chest. He tightened his arms, suddenly self-conscious of his scars. However, he recognized the glow of lust in your eyes. He swallowed hard. Did you like him? You weren’t here over pity?

Jason cleared his throat. “Thanks, I guess.” 

Suddenly, you blushed and looked away. “I got you something too.” You turned to dig into one of the many bags on the table. “Here.” You pulled out a red wool Christmas sweater and handed it to him. 

“Do you honestly think I’ll wear that?” Jason bit his lip to keep from smiling. 

“I mean I’m wearing mine.” A smirk pulled at your lips, putting your hands on your hips. “Now why don’t you go do what you need to do, and I’ll have breakfast for you.”

“You made breakfast too?” Jason blinked, shocked by your kindness. He wanted to kiss you so bad, he thought his heart might stop. 

You patted his arm. “Yeah, dinner’s going to be awhile. I haven’t even started on the chicken.” Jason’s arms jolted at your touch. His hands gripped at the sweater. It would be so easy to kiss you right now, to take you back to his bed and make his dream a reality. You didn’t seem to notice. “I made some muffins and I can whip up some eggs and ham too.” 

Jason’s mouth watered. “Sounds good.” He turned away, hurrying to his bedroom before he made a mistake with you. You hummed in the kitchen. Jason’s crappy apartment suddenly felt more like a home. He shook his head in disbelief.

***

Jason sat at the table, eating the eggs, ham, and muffins you made him. You moved around the kitchen to slide a sheet of cookies into the oven before going back to chopping vegetables. Part of you wondered if you were being too ambitious, but you found you liked the idea of cooking for the sexy piece of man sitting behind you. An image of his bare chest flashed before your eyes. Oh, and his eyes. You almost cut your finger.

“I didn’t know you were such a cook.” His voice made your blush. You added the vegetables to the broth on the stove. 

A snort escaped you. “My family cooked a lot, so I learned.” You turned to meet his eye. His gaze was so intense, your knees shook. “How did you like everything so far?” You turned to wash dishes. Don’t look at him again. You can’t kiss him yet, not when you have so much to do. 

“Best food I’ve had in a while.” His chair creaked. He must have leaned back. “You probably seen how my diet is.” 

“Fast food and microwave meals.”  You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the dishes. “I don’t how you have so much muscle when that’s what you eat.” 

He choked. You sneaked a peek at him, almost laughing at the blush on his face. “Well, it’s not like I have time to cook.” He got to his feet. The floor creaked as he approached. You tensed, hearing his dishes coming to rest beside the sink. “Can I help you with anything?” 

You smiled playfully. “Dishes.” You turned only to find his face inches from yours. Time stopped. He took a sharp breath. His eyes looked straight into yours. They were so pretty, shining. “Wash the dishes, I mean if you could?”

“Yeah, I could.” He blinked. You backed away, bumping into the counter and spinning to go to the refrigerator. Your body was a pile of nerves. “I wanted to make some peanut butter blossoms to go with the snowball cookies.” 

Jason cleared his throat. Dishes clanked in the sink. “How did you get all this food anyway? You couldn’t have always planned to break into my house.” 

“No, but I have my ways.” You moved to the mixer you brought and started to the batter. Pursing your lips, you vowed not the mention how many favors you had to call to get all these ingredients, plus his red Christmas sweater in time. You sneaked a peek at him. The sweater looked great on him, highlighting every muscle in his arms. You only hoped you would get to rip it off him later.

***

The chicken smelled good enough to make Jason’s stomach rumble. He smiled as he watched you set up a small Christmas tree in the corner of his living room. The fact you got all this stuff into his apartment without waking him up made him wonder if you had superpowers. Of course, you probably did. The wonderful person that you were.

Jason wanted you more than ever. He told himself to kiss you, hold you, but he couldn’t do it. Could he let someone be that close to him? He would hurt you probably. A sigh escaped him. He closed his eyes.

“Look at this.” Suddenly, your scent tickled his nose. He opened his eyes to find you right in front of him with your arm above his head. You smirked. He glanced up to find you were holding mistletoe. “Ooo, what luck?” 

Jason choked. “Are you serious?” He looked back at you, licking his lips self-consciously. 

You glanced away shyly. “Yeah, I am.” You looked back at him, passion in your eyes. Jason shivered. His arms wrapped around your waist. “We’ve been dancing around each other for so long. I decided it was time for one of us to make a move. Finding out you’d be alone on Christmas seemed the right time.” You pressed your chest against his. “What do you think, Hood? I mean we’re under mistletoe. It’s tradition and the chicken won’t be done for another hour.” 

A smirk pulled at Jason’s lips. His body responded to you. He chuckled and sealed his lips to yours. You tasted just like he dreamed. His arms tightened around you, lifting you against him as he backed you toward his bedroom. You laughed, keeping the mistletoe in your hand as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

***

“This is probably the best Christmas I’ve had,” Jason chuckled, taking a big bite of his chicken leg. He was lounging naked on his bed, eating with only the sheet covering him. 

You smiled. Your plate of warm food rested in your hand as you sat cross-legged beside him. Jason’s red Christmas sweater was your only piece of clothing. “I’m glad. I’d say this is probably one of the best I’ve had too.” You winked at him. 

“I dreamed about you last night.” Jason focused on his plate as he shoveled the food down. “I brought you home and did what we just did, but this is so much better than that.” 

You blushed at the idea he dreamed about you. “So I made your dream come true, huh?” 

Jason looked at you, fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, you did.” He smiled at you. “I don’t suppose you would want to spend the night? Give me time to thank you for this Christmas dinner.” 

“I don’t have plans.” You winked at him again. Of course, he would find out in the morning that you had brought an overnight bag with you just in case this worked out like you hoped. “I would like to see what you could get me for Christmas.” 

His smirk sent a shiver down your spine. He set his plate aside before taking yours. Once the plates were away, his lips slammed into yours. You laughed, toppling over with Jason landing on top of you. It was a Merry Christmas after all.

***

Unknown to the two of you, someone watched from across the street. “Master Bruce, have you gotten the nerve to ask him to join us yet?” Alfred asked through the comlink. Bruce, dressed as Batman, sighed and set down his binoculars once he saw Jason’s naked butt. 

“He’s with that new vigilante. The one he cares about.” Bruce turned away, dropping down to the waiting batmobile. “He’s not alone on Christmas. I won’t interrupt him now.” 

Alfred huffed. “At the very least. You should have invited him to the manor like I told you to.” 

Bruce stepped on the gas. The batmobile soared down the street. “He’s happy. I’m not going to interrupt his happiness.” Alfred hummed before dropping out of the call. Bruce sighed, smiling with slight relief. At least Jason had someone since Bruce failed him once again.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Home Bound (Part 2)

Summary: With some help from Samson, Dean makes it back to the bunker and starts to process everything that’s happened...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy!

______

“Morning,” said Sam as I groggily sat up. He was cooking in the kitchen, humming a happy tune to himself.

“God, it’s barely seven in the morning,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“I’ve already been up for an hour,” he said. “Eggs?”

“If you’re offering,” I said, stumbling over to his bathroom. I changed back into my clothes, yawning as I sat down at the table. He put down a cup of coffee and plate of scrambled eggs along with some hot sauce. 

“You got any money to get by?” he asked, standing at his counter eating.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, wolfing down my food. 

“Here,” he said, pushing an envelope towards me. I leaned over and grabbed it, opening it up to find a wad of money. “It’s about five hundred. S’all I got laying around the house. That enough to get you home?”

“Samson I can’t accept this,” I said, putting the envelope back.

“I wasn’t really asking,” he said, setting it down on the table next to me. “I’d let you take my car but I need it for work.”

“Sam, it doesn’t look like you got much. I’m not taking your life savings,” I said.

“I have a bank account, jackass. It’s not my savings. Don’t worry about it. Go home, take care of what needs to be done and yourself. You’re getting closer to popping. Pay it forward some day,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, drinking down the last of my coffee. I tucked the envelope in my pocket and he set his mug down.

“I’ll drive you to the bus station,” he said. I put on my boots by the front door as he rummaged around in a closet. He pulled out a black winter coat and held it out to me. “For if you decide you need a walk again.”

“Write down your address,” I said, handing him back the envelope.

“Alright. I don’t want any money or the jacket back. Send me a Christmas card or something,” he said. He returned it after a moment and grabbed his keys as I slipped into the coat. “Better?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks man.”

“S’no problem. Let’s get you home.”

36 Hours Later

My hands were shoved in the fleece lined pockets as I walked up the dirt road to the bunker. The ice storm in Colorado had followed me all the way back to Kansas but the hooded winter coat made all the difference in the world. I couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and curl up in bed with one of Y/N’s blankets. 

What happened after...I wasn’t going to be able to put off later for much longer. Now that I was home though, I could let go and get my head on straight in the morning to figure out what had happened.

With a deep breath I stepped down to the door and opened it up. The heat had been left on and the hallway was cozy. I stepped through to the other door inside and found the lights were on too, exactly as they were when we’d all headed out. Just in case, Y/N said. She didn’t want to come home to a dark house.

I headed down the stairs and cut into the library, the space feeling far too big for just me.

“I miss you,” I said. I pinched my nose and heard a creak behind me. I spun around, eyes wide.

“Dean?” said Sam. My Sam, the one that must have died, must have, was right there, in pajamas and with a bowl of chips in his hand.

“I die and now you eat the crap, Sammy?” I said. He set the bowl down and rushed over, giving me a hug. “I’m getting you all wet.”

“Don’t care,” he said. He squeezed me hard and I let out a tiny gasp, Sam giving me some room after that. He looked confused though and shook his head. “How…”

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” I said.

“I didn’t die. You pushed me out of the way,” he said.

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “You were right there. Since I woke up I assumed…”

Sam was smiling at me still but the hunter in him finally kicked in. I nodded to the cabinet where everything he’d need to test me was. Three minutes later he was hugging me too hard again.

“Relax, Sammy. Gonna pop my shoulder back out,” I said. He immediately released me and I cradled my arm. “I fixed it already.”

“Still. You should wear the sling Y/N bought,” he said. We wandered over to the infirmary and he dug around in a drawer until he pulled it out.

“Is she…” I said, taking off my jackets and slipping it on over my head. Sam shook his head and I sighed. “You don’t know that for sure. Up until five minutes ago you thought I was dead too.”

“True but, you know,” he said. I nodded, staring at the floor. “Cas is alright. Billie got him back from the empty. He’s up in heaven trying to help keep that going. They’re trying out this new method or something.”

“Not your memories?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No. I mean kinda. More like, collective afterlife? It uses a lot less power I guess,” said Sam. “They’re doing small test groups right now he said. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How’s he alive again?” I asked.

“Billie brought him back,” he said as we walked over to the kitchen.

“How’s Jack?”

“He’s doing okay. He got pretty hurt during the fight. I took care of him for a few weeks before he headed out. New God and all. He’s still learning.”

“He bring me back?” I asked.

“He doesn’t know how to do that yet. He says he feels like he will be able to someday, like it’s in his bones but he doesn’t know quite right now how to pull it off,” said Sam.

“So how am I back?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. I took a seat at the table, catching Y/N’s mug sat at the end in her usual spot. “We gave you guys a hunter’s funeral. There’s a little marker up in the woods a ways, in that clearing you two used to go have dates in.”

“There’s no body then.”

“No. Where’d you wake up?” he asked, taking two beers out of the fridge.

“Middle of nowhere Colorado,” I said. “Any idea why?”

“No, not really. Any place we ever hunt?”

“No. I met a guy. Samson, apparently dad and I saved his folks back in the day while you were at school. But they didn’t live there. I never...I never met the guy,” I said. “He knew who I was but he’d never met me.”

“You think he was lying?”

“He was nice to me when I was an ass. I don’t think he was playing at anything. How would he know what I looked like though?”

“It’s possible I suppose that he reached out to other hunters and learned more about you? I mean the girls got pictures of us. Maybe Eileen?”

“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit, Sam. How’s-”

“She’s good,” said Sam with a small smile. “She’s over in Lawrence at the moment actually. She’s looking at houses for us.”

“You guys deserve to finally be together,” I said. “She’s good for you.”

“I know.”

“Gonna stop hunting?”

“I don’t really need to anymore. We kind of turned them all human,” said Sam. I cocked my head and he shrugged. “The hail mary? It worked. No more monsters.”

“That’s great,” I said, forcing a smile. Great. I couldn’t even bury myself in hunting to feel slightly less crappy. I was worthless.

“I’m heading out to meet Eileen in a few days. Come with me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna intrude or-”

“You can have some space but you’re not staying here alone,” he said.

“Y/N’s dead. I have no job now. I’m not gonna be the brooding mope sitting at the end of your couch when you finally get to be with your girl.”

“Dean,” said Sam as I stood up.

“I really want to shower and sleep, Sammy. I’m cold and exhausted. Please,” I said.

“You’re gonna come with,” he said. I clenched my fist and glared over my shoulder. “Y/N wrote you a letter for if she didn’t make it back. It’s in your room. When I thought you both...I read it in case she wanted something to be done after she was gone. You know the only thing she said? You need to go live your life. She loves you and wants you to be happy.”

“Easy for her to say. She’s not here,” I said.

“Dean. I know this is raw for you and I’ve had four months to deal you didn’t. Don’t disrespect what she wanted.”

“Oh fuck you,” I said. I stormed out, pausing around the corner. I heard him behind me and slumped my shoulders down. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said.

“She was supposed to live, not me,” I said. “Cause she’s stronger than I am and I can’t deal with her not being in that bedroom when I go down this hall.”

“Dean. Grieve. Please. For the first time in your life, grieve properly. When you’re ready, you and me will go out to Lawrence. I’m gonna call Eileen and make sure she finds a place where you got a big room and your own bathroom and garage and all that. Until then, I’m gonna stay here. Ignore me, yell at me, whatever. I’m staying. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I want a pool too.”

“Dean.”

“Hot tub.”

“We’ll put one in.”

“Fine,” I said. He ruffled my hair and I headed down to the bathroom. I slipped out of my clothes, pulling out the envelope with a few hundred dollars left. “Sammy.”

“What?” he called back.

“Figure out who this guy was,” I said, holding the envelope out the door. “That’s his name and address.”

“Whiltiston,” said Sam, making a face. “You sure this is his name?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You wouldn’t know. About two months back, the Whiltiston family was in the news. National news. They’d been reunited with their daughter who was kidnapped as an infant. She was safe. The people who took her pretended to be her parents. They were real sickos. I’d hunt ‘em down if they weren’t already dead,” said Sam.

“So this guy’s her brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, there was a brother Sam I remember mentioned at the press conference. They didn’t show anyone but the dad but they were all really happy to be back together,” he said.

“Still doesn’t explain how he knows what I look like.”

“They said the girl has a sketchy memory of certain things. I mean they were bad people, Dean. It’s possible we worked her case and didn’t know?” he said.

“See if you can dig up a phone number for me too,” I said.

“Yeah. I’ll see if...you know, we’ve been in the national news before too. It’s entirely possible that one of his parents saw us on the news and told him that was you.”

“Oh. That’s...a lot more likely,” I said, frowning to myself. “Forget about it. Could you just slip in some extra cash in there for me? I’ll send it back along with the coat. The guy didn’t have much.”

“No problem. I’ll get you the phone number too. I know you’ll drive yourself nuts if you don’t know for sure.”

“Sam,” I said as he started to leave. “I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

“Me too. Take your shower. I’ll put out some pajamas for you.”

I nodded and shut the door, resting my head against the back of it. After a moment I went to the shower and turned the water on, forgetting about the prickly heat until my skin turned a slight pink and started to warm up. Somehow I got through with washing myself before I saw Y/N’s shampoo staring back at me in the cubby. I swallowed and picked it up, flipping open the cap and taking a deep inhale.

It took awhile and one concerned knock at the door to realize at some point I’d sat down with my knees in my chest, Y/N’s shampoo sat on the ground beside me.

“Dean? You okay? You’ve been in there for an hour,” said Sam. I buried my head down and heard the door creek open. “Dean? Answer me or I’m coming in.”

“I’m fine,” I said, voice raw and cracking with every syllable. Sam didn’t open the door anymore but he was still there.

“Turn off the water,” he said. I reached up and hit it off, wiping the back of my hand across my nose. “You have one minute to dry off and put on a towel.”

The door shut and I forced myself to get up. I patted myself off and got a towel around my waist, trying to wash my face off before Sam saw me.

“I’m coming in,” said Sam. One look at him said more than enough and I looked away. “I told you to grieve.”

“Her freaking shampoo bottle,” I said. Sam looked over to the shower and saw it on the ground, running his hand through his hair. “Why can’t I shove it down like every other time?”

“You know why. There’s no chance of you getting her back and she wouldn’t want you to do something stupid. You loved her. You’re always gonna love her. Dean, I’ve been there with Jessica. It’s gonna fuck you up real good for a while. I thought I’d never be happy again, not like that, and then I found Eileen. It feels like the end of your life but it’s not,” he said. “It’s not going away if you shove it down so just feel it.”

“Yeah,” I said. I brushed past him and went to my room, shutting the door to change. I left it closed and sat on the edge of the bed, catching his shadow under the door. It moved away after a minute and I let out a sigh. The room smelled musty which I appreciated. It was something different to focus on. 

