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supop · 2 years ago

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What do you think BTS will do next as soloists? Which member has been the most impressive in Chapter 2?

Hi hey hello :) I’ve been MIA for months but I’m surprised to see I’ve still been getting lots of asks. Did you miss me? Did ya did ya did ya? Going by the number of messages in my inbox I’d say, yes :) Sorry for ghosting you guys; I simply got bored with BTS and stopped keeping up with the group as whole. Meanwhile, their solo era has been fun to observe, huh? Some things I expected, other things I did not. I’m sure you’ve all missed supop thoughts. So, without further adieu, here are my guesses for 2023-2024, in no particular order:

Truthfully, I’ve been trying to post for the past 3 days but tumblr is glitching, and none of my posts are saving. Just as I was about to say F it.... if you can read this, then the issue must be fixed, right? This post hasn’t been proofread, so ignore any grammatical errors and the weird use of punctuation. I have a flight to catch soon, so I’ll answer more asks when I land, and as always.... keep it cute~

Individual YouTube channels (starting off with this because there’s been rumors about it for months now; I doubt all members will have one, but I feel like j-hope or Jungkook may go this route. I actually started to believe it when j-hope posted about his new Leica camera a while back. I know he’s into photography, but there’s always a deeper meaning behind everything he does/posts and he’s been carrying that camera around to all the events he’s been attending; maybe it’s just me overthinking, but it’s giving vlog material at the very least. Each member has a YouTube topic channel, but this will likely be a platform for more direct professional/business use where other creatives are featured or personal use for vlogging, trips, unedited material etc. without constant company oversight; aka without every single piece of content being scheduled by bighit/hybe and distributed via weverse; I also wonder if any more of them will get solo shows like Suchwita on the BangtanTV channel)

Individual Twitter accounts (this one seems farfetched, but so were their instagrams at one point; if they do indeed go this route I can eventually see some members leaving it up to the company to handle their respective social medias while others take a more hands-on approach with their fans—since instagram alone already seems like a struggle for some; they can also repost content from instagram which would also give them more individual exposure since the two social media platforms tend to have completely different audiences; it would also be nice for collaborators/brands/media to be able to tag them directly instead of @ the group account; finally, there’s a reason why each member has stuck to uploading all personal content on their respective instagrams since Dec 2021, so expect the group Twitter to become even more desolate than it already is if this does happen)

Individual TikTok accounts (Instagram, YouTube and Twitter....then why not TikTok too? It would make more sense when it comes to promoting their solo music and once again connecting with their respective audiences/fanbases; it only makes sense for solo artists to promote their solo work on solo accounts especially when their music and personalities are all so different; that’s 7 different audiences that should be catered to instead of trying to fit everyone into one big purple-colored box. All 7 members together represent BTS, but no single member is a representation of BTS; there’s a reason why JITB is completely different from anything BTS has released as group, and it’s the same reason why Indigo is so different from JITB; someone who likes JITB may not care for 90% of BTS’s discography and the same would apply to other members’ solo albums that have yet to be released; this is the obvious truth, but armys will continue to delude themselves as if the term bias doesn’t exist.)

Individual Facebook pages (and lastly, Facebook because all artists need a Facebook page to be able to link their music to their personal Instagram accounts; the BTS official Instagram account has it but when you scroll through you only see JK and RM’s music, which to me isn’t fair to other members who have music under their official Spotify profiles; the members are artists first, right? not influencers, therefore, artistry should be respected in a similar manner)

Opening their comment section on Instagram (limited comments are boring, but i don’t blame them; I’d sure they’re well aware that a select group of their “fans” are unhinged; just look at the way those same “fans” have attacked people who they’ve deemed to be “wrongly” associated with them or people they’ve “accidentally” followed; honestly I’m also worried about the occasional wave of hate/d.threats some members would receive in their comment sections from deranged akgaes; I will never understand not liking someone, yet going out of your way to invade their public accounts or content posted related to them just to spew hateful nonsense or send d.threats about how much you don’t like them; take a breather because it’s never ever that deep. And if you ever feel the need to take it that far towards anyone (celebrity figure or not), then may your pathetic existence quickly reach its expiration date; people also seem to have a lot more balls on instagram, so it’s a good thing Instagram’s safety features are a lot better than Twitter’s—i.e., the report and block buttons def work)

Following more people on Instagram (lol honestly following 0 people isn’t anything new from the celebrity pov and we can all thank Bey for establishing that, but following only your 7 group members is just...meh; are they gonna live as 7 for the rest of their lives? No, but they probably have to keep it this way otherwise there’s a possibility that every single non-bts related account on their following list would be harassed and stalked to oblivion by deranged fans; not to mention as it is, BH/Hybe staff already do such a great job at leaking private info related to BTS, you would think their proximity to such high-profile celebrities would result in ironclad NDAs but I guess not...sigh when will we be free)

Individual brand deals/endorsements (this one is already under way and was really really obvious from the start because we all know “7 or nothing”—not necessarily their bond but the way they’ve been marketed to fans—has always been nothing more than a sales gimmick; seriously not every member will have the skillset that a specific brand is looking for, so let’s let the ones who shine, shine; instead of trying to sell the lackluster ones as a package deal; “buy one get one free” should never apply to people; for the members yet to be announced there’s been rumors of various brands so let’s just wait and see...hopefully no controversial brands are chosen.

Individual fashion global ambassadorships (similar to the above, except I think only the members interested in fashion should get involved in this, but then again, this is the k-entertainment industry we’re talking about, and as of late ambassadorships have become part of the whole “album promo” package deal; either way I’m sure the money is good for BTS, and at the end of the day it’s a win-win; interest or not, the artist gets paid and the brand gets “exposure”) **side note: ambassadorships are cool, but the real deal would be with whichever brand pursues a true partnership with the artist by creating a collaborative fashion line or collection that expresses their artistic vision through fashion and/or even a performance that speaks to the brand’s image. pretty red carpet and campaign pictures are nice, but what the world needs is a tangible piece that can be held or tangible memory that can be seen. I think that’s what truly separates the artist-turned-fashion icon/creative director/business mogul from the rest.

More fashion week appearances (so far we’ve gotten Louis Vuitton, Dior, Hermès. I’m glad j-hope didn’t/hasn’t yet? signed with LV otherwise we never would’ve gotten 3 completely different, yet ultimately iconic looks from him in the span of just 3 days; Jimin for Dior; Suga for Valentino; other members may also attend shows for the brands they will be announced as Global/House Ambassadors) **another side note: Hobi wore clothes from LV’s unreleased collection which is rare feat in itself and he was also invited behind the scenes, shown the collection prior to the show, and he entered and exited the venue via a private entrance that was reserved for VIPs. I also saw a photo of Hobi with the Arnaults. Do you know how difficult it is to meet them? You can’t just meet them lol, they’d first have to want to meet you. And Hoseok did that with not 1, but 3 (maybe 4 because 2 of the brothers attended the Dior show) members of the family, including the LVMH CEO himself. It’s not even enough to be a high-profile celebrity; You usually have to have a long-standing working relationship with them or with one of their brands which means their connection with Hoseok must run pretty deep, and they have plenty of trust in him as a global representative. The same thing applies to Hermès. They do no care how rich or famous you are. Before you’re even able to purchase one of their bags directly, you’d have to be a longtime/VIP shopper. Even then getting a bag isn’t guaranteed. You’ll forever be on a waitlist, it could even take years, until you’re invited to purchase one. You also can’t pick and choose which model or color of bag you want lol. Everyone knows about the Birkin, but most are lucky to even be offered a Kelly for purchase. And not only did Hoseok meet with their executives, they also gifted him a Haut à courroies 50 bag (the one in his airport photos upon arrival from Paris) which is one of their largest bags, and is more difficult to secure than a regular Birkin. In short, he got the full VVIP treatment from both rival brands. Who else can relate? With that said, more than an ambassadorship, there could be a j-hope fashion line or a collection of some sort in the works; or perhaps he was doing field research to decide which brand will be in charge of designing his world tour outfits....who knows, only time will tell; as for fashion week there’s still New York, London, Milan, more in Paris, and even Seoul; appearances and shows will depend on the brand)

More solo magazine covers (this also isn’t anything new but even Hybe’s nugu groups with zero impact and lots of payola are already getting solo covers in top magazines, attending fashion week, and having brand ambassadorships under their belts, so it’s ridiculous it took BigHit/Hybe almost a decade to allow bts members the same opportunity)

Vogue, GQ, Hot Ones? video interviews (as much as I love a good magazine interview, there’s nothing better than being able to observe body language; I was surprised when we got GQ’s ‘10 things Jin’, but it only proves that more spontaneous less unscripted interviews where the gp can easily tune in are no longer beyond the realm of possibilities; which means I’m expecting Vogue to come through with any of the following: Life in Looks, 24 Hours with, 73 Questions, Get Ready with, Beauty Routine, etc; more 10 things with GQ; and Hot Ones would be great)

More solo interviews (see tv appearances)