I rolled over to Y/N’s side of the bed and saw the letter Sam had mentioned on her nightstand. I ripped it off and found it wasn’t as long as I’d expected. She probably did it last minute.

De, I love you. I’m always going to love you. I need you to try to keep loving and not shut the world out. Find some happiness again or I’m gonna haunt you like I’m your own personal Casper. Okay? You’ll get there someday. My big green flannel is in the closet if you need it. Be safe (I’ll keep an eye out for you though, promise).

My head glanced up and over to the closet, staring before I stood and opened it. At the end was her big oversized green flannel. She’d stolen so many of my clothes over the years she’d decided to get something of hers I could take for myself.

I pulled it off the hook and brought it back to bed, tugging it on before I lay back on the mattress.

It too was a little musty but there was the faint scent of her shampoo again filling the air. 

“Fuck, I miss you,” I said. I shut my eyes and turned off the light, hoping exhaustion would put me to sleep quickly.

_______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[sparrow-flies-south]

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Pairings: Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil) Summary: Virgil has a bad day. Remus makes things better, in his own way. Warnings: One line mention of transphobic relatives,  Notes: Written as a gift for @rem-sl33p as part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange! 

Thanks to @droidofmay for beta reading

Masterpost Read on AO3

It was one of those days that started off bad and got worse from there.

First, Virgil had slept through his alarm, and only woke up when Remus realised it was five minutes until he had to leave and he still wasn’t up yet. He managed to make it to work on time, but only barely. The same couldn’t be said for one of his coworkers, who didn’t bother showing up at all, so Virgil had to do the work for both of them.

And then there had been the rush of people trying to buy presents in time for Christmas, and his manager, who was exceptionally grumpy today, had kept snapping at Virgil for not doing things fast enough, even though he was doing the work of two people.

Then he’d been late leaving, so he’d missed his bus and had to wait in the cold for the next one – it started snowing, what the fuck – and then Remus had stopped answering his texts.

It took him a few stops to notice, and sure, Remus could get distracted sometimes, but what if he wasn’t. Look, Virgil knew what he was like, okay, he knew he could be an asshole at the best of times, and today certainly wasn’t one of those times. He scrolled back through the messages to try to see if he’d done anything wrong – was Remus annoyed he’d be late back, should he not have replied with that whole novel when Remus asked what was wrong, what if he’d gotten offended when Virgil replied K to one of Remus’ texts?

Yeah, he ended up with three more stops of panicking about that, before finally making it home. Theatrics really wasn’t his thing, but when he saw his door come into sight, he was about ready to burst into tears from relief.

Not that being home would solve the potential Remus problem, but still, he might be able to disappear under the covers and never came out after.

He was just about to open the door when it opened for him, and Janus stepped out.

Janus’ eyes widened –apparently he hadn’t known Virgil was out there. “Ah, Virgil. Hello.”

Normally Virgil would be happy to see Janus – they’d met in the same local trans group, and Janus had been the one to introduce Virgil to Remus, all those years ago – but right now, he just wanted this day to be over.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil asked.

A moment of hesitation, and then, “Remus and I are having an affair.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. Can I get into my apartment now?”

Janus stepped aside. “I heard you had a long day.”

“Getting longer by the minute,” Virgil muttered, and crap, now he was doing the asshole thing again.

Janus just smiled, though. Probably because Janus was also an asshole, so it balanced out. “If you need help with that, let me know.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “Janus, when I complained about my cousins being transphobic, you told me to push them down the stairs.”

“I object to that, your honour,” Janus said. “The technical wording was ‘nudge’. And it’s advice that can be applied in many aspects of life.”

“Good bye Janus,” Virgil said, reaching for the door. He hesitated. “Hey, Janus? Did Remus seem, uh, annoyed? At me, I mean.”

Janus’ face softened. “Oh, Virgil,” he said. “Answering yes would be a lie too big for even me.”

Janus left, and Virgil was stuck staring at the door. This was fine. Janus had said Remus wasn’t mad, in his roundabout way of doing so. Unless Janus had lied, which he was prone to do, but not in situations like this. Or unless Remus had been hiding it from Janus, because Virgil and Janus were friends-

Okay, even Virgil could tell he was being ridiculous at that moment. All he had to do to figure out if Remus was mad or not was open the door. Then either everything would be fine, and Virgil could try to forget about his shit day, or Remus would tell him that he was upset.

Which would also be fine. Probably. Hopefully.

“Fuck it,” he muttered at last. He swung the door open, because that way he had to go inside, otherwise Remus might see and know that he was lurking in the corridor like a weirdo.

He managed to take one step over the threshold before freezing.

The room was dark – the lights were turned off, and the curtains were drawn – but Remus had strung up fairy lights, which let out a gentle red glow. As for the rest of the room-

“Are those the Halloween decorations?”

“Fuck,” Remus said, from where he was knelt in front of the TV. “I was meant to hear you coming.”

Fake cobwebs had been hung on the walls, and a cluster of fake pumpkins surrounded the TV. Sat on the sofa was the skeleton Remus had stolen when he’d worked at a haunted house. Fake animal skeletons were dotted around the place – an anatomically incorrect spider on the TV stand; a rat with ear bones on the coffee table; a snake on the arm of the sofa.

Remus quickly got up and hurried to Virgil. “Okay, so, you were meant to be blindfolded at this point.”

“Hard pass,” Virgil muttered,

“And I would be holding your hand, like this-“ Remus reached out and took it. Just the press of contact made Virgil feel better, like some of the day was sliding away from him. He shifted closer to Remus – probably more than needed, but the smell of Remus’ cologne let him know that nothing could touch him here.

“And then I’d take the blindfold off, and you’d say-“

“Is that the Halloween decorations?” Virgil repeated.

Remus grinned, andVirgil’s heart squeezed at the sight. “Okay, so, I want you to have the best day ever, and I figured, what day could possibly be better than Halloween?”

Virgil laughed, because that was so incredibly Remus.

“I even got candy!” Remus added. “Or, well, Janus did. He says hi, by the way.”

“I know, I saw him. How did you even have time to do all this?”

“Eh, I’m fast when I want to be,” Remus said with a wave of his hand.  “But, hey, you haven’t even seen the best part!”

Remus dragged Virgil into the room and to the sofa. Virgil followed, because there was no good trying to stop Remus when he was like this – if you tried, you’d just drive yourself crazy. Virgil had long since learned to just grab hold of Remus’ momentum, and wait to see whether he’d end up in a nerf gun war or trying to make the Best Birthday Cake Ever ™.

(Fortunately, Patton hadn’t minded the mess that one had resulted in.)

“Let me guess,” Virgil joked. “You’ve killed every annoying customer from today.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus said. “I didn’t even think of that. We could release them all into a forest and hunt them for sport.”

“Let’s table that idea for later,” Virgil suggested.

Remus pouted. “Fine.” He brightened again, “But look what I planned for tonight!”

Virgil looked to the TV, which already had films queued up to watch.

“Velocipastor,” Virgil read aloud. “Cat People; Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. These are all terrible.”

“I know, right? We can make fun of them together.”

“You mean I can make fun of them,” Virgil corrected. “You will spend the whole time trying to figure out how to recreate the practical effects.”

“Hey, that’s my biggest hobby. Just like how insulting things is yours.”

“We make such a good couple,” Virgil deadpanned, before freeing his hand from Remus’ grip so he could stick them both in his pockets. What he was about to say next was sappy, and Virgil didn’t do sappy. “Seriously, though, thanks. For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

Remus looked confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, as if Virgil had just told him he didn’t have to breathe. Like the thought of not going out of his way to cheer Virgil up hadn’t occurred to him, never mind that Virgil was always having bad days that put him on edge and made him unpleasant to be around.

“I mean, it was just a crappy day,” Virgil said. “Not the end of the world.”

Even if, sure, there had been times when it had felt like the end of the world.

“But I don’t want you to have crappy days,” Remus said petulantly.

“Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that. That’s just- kinda the way I am.”

“I know,” Remus said. “And I love the way you are, except for how you sometimes think you’re not a good person, because I kind of want to fight the parts of you that say. But I also want to give them a hug and tell them that everything will be okay, which is kind of terrifying, actually, because wow, I am not an ‘everything will be okay’ kind of person. More of a let’s brainstorm how to make things worse kind of person.” Remus blinked, apparently realising his train of thought had gotten so far off the rails it had destroyed a small town, and shrugged. “Anyway, I want to make your bad days better, but I’m not as good at this kind of thing as you are, so-“

“Wait,” Virgil interrupted. “What do you mean not as good at this as me? I’m rubbish at – pretty much everything involving emotions, basically.”

Along with everything else, some part of him whispered, but he ignored it. The part was quieter than it had been all day, anyway.

“But you’re not!” Remus protested. “I know you’re not, because when everything goes wrong and my thoughts are too loud, you’re always there. And you make things better, just by being there. So that’s why I’m doing this. To make things better, because you deserve better.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, unsure what to say. It was terrifying, at times, the depth of Remus’ love. Like standing at the edge of the Grand Turk drop-off and watching the ocean fall away beneath you.

“Yeah,” Remus finished, smiling sheepishly. “So, uh, I panicked and decided to recreate Halloween in the middle of December. Surprise.”

And then Virgil couldn’t stop himself from laughing, because only Remus would even think to do something like that. And only Remus would manage to pull it off so well.

“So, uh, are we done with the emotional thing now?” Remus asked. “Because we’d better get started if we want to finish these movies by tomorrow.”

“Fuck yeah, emotional time is over,” Virgil said, wiping at his eyes. “But, uh,” he hesitated, something squeezing his chest and whispered he won’t want to. He’ll think you’re pathetic. Virgil pushed it down. “Can we cuddle, first? Just for a little while?”

“Of course,” Remus said. He held out his arms, and Virgil melted into them.

Remus was warm, because he was always warm, and he smelled like the too-strong cologne he always wore, the only that Remus had once joked was Pickled Poo-Logs flavour. One of his hands reached up to run his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“I got ya, Fright Night,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Virgil’s heat skipped at that, the way it always did, because some part was always convinced that this was it, this was the point where Remus would decide to just stop loving him. And every time, Remus proved that part wrong, without even realising what he was doing.

“I love you too,” Virgil mumbled, and then the waterworks opened, and he couldn’t stop crying.

“Ah, shit,” Remus said. “Did I do something? Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

“You gave me Halloween,” Virgil said, smacking him lightly. “Don’t you dare act like you could have done something wrong. That’s – fuck, that’s probably the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Okay, we’re going to have to have a conversation about the height of that bar later,” Remus said, and Virgil snorted and buried his face into Remus’ chest. “For now, uh, let it all out, I guess? Better out than in, I always say, though I normally say that about something else.”

“Thanks,” Virgil muttered, but the tears were already starting to ease off. He stayed where he was, nestled against Remus, able to feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Remus’ breathing.

[rhysismydaddy]

Prompt- Nesta is an ER nurse and Cassian comes in one night bloodied from a bar fight. After she tends to his wounds that night he keeps finding (harmless) ways to hurt himself as an excuse to go back to the ER and see her.

UGH I love this so much thanks for the ask!

______________________________________________________________

Nesta ran down to the ER bay she was on call for, another one of the nurses filling her in. “Male, twenty-eight years old. BAC of 0.09%. Large laceration across his torso.”

Wonderful.

Basically, some idiot had gotten drunk and cut himself open slicing a Turkey. This type of crap was common around Thanksgiving, which was yesterday. People got drunk because of annoying family members, and it ended with an ER full of injuries. 

Shaking her head, she continued down the hallway, coming to a sliding stop in front of the closed curtain.

Bracing herself for the dramatic screams and groans, she whipped it open.

Only the man sprawled on the hospital bed was definitely not screaming in pain. He was singing Christmas songs at the top of his lungs, making suggestive gestures at the nurse who was trying in vain to take his vitals.

He was also stupidly handsome, but she ignored that fact and grabbed his chart. “Mr. Nezarra?”

His golden eyes swung to hers, and he grinned. “It’s Cassian to you, beautiful.”

Oh, good Lord.

She nodded to the other nurse, and she gave her a grateful look as she sped out of the room. “I’m going to take a look, okay? Stay still.”

“Whatever you say.”

Nesta reached to lift his shirt, and he gave her a sly smile. “Are you trying to take advantage of me, nurse?”

“Yes,” she lied. “Now shut up and let me.”

He made a dramatic mouth-zipping motion before flopping back on the bed. “I feel like you should at least tell me your name before you ravage me mercilessly.”

Fighting a smile, she replied, “I’m Nesta. Stay still, please.”

She lifted his shirt up more to get a better look at the injury. It needed stitches, but it wasn’t surgical. A suture kit was next to the bed, so she grabbed it and started to clean off his torso. “I’m going to numb the area, alright?”

He nodded and started to sing Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.

Trying in vain to block out his off-key shouts, she cleaned the needle and made sure she had enough sutures. Then she started to sew him up, the motion practiced and smooth. He stopped singing to glance down at her and watch.

“How did this happen, exactly?”

The patient sighed dramatically. “Well, I don’t like Thanksgiving much. So I went to Jackies--that’s the bar over on third. And someone started talking shit about... well, I don’t remember, but I didn’t like it.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he reached over to poke it indignantly, making her chuckle.

“Anyway, we started to fight.” Made sense, considering he had a huge bruise on his jaw, too. “And then the asshole swung at me with a broken bottle! Seriously! It was like something out of a movie. I’m lucky to be alive, baby.”

Nesta scoffed at the little pout on his handsome face. The injury looked bad, sure, but it wasn’t deep. It would heal after a few weeks.

“Sure, sure,” she mumbled back, concentrating on her work.

It wasn’t deep, but it did extend almost all the way across his stomach. His stomach that was heavily muscled and home to an... eight pack. Eight? Was that normal?

“You’re pretty,” he told her in a serious tone.

She rolled her eyes. It was beyond normal for drunks to hit on her, considering she worked the night shift. “Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me? I’ll prove it to you.” He paused to consider that. “Well, when I’m sober I’ll prove it to you.”

“Mmhm. We have about four stitches left.”

He nodded, then started to sing again, but he didn’t know the lyrics, so it was more like loud humming. When she was done, she put a wide bandage on it, pulled his shirt down, and patted his stomach.

Big mistake, considering it allowed her to feel all sixteen of his abdominal muscles.

“Nesta, if you’re gonna feel me up, might as well move your hand a little lower and get to the good stuff,” he chastised with a smirk.

She pulled her hand back and glared. “Go to sleep. We’ll discharge you in the morning.”

“I do discharge in the morning. Why? Do you want to watch or something? Weirdo.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she walked away. “Go to sleep.”

“You want to sleep with me?” he shouted, putting a hand on his forehead dramatically. “How inappropriate! But I’ll sacrifice and do it. You, I mean.”

Nesta had the feeling he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he’d been a few minutes ago thanks to the bag of liquid attached to his arm. Rather than respond and give him something else to twist, she just shook her head and closed the curtain between them.

~

Yanking it open the next morning, she had to put a hand on her mouth to stifle her laughter. The patient was sprawled across the cot, shirtless, holding a pillow to his chest like a baby.

She grabbed his chart to update his vitals, finding them all normal. “Good morning, Mr. Nezarra,” she said softly to wake him up.

“Call me Cassian,” he mumbled, pulling his pillow over his head. It was childish, but it gave her a good view of his stomach. She lifted the bandage up, satisfied with how the stitches looked.

“Well, Cassian, you’re all good to go. Here are your discharge papers.” She handed him a thick folder full of crap he had to sign.

He pulled the pillow off his head, eyes going wide when he spotted her. “Holy fuck, who are you?”

“I’m your nurse, Nesta. I stitched you up last night. You don’t remember?”

Cassian shook his head, making his curly hair bounce around his face.

Just to get him back for last night, she decided to tease him. “Well, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special? One minute you’re singing all these lovely songs to me and trying to get me to sleep with you, the next you don’t even remember me. Gah!”

She tossed the papers on his tan chest and left the room with a laugh.

Only to be stopped by a large hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her around directly into said tan chest.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember last night, gorgeous, but why don’t we make it a morning I won’t forget?”

A little laugh escaped her. “I’m at work. And even if I wasn’t, no.”

“Let’s go get breakfast,” he said, ignoring everything she’d just said.

Nesta noticed she was still pressed against his chest and took a step away. “I am at work,” she repeated, enunciating every word.

“Fine. When do you get off?”

About thirty minutes from now. “Not for a while. You should go.”

His golden eyes narrowed on hers suspiciously. “If that’s what you want. I’ll see you later.”

With that, he turned and strode down the hallway. Still shirtless. Even though he was completely ridiculous and borderline aggressive with his advances, she was a little sad to see him go. It had been forever since she’d been flirted with, even longer since she’d had the desire to flirt back.

Oh, well.

She could leave soon though, thank the gods above. Working the night shift paid well, but it was freaking exhausting. The desire to go back to her crappy apartment and get a couple hours of sleep was overwhelming. 

~ 

Twelve hours later, she strolled to the nurse’s station, getting a weird look from the nurse she was relieving. “Patient for you in bay 4.”

“Why didn’t you-”

“Wouldn’t let me touch him. Asked for you by name.”

Eyebrows raised, she walked over and pulled the curtain back, a smile pulling on her lips when she saw who it was. 

“Fucking finally,” Cassian said happily. “I’ve been here for like four hours.”