More solo TV appearances w/Korean media (I know that new Mnet program is currently in the works; and I’m kind of hoping for more popular variety shows and broadcasts; anything that would promote their music domestically vs. the fan-targeted content posted on BangtanTV)

More solo TV appearances w/Western media (it’s no secret that Korean media can be restrictive when it comes to artistic expression, so similar appearances at tv programs like late night shows for an interview and performance would be great; just like they’ve done for many years as a group, so it’s ridiculous how they’re not getting a similar promotional rollout for their solo careers)

More solo red carpet appearances (this one technically isn’t a stand alone event, but you can include any activities here that aren’t necessarily centered around them or any of the other ones I’ve listed; like them getting invited to a movie premiere of a friend of a friend’s)

More solo performances (probably minor ones because I really don’t think any of them will put on a performance as major or as lengthy as the scale of Hobipalooza’s headliner setlist and preparation; unless of course its j-hope himself; as for festival performances, there’s of course Lollapalooza, but we also have Coachella, Rolling Loud, Something in the Water, Wireless Festival, Splash Festival, Made in America, The Governors Ball; most of these festivals have a primarily hip-hop/rap-centric audience, so don’t expect vocal line to make any appearances. I can’t speak for Yoongi or Namjoon, but I doubt Hoseok will be interested in doing anything less than a headlining stage. Otherwise expect performances at the usual Western music award shows, year-end Asian music award shows, and South Korea’s music bank/inkigayo)

Solo world tour announcement (we can dream right?)

More solo music collaborations (there’s been many rumors on this one so let’s way and see; hopefully collabs involving actual good music and more collabs with artists that don’t cater to the demographic of bubblegum pop music lovers; seriously enough is enough with the abysmal lyrics and the lack of good production on some of these collabs)

More solo albums (duh! and emphasis on the solo part; as much as I love a good feature or collab, there’s no good reason for those featured artists to be eating you up on your own song, much less album; features should add to the album, not make the album itself—especially when you’re a musician who aims to establish an individual identity and move away from the idea that you’re nothing without bts/without other people propping you up; next: jimin -> suga -> jungkook -> v ; in that order of album release is my guess)

More solo singles/EPs (the 94s; Namjoon has been hinting a lot at releasing new music, so likely an EP; I think Hoseok will also release another album before he enlists, if not an EP; I think they both have more options than other members since they’ve already officially debuted as soloists)

Subunit singles/EPs (once all of vocal line have released their solo albums, i can see BH trying to push for subunits; don’t expect full on albums with only 2 or 3 members on it, but I can definitely see a single or two or more happening; again likely with vocal line)

More OSTs (original soundtracks; again with vocal line)

More individual enlistments (they all technically have until early/mid 2024 to enlist if the tentative 2025 BTS reunion is supposed to happen, but once you taste the high life of individual freedom can you ever really go back to the mundane days of group work? Yoongi has until the end of 2023, Hoseok and Namjoon both have until the end of 2024, Jimin and Taehyung 2025, Jungkook 2027; I’m curious to see—to the absolute horror of armys—if anyone, especially maknae line, will put off their enlistment past 2024....I think Hybe was foolish to announce a “comeback” date; only doing so to calm investors and give themselves an additional 2 years to “ease their dependency on BTS” by bridging the profit gap between them and all their other groups; well if all else fails, i guess they’ll have the company stans to rely on)

or Paired enlistments (again? I really doubt a 2025 reunion will happen simply because a lot of things aren’t adding up at the moment, but if they enlist in pairs it may be a sure sign otherwise. It still makes me laugh how this time last year armys were so sure they’d be getting a bts world tour announcement only for it to be a hiatus + enlistment announcement instead. The signs of exhaustion from the members and lack of effort with the group in all aspects were way too obvious. I will never understand why fans keep deluding themselves. Seriously what group at the peak of success releases an anthology as an album? With only 3 new songs? And the purple warriors ate it right up. They could’ve at least put the demos on streaming platforms. Don’t even get me started on the 3 english songs that took over a year of “convincing” before the members agreed. Lmao my point is bts have never 100% been open about their plans, yet we all know they plan and settle things months in advance. Which means enlistment had likely already been decided on prior to the second leg of the ptd concerts. And yet, they showed no signs of it and acted like everything was swell. Even RM said the 2025 date was tentative; there’s also the Expo 2035 to consider, but after all those infrastructure problems, I’m pretty sure Busan won’t win the bid. People should accept that if the members want to keep doing their thing solo after 2025, then that’s okay. If they come back as a group, then that’s okay too. These days most of them seem happier and lighter being able to do their own thing without being tied down to the rigorous schedules that come with being “7”. So, why pressure them to do anything more as a group just to fulfill the selfish desires and needs of fans?)

Dating news ??? (this isn’t a big deal either and it’s none of our business but all it really takes is one member to open the floodgates of deranged hyperventilated tears; although it’d probably be in their best interests to continue to keep their personal lives private for that very obvious reason)

Grammys attendance (BTS has several nominations, but I doubt all 6 members will attend; j-hope’s Equal Sign was submitted for “Best Song for Social Change”; there’s been hints of a Pharrell collab involving RM; I doubt the Recording Academy will want to miss out on that BTS viewership clout so I expect at least one or two members to attend and maybe we’ll even get a performance from them)

Met Gala attendance !!!!!! (first comes FW....then comes....seriously, j-hope is just wow and this has to be said. I’ve seen the photos/videos from PFW and modeling/posing aside, not only does his entire aura change, but even his etiquette and mannerisms change depending on where he’s at and what he has on. It’s like the outfit and environment molds itself to him. It’s almost as if cameras were created for the sole purpose of capturing his presence. You know how Koreans have this thing of calling someone “Human [insert brand name here]” j-hope is like that but with every brand. As a longtime lover of fashion, it’s rare to see someone be able to digest every style so well. I can actually count on one hand the number of celebrities who are able to pull it off. He fits perfectly in everywhere he goes, and it’s no wonder why every show gave him the best seat in the house next to all their executives and other notable figures in the fashion industry. It’s amazing, not only do brands love him but so did all the photographers/journalists. He gives you something to write about just by simply existing. So it wouldn’t be a stretch to expect the star of this year’s Paris Fashion Week to finally make his Met Gala debut this May, right? Imagine j-hope attends, goes all out and does one of those behind the scenes ‘get ready with me’ videos with Vogue. Do you see the vision? He’s the only member who has a genuine passion for fashion, does his research, looks good in everything he wears, and isn’t just content with wearing whatever a stylist hands him. He’s also the only member who I’ve seen several designers go out of their way to praise. This year’s Met theme is super flexible too and I’m sure there’s lots of brands that would absolutely love to see j-hope ‘The MVP of Fashion Week’ dressed in their designs)

Hope On The Street Comeback (putting this out there just because there’s rumors that people saw him filming something dance related in Paris; what could it be? maybe for his YouTube channel? a MV? maybe LV ad campaigns or commercials of him dancing? one of the models danced at their recent show so i’m sure they’re open to incorporating more of that type of creative expression in their marketing; either way, if the rumors are true, then naturally we’ll find out soon enough because it’s j-hope)

Drama/Movie roles (lead, second lead, or guest appearances; I don’t think any of them will go this route until they’ve at least released a solo album because if they’re actually serious about their solo music careers, it’s much easier to take an established artist-turned-actor seriously, than it is to take an amateur actor-turned-artist seriously—especially in these fragile times of solo uncertainty for many)

Contract renewal announcement (their contracts expire in 2024?, but I don’t think all of them will renew with BigHit/Hybe; I doubt there’ll be any news on this until later this year at the earliest...although there may be leaks and speculation here and there; since solo activities are in full force—besides re-releasing BTS’s entire catalog as vinyls and repackaged special editions—I’m curious to know what other ways hybe plans to milk them during their hiatus in order to keep pumping that BTS money into their new groups and push a BTS successor. Gotta keep those investors happy, right? Hybe has always had a lot of internal issues with their staff and the way things are handled. Hybe has also spent the last two years promoting their plans to “reduce dependency on BTS”, and have been investing in any and every venture, to the point that their slogan “we believe in money” should be changed to “we believe in profit”. If you notice any positive deviations in the company’s usual behavior regarding how the members are being managed, then they’re likely trying to butter them up behind the scenes to get them to renew. I’m also curious about the current status of their contracts, and if any new conditions were added regarding their solo work; I feel like some may have already renewed but, again, I could be wrong; half the members have already sold a portion of their 1.2% in collective hybe shares; all it really takes is for one member to leave the company and I’m pretty sure at least half would follow suit; there’s power in solidarity)

That’s all that comes to mind for now. As for your second question (which member has been the most impressive in chapter 2) if it wasn’t already obvious, the answer is: j-hope. It’s only been 6 months, and between his solo debut, critically-acclaimed album, multiple iconic performances, being the star of Paris Fashion Week, documentary on the way. Who else is doing it like him? He’s been booked and busy since the group’s hiatus was announced, accomplishing all that in just 6 months. He set the bar high for himself and continues to raise it. 2022 was the year of HOPE and there’s no signs of him slowing down in 2023. He deserves all the recognition he’s getting because not only is he the most impressive, he’s also produced the most impressive results overall. Let’s put bias aside and face the facts because anyone who says otherwise is a l-i-a-r.