He was sitting sideways on the cot, back against the wall, legs swinging off the bed. Since the last time she’d seen him, he’d taken a shower and changed into jeans and a dark t-shirt.

“What are you doing here? I seem to remember discharging you this morning.”

Her patient slid off the bed and lifted his shirt, drawing her eyes back to the hard planes of his stomach. “Popped a stitch.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, coming closer to run a hand over the injury. From the way his eyes glinted, he was enjoying himself a little too much. “How?”

“I pulled it out.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his. “What? Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to see you again.”

“Mr. Nezarra-”

“Cassian.”

“-this is completely inappropriate, not to mention a total waste of medical supplies.”

He smiled down at her, and she noticed her hand was still on his stomach. “I’ll stop if you agree to have dinner with me.”

Oh good gods. The man was completely irrational. And possibly deranged. 

“Do I need to call for a psych consult?” she asked, only partially kidding. “You can’t purposefully injure yourself as a way to get me on a date with you!”

Cassian shrugged. “Well, it seems to be working, so yes I can.”

“It is not working. I’ll fix this,” she tapped the torn stitch, “then you’re leaving. And not coming back unless you have a serious, non-self-inflicted injury!”

He tsked. “So stubborn. But fine, it that’s what you want.”

Nesta nodded, motioning for him to sit back on the bed. Gathering a suture kit, she tried to put on a calm face. Why was he so insistent on getting her to go out with him? Was it because she was probably the one person to reject him?

And why had she done that in the first place, anyway?

She didn’t have any plans for weeks and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. Or had sex. 

That thought had her blushing slightly as she started suturing his cut. 

“Nurse Nesta, you’re blushing,” he pointed out like the jackass he was. 

“No, I’m not.”

A finger ran down her cheek. “Oh, yes you are. And I like it. A lot.”

“I’m sure you do,” she muttered back. Finishing quickly, she put another bandage on it, then leveled a look at him. “You better not pull one of those out again.”

“I like it when you boss me around.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling his shirt back down. “I’m serious. Now get out of here.”

After giving her a mock salute, he slid off the bed and pulled the curtain back. 

“Just go out with me,” Cassian asked. More like pleaded. 

Nesta shook her head, not sure why she did it. 

He turned to leave, and she frowned. Why did she have to be so damn stupid? If she were normal, she’d jump at the chance to go out with a guy that looked like him. 

Not to mention he was funny, and tall, and muscley. 

Maybe that was it. 

Yes, because that made sense. Don’t go out with him because he’s too attractive. 

Rolling her eyes at her own stupid brain, she went back to the nurse’s station. She could probably get a few hours of paperwork in, since it seemed to be a slow night. And when the other night nurse got here, she might even be able to take a nap in the on-call room. 

That was exactly what she was doing when someone burst into the room. “Nesta! Patient for you!”

“Can you take care of it?” she asked, face still smushed in her pillow. 

The woman shook her head. “He’s asking for you.”

A growl Nesta wasn’t exactly proud of slipped out of her. “Let me guess. Male, twenty-eight years old, ridiculously large and attractive?”

“Yep.”

“Tell him I’m not taking care of his stitches! He can bleed to death for all I care!”

The nurse looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Nesta! You took an oath!”

Figuring she was awake now anyway, she rolled out of bed with a huff. “I’m going to Kevorkian him myself,” she muttered as she walked to where she knew Cassian was waiting, ignoring the shocked look of her partner. 

Foregoing greetings, she practically yelled, “I told you not to pull your stitches out!”

“I didn’t,” Cassian said calmly, arms crossed over his broad chest. Gods, the man looked good. He’d put on dark jeans, boots, and a white button-up shirt that made him look even tanner. “And, to be specific, you said, I could only come back if I had a ‘serious, non-self-inflicted injury.’ Which I do.”

“Fine. What’s wrong with you then?”

“Popped a stitch,” he told her proudly, already unbuttoning his shirt. 

“It’s not non-self-inflicted if you pull them out yourself, you jackass!”

“First of all, that’s not very professional language,” he scolded with a grin. “Second, I didn’t pull them out. I got my friend to. Ergo non-self-inflicted.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘ergo’ me.”

His smile got even wider. “Already did. Why so grumpy this morning?”

“I was asleep.”

“Ah, not a morning person then?” When she shook her head, his smile turned to a smirk. “Bet I could change that.”

“You’re a disgusting little pervert, Mr. Nezarra,” she told him, fighting a smile. 

He made a very offended expression. “I was talking about buying you breakfast. Who’s the pervert now?”

Smiling softly, she quickly fixed his torn stitch, then re-bandaged it. “If you rip this, I’m going to freaking strangle you.”

“Then come have breakfast with me. I know you get off in like twenty minutes.” Before she could ask, he said, “I bribed the lady at the desk.”

“I’m going to file a complaint against her,” she muttered, not mad at all. 

He slid off the cot, leaving his shirt open. Probably to distract her. Or hypnotize her.

“Come have breakfast with me. I think I’m going to have to take drastic measures if you reject me again.” 

His tone was soft, playful. And she knew if she really asked him to leave her alone, he would. But... there was no real reason she could think of to send him away. And even though part of her that was home to her commitment issues screamed at the possibility of going on a date, she found herself wanting to go. 

So she said, “I’d hate to break my oath. Let’s go.”

[snitches-at-dawn]

yellow || s.b.

a/n: when will i write a plain old fluff and not an angst? 

good question.

i have no idea.

pre!azkabansirius x reader

warnings- sex, strong language, a n g s t, unedited sorry ://

word count- 2.1k

you and sirius had been very on and off since your fifth year. you’d be in love one day, but then one of you would say something offhand and have a raging row that ended with you flipping each other off, shagging and then not talking for a week.

your best friend would sigh and rub his forehead whenever he saw you sulking in the corner. he knew what that sulk meant. he’d would lead you away from the common room to any empty classroom so you could sit and have a good long cry about whatever sirius had said to you or whatever you had said to him. he’d rub your back and dry your tears and not utter a word of complaint. you didn’t know what you’d do without him. 

remus might have been best friends with sirius too, but the both of you had bonded on the first nerve-wracking train ride on the hogwarts express, and instantly became inseperable- something his girlfriend marlene constantly complained about all the time. she had a high pitched voice which grated your ears and made you want to tear your hair out. she was clingy and annoying and honestly you wanted to slap her.

“how the fuck d’you put up with her, remus?” you had asked him once when they started going out in fourth year.

he gave you a small smile and said very matter of factly, “she’s my yellow.”

you stared at him as if he had lost his sodding marbles, “what the fuck is ‘a yellow?’”

his smile grew bigger, “a yellow is someone who’s seen you through your worst and helped you bounce back without even being asked for help. they just stay by you and provide you with support even if you don’t need it.” he turned his gaze to marlene who was sitting across the room and laughing with her friends, “she lights up my dark- merlin knows i have enough for the both of us. if i have a crappy day or a good day or even just the most average day ever, all i want is to end it with her. when i’m transforming every month, i think about her- just think- and i don’t feel like my bones are on fire anymore. you trust them more than anything.”

he took a deep breath, “i’d risk everything for her.”

your eyes were burning with tears you didn’t let fall. you had never heard remus talk like that. “you’ve gone soft,” you scoffed at him.

love wasn’t something you bothered with.

until sirius kissed you in your fifth year christmas party, and that’s when everything went to fucking shit. 

your world turned upside down and your days were full of laughs echoing as you would ran hand in hand with sirius through empty corridors before pulling him into an alcove to smile against his lips.

but soon your relationship would begin its up and down pattern.

you’d hug another boy and he’d hex him. then you’d fight till you were in tears. he’d kiss your tears away and you’d end up in a passionate lock of limbs all night. still pissed, you’d walk away from his room the next morning without talking to him.

he’d throw his arm around another girl and you’d make snide remarks. then you’d fight till you were ready to hex each other, but would end up smashing your lips together and would ignore the other the next morning.

so was your pathetic pattern which neither of you could escape.

despite the fighting, the hurled insults and the insecurities, you kept finding yourselves in each others arms.

two years you both lived through this until you decided enough was enough.

james had proposed to lily- they were getting married the winter after you graduated and you and sirius couldn’t even go two weeks without fighting. you were going to cut it off.

until-

“go with me for their wedding, (y/n).” he said to you the night lily and james announced their wedding. you were in that state between slumber and consciousness as he drew circles on your arm with your back pulled against his bare chest. “go steady with me. no more fighting and insecurity. i’m sick of it. i love you and i want to be able to say that to you everyday and not only after we’ve had a fight.”

you turned to face him, voice breaking, “sirius, i’ve been thinking-”

“no,” he interrupted you, knowing what you were about to say.

“sirius-”

“no!” he said more forcefully this time, wrenching the blankets off himself and standing up.

with an oddly detached train of thought, you noted how attractive he looked. this was a nice last image to have of him. his pyjamas hanging low on his hips, hands fisted by his side and hair mussed but his eyes...

his eyes were blazing with angry tears.

“you always do this, (y/n)! the minute we have something good for more than a few weeks, you try to run! how many times can i convince you to stay until i start to think you don’t really want to be in this? how many times until-” his voice cracked and he knelt down to hold your hand. looking deep in your eyes he restarted, “you can’t run away in the fear of things getting bad again.”

you knew he was right. you would always bolt the second things seemed to finally stabilise. you would want to leave with memories of laughter and smiles, not screams and tears.

tears clouding your vision too, you nodded. “i know. you’re right, but i’m tired, love. i’m tired of always wondering when it’s going to get bad again. i don’t want to live in that fear anymore. i need something... stable. i don’t know if that means just being alone for a while or if that means being with someone else. i just-”

“need to get away from me,” he said deathly soft.

your hands which were previously gesticulating wildly fell limply to your side, “sirius...”

“i get it, (y/n). come to bed, and tomorrow you can be shot of me.”

“it’s not like that, darling,” you held his face, stroking away his tears.

“isn’t it?”

your silence was answer enough for him. 

so you both climbed back into bed and spent one last night in each other’s arms, murmuring your last ‘i love you’, sharing your last kiss, and one last look in the morning before he left your dorm. 

you and sirius spent a painful two years avoiding each other when around remus. you would go on horrible blind dates which ended with you being repulsed by your date, ending your nights in bed alone with the typical dreams of the time you spent together haunting you. 

then the war started looming over everyone and those came to a standstill. no more awkward first dates, no more horrible first kisses and no more faking interest. you were glad to not have to go for dates anymore.

there was one particular morning you woke up that you knew something was different. you had no idea what it was. you tried to go about your day as normally as possible- well as good as normal was possible when the entire order was in hiding from death eaters. you had just got out of the shower and were pulling out a top from your closet when your fireplace erupted in the room next door.

sirius ran into your room and you yelled, pulling your towel tighter around you. “sirius? what the fuck?” you yelled.

he seemed to not have noticed that you were in a state of undress. his eyes were shining bright and his smile was wider than his face could express, “he’s here, (y/n), harry’s here.”

“who the sodding fuck is harry?”

“baby harry, (y/n),” sirius said with a soft caressing voice. you hadn’t heard that since the nights you spent with him, both of you murmuring whispers of affections and sweet nothings in each others ears. “baby harry’s here.”

“no,” you gasped, your eyes tearing up to which he vigorously nodded.

“i’ll put on some clothes and we’ll go there now,” you stammered out overjoyed for your best friends.

you could hear sirius pacing up and down the hallway outside your room as you pulled on mismatched sock and tried to put on your jeans backwards. somehow you had fastened your cloak around your neck correctly, took sirius’ outstretched hand absentmindedly and apparated with him to godric’s hollow.

you saw lily glowing with a little bundle of blankets in her arm.

“is this harry?” you whispered.

she nodded and you saw james with tears in his eyes, “this is harry james potter.” he said.

all of you were blubbering messes as little harry gurgled in lily’s hold. remus was doing a good job of congratulating lily with a level voice as peter sniffled in the corner and james and sirius sobbed in each others arms.

“(y/n), sirius,” james said once he had regained his composure a little. he put his hand on lily’s shoulder as she made to hand harry to you. “we want you to be harry’s god parents.”

your dry eyes clouded with tears again as you looked at sirius who was cooing over harry in your arms and said softly, “i’d love to be his godfather.” you swallowed and followed up, “it’s an honour to be his godmother.” sirius looked at you and smiled at with the same wet eyes and pressed the softest kiss to your lips. “we’ve got a godchild, (y/n).” 

you missed the feeling of his lips.

“we’ve got a godchild,” you laughed.

remus took harry from you, “you’ve both clearly got alot of catching up to do and i don’t want harry corrupted this early.”

“oh shuttup,” sirius guffawed as he took your hand and pulled you into his arms were the both of you spent the day either holding each other or harry and the night making up for lost time.

the next year was a blur of the potters, remus, marlene,  peter and sirius. 

sirius. 

sirius with whom you had reunited and were doing better than ever with. with whom you were ready to spend the rest of your life with. with whom you were madly in love.

you woke up on hallowe’en in sirius’ arms to a slight chill in the air. you struggled out of his grip on you and left him sleeping on the bed, doned a sweater and leggings and floo-ed to james and lily’s place. they didn’t seem to feel the same unease that you did as they watched harry who was a year and a quarter old now, zooming around on a mini broomstick and laughed as he knocked over the cat.

unable to shake the feeling that made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you apparated to your parents’ place to check on them. tempted by the offer of dinner with them, you accepted and sent a patronus to sirius telling him you’d meet him at the potters’ after dinner. with a full stomach you reached godric’s hollow and instantly knew something was wrong. 

the house was eerily silent. you pulled out your wand and walked quietly trying to not make noise. a sudden crash made you whip around and fire a stunning charm faster than you could blink- remus just barely managed to dodge the spell.

“remus,” you lowered your wand, “where is everyone?”

“dead.”

you felt the colour drain from your face, “what?”

“sirius gave their location away,” he whispered sounding broken.

“no.”

“voldemort killed james then lily but couldn’t kill harry for some reason. hagrid took him away on dumbledore’s orders.”

you were sobbing uncontrollably, “no,” you said wildly, “they aren’t gone!”

“peter is too. he went to confront sirius and he-” remus took a deep rattling breath, “he blasted peter to bits in front of thirteen muggles.”

“NO!” you screamed, gripping your hair. “sirius couldn’t have-”

“WELL HE DID,” remus roared, “HE SOLD OUT OUR BEST FRIENDS, THE DEATH EATER SCUM THAT HE IS. I HOPE HE ROTS IN AZKABAN. I HOPE HE NEVER COMES BACK.”

“remus no don’t say that you don’t mean it. there’s no way he could have ratted james and lily out- he would have killed for them-”

“WELL HE DID, (Y/N), AND HE DIDN’T DIE- HE DIDN’T BUT PETER, JAMES AND LILY DID. HARRY’S LIFE WON’T EVER BE THE SAME- HE’LL GROW UP WITH MUGGLES NOW-”

“he didn’t do it.”

“how, (y/n), how can you think he didn’t? we have irrevocable proof,” remus asked incredulously.

you set your jaw resolutely, “because he’s my yellow.”

he was your yellow, but now he was likely to die in azkaban without knowing it.

taglist-

@chaotic-fae-queen @champagneand-strawberries @booknerd-3000​ @miraclesoflove​ @emmamarie7708​ @hoez-madz​ @grandkoalaparadise​ @queenofheartsmegs​

[lokigayforhela]

Rumors

Summary: As Hela’s advisor and childhood friend, you spend most of your time with her. When rumors start to surface, you and Hela decide to stoke them further.

Warnings: fake secret dating?? slow burn (i tried to be as slow as possible tbh)

A/N: This was written as a very belated birthday/early Christmas present. Also this is an AU where Hela doesn’t end up getting banished and everything’s fine (because I need a happy ending tbh). Sorry that it took so long and for any spelling errors or crappy writing!

Word Count: 4065

Being the daughter to Odin’s advisor wasn’t terrible, most of your life was spent in the palace. Growing up alongside the the princess, who had seemed to favor you and you her. The two of you were near inseparable, until your late teens as Hela’s duties started to overtake most of her time. Soon enough Odin took Hela on conquest after conquest with him, leaving your father in charge of running the kingdom in his absence. They returned every so often but only for a few days at a time, before they were off again. Each time you rarely got to talk with Hela except for the briefest hellos in passing, you came to accept that the two of you had drifted apart, to no one’s fault.

After a year of conquering they returned, you still rarely saw Hela but didn’t try to seek her out, not wanting to bother her. It seemed however that fate had other plans as you were assigned as her advisor, since you had helped your father when he had been temporarily ruling.

———

Today was your first day as Hela’s advisor, she nervously paced her room, she was the goddess of death and had slain thousands of enemies yet she was nervous to talk with you. Ever since returning, she noticed you rarely spoke with her, rarely sought her out, and she desperately missed you. Eventually she asked Odin for you to be assigned to her for the time being in an excuse to spend time with you.

The knock at the door was a welcome reprieve from her anxious thoughts, “You may enter.” You stepped in and Hela took you in, still as beautiful as ever, she concluded.

Curtsying, you avoided her gaze nervously staring at anything but her. “Your Highness.”

“Since when did you get so formal?”

You faltered, “It’s been awhile, I just assumed…”

“That I forgot about my closest friend? Never.” You relaxed and she pulled you into a hug. She still felt the same, you thought as you melted into her embrace. “I have missed you.”

“And I, you.”

The day was spent following Hela as she spoke with lieutenants in the army. She seemed to take every moment you two were alone to flirt with you, by the end of the day you were sure you had blushed more in the past twenty four hours than your entire life combined.

The next few weeks passed along normally at least to you they did, as Hela continued to flirt with you. However you didn’t notice the small changes that had passed, the way she was insistent on you sitting next to her at all events, the look she gave you when you smiled, how often she brushed her hand against yours or even the way that her eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. While you may not have noticed, others had and unsurprisingly rumors started.

Hela started to notice how you became yet again reserved around her, speaking only when spoken to and even then you would only give a curt reply. You were pushing her away and she couldn’t stand it.

——

“As the princess, I command you to stop.” Freezing immediately, you turned to face Hela. She took measured steps towards you, stopping only when you took an involuntary step back. Hurt flashed across her face but it was quickly hidden. “Have I done something to offend you?” “No. No…” Pausing hesitant to voice the rumors, she arched her eyebrow expectantly, forcing you to continue. “There’s simply been some gossip that—well that people think you and I are together.” You finished not daring to look at her as blush colored your face. “Oh.” Silence descended upon the two of you quickly, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “Does that bother you?” She asked finally. “No I’m honestly flattered that they think you would ever be enamored with me.” You chuckled, casting a furtive glance at Hela whose expression was unreadable. Unaware of the battle currently going on in Hela as everything in her mind told her to admit her feelings and to pull you into a kiss; but her body didn’t comply. She simply stared at you memorizing how your smile made your eyes crinkle at the edges and how your eyes caught the light. “Is everything alright?” You asked taking a few steps forward out of concern. “Fine.” She answered snapping out of her thoughts, to find you much closer than before. “I apologize for the rumors I assure you I’ve tried not to stoke any of it hence my avoidance of you.” “I appreciate it but I rather enjoy your company and the rumors don’t bother me.” Because I do want you. She nearly voiced the last part but you smiled at her and she suddenly couldn’t seem to find any words. She was useless when it came to you.

Hela went through the day thinking of ways that she could see you again and confess her feelings. She found you talking with one of the servants in the garden, as soon as you two caught sight of her she noticed the servant tense and their smile drop. Yours however stayed just as bright and beautiful. “I’d like to speak with Y/N privately.” Hela said and the servant practically bolted away from you both. Confused but not unhappy, you turned towards her. “Was there something that I could help you with, Hela?” “I was thinking about the rumors and instead of just ignoring it…what if we gave them something to actually talk about?” “What do you mean?”

“We could pretend to be together.” Her expression was carefully passive, which you knew meant she was nervous. “Only if you’re willing.” She added quickly. “Of course.” Grinning you ignored the way your stomach flipped at the thought of what pretending to be with Hela would entail. She mirrored your grin. ”I look forward to courting you.” “As do I.” The rest of the evening was spent in Hela’s chambers discussing how you two would go about stoking the rumors. It reminded you of all the nights you spent, giggling and gossiping with her when you were both younger. Formalities and professionalism fell, familiarity and comfort taking its place.

“When should we start?” You asked pacing as Hela sat at the foot of her bed watching amused at how concentrated you seemed to be. As if on cue, footsteps echoed from the hallway. You both shared a look knowing that while Hela’s maid wasn’t the biggest gossip in the palace it would be a start. Quickly you moved to straddle Hela, “Is this okay?” She nodded and with that you pulled her into a kiss. Hela froze momentarily as you continued to kiss her, before she returned with just as much passion. When she finally managed to kiss back, there was a knock at the door.

You pulled back and Hela threaded her fingers into your hair pulling you flush against her causing you to moan. Another knock at the door and you nipped at her bottom lip.

Just as quickly as you had kissed her you pulled away moving off of her. All for show, Hela reminded herself. “You may enter.” She said her voice hoarse and you smirked at her. Adra entered and immediately noticed Hela’s disheveled state and then yours. You had to hold back your laughter as she put two and two together and her eyes bulged. She placed a few blankets on the bed. “I’ll just go now.” She said before nearly running out of the room and slamming the door shut. “I am sorry about the whole springing the kiss on you.” You muttered when you were sure Adra was gone. “Don’t be. It was a brilliant idea.” She said, still thinking about how your lips felt on hers.

“I should get some sleep, since we have a big day tomorrow.” You said moving towards Hela stopping a foot from her. Carefully you cupped her face and wiped away the smeared lipstick with your thumb. Her breath hitched at the contact but you politely ignored it, thinking that she was still reeling from the kiss. “We don’t want them to get too suspicious.” You explained dropping your hand, much to Hela’s disappointment. “Goodnight.” Hela abruptly stood up, “Y/N.” Turning you faced her, a nervous smile playing on your lips. She copied your movement wiping the smeared lipstick off you, you refused to admit that there was almost a wanting look in her eyes as her hand dropped. “Goodnight.”

——-

The next morning you went about the day normally until you saw Hela. It was agreed upon the night before, that while kissing in front of anyone was generally off the table, everything else was fair game. So when you caught her gaze across the room, you looked at her adoringly and shamelessly, letting your eyes wander up and down. She tensed and gave you a questioning look, you smiled in reply before walking away.

Weeks passed, with the small touches, comments, and glances. Both of you were aware that the upcoming feast for the summer solstice would mean that your flirting would have to be discreet enough to keep from her parents and yours, but not so discreet to others.

The summer solstice feast was in full-swing when you entered, it wasn’t long before Hela found you and looped her arm through yours deftly maneuvering between the throngs of people. She took a seat at the table, you sat next to her. Halfway through the feast you felt Hela’s gaze on you, while you had looked at her like a lovesick teenager, she stared at you as if she was about to devour you.

“Your Highness, may I ask for a dance?” Malik, one of Odin’s newer guards–a boy in his late teens–asked. Hela’s gaze never wavered, he cleared his throat and attempted again. “Your Highness?”

Whether it was intentional or she truly hadn’t heard him, you decided to save him the embarrassment. Leaning in you rested your hand on her thigh, biting your cheek to keep from smiling. “Hela, I believe Malik was asking you a question.”

She clenched her jaw and turned to Malik, he shrunk under her gaze and you pitied him. “What was it again?”

He nervously folded his hands, “I-I was hoping to ask you, if you would like to dance?”

“No.”

She turned away without hesitation, he stared in shock before slinking off. “That was rude.” You muttered.

“I didn’t want to dance with him.”

“You could have let him down gently, he’s sweet and barely more than a child. He’s also definitely in love with you.”

“All the more reason to be blunt and not give him the notion that I turned him down out of propriety.” She placed her hand over yours keeping it on her thigh, “Besides, I thought we were keeping up the ruse that we’re hopelessly in love. Dancing with others doesn’t exactly come off as romantic.”

Your cheeks burned and you couldn’t help the smirk that formed, “Would you rather I be jealous and possessive of you? Glaring at anyone who dared look at you too long? I could call you ‘mine’, if you want.”

She tightened her hold on your hand, you met her gaze again and you swore that she was blushing but she got pulled into a conversation with someone else before you could be sure.

You played the part perfectly all with that damn smirk, she could live with this, the proximity, the small touches and glances were enough. They would have to be enough.

————

The two of you sat in Hela’s chambers spread out on her bed. She silently read as you sat next to her tracing invisible patterns on her palm. Hela became infinitely distracted by the small gesture, which didn’t go unnoticed. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been reading that page for five minutes.”

She sighed, closing the book and turning towards you. “I need advice.”

Her sudden serious mood made you tense. “Well that’s kind of what I’m here for.”

“Do you think when I’m queen that people will still fear me?”

You softened, tracing the lines on her palm and taking a moment to choose your next words carefully. “I think that your title intimidates most people. After all most people fear death, but depending on how you rule their perception of you will change.”

“Do you fear death?”

You looked up at her, “No.”

“Do you fear me?” Her voice quiet, she looked vulnerable, so unlike Hela that it gave you pause.

You smiled softly attempting to lighten the mood. “Do I fear my closest friend, the girl I grew up with, the beautiful princess that I’m advising? Hmm, nope.” The relief she felt showed and you pulled her gently onto your lap. “Come here.”

“Are we still going to play this childish game?” Nonetheless Hela obliged laying her head in your lap.

“You love it.” You teased, gently running a finger down the bridge of her nose.

The game started when you were children, both claiming that you weren’t ticklish, the other sought out to prove it. Somehow you thought to trace Hela’s face carefully and sure enough, the ever-slight sensation of your finger running down her cheek had made her giggle. You never let her live it down, eventually she asked you to do it again until it was a common occurrence for you to try to tickle her.

As your finger outlined her jaw, she was reminded of the last time the two of you were in this position. She had just learned that she would be expected to conquer alongside Odin, sensing her distress you insisted on going out. You planned a picnic and brought her along, as she finished her food she rested her head in your lap and you attempted to make her smile by drawing random patterns on her face and neck. The sensation nearly lulling her to sleep, your voice however had brought her back. “Things are going to change aren’t they?”

She opened her eyes and stared up at you, her breath catching in her throat. The sun was behind you catching in your hair, making it appear as if you had a halo of light and you were staring at her so genuinely, so lovingly that she wanted to stay like that forever. “They already have.”

You smiled at her, moving to press a kiss to her forehead. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was overcome with the desire to kiss you, to make you understand her feelings even if she didn’t quite understand them herself. “Well no matter what, I will always care about you, that’s something that won’t change. All that I ask is you come back safe.”

That was the day she realized she was in love with you, that was also the last day before she threw herself into her duties to ignore her feelings.

———

Anxiety tugged at your stomach as you walked onto the balcony. The queen had summoned you and various scenarios ran through your head of what she could want.

“Y/N don’t be so reserved, come over here.” Frigga smiled, you relaxed and obliged. “How do you like being an advisor?”

“I don’t think I would enjoy it as much if not for Hela.”

“I believe the same could be said for her. And your parents seem proud of your position, considering they haven’t stopped talking about it.” You chuckled and the queen smirked.

“I have to thank you and the king for allowing me the opportunity in the first place.”

“We weren’t responsible for it, Hela was…I assumed she told you about it.” The conversation splintered into silence, as you wondered why Hela hadn’t mentioned it.

You looked out at the view, it was breathtaking on an evening like this and as soon as you were no longer worried Frigga said the most anxiety-inducing sentence she could.

“I know about you and Hela.”

You opened your mouth to interject but she held up a hand. “You two are terrible about hiding it, anyone can see the way you look at each other. I’ve never seen Hela quite this happy and I’ve known you since you were a child, I trust you won’t hurt her. Which is why I give you Odin and I’s blessing if you two choose to publicly court. Now is there anything to discuss?”

A moment passed where you stared at her dumbstruck, before you realized she was still waiting for an answer. “I-no I don’t believe there is, your majesty…Thank you.” She nodded and you walked away in a haze.

——-

You returned to Hela’s chambers, she opened the door just as you were about to knock. “There you are, I was just about to go looking for you.” She said, pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed with her.

“I was talking with your mother.”

“…oh what about?”

Attempting to keep from smiling you gnawed on your bottom lip before replying. “Well your parents gave their blessing should we decide to publicly court.”

She sputtered, her face flushing. “They what?”

You recounted what had happened as Hela sat next to you, holding your hands in her own. Her smile grew each second and by the end she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was going to find you and tell you that your parents came to give their blessing.” She explained between breaths.

This time your face reddened and you laughed. “Dear gods.”

“Well should we ever decide to court we know our parents won’t be against it.” She said once the laughter died down. Hela smiled conspiratorially at you, your heart pounded and before you knew it you kissed her. It was more of a peck, than a kiss but it confirmed your suspicions. As quickly as you moved to kiss her you moved back, “Goodnight, Hela.”

Not giving her time to respond you left, the knowledge that you were in love with your best friend and future queen leaving you a nervous wreck.

———

You spent the feast in a lovelorn state, all of the usual glances and touches felt painful. Hela’s hand stayed on your thigh most of the night, she leaned in every so often to whisper about how unbearable some person was and her lips would brush against your ear as she spoke.

Hela spent the feast giddy, ever since you had kissed her goodnight she was sure you felt the same and decided to tell you that she was in love with you. She was bolder with each touch, going as far as to purposely lean in closer each time.

As the feast ended she pulled you along to one of the more secluded hallways, “I have something to discuss with you.”

“I do too.”

She took your hands in hers, “You first, darling.”

You took in a steadying breath, “I don’t think we should continue this…”

“Going to feasts? If you rather not then we don’t–”

“No, not that. I-I don’t think we should continue this fake relationship.”

She froze for a moment, her eyes never leaving yours. “Can I ask what changed?”

I‘m hopelessly in love with you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it, knowing that she was looking at you as if you were stepping on her heart. You looked away, pulling your hands away from hers. “I mean this started to stir up rumors and we definitely accomplished that considering even our parents believe were together, but I don’t believe there’s any other reason to continue?”

Hela wracked her brain trying to find any excuse, but none came to mind. “…I guess not.”

You attempted to give her a reassuring smile but it probably looked more like a grimace, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hela.”

—————

It had been two weeks since the split, if you could call it that. Two weeks since that night and the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, trying not to think about the other’s glances, the fluttering touches that made skin ignite.

The two of you walked through the gardens, an uncomfortable silence between you. “Are you going to the feast for the Winter Solstice tonight?” Hela asked, her gaze finding yours.

“No.”

She nudged you lightly, “You should come.” “Is it one of my duties?” It was a fair question, you had been told to attend other events in the past. Her face fell, quickly replaced by her own mask of indifference. “No, I would be disappointed if you didn’t attend though.” Blush colored your face. It was settled, you would attend then. ———–

While Hela usually enjoyed the winter solstice, tonight one of the guards had been flirting with you the entire night. Hela glared at anyone dumb enough to flirt with you in front of her but this man didn’t take the hint. Or the second one. Or even the third. When the guard asked you to dance and took your silence as a yes, leading you to the dance floor; Hela was preparing to execute him.

However it wasn’t until she saw the guard’s hands move too far down that she finally snapped. And suddenly you found Hela standing next to you glaring at him.

“Leave.” She commanded and for a moment you thought she was telling you but he left nearly running from her. Before you could ask what all of that was she had already taken your hand and placed her hand on the small of your back. Your body followed along and you found yourself dancing with Hela, it was cliche to feel as if the world faded away as you danced. But when Hela looked at you, it was hard to not feel like you two weren’t the only people in the room.

The song ended far too soon for your liking as she was expected to give a toast leaving you to try to understand what just happened. You walked to the gardens, lights had been hung around it and you sat down on a bench admiring the lights and flowers.

Minutes passed before you felt someone watching you, you turned to find Hela standing there. “Get sick of people already?” You found yourself asking. She chuckled, moving slowly and taking a seat beside you.

“I simply wanted to spend time with you…” She answered and you attempted to hide the blush coloring your cheeks. It was a futile attempt as she smirked noticing how flustered you were. “I was also hoping to talk to you about something.”

You met her eyes and were surprised at how she was looking at you, if you didn’t know any better you would dare say it was anxiously. “Of course.”

“I have something I’d like to confess…I’m in love with you.”

“Hela–”

She rushed to continue, before you could tell her you didn’t feel the same, before you could walk away. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time, since we were children even and while I know that you don’t feel the same. I can’t keep up this ruse pretending that I don’t care for you. I suspect the rumors started because of my own inability to hide my adoration for you–” You surged forward kissing her feverishly and cutting off the rest of her ranting confession, she pulled you flush against her returning each kiss just as passionately.

Slowly as each kiss became softer, you pulled back to look Hela in the eyes. “I love you too.” She smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges.

Making your way back to the feast, you took your usual seat next to her. She held your hand, every so often squeezing it as if to make sure you were still there. A few minutes passed before Hela turned to you, “Should we stop the rumors?”

You nodded, “We probably should.” Hela smiled leaning forward and kissing you, in front of her people, in front of her parents and yours. It was a declaration that was no longer just rumors.

Pulling back you smiled at her, “I’m not sure if that’ll stop them or stoke them.”

“Who cares.” She said before kissing your cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First of all, I am so SO sorry for posting this so late, I kept forgetting it was in my inbox, but I assure you I read it as soon as you sent it, and I love it So Much! Slow burn is so nice and you captured it so nicely in this fic, and it was such a lovely gift. Thank you, so much!

[a-lonely-ass-hoe]

December 16, 1991

*GIF is not mine all credits to the owner*

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader 

Warnings: death, sadness ,and some cursing, and alcohol

Word Count: Roughly 1,500 

A/N: Sorry I’m not really good at summaries and writing either lol but enjoy this small blurb that I had written a longgg time ago but the story is basically what happens on December 16th, 1991

December 16, 1991

Tony had said goodbye to his parents, thinking he would see them soon. As they left, he laid on the couch and began to watch t.v. he was falling asleep, but the doorbell rang. You stood there, wearing a coat and the adorable smile Tony had begun to fall in love with. You guys had been together for almost six months.

You were always the type to buy Christmas presents early, having a specialized gift for each important person in your life. Tony on the other hand got his gifts the morning before Christmas. Tony let you in and you gave him a peck on the cheek and began apologizing.

"Sorry for not calling, I just so happened to be walking around the area and remembered you lived here, and since I know you're always stuck in here, I wanted to ask you to come shopping with me. You know to spend more time together, unless you don't want to, I completely understand."

Tony smiled, grabbed your cheeks, and roughly kissed you. He grabbed his coat and keys. "Shall we?" You giggled and walked past Tony. You both walked the streets of New York, mostly window shopping. Tony loved the fact that you had quickly brought his mood up. He loved the way your hair moved with the breeze, the way your eyes and smile shone.

Tony had never really had anyone in his life give him as much love, affection, and attention as you did. He was always amazed at how much love you had to give. You brought him back to reality when you pulled on his arm and pointed toward a small ice cream shop. He smiled and nodded, you ran pulling him into the ice cream shop.

The ice cream shop was warm, weirdly enough. It had a small variety of ice creams along with some hot drinks. You order your favorite ice cream, and Tony orders some hot chocolate. You both sat a small booth, you smiled at Tony and begin to lick your ice cream cone. Tony sipped his hot chocolate. You guys sat at a comfortable silence. He reached his hand out, for you to grab. His thumb rubbed against your hand and you both smiled as you squeezed his hand.

"Why were you so serious when I came by?"

"Oh nothing, my parents were going on a business trip."

"Are you mad, they didn't take you?" You giggled.

He smiled and chuckled, "Yeah, I was incredibly mad."

"Hey, we should have a movie night. I would suggest my place but you always complain about how crappy my movies are and t.v.'s shitty quality."

"Yeah, let's go to my house, you like my couches better anyways."

"You know me so well."

Tony and you walk back to his home. You begin to prepare popcorn and order a pizza. Tony grabs some beer from the fridge. You and Tony decide on Die Hard for the first movie. You also decided on Beauty and the Beast as the second film.

As you guys ate pizza and drank beer, you both cuddled together. Tony laid down with you between his legs, he twirled a piece of your hair in his hands.

"(Y/N) guess what?"

"Hm?"

"I also have a copy of The Last Boy Scout."

"You're fucking with me, are you serious?"

"I am fucking you, but yes I'm being serious."

"What! How!?"

"I have lots of friends." He shrugged.

"You know I'm a sucker for Bruce Willis."

"I know." He laughed and got up to put the new movie in. This time he was between your legs and you played with his hair. For the first time in a long time he could say, he felt happy and filled with love.

You both fell asleep in each other's arms. It was very early in the morning, when Tony got a call. He didn't want to answer and he let it ring. The phone started ringing again. This time you woke up and hit him with your elbow to answer the call. He ignored you and cuddled you harder. After the third time the phone rang, he annoyingly got up and answered the phone.

"Hello is this Anthony Stark?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Mr. Stark, your parents Howard and Maria Stark have been in a vehicular accident."

Tony felt his heart stop. "Wha--whe--where are they!?!"

"In Long Island Hospital."

Tony hung up the phone and began to get dressed. You got up and stares at him confused.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer as he grabbed the keys and ran to the garage.

"Tony!" No answer. "Tony where are you going? What happened?"

His breath was jagged, he could barely breathe. His hands were shaking and his heart skipping beats. "M-m-my parents...they got in a c-c-car crash."

"Tony I'm coming with you, where are they?"

"L-l-long Island."

"Let's go."

Tony would have argued with you, to not come with him but he couldn't think straight. You drove as fast as you could to the hospital. Tony was still shaking and fidgeting. You held his hand and squeezed it. He calmed down and squeezed your hand back. He looked at you and he knew he was in love with you. He had known ever since you guys had hit the 3-month mark. He would confess his love for you right now, if his mind wasn't so focused on his parent's well-being.

When you had reached the hospital Tony jumped out of the car and ran to the entrance. You ran after him, locking the car. After Tony asked for his parents and he ran through the halls, everything seemed to go in slow motion. All the lights felt blurred, all the noises were just loud beeps in his ear. He saw his parents' bodies laying on the cold hospital operating doors. All he noticed was the flat-line sound and his parents' lifeless bodies.

He sat outside the room, tears didn't run down his face. Nothing. He felt nothing. He felt as if the world just went dark. He felt a void.

Weeks after he had stayed home alone, he had not eaten, bathed, done anything. If it hadn't been for you coming every day, he would have died. Today, was the day of their funeral. You had organized most of it, due to Tony not being mentally prepared for any of it.

You made Tony breakfast and made sure he ate. You told him to bathe, while you got his suit ready and cleaned his bed-sheets. Beer bottles, and other alcoholic beverages laid on the floor around the room. You ironed his suit and you left it on his bed. He sat on the floor, his head on the toilet seat. You grimaced and began to run the bath. You helped him out of his clothes and into the bathtub. You changed into an old t-shirt of his and boxers to bathe him. He closed his eyes and laid in the bathtub. You massaged his scalp and his shoulders. You could hear him sigh, you washed the soap off and drained the bathtub. You dried him off and helped him into his shirt and underwear. You sat on the bathroom counter, and had him between your legs. You began to shave the little bit of scruff he had on his face. When you finished you helped him get dressed and gave him food you had ordered earlier. You then finished getting ready yourself.

Tony was now sitting on the kitchen stool staring at the couch you had both fallen asleep on the night he got the call. You rested your chin on his shoulder and hugged him from behind. You gave his hand a squeeze which he reciprocated.

On your way to the funeral, it was just like a movie. The clouds began to dull and then the rain began to fall. Tony held onto your hand the whole event. He had said his eulogy first, then other friends of Howard's and Maria spoke. You always squeezed his hand to make sure Tony was doing okay. As the event ended Tony didn't bother talking to other people, he wanted to go home.

When you got to his house, he hugged you. You rubbed his back and kissed his cheek. You squeezed his hand one more time and began to walk towards your car. Tony grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You smile sadly and pull him into a hug again. This time he began to cry. It was the first time he had cried in front of anyone after the incident. You cuddled with him all night, you made him tea and played any happy movie you could think of.

Tony regrets not saying goodbye to his parents probably and he knew he would for the rest of his life. He also knew that he had you by his side and that's all he would ever need. You had fallen asleep in his arms again, he finally smiled again.

“I'm in love with you (Y/F/N)”

“I'm in love with you too Anthony Edward Stark”

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another- The Party Monty’s POV

A/N: I wasn't expecting for this to go quite this way, but I like how it has turned out. We learn some more about Becca. I hope you guys like it. Likes and reblog are appreciated. As always, much love. 

On the way to Bryce’s after the game, I checked my texts. Becca had texted me halfway through the third quarter. I hope you’re having fun babe. Wish I could have been there tonight, but I’m swamped with school stuff. See you in a while. Rather than respond, I decided to swing by her place with Scott. “Hey, stop at Becca’s. I want to see her.” “You’ll see her in like twenty minutes, dude.”

“I know. But I want my post game hug.”

Scott laughed, “she’s really doing a number on you, isn’t she?”

“Maybe she is Scotty. Maybe she is.”

Scott parked in front of her house and we walked to the door. We could both hear arguing inside and Scott and I shared a look. It didn’t seem overly loud or anything, so Scott shrugged and knocked on the door. A minute or two later, Becca answered the door. Her face was beginning to turn pink and she had a glint of anger in her eyes.

“Hey guys, it’s not really a good time.”

“What’s up?” Scott asked.

“Who’s at the door Rebecca?” Her dad called from behind her.

“Just a friend from school.” She called back to him. “I have to go but I’ll see you in a bit okay?” She said quietly.

“Is everything okay Rebecca?” I asked, concerned. She had never mentioned fighting with her dad before.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll explain later. Bye guys.” She replied shortly and shut the door before we could answer her.

“Um. What the hell was that?” Scott turned to me.

“I have no idea.” I shook my head.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know Scotty.” I doubt it. Without discussing it more, Scott and I left her house and drove to Bryce’s.

The party was just getting underway when we arrived. “Hey, you guys are later than I expected.” Bryce called to us when we got into the kitchen.

“Had something to take care of.” I responded. Scott knew better than to tell Bryce details about our activities that didn’t include him, so he didn’t add anything. He merely nodded at him and we shared another look. Becca was still on both of our minds

“Alright, well do you guys want a drink or are you going to stand there all night eye fucking or whatever that is?”

We tore our eyes from each other and grabbed a couple of beers. The three of us wandered around the house for a while, whilst people showed up, filling the space. Zach found us not long after with Justin in tow. I had agreed to be nice to her friends, so I shared common pleasantries with Justin, even if I still didn’t really like him all that much. We ended up congregating near the stairs, close to the door. Bryce wanted to keep an eye on the entering guests all of the sudden or something. I couldn’t focus on the conversation. I was busy thinking about Becca and what was going on with her. She was different recently. I couldn’t place what it was or when exactly things started changing, but there was something different about her.

“What about Alex?” Justin asked me.

“What about him?” I asked, confused. Guess I should pay more attention.

“Has Becca talked about him at all recently?”

“Not really, why?”

“I was just wondering. Zach and I were talking earlier.” His eyes motioned to Bryce quickly. What the…?

“Oh, well no. She hasn’t really mentioned him outside of basics.” We abandoned the topic of Becca talking about her friends and moved onto more mundane things.

The sound of angry footsteps caught our attention. Becca marched over to us and grabbed my cup without a word and pounded the half a cup a beer back in one go. My eyes widened at her. Where the fuck did that come from? I briefly looked around our circle and they all wore variations of the same the fuck was that look. She began speaking to Bryce angrily. “Do your parents try to parent you when they get home from their trips?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Is it as infuriating as what I just experienced?”

“Sometimes.” He turned to Zach and I, furrowing his brow. He had no idea what was going on.

“What happened Becca?” Justin asked.

“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching for my cup to take it away from her gently.

“Fucking peachy. And what happened Justin, is my dad got home last night. And today he decided to go off on me for no fucking reason. By the way, he knows you spend the night now.” She told him, motioning to me. My eyes widened in fear. Fuck. I don’t want to meet the parent. Not yet and not now that he knows I sleep with his daughter. “I told him to deal with it. He’s the one who made me move here and decided to leave me home alone all the time.”

“You got into that bad of a fight because Monty spends the night at your place?” Scott asked, scratching his chin.

“No. We got into that bad of a fight because he proceeded to try and play father of the decade and ‘talked’ about Jake. He was hardly around when we were kids. He didn’t know shit about him. That’s why I’m infuriated with him.”

“Holy… I’m sorry Becca.” Zach said, pulling her into a hug and rubbing her back.

“Do you need a place to crash tonight? I’m sure Mom and Dad would have no problem with you sleeping in Clay’s old room for the night.” Justin offered. I tried to ignore the crappy feeling in my chest at Justin having to be the one who offers her a place to crash.

“I don’t know Justin. I don’t want to impose.” She replied, rubbing her arm.

“It wouldn’t be an imposition. I’ll call mom and we can stop to grab your bag on the way to my place.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she leaned back against me. I kissed the top of her head gently, trying to comfort her and get her to calm down a little. “This is nice and all, but that beer was terrible. I need a real drink.” she told me, sighing.

“Okay, let’s get you a drink then.”

I took her hand and we walked to the kitchen. I poured her a single bourbon and Coke at her request not her usual choice but okay. She drank it slowly. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to savour the burn or build up to more or what, but it didn’t do much to quell my anxiety about where her head was at. I watched her drink it but didn’t try to talk to her. She didn’t make me talk when I went to her, so I won’t make her talk now.

When it was empty a while later, she left me in the living room to get another drink. I had a clear view of her, and I watched as she poured what looked like at least a double vodka Diet Coke. That one didn’t last as long as the bourbon. I felt a pit forming in my stomach.Something is wrong.

Not long after her second drink was finished, she went back for a refill. And then another when that was done.

She had left me alone after she had had her second drink. The look she gave me, made it clear I was not to follow her. As much as I didn’t want to leave her alone, I wasn’t sure how to proceed with her. She didn’t look like she had had so much to drink that she couldn’t stand on her own or anything, so I respected her request. I did make sure to keep an eye on her at all times though. This is really weird. This isn’t like her.

I went in search of Zach and found him in much the same state as I was. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked when I reached him.

“Yup. Do you know what’s going on?” We watched her as she poured another drink. At least that one looked like a single. Maybe she’s slowing down.

“I don’t know. Scott and I went to her place before coming here, so I could get a hug. It sounded like her and her dad were fighting about something. And I know she said they fought, but I really don’t think the fight could have been so bad that she’s just drinking like its water. Has she mentioned anything to you about her dad and her fighting a lot?”

“No. She doesn’t really talk about her family much. I think Jake was really the only family member she cared about. Maybe she cared about her mom, but she doesn’t talk about her, like… ever.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was just a me thing. As awful as it sounds, I thought it might have been because I haven’t lost a parent.”

“No, I get it. It’s a club you can’t be in until you’re in. The most she talks about her dad is in regard to the fact that he’s never around.”

“Yeah.” I trailed off as I watched her pour yet another drink. I started to step towards her, but Zach pulled me back.

“I know you want to intervene but just hang on a second. I can’t just watch this anymore so I’m going to call Bailey.” He said, pulling out his phone. I nodded and watched him type in Bailey’s number. We walked to a quiet area of the main floor that still allowed us to keep an eye on Becca. Bailey answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” He asked, groggily. It was obvious the call had woken him up. I checked my watch and noticed it would be around one o’clock there.

“Hey Bailey. It’s Zach.”

“Oh, hey Zach. What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something about Becca.”

“At one in the morning?”

“Yeah. It’s important.” I listened as it sounded like he was sitting up. He was a lot more alert when he responded.

“What’s going on?”

“How long have you known her?”

“God. I don’t even know, years? We grew up going to school together.”

“In those years, how often was her dad around?”

He barked out a laugh on the other line. “Aside from Christmas? Not a whole lot. Her parents had a rule that he was always home for Christmas.”

“Do they fight a lot when he’s home?”

“Not really, no? What’s going on Zach? Did something happen? Did he do something to her?”

“I don’t think he did anything aside from piss her off. I wouldn’t be calling you if he had. They got into a fight before she came over to Bryce’s and now, she’s drinking vodka Diet Cokes like they’re water. I’m worried about her. She said he was talking about Jake.”

“What a fucking idiot. How many has she had?”

“At my last count, at least 6. It looked like a few were doubles. She also stole the rest of my beer.” I responded.

“Hey Monty. Well, your beer won’t do much of anything to her. American beer is basically just piss water. As for the other drinking, she generally does choose that hard stuff, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink that much. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen her drunk.”

“Great.” I muttered.

“There has to be something more than just a fight with her dad and him talking about Jake.”

“I don’t know Bailey. She had to drink when she told me about what happened.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything but the day she told me, she had been drinking before I got to her place.”

“Either of you guys think she has this much to drink then?”

“No. She seemed fine.”

“Something I forgot to tell you about Becca is that when she gets stressed or has to talk about hard stuff, she might have a half a glass of wine or like half a beer. It’s legal here for her to drink. I’m not saying it’s healthy but it’s not a problem.”

“Not a problem? That sounds like the makings of a drinking problem.” I said, my brow furrowing.

“Monty, I get it. It sounds bad. But if it was a problem, don’t you think I would have said something? Or that Jake would have said something to her about it? It’s not a regular thing at all. Consider it like the equivalent of smoking a joint when you’re stressed. And before either of you give me the ‘we are athletes and don’t do that’ crap, I know people who smoke when I see them. And I know all about synthetic pee. She doesn’t have a problem with weed, she just doesn’t smoke period.”

“Okay. But what is happening now is a problem.”

“Yes. It is.” He said.

“Thanks Bailey. I’ll text you when she leaves and Justin texts me that they’re home, so you know she’s safe.”

“Thanks Zach. I appreciate it.”

After we ended the call, I walked over to where Becca was pouring another drink. I took the cup from her and kept it out of her reach. “I think that’s enough for now Becks.”

“But-.”

“No buts. Come with me.” She thought for a moment, but the look on my face said there would be no use in arguing. I took her by the hand, giving her drink to Zach as we passed him, and led her towards the master bedroom. I chose it because it was an empty, secluded area, away from people.

I sat on the floor in the hall and patted the spot next to me. I rested my elbows on my knees and she reluctantly sat down cross legged. “What’s going on Rebecca?”

“Nothing. I’m fine Montgomery.” She told me. Fine my ass.

“No, you’re not. I’ve never seen you drink like this before. Zach called Bailey. He told him he’s never seen you drunk before. He has known you for years. And don’t try to say you weren’t allowed to drink at home until you were fifteen, because my point stands.”

“He called Bailey? Why?”

“Because he’s worried about you Becks. I’m worried about you.” She looked down at her feet. Instead of responding, she leaned her head on my shoulder. I placed a hand on her knee, and we sat in silence for a while.

While we sat, I drew random patterns on her knee. It seemed to calm her down and give her something to focus on.

“I love you.” I heard her say, softly. What? She… she loves me? Did she really just say she loves me?

My hand stopped drawing for a few seconds while I thought about what she had just told me. I must have been quiet for a while because she followed it up with, “you don’t have to say it back though. No pressure or anything.”

“I love you too.” I said, equally as quietly. She lifted her head from my shoulder, and I moved to cup the side of her face with one hand. She leaned in and kissed me, before pulling away and repositioning herself.

The alcohol was clear on her breath and I pulled her in closer by her waist. We pulled away and leaned our foreheads against each other. She giggled, giddily. I smiled, widely back at her. Neither of us could really form anymore words.

“Becca? Monty?” We heard Justin’s voice from around the corner.

“I guess that’s our cue that it’s time to get up and get you to bed.”

She nodded slowly. I stood first and offered her my hand. I pulled her to her feet as Justin came around the corner.

“There you are. Do you want to head out now? Mom said it is no problem for you to spend the night tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll just write dad a note saying I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when we get to my place Monty.”

“Thanks Justin. Have a good night beautiful. Take some Advil before bed.” I suggested to her, gently. Now probably isn’t the time to start telling her what to do.

“I will.”

The three of us walked to the door and she tried to give me a bear hug. She is adorable. “I love you.” She said into my chest.

“I love you too.” I spoke into her hair. I spent the rest of the night drinking water, waiting to hear from Justin. Got her home safe. I gave her a couple of Advil’s and she is in bed. I left the lamp on for her in case she wakes up in the night. She will text you tomorrow. I decided to crash on Bryce’s couch for the night. Whatever she remembers tomorrow will be tomorrow’s issue.

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Not the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (fanfic)

Lydia prepares to celebrate her first Christmas without her mother. 

This..this is pretty angsty but also fluffy? It has a happy ending I swear.

Lydia had never been one of those people that were obsessed with Christmas and the Christman season. She didn’t dislike the holiday by any means, but it wasn’t her favorite, nobody in her family got super into it besides her uber-religious grandparents. Her mom and dad would take her to church on Christmas eve with the rest of the extended family but the rest of the holiday with filled with littler traditions they came up with as a family. As Lydia got older she learned that her mom didn’t have the most loving and affectionate family growing up and that’s why she tried to hard to get everything right for Lydia. She would make her own traditions and set her own standards, she was creating a family that not only supported Lydia growing up but made up for the crappy childhood Emily had. The Santa lie was quickly dropped when a seven-year-old Lydia displayed disgust at the prospect of this strange man with questionable business ethics sneaking into her house in the middle of the night, but the family still had their own unique way of making the holiday special. 

Emily died in the middle of December the previous year, she had been sick for almost two years by that point and her body couldn’t fight anymore. She slipped away on the eighteenth of December and everything had been such a blur of emotions and funeral preparations and a parade of semi sympathetic family members that Christmas was thrown to the wayside. Charles still tried to get a smile out of his broken-hearted daughter but the feeble attempts to recreate the old traditions did nothing but further upset Lydia who spent the day locked in her room sobbing as she stared at photographs and in the mirror at her newly short and black hair wondering if she was even worthy enough to look like her mother. Though that day was technically her first Christmas without her mom it had been such a blur that she hadn’t even had time to process the loss. As the days grew closer this year it started to dawn on her that she would never run downstairs again to find her parents sitting down on the couch in their living room in front of their chaotically decorated tree, she’d never see her mom bury her face in her mug when Lydia went to open the present that her parents said she wouldn’t be getting, she’d never spend another Christmas morning having a gingerbread house decorating contest, she’d never have another Christmas eve where her parents would still have her leave out milk and cookies for Santa even though Lydia was much too old for Santa. Sure she had lots to distract her from her all-consuming thoughts with everyone in the house and celebrating Hanukkah with Wendy, but nothing could change the fact that on Christmas Eve Lydia was sitting alone on her bed, clutching a photograph from many Christmas’s ago in her shaking hands, unsure if she wanted to cry, scream, or throw the picture frame at the wall and watch the glass shatter around on the floor. 

The whole month had been an emotional rollercoaster for her bouncing from having a panic attack at school, to the isolating loneliness that came with the anniversary of Emily’s death, to the heartwarming celebration of a new culture when she spent the first night of Hanukkah with Wendy and her family, and now the numbness she was overwhelmed with now. It was a strange sensation to be overwhelmed with numbness, it somehow both felt like everything and nothing at all. Filled with so many conflicting emotions that they all canceled each other out, leaving her feeling empty inside. There were so many other months that had less going on, Lydia couldn’t help but feel as though she was being punished with her mother’s death occurring right before Christmas. She knew that was a stupid thing to be annoyed by but now every single Christmas or Hanukkah from this point forward would always compete with the sadness Lydia felt when she thought about the loss of her mother. December Eighteenth. Every holiday would feel as though it was missing something, no matter how many people she added, no matter the friends she made or the family she found. Nothing would replace the hole where Emily Deetz once existed. 

Though her therapist told her that keeping all these feelings boxed up inside of her was not good for her mental health she didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s holiday. The Maitland’s seemed so excited to have people to buy presents for, Delia was big into decorating, and though he was never crazy about it when she was little even her dad was getting into the Christmas spirit, making Lydia groan whenever he would kiss Delia underneath the mistletoe. The only person Lydia could pretend the holiday didn’t exist with was Beetlejuice, but now even with the day getting closer, he was constantly asking Lydia questions about Christmas. They were often stupid and funny questions so they were a welcome distraction but tonight she was alone. Everyone was sleeping or pretending to sleep in the Maitland’s case. She knew they were just upstairs in the attic and she could spend the night with them is she wanted to, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up. Even her cats noticed the difference in her demeanor, the usually distant Kraken was snuggled up with her on one side, and the always cuddly Cation on the other. 

The clock on her dresser glowed midnight, and though she was exhausted she slid out of bed and went back over to the pile of presents she had accumulated in her room for all the family members. She remembered how happy she was at the beginning of the month, spending hours online and out shopping with Wendy trying to find the perfect presents for the wonderful people she got to call her family. She didn’t make a ton of money babysitting Skye but she wanted to splurge on them, they had done so much for her in the past few months, she wanted to let them know how much she appreciated it. She ran her fingers on the nicely curled bows and perfectly wrapped gifts knowing that she had to admit defeat and ask Barbara and Delia for help. It worked out really well because she didn’t want them to know what she got them so she just had the other person wrap it. One present she wrapped for herself though, and she debated on if she was going to put it under the tree. Her mother couldn’t open it anyway, she wasn’t exactly sure why she spent her money on it but she couldn’t get rid of this nagging feeling in her heart until she had a gift for Emily. She told her therapist how stupid it made her feel, and while she knew her family wouldn’t tease her for it she still worried they would think the same thing she was. It was dumb, she was dumb for doing it, she...she shook her head and went back to her bed just wishing the holiday was over already and she could move on with her life.  

She eventually passed out around two in the morning and woke up around ten in the morning. Christmas morning was a lot more casual now that Lydia was older, no more running downstairs at seven in the morning to see if Santa had come, it was now whenever Lydia rolled out of bed. She stood in the mirror ruffling her hair, noting that her blonde roots were starting to show and she was going to have to decide if she was going to go back to being blonde or dye her hair again. She straightened out her fuzzy pajamas and carried the armload of presents down the stairs to find the whole family hanging around the living room, Delia, her dad, and the Maitland’s talking about dinner that night and making sure there were kosher options for Wendy, though she wasn’t super strict about it. Beetlejuice was nursing some eggnog and glaring at her cat.  While she was staring at her family, they hadn’t yet noticed she was standing behind them, Lydia decided that she wasn’t going to completely ruin her holiday by lamenting over things she couldn’t change. No matter how hard she wished it, nothing would change the family that the holidays would never have her mother in them again. Blinking away a tear in her eye she greeted everyone warmly and joined them around the Christmas tree.

“Merry Christmas Lydia!” Barbara wrapped her in a warm hug, Barbara was practically bouncing up and down in excitement to give Lydia her present. Charles grumbled a little teasingly because he also wanted to give Lydia her present, but knowing Barbara he let her go first. Lydia tore through the cat pattern wrapping paper and revealed a beautiful hand-painted portrait of her two cats. She couldn’t hold back a grin and she threw herself into a tight hug with the ghost profusely thanking her and how much she loved it. She got everything right from Cation’s grey and green eyes to Kraken’s cheeky smile. While it wasn’t a contest she didn’t know if anything could quite beat that, and it seemed like Barbara knew it because she was beaming. 

Next, her father handed her a small package, and a larger package all wrapped in spare silver paper that Lydia had used for Wendy’s Hanukkah present, he smiled when handing it to her and said, “Open the small one first, I wasn’t sure if it’s your style but I hope you like it.”

Lydia carefully ripped the wrapping and opened the jewelry box to see a heart-shaped pendant with pink, white, and orange stripes. Lydia leaned her head against her father’s chest, “Aw dad thank you so much! I love it!”

“I know you have a lot of the rainbow pride things, and I wasn’t sure if you had any of the lesbian pride flag.” He blushed, “I know there’s a lot of controversy over the flag so I hope I got the right one.”

“It’s perfect dad, I love it.” She hugged him tightly extremely proud of the progress he’s made when it came to her identity. He was always accepting, he never once wavered in his love for her but he had gaps of knowledge when it came to it, but instead of remaining ignorant he was constantly learning and working to support his daughter. She teased him a lot but he really did try very hard to be a good father, and she appreciated everything. She must have been looking at the necklace for too long because her father was eagerly pushing the larger box towards her, she opened it up and was stunned to see the camera she had been begging for all year but her father swore he wasn’t going to be able to get because it was out of stock. She hung the strap around her neck and started taking pictures of everything going on throughout the rest of Christmas morning. Adam got her a set of new tea flavors that she had been wanting to try, Delia got her sweaters for her cats that Lydia instantly put them in and threw a mini photoshoot, and finally Beeteljucie tossed her a present wrapped only in tissue paper and scotch tape. She carefully unwrapped and laughed when she saw he got her “Cards Against Humanity” and fuzzy cat socks. He pretended not to smile when Lydia thanked him announcing he knew all along what to get her because he’s just that intuned to her interests, but secretly he was relieved she liked it. He spent hours trying to figure out what to get his best friend. 

Lydia excitedly gave her presents to everyone: a new paint set for Barbara, a set of crystals for Delia, a model train starter kit for Adam, and a DNA kit for her father because he always talked about wanting to know about where he came from. They were all very thankful and they all lounged around in the torn-up wrapping paper while enjoying each other’s company. Lydia bit back a grimace when her father suggested a gingerbread house decorating contest, but seeing how excited everyone else got she couldn’t bring herself to say no. For the next two hours they kitchen turned from clean to a frosting, sprinkles, and gumdrop disastrous mess. In the end, Lydia’s house came in second just behind Delia’s who shockingly had a very impressive house. Lydia had never known how good her stepmother was at design, while her and her father had decorated the house it was always too outlandish for Lydia’s taste. The gingerbread house looked perfect though, the cookie ceiling had frosting icicle. It broke Lydia’s heart that Beetlejuice started eating it before she got a good photo of it. 

She had been doing a good job of distracting herself, any time she caught herself slipping in her happy facade she threw herself into another mindnumbing task knowing it would keep her mind occupied until Wendy arrived. She was midway cutting up the potatoes for the side dish when there was a knocking at the door. Lydia quickly brushed her hands clean on a dish towel next to her and ran over to the door, almost slipping on the hardwood. She straightened up her red and green Santa hat and opened up the door. Wendy smiled warmly and Lydia pulled her in for a welcoming hug. Charles and Delia greeted Wendy as they walked into the kitchen, Barbara and Adam hugged her, and Beetlejuice shot her finger guns from the distance saying, “Happy holidays Weslie.”

“At least he’s getting closer,” Wendy whispered to Lydia

She simply rolled her eyes, “He knows your name he’s just trying to be a prick and pretend that he doesn’t care about my life. Honestly, the funny part is hearing what W name he’s going to use next to describe you, there’s only so many.”

“Last week I heard him call me Walter when we were talking on the phone.” 

“Yeah that’s just BJ.”

The dinner went smoothly, Lydia felt bad that the traditional Christmas dinner was ham and Wendy couldn’t have it, but they did make a small turkey for her to eat. Once dinner was over they cleaned up the dishes and had a monstrous amount of cookies for dessert. Lydia didn’t realize how into baking Barbara was until the kitchen tables and counters were covered with what must have been hundreds if not a thousand cookies. They were all starting to get stuffed and tired from the long day, everyone was relaxing on the couch, Lydia and Wendy trying to hide the fact that they were holding hands underneath the blankets when Beetlejuice began to loudly and incorrectly sing Christmas carols. The snow was peacefully falling outside the window, making the evening almost as cheesy as a Christmas card. Everything looked so perfect, and Lydia tried to hard to push away the uncomfortableness she felt brewing within her. She wanted so desperately to be happy, to just feel happy, she should be happy. Everyone around her looks so happy, she is surrounded by family, and friends, and loved ones. She thought this should be enough, she should be satisfied. She halfheartedly laughed whenever BJ started screeching the wrong words to “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer” and smiled when he pulled up Wendy from the couch to dance with him and the Maitlands. 

After preparing a large plate of cookies and other goodies for Wendy to take home to her family in exchange for the delicious Hanukkah treats they sent with Lydia the two girls were left alone to say goodbye for the night. It was almost the exact same as it was three nights ago when they were celebrating Hanukkah but this time it was Wendy handing Lydia a small wrapped gift. Opening it carefully she smiled gratefully when she opened another small jewelry box to find a bracelet with charms on it signifying inside jokes they had. They spent a good five minutes just reminiscing in their jokes, Lydia’s personal favorite the serotonin molecule from when she was hanging out at Wendy’s house and said she could really go for some serotonin and Wendy went up to go look for some, forgetting what it actually was. Lydia pulled her girlfriend into a loving hug, leaning her head on the crook between Wendy’s neck and shoulder. 

“Get a room.” Beetlejuice teased, leaning against the doorway, “Ya know doing this kind of stuff in front of your ex-husband isn’t very becoming Lydia. I just want you to know I’m not the jealous type, I don’t care what you do with Winston-”

“Wendy,” Lydia corrected sarcastically, “One, I’m literally a lesbian. Two you died so technically you’re not my ex-husband I’m your widow.  And third, that wedding was a green card thing and YOU KNOW IT!”

Beetlejuice raised his hands up defensively, “I’m joking, I’m joking! You gotta relax kid, I have literally never been interested in you. I’m more interested in Sexy and Babs.”

“Then PLEASE go bother the Maitlands.” Lydia pleaded as she held onto Wendy’s hand while trying to give Beetlejuice a look explaining that she’s trying to have a moment and he’s ruining it. He supposedly got the hint because he went to turn around but not before snapping his fingers and pointing upwards above Lydia and Wendy’s head.

“Looks like mistletoe to me Scarecrow.”

Lydia glanced up and her face tinted pink when she saw the green and red plant hanging above their heads. Wendy snickered, her nose scrunching up like a bunny which Lydia thought was incredibly adorable. She started t stutter out some excuse that they didn’t have to do it, and that Beetlejuice was being an annoying brother figure again, and that mistletoe was stupid in the first place but Wendy was having none of that. She leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the lips before hugging her goodbye once more and running out to her parents’ car. Lydia stood there with a dumb-happy grin on her face for a solid minute before Beetlejuice reappeared in the room making kissy noises at her. She threw the closest thing within grabbing distance, which unfortunately happened to be one of Delia’s strange rocks. Beetlejuice simply caught it and tossed it around in his hands before telling Lydia to not be so easy to pick on so he doesn’t have to keep bugging her. She rolled her eyes at him again as she walked back into the living room. For the rest of the evening, they sat and watched cheesy Christmas movies and drank hot chocolate, deciding that a new tradition they would adopt would be to guess how much liquor BJ put in the eggnog. Charles took one sip and instantly spit it out it burned of alcohol so much. Beetlejuice tried to sneak some spiked eggnog to Lydia but was stopped almost instantly as literally everyone was watching him and even Lydia refused the absurdly strong drink. 

Everyone had gone to bed around eleven at night, and Beetlejuice went...whereever it is Beetlejuice goes when nobody else is around. Lydia was about to head up to her bedroom and edit some of the photos she had taken in order to keep herself distracted from the growing pit of dread in her stomach. She wished everyone a Merry Christmas and was about to go into her room when her father pulled her aside and gestured for her to follow him into his room. She sat down on his one chair while he went to grab something from the closet. He returned with a nicely done gift bag, stuffed with white and glittery tissue paper and the two handles tied up in a neat bow. 

“Dad you already got me more than everything I wanted, you really didn’t have to.” She smiled sweetly

He fiddled with his hands, taking in a deep breath, “This isn’t from me.”

“Who’s it from?” 

“Your mother. She bought it for you last year before...I don’t know what it is. Remember all those Christmas mornings when I’d have no clue what she got you?” He handed her a card that came with the gift and Lydia stared down shocked to see her mother’s familiar scrawl on the envelope. She always looped her Ls weird, something Lydia had copied into writing her own name, but seeing it again, writing that came from a pen that her mother had held...it was resurfacing all the feelings she had been trying so hard to keep pushed down just for today. She kept repeating to herself in her mind that she was fine, she was okay, her mom was gone, there was nothing she could do about it, don’t cry it’s Christmas, don’t ruin everyone else’s good time, don’t don’t don’t.

She curled her fists into her hair, almost dropping the gift bag onto the floor. Charles pulled Lydia into a hug and everything she had been holding in came flooding out. She started sobbing against her father’s chest, her tiny body shaking with such violence that Charles gripped onto her tighter in an attempt to calm her. She wanted to stop, she wanted to stop crying and just go back to how it had been during the day but she couldn’t help herself. She missed her mother. She missed her mother so much, and it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t see her again. She’d never have another Christmas, or New Years, or Halloween with her. Never. She knew she was soaking her father’s shirt with her tears but he didn’t move away, he just stroked her hair, and told it that it was okay. 

“It’s not okay dad. It’s not okay, it’s not ever going to be okay. She’s dead, she’s never coming back, and this is the last present she ever got me. I tried really hard, I tried really hard to be okay today. Everyone else is so fucking happy and I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else. I screwed it all up, I’m ruining your day, you tried to do this really nice and sweet thing for me and I’m a goddamn mess!” She gasped out between her hiccuping-sobs 

“Lydia, Lydia sweetheart it’s okay! You’re not ruining anybody’s Christmas. I’m so sorry you felt like you had to keep this all from us because you thought it would upset us. Honey, I’ve been missing her a lot today too. I was holed up in my office all last night flipping through old photo albums of our Christmases wishing we had gotten just one more. That’s when I remembered this present. I packed it away last year, I thought it would be too hard for you back then but I shouldn’t have hidden it from you.”

Lydia sniffled a little, still clutching the present in her hands unsure if she was ready to see what was inside. Lydia set the present down gently on the floor, grabbed her father’s hand and slumped down on his bed. She knew she was getting too big for this, but she really just wanted to be close to someone right now. He laid on his back and she rested her head on his stomach while he gently rubbed the back of her shirt. She was still crying, “I feel so broken. It’s supposed to be the happiest time of the year and the whole month I’ve been a trainwreck with one crisis after another”

“It’s okay for it to not be “the most wonderful time of the year.” a lot of people have struggles around Christmas and this is going to be one of yours. I wish it didn’t have to be, I want so badly for her to still be here with you but we can’t rewind the clock. You don’t have to pretend you’re alright though, it is okay for you to be sad, for you to miss her. We can talk about her, we can still keep her alive in our traditions and everything else.”

She nodded her head, “I know it probably sounds stupid but I got her a present, I know she can’t open it but I got it for her because I couldn’t bring myself not to.”

“It’s not stupid at all honey. It’s incredibly sweet, you should have put in under the tree this morning.”

“Why? There’s nobody to open it.”

“I think it would have made you feel a lot better,” he tried to explain, “I think you would have not been holding all this in all day.”

Lydia thought about it, wondering if all of this could have been avoided if she just talked about it. She was always on her dad’s case for never wanting to talk about things but here she was hiding her feelings from her family. She did it all the time, now that she thought about it. Ever since she moved to Connecticut she had been so preoccupied trying to not ruin the happiness everyone was supposedly experiencing that she just buried down her own problems, only talking about them when they boiled over and she had a breakdown. She laid with her father in a peaceful silence for a few minutes before she sat up and crawled over to where the present was laying. She debated opening it alone but she knew whatever it was it was going to make her cry, she didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

She undid the ribbon and slowly removed the tissue paper. She held the gift in her hands, mesmerized by the object in her hands. It was a snowglobe. When she first pulled it out of the bag she was kind of confused, she had never collected snowglobes but when she turned it around she saw that inside the glass was two photographs of their family. One when Lydia was just a baby, the other a photo they had taken just a few weeks before Emily had died. She grazed her thumb over the glass and showed it to her father who smiled bittersweetly at the gift. She noticed there was a turn-key on the bottom and when she wound it up she couldn’t help but smile when it started to play that song her mother always sang when they were cleaning up. It was strange to hear “Jump in the Line” in a music box tune. She knew there were tears in her eyes but they weren’t as urgent feeling as the ones from just a few minutes ago. It felt alright to cry, she wasn’t exactly sad but she wasn’t happy. It was strange. 

She and her father sat on the bed listening to the snowglobe play it’s tune over and over again while looking at old photos from Christmas’s of long ago and not so long ago. Her dad must have texted Delia because she never came into the bedroom that night, she felt bad about it especially because she was fifteen years old now, she shouldn’t need to fall asleep in her daddy’s room but he assured her that Delia completely understood. She snuggled under his blankets, he kissed her goodnight on her forehead. It did not take long for her dad to fall asleep, his loud snoring quickly filling the room but Lydia didn’t mind. For the first time all day she didn’t have this crippling tension building up in her body, she was relaxed and she knew that her father was right. It was okay if it wasn’t the most wonderful time of the year.

[justtessasworld]

time after time - caspian x

Hello, this is a little something i wrote about Caspian and an oc named Elizabeth, i actually thought about making a few more parts of this so tell me what you think about it :)) love, tessa

warnings: just my english, i´m sorry it´s not my first language 

-

In which Elizabeth finally finds back to Narnia, and to Caspian.

-

Elizabeth was 6 when her mum left her dad. She didn´t remember much about him. He was mean, never voluntarily spending time with his daughter, or it seemed, with his wife, so when Beatrice left together with their daughter no one was actually surprised.

They tried living on their own after that for a year. A crappy apartment in the middle of nowhere until Beatrice decided she wanted a better life for her daughter.

A few months after Elizabeth turned 7 they moved to their grandmother, Beatrice mother, a mean and strict, old lady that lived in a mansion not very far from the city, with a massive forest in the backyard and no immediate neighbors. That time Elizabeth felt like the most lonely person on the world.

Shortly before her 8th birthday Elizabeth explored the forest, like she often did. That day she found a big group of trees near the lake, with a gait between them. Walking through it, Elizabeth suddenly found herself in the backyard of a small but friendly faun family.

That day Elizabeth found Narnia.

The family brought Elizabeth to their king, a handsome, young man with kind eyes and an even kinder smile. He told her about the magical land she had found and about the other siblings that had come there from her world.

When Elizabeth went back home, she didn’t feel lonely anymore.

She told her mother about Narnia, who smiled and nodded, even when Elizabeth knew she didn´t fully believe her.

After that, Elizabeth visited Narnia nearly daily.

The family brought her to the castle every time, and King Caspian spent all of her visits with her.

He showed her all of Cair Paravel and Narnia, taught her the Narnian history as well as royal duties so that Elizabeth felt more and more like a true Narnian princess, like Queen Lucy the Valiant or High Queen Susan the Gentle.

On special occasions, when Caspian didn’t have any very important duties and Elizabeth just didn’t stop begging, he even taught her some sword fighting and shooting arrows.

When she was 9 she was in Narnia again, sitting next to Caspian at the table, wearing Narnian clothing and picking at her bread. They did that often, just living their daily life together as if they didn’t come from different worlds.

“When will I be queen?”, she asked, tugging at her sleeves, that had become dirty while they had explored the village next to Cair Paravel. “I love Narnia so much but I guess I´m still to young to marry you, aren’t I?”  

Caspian coughed and set down his plate.

“You definetly are”, he laughed, smiling at her softly. “Let´s wait for marriage until you´re at least a few heads taller.”

She grinned at him, standing up from the table. “Well then you have to keep training me too, so that when I´m tall enough to marry you I can also kick your butt.”

A few days later, Elizabeth had a visitor at the mansion. The new girl from her class, Katie. She was small, even a head smaller than Elizabeth, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She became  Elizabeths only friend.

When she tried showing Narnia to Katie, they walked right through the trees, but stayed in their world. They tried it again and again but it never worked. Katie shrugged her shoulders, “maybe another time it would work and they could have wicked adventures in Narnia”.

But it never did. Not even when Elizabeth came alone.

Years passed and Elizabeth, now called Lizzie, didn’t think about Narnia anymore. It was just some weird game she had played with herself when she was feeling lonely.

She and her mother had moved out, Beatrice had a new and great job and could afford a small house away from her mother. And while Lizzie grew up, with new friends and new hobbies, she just couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something.

 “And why exactly did we agree to a Christmas eve dinner with the witch?”, Lizzie grumbed, leaning her head at the car window while they drove to their small town.

“Because she´s still part of our family”, her mother said, then mumbling:” and she´s probably dead soon anyway.”

Lizzie laughed softy, while it did sound evil, their relationship to the woman just hadn’t gotten any better since the stopped living with her. Still strict, mean and controlling, that was Theodora. And no, they weren’t allowed to call the mom or mother or grandma. No, just Theodora.

“It´s not too late, we can still run away and go home and watch Harry Potter”, Lizzie suggested when they were standing in front of Theodoras front door.

“Don’t temp me”, ringing the bell, her mother tugged at her dress. Any imperfection would be critizised by their hostess.

The door opened and Carla, the maid that worked for Lizzies grandmother, greeted them and showed them to the table in the living room.

“You´re late”, Theodora said, her wrinkly eyes cold and her grey hair pulled into a tight bun.

“But I shouldn’t expect any better from you two, now should I?”

Well, this was going to be fun.

“And what are you doing right now again?”, Theodora asked Lizzie, elegantly cutting up a potato.

“I´m still in university to become an elementary school teacher.”

Theodora lifted an eyebrow unimpressed.

“Well, like I already told you, you should definetly focus on a different part of your life, you´re nearly 23 already and you still don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend”, she shook her head disapprovingly.

“At this rate you´re just going to end up like you´re mother. A bad reputation, no husband and a daughter from some idiot that she couldn’t even keep.”

“Mother!”, Beatrice looked at her mother shocked.

“What, you know I´m right. Look at that girl, she´s not nearly as intelligent or pretty as she should be at that age. She´ll probably never find a husband.”

Lizzie dropped her fork. She knew how mean her grandmother could be but this was a new for her. Fighting the tears that welled up she put away her napkin, ignoring her mum that was yelling at Theodora.

“Excuse me, I´m going for a walk”, she whispered shakingly and left the room.

The cold air was biting at her nose but she ignored it, wrapping her coat tighter around her as she waked towards the wood.

The tears had already started falling, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.

How could someone be so mean to their own grandchild? She knew Theodora didn’t like her very much, but she still thought that deep down she cared about her.

“She will never find a husband”, Lizzie repeated angrily. “I don’t have to find a husband right now, you dumb witch”, she said to herself. “I´m 22 for gods sake. I still have plenty of time left!”

She kept walking, away from the lake and towards a group of trees, while she raged about her grandmother.

Stepping through a gait between the trees, Lizzie suddenly looked up.

The sun blinded her and she couldn’t open her eyes, why was the sun suddenly out? It was nearly 8 pm on a winter evening, and why was it suddenly this warm?

She knew this place. She didn’t know why but she remembered this place, a warm sensation bubbling up in her chest.

She blinked slowly, her eyes getting accostumed to the light, and when she opened them the memories came rushing back.

She was standing in the backyard again. The backyard of the faun family.

Lizzie grinned brightly, her heart feeling warm.

“Who are you?”, a voice said. Turning around Lizzie recognized Bandon, the faun boy, standing next to his mother Ariadne.

“Bandon”, Lizzie laughed, “Ariadne, it´s me: Elizabeth.”

Getting both of them to believe her took Lizzie nearly an hour. All those years Lizzie hadn’t been in Narnia had only been 2 for them, so it had been kind of a shock for them when she was suddenly an adult.

After a lot of crying and hugging and telling a summary about what happened in all those years, Bandon and Lizzie readied their horses and rode to Cair Paravel.

Lizzie couldn’t stop looking around, the view was nothing new but still, she knew that that was the part she had been missing. It seemed so unrealistic now, that she could have simply forgotten about this place, about these people, and she still didn’t understand why but right now, she was way too happy to be back to worry about it.

A guard greeted them and while Bandon and her were trying to explain what was going on a servant was already ordered to send message to the king.

“I can´t believe I´m back here”, Lizzie laughed, smiling at Bandon as they brought their horses to the stables.

“Elizabeth!”, someone yelled. She recognized the voice instantly, Caspian.

Beaming she turned around. He was running towards her, still tall and handsome, his hair a tad shorter than the last time she´d seen him and, confusingly, only a few years older than her.

He grinned from ear to ear and, as soon as he reached her, engulfed her in a tight hug.

Lizzie laughed softly, hugging him as closely as possible, her eyes filling with tears. God, she had missed that, she had missed him.

“You´re back”, Caspian said, slowly letting her go to look at her properly. She nodded, holding back her tears, she really shouldn’t cry again. That would be the third time today.

“You´re…”, he started, looking her up and down, and again.

“…older?”, she suggested, pushing her hair back. He nodded this time, still shocked.

“I can´t believe it, I- How long has it been? For you, I mean.”

Lizzie lowered her eyes.

“12 years”, she whispered.

She remembered everything now, especially the devastation she felt, when she couldn’t go back to Narnia, but she still felt like it was her fault. Had she done something wrong so that Aslan didn’t want her in Narnia anymore?

“So long? It only been two years here and I still-“, he stopped suddenly, looking at her again intently. “I missed you everyday.”

She nodded, wiping away a tear that had fallen from her eye. “I missed you too”, she whispered, trying not to cry completely. It was a lost cause.

“I missed you so much all those years”, she sobbed and Caspian pulled her to him, his arms tightly around her waist.

“It´s okay, you´re here now”, he said, burying his face too her neck. She nodded, it was true. Now that she was here, everything would be okay.

[calzonafan2014]

Calzona Christmas Fic Season 8

Title: What a Difference a Year Makes Part 1

Rating: PG

About: Callie and Arizona are happily married and planning their first Christmas together until a surprise call threatens to keep them apart.

Author’s Note: this is super old, and I thought I would bring it back for Christmas. Happy, dorky, and fun Calzona before the plane crash.

December 12

Callie entered her apartment after a long but exhilarating shift and tossed her coat haphazardly in the typical direction of the sofa. She frowned when she heard it hit the floor. Turning to pick it up her eyes opened wide as she noted not only a missing sofa but also the Christmas spectacle that had replaced it.

“Uh, Arizona?” Callie asked, looking around for her wife.

She and Arizona had thrown up a few decorations after Thanksgiving. And they’d bought a huge tree the previous weekend. A tree that had been sitting forlornly in their living room ever since, as neither she nor Arizona had wanted to deal with the hassle of adding the lights. Now though, the whole thing twinkled with hundreds of clear lights, a beautiful garland with candles glowing festooned their mantle; every picture that graced their walls had been carefully wrapped in Christmas paper; and the coup de grace, an electric Rudolph stood proudly in place of their couch.

Arizona, clad in a ridiculously cheery Christmas sweater, popped out of the kitchen into the living room and grinned in excitement at her wife, “Callie, you’re home early. I’m not done yet.”

“Seriously? What exactly is missing?” Callie asked. Other than Santa and his eight other reindeer she thought to herself, but wisely didn’t say out loud.

“I was just going to make some mulled wine. Of course, if you think something’s missing I’ve got a few more pieces we can add,” Arizona said with a dimpled smile before she turned and headed back into the kitchen.

“Everything’s perfect just as it is,” Callie said quickly. “You’ve been…busy.”

“It’s Sofia’s first Christmas, I wanted it to be special.”

“Oh, it’s special all right,” Callie replied, and while there may have been a bit of residual snark, she was beginning to come around as the surprise wore off and she began to grin.

“You don’t like it.” Arizona’s voice was flat as she popped the cork to the second red wine bottle and began pouring it into the pan. Callie mentally smacked herself before heading into the kitchen and placing her hands on Arizona’s stiff shoulders.

“Arizona – it’s awesome.”

“Really?” Arizona asked skeptically, keeping her back turned to Callie even as she played with the wine on the stove. “Because you don’t…”

Callie forced Arizona around to face her. “I was surprised. You’ve gotta admit, you’re hard to predict. One minute you’re snarling about baby showers and birthday parties and the next we’ve got our very own Rudolph.” Which reminded Callie, “Where exactly is our sofa?”

“At Mark’s. I needed the extra room.”

Callie nodded slowly, “Aaand – we have a perfectly comfortable floor that we don’t sit on nearly enough.”

Arizona had the grace to blush at this, so Callie grabbed her opportunity and kissed her wife.

“You’re amazing.”

Arizona perked up and smiled up at Callie “I am?”

“Definitely,” Callie replied. “Let’s host a Christmas Eve party,” she blurted.

Now it was Arizona’s turn to blink, “Okay…” she replied, a bit tentative even as Callie got more enthused.

“My parents used to do it every year in Miami.”

Arizona smiled gamely, “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s kind of a tradition. I want Sofia to have that…”

“Me too,” Arizona replied softly.

“Great,” Callie said quickly, refusing to get wrapped up in any sentiment surrounding her mostly absent relatives. “I’ll invite the gang, but you’re on point for Teddy.”

“Callie, I’m not sure she’s going to want to…”

“Arizona, when was the last time you talked to Teddy?” Callie’s sudden exasperation made Arizona feel even guiltier than she already did.

“We talk,” she replied defensively.

“Um hm.”

“She’s probably working that day anyway,” Arizona added. Because really, what else was there?

“Arizona, Teddy’s still mad at me. And I get it – I totally get it. But she’s also mad at Owen and Cristina. You’re the only one outside of the anger zone. She needs you.”

“I know, I know. We talk, we do.” Callie didn’t look convinced.

This wasn’t the first time the subject of Teddy had come up since Henry’s death. Callie had wanted to have her over for Thanksgiving but Arizona had explained that Teddy was still too raw and she was afraid that seeing Callie in a social setting so soon might have set her off. Callie had accepted that at the time, but she’d also encouraged Arizona to take Teddy out on her own, so far to no avail.

“Invite her.” Callie said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Tell her she can get drunk, create a huge scene and sleep it off on our sof – our extremely comfortable floor. It’ll be just like Christmas Eve back in Miami with my Great Uncle Jorge.”

“Yeah, because that sounds like so much more fun than working,” Arizona replied under her breath.

“It’s going to suck for her regardless,” Callie replied. “But at least she won’t be alone.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe alone’s better?” Arizona asked even as she already knew the answer to that one.

“No. Talk to her.”

Arizona sighed, “You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“Nope,” Callie said, completely unrepentant.

“Fine,” Arizona said. Callie saw the pout start to take hold and swept in for an encouraging kiss before it could completely manifest.

“Thank you,” Callie said softly. Arizona stepped forward to deepen the kiss but Callie stepped back.

Arizona frowned, “That’s all I get?”

“Consider it a down payment,” Callie deadpanned, pleased with herself even as Arizona smacked her ass in retaliation.

“Hey!”

“You’re mulling the wine now,” Arizona said firmly, stepping around her wife and out of the kitchen.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Callie asked even as she reached for the spices.

-------

The next morning Arizona, and Callie with Sofia in tow, waited for the hospital’s elevator to take Sofia to daycare. As it opened a preoccupied Teddy hurried out and smacked straight into Callie.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Teddy said glancing up in surprise as she bounced off of Callie.

“No worries,” Callie replied, holding Sofia tightly. She stepped around Teddy and into the vacant elevator. “I’ll just take Sofia to daycare,” Callie continued with a pointed look at her wife.

Arizona knew she was stuck, and let the doors close without her, “Hey Teddy, got a moment?”

“Actually, I’m on my way to a consult in the ER,” Teddy replied distractedly, her face buried in her hospital iPAD, already walking in that direction. Momentarily flummoxed, Arizona paused before doing a quick step to catch up.

“I’ll walk with you then, this’ll only take a minute.”

Arizona fell into step next to Teddy and wracked her brain for something to say. She decided to just cut to the chase.

“I’m a really crappy friend,” Arizona began.

“What?” Teddy asked, finally glancing up from her iPad.

“I’ve been avoiding you – oh, not you you, I know we see each other practically every day, but well, Callie called me out on it last night and she’s kinda right.”

“It’s okay, Arizona, I realize I’m not exactly the life of the party lately,” Teddy said.

“It’s not that. I mean, I know you’re working every shift you possibly can, and you’ve been sleeping in the Attendings’ Lounge and the last thing in the world you want to do is stop for even a second because if you stop or sleep without exhaustion forcing you to do so you’re going to think about the fact that it’s Christmas time and that just really completely sucks at the moment. If I could I’d wave a magic wand for you and make it January 10th, you know after all of the hangovers and bowl games have finally ended and most reasonable people have thrown away their exceedingly dead Christmas trees, but since I can’t I thought I’d try to help by ignoring…”

“The dead elephant in the room?” Teddy asked with a raised brow and not a tear in sight.

“Yeah,” Arizona replied softly. She sucked at this, she knew that, and she really really wanted to run away or talk about patients or something silly and keep ignoring the horrible dead elephant because if she could do that, it meant that she could also continue ignoring the fact that looking at Teddy was like looking at the Ghost of Christmas future had she not gotten her very own miracle.

“I don’t like to think about what my life would be like if Callie hadn’t survived. It’s…terrifying. But I think, I think working 24/7 makes complete and total sense to me.”

“Everyone wants me to stop, but if I stop…”

“You think.”

“Yeah.”

“So, Callie wants me to invite you to our Christmas Eve party, but I bet you’re…”

“Working. Definitely working. Both days, 48 hours if I can swing a great big pile up.”

Arizona nodded. She understood. To the point that the thought of everything that Teddy was burying beneath the work made her slightly nauseous. And while she did get it, she also got that there would be a breaking point at some point. It was inevitable.

“Listen, I don’t know how late this thing is going to go. Knowing Callie probably pretty late, but if that pile up doesn’t manifest you should come over whenever. And if you need a place to crash, or a shoulder to cry on, or a baby to snuggle, we’ve got all three.”

“Thanks, but I’m…”

“Working, I know. And I’ll let you get back to it,” Arizona said starting to back away from Teddy and towards the elevator, “But Teddy, when you’re ready to stop working, I’m here okay? And so’s Callie. Even if you want to yell at her some more, she’s…she’s really good at this type of thing, okay?”

“Okay,” Teddy said. Which might as well have been code for, ‘when hell freezes over.’

“I’m not going to stop bugging you about this,” Arizona said.

“I never thought otherwise,” Teddy replied to herself as Arizona disappeared behind the doors of the elevator.

___

December 13

Arizona sat in the lone chair that graced their living room, feet propped on the ottoman, computer on her lap, engrossed in picking another Christmas gift for her wife. She’d already bought Callie’s main gift, a beautiful emerald necklace that Arizona’s favorite jeweler had come across on a recent buying trip. Now she was admiring the numerous assorted bra and panty sets from La Perla and finding it difficult to choose just one. She’d narrowed it down to the Brunello underwire in blue/black, and the Toscana set in red.

The sound of a loud curse from the hall caused her to slam her laptop closed even as she jumped up to investigate.

Opening the door into the hall she caught sight of her wife attempting to wrestle an incredibly large, and obviously heavy box out of the elevator and into the hallway.

“Callie, what in the world is that thing?”

“It’s a grill with a roasting spit.” Arizona raised a skeptical brow as she wondered just where exactly in their apartment Callie expected to put such a thing, let alone use it.

“What size turkey are you planning again?” She asked.

“It’s not for a turkey. It’s for the pig,” Callie replied, grunting as she finally managed to get the damn thing out of the elevator.

“The pig? You mean a ham, right?”

“Nope. I mean a pig,” Callie said as if roasting an entire pig was the most natural thing in the world.

Arizona reluctantly joined Callie in the hallway to help push the box towards their apartment.

“Where exactly does one get a whole pig?” Arizona asked with a grunt as the box moved a few more feet. “And, why?”

“It’s for our Christmas Eve Party. We talked about it.” Callie said.

Together, the two of them managed to finally maneuver the box, with said pig spit, over the threshold and into their apartment.

Arizona frowned as she straightened, “You know, I think I’d have remembered a pig spit with a giant roasting pig.”

“It’s tradition,” Callie said even as she pushed the thing away from the door to take up its spot next to Rudolph. Removing her coat she frowned and then hung it off of Rudolph’s antler.

“Where are we having this party exactly?” Arizona asked, still fixated on the concept of roasting an entire pig. “Cause I don’t think pig roasting falls under the terms of our lease.”

“On the roof,” Callie replied immediately. “I’ve already talked to the landlord,” Callie replied. Spotting the recently vacated chair, Callie collapsed into it and took a long drink of Arizona’s white wine before grimacing and putting it back.

“Of course,” Arizona said from the kitchen where she was already pouring Callie a glass of red and grabbing her bottle of white to top off as she joined her wife in their chair.

Callie gratefully took her glass of wine and wrapped her other arm around Arizona’s waist, kissing her neck.

“Hey, did you talk to Teddy?”

“I did. She’s not coming.”

“Arizona…”

“No. Trust me on this. She’s going to work and she’s going to try her best to forget that it’s a holiday – and that’s okay.”

“She needs…”

“She needs for Henry to be alive. But he isn’t. And there’s nothing we can do but remind her of what she doesn’t have. Believe me. I get it.”

Callie gave her wife a comforting squeeze. They didn’t talk about the accident. For Callie it was all fairly surreal. She only remembered pieces of the accident itself and the first few weeks of her recovery had been tempered by large doses of morphine coupled with maternal hormones that had focused all of her attention on Sofia. In some ways she now realized, she’d had it easier. She couldn’t even grasp how she’d have survived had their positions been reversed.

“I love you,” Callie said.

“Me too,” Arizona replied simply giving Callie a warm kiss on the cheek and snuggling in further.

“I’m still planning on roasting a pig.”

“I know.”

----

[angelofarts]

Of Crochet and Comas Part 1

I crochet. I do not knit. Knitting is an inferior art form. I crochet. I am complex.

“I am full of it,” I muttered to myself, staring at the words on the screen. The thing is, when your whole personality is this one thing you do and you can’t actually tell people it’s what you do, what do you tell them? Do you play the sympathy card? Do you make something up? Do you ignore the paper in the hopes that it’ll go away, knowing at the last hour you’ll play both the previous cards at the same time to scrape a pass?

Yeah, inevitably I end up on option 3.

I pushed away the laptop, leaving it on the scrunched with the blanket on the end of my bed, half buried under my duvet. No matter how many times Mom comes in and eyes it sadly, or Dad shakes his head at me, I refuse to give it up. That blanket is mine, no one else’s.

“Going to the hospital,” I called to my mom who was in her office as I found a clean t-shirt.

“Is it visiting hours?” she called back as I sniffed the armpit of the shirt. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly clean, but it was clean enough for my purposes.

I swung out of my room, scooping my backpack up. “Yeah, they let me in whenever,” I told her as though she didn’t already know this. She looked up at me, her eyes out of focus, and swept her fringe back. Defying the laws of gravity, it immediately sprung back into a frizzy mess.

“Okay, ride safe,” she said vaguely, turning back to her spreadsheet. “Take your phone and your backpack. Get some homework done.”

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me, and left through the passage leading to the back door. My bike stood there, the patches that weren’t orange rust peeked through with dark grey. An archaeologist had once offered me fifty bucks for it, convinced it outdated several of his finds, but old Raptor was mine until I got my license and could upgrade to the equally crappy and significantly more expensive rusted car sitting in our driveway.

The hospital wasn’t far away, and yet I somehow managed to get flipped off four times, honked at six, and almost hit twice. Regardless of the fact that I was in the right lane, one of the drivers tailed me a block, yelling obscenities. I merrily waved my middle finger back at him until he drove past, obviously deciding some kid on his bike wasn’t worth ruining his afternoon for.

At the hospital, I chained my bike up to the stand in front of the visitor’s entrance and hiked my backpack further up my shoulders. The air conditioning hit me, and I winced – despite cycling here and it being winter, I’d forgotten anything practical for the day like a sweater or hat or scarf, instead standing in my jeans and tee like normal.

“Hey Aaron,” Nurse Nancy called from her station. “Good to see you.”

I felt a goofy grin split over my face. “Nancy my love, how have you been? Keeping our affair a secret, I hope? I’d hate to have to become your sugar daddy when I have no sugar to provide.”

Nurse Nancy, a woman probably old enough to be my grandmother, gave me a good natured chuckle and tsked as she waved me past towards long term residency. I clutched at my chest dramatically as I staggered through the swinging doors.

Entering the ward, I waved at the nurses and some of the residents who were out for the morning. Bert, an old man with a heart condition, was reading in the common area where he first taught me how to cheat at poker. Lizzie, a middle aged woman with some sort of hormone malfunction was next to him, yelling at the politicians on TV. She was the reason I was passing history – the woman was a walking library.

Not a lot of the residents are permanently in long term, since most medicines can be administered at home, but Bert and Lizzie had no one to help them take the meds, so they had been a staple of this wing for the four years I’d been coming in.

Closer to my destination I ran into the younger crowd – teenagers my age who had to come in for a month or so at a time for some or other condition. Lisa I knew had cystic fibrosis and came in whenever she flared up, although you wouldn’t say she was chronically ill from how put together she always looked – long blonde hair always tied back, always in real clothes when the others would spend days in pyjamas. Richard had Crohn’s disease, and you could always tell when he came in from how much weight he’d lost or gained. There were others – diabetics, cancer kids, a whole host of them who somehow had managed to find a society within themselves, one which I, as an outsider, was very much not a part of.

Finally, I reached the last door and propped it open, to the familiar, rhythmic electronic beeps of the heart monitor and the gush of air in and out of the respirator.

“Hey bro,” I whispered softly.

My brother, Kenzo, didn’t reply, not that I expected him to. His chest artificially rose and fell as I softly dropped my backpack to the floor and sat in the visitors chair next to him.

Kenzo was the one who introduced me to crochet, back when we were kids. I, at four, had less than no patience for the wool and stick my mom was trying to show us, but he took to it like a duck to water, and within three weeks we were both going at it. Anything to be like my big brother.

Just a year separated us, but it was a year that made a difference. Kenzo was the model student, the popular sports star who somehow was genuinely nice to everyone. One year he found out who didn’t have Valentines, and anonymously sent fifty crocheted roses to the girls and guys (He’d made me help of course). One year he raised money for charity through selling scarves. He was Mr Perfect, as far as our peers were concerned.

I didn’t have the same sheen on him – bathing together until you’re three does that to a person – but even knowing the crappy stuff he did, like the brief stint of shoplifting before I threatened to turn him in, or the time I caught him and our neighbours smoking pot in the back garden, I couldn’t deny that he was a good brother. Until the day he wasn’t.

Until the day he ended up here, in a coma, because of me.

I bent over to open my backpack. “Here, I made you something. Winter is getting cold, and you need some protection I bet.”

I emerged with a hunter green hat, one I knew would suit his colouring because it suited mine. The green clashed with the dark brown of my hair, bringing some colour into my pale cheeks. I pulled it onto his head carefully and tucked it around his ears the way he used to like it.

“Looks great, bro,” I said softly, leaning back. “How are you still hotter than me though? Hardly seems fair. If you take Nurse Nancy away from me now, I really will have to call mutiny.”

“Nurse Nancy?”

A curious voice had spoken from the door, and I bolted upright, kicking my bag under Kenzo’s bed. At the door stood a girl, about my height, with pale skin and auburn hair, clutching a bag.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I only came to drop off this blanket and I didn’t think there would be anyone in here because there’s never anyone here when I come past and when I heard it I stopped because you never know who could be here talking to their family and I don’t want to interrupt but then you mentioned Nurse Nancy and she’s my aunt and she’s married to my Aunt Ellen so I hate to burst your bubble but I think you might need to find a new girlfriend.”

She finally stopped to draw breath, after the most impressive babble I’d ever heard. I waited a beat to make sure she was really done.

“You should offer your lung capacity to Lisa.”

Red began to bloom in her face, spreading from her nose to her cheeks and down her neck. Now that I was paying attention to her clothes, rather than her words, I could see she was dressed in a button up shirt, cardigan, and a pleat skirt. Her shoes (leather brogues) were neatly tied and polished to a shine. Throw in her dark blue lace tights, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was a time traveller from the 1940’s.

She let out a laugh, and to my humiliation, I realized I’d said the last of my thought out loud. It was my turn to flush, although it wasn’t nearly as spectacular as hers.

“Tesha,” she introduced, holding out a hand.

“Aaron,” I replied, taking it and giving it a limp shake.

“Are you Kenzo’s brother?” she asked curiously as she set down the bag she’d had slung over one shoulder, patterned with birds. “I come in here often, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

I nodded. “They gave me free reign since he’s a coma patient, so I’m not usually here in normal visiting hours. Which begs the question – what are you doing here?”

“Christmas in July,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a woollen blanket in deep burnt orange.

“It’s May,” I countered, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes as she set the blanket over Kenzo’s legs.

“Don’t be a buzzkill. Time is meaningless, so presents are eternal.”

I snorted as I fell back in my chair. “I should use that line with my teachers to get extensions.”

She smiled and tucked the blanket down gently. “There you go, Mr Kenzo. Looks just as good as I’d expected.”

If this was a magic story, Kenzo would have woken up then through Tesha’s kind action, or her sheer force of personality and charm. This isn’t though, so naturally I noticed at that moment that the blanket was knitted, and let out a derisive snort.

“What?” Tesha asked defensively, her eyes flashing slightly.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s just that Kenzo doesn’t like knitted stuff, especially not machine knit. But I’m sure it’s a nice blanket, really.”

Her mouth started to pinch. “This,” she said very clearly, “was not machine knit. This was hand knit, by yours truly, and you are a snob and not very nice. I’m leaving now.”

With that, she swirled around and left with a little “hmph.”

I got up to chase after her, not sure if I was going to apologize to her or further mock the institution of knitting. When I got to the corridor though, I saw that she’d disappeared, no doubt to engulf someone else in her snobbish, “superior” items.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself, turning towards the bathrooms.

On the way there, I ran into Richard, who uncharacteristically stopped to talk to me.

“Dude, did you do something to piss off Tesha?”

My face flushed again as I quelled the urge to push past the dark teen in front of me. He had a disease, he was basically skin and bones, he had no contribution towards me sticking my foot in my mouth…

“No,” I snapped. “She’s being a snob.”

Okay, so much for being nice to sick kids. I try to be nice to the teenagers here, knowing that if circumstances had been different it was very likely that I would be one of them, but it was difficult when none of them usually acknowledged my existence. Between their cold shoulders and the tip toeing I got at school, I was getting rusty with appropriate social interactions.

Richard snorted loudly. “Yeah, right.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

He shifted in his wheelchair, and his jersey slipped down one bony shoulder. “Tesha is a saint. No way she started it.”

“Were you there?” I demanded, pushing into the bathroom. It was mean of me, but I let the door swing closed before he could follow, knowing it was near impossible for him to enter.

When I emerged, unfortunately he was still there, but now talking to Lisa. I snuck past them and back to Kenzo’s room to wait out my time in the peace of my brother.