I’m sure the haters are gonna say “he only accomplished all those things because he was the first one to release his album”. Well, any of the other 6 could’ve released theirs first, yet here we are 6 months later where some of them still have nothing close to a finished album and are busy idling their time away. Any reason they give for not being in the studio working is an excuse. Not to mention j-hope was working on his solo debut and preparing solo performances while BTS was still active as a group, meanwhile others were what? Taking vacations? Partying? Playing video games? Not that there’s anything wrong with doing any of that. If you want to rest, then by all means rest, but don’t expect to be on the same level or have the same results as someone who consistently works hard like j-hope. Even with the group being inactive it was only j-hope showing up to every award show in the name of BTS (Jin enlisted, but what were the other 5 busy doing)? Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.

“Effort plays an important role in trying to stay where I am now. I will always try my best because efforts will never betray me.” — j-hope, 2018; “Efforts never betray you....All my efforts have never betrayed me....Looking back, the efforts I made didn’t betray me, in the end.” — j-hope, 2023

And “j-hope always has a plan”, so it’s only natural for him to never miss out on a golden opportunity to show the world who he is and what he’s capable of doing. It’s one thing to be talented, it’s another thing to have excellent work ethic, strong social skills, the confidence and charisma to pull off anything. Not to mention he’s always super genuine, humble and polite with everyone he meets—and we can’t forget that heart-shaped smile. These attributes go a long way and are invaluable especially when you work in industries as cutthroat as music or fashion where first impressions are always a make or break. That sort of discipline and awareness isn’t built overnight. I’ve seen some videos of j-hope’s PFW interactions (with executives, photographers, and just recently, his bodyguards) and it always makes me go: “wow I want to meet him, I want to talk to him, he seems like a really nice guy, he’s a natural model, he’s super good-looking, I can’t help but smile too”. So, imagine how all those people on the receiving end of his affections feel? Exactly. Hence why j-hope will continue to be invited into those exclusive spaces. His body language is always warm and inviting, he’s good at connecting with people from all walks of life. Even something as simple as a smile or wave is enough to make someone’s day and j-hope gets that. The more time passes, the more obvious it becomes that he’s the main reason BTS even lasted this long as a group. Other members don’t call him “갓이홉” (god j-hope) for nothing. **final side note: even the way j-hope reposted all those photos from local photographers on his IG story is so ¡wow! Lots of celebrities wouldn’t even bother. Not only is he giving them more exposure in such a competitive industry, he’s also letting them know how much he appreciates their work. And some of these photographers often run around FW for free in order to build up their portfolios. Now, you never know who could’ve watched his story, saw those photos he reposted, and offered them a job. It’s little things like that, that go a long way, because guess what? The next time he comes back to Paris the same photographers will be happy and ready to capture him on their cameras. In fact, notice how some of them posted even more photos of him after that repost? Exactly. j-hope should really teach a masterclass on networking and building connections; the first thing on the agenda? Making the best first impressions. The second thing? The subtle art of personal branding. Don’t try to give Bighit/Hybe any credit either because as we’ve seen from some lackluster solo activities and the incredibly botched debut solo album rollouts (especially j-hope’s and especially when compared to the debut of other groups under the same company), thus far, BH/H does not give enough fvcks about BTS as soloists to invest money into them individually. the same way they’re currently doing for their other groups; they might care for some members more than others so a sponsored opportunity or two may come in the realm of that possibility, but they definitely value “OT7” above all because that’s where they believe the money lies. Ultimately, how each member’s solo career will turn out relies heavily on their ambition, respective goals, personal initiative, the drive to want more and to be more in their own right. They may be at the top as a group, but as soloists they’re just getting started.

I wrote this post about a year ago, and it seems that Hoseok has finally given us an answer. He’s clearly in it for the long haul and plans to have a very long and very flourishing career in both music and fashion; chess, not checkers~

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radiation-run · 2 years ago

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I’ve seen a lot of posts about Eddie in 6x11 and I also wanna share my take on his absence 🥺

Eddie fought tooth and nail to keep Christopher. Hen called it a “nasty custody battle,” meaning Eddie used up all his time, energy, and resources on the case.

Without Carla (“red tape’s worst nightmare”) Eddie struggled through all the paperwork and “bureaucratic mess” and failed to get the government assistance he needed.

Without Bobby there to nurture a family environment, Eddie didn’t have any support system in place. Captain Righetti forbade Eddie from bringing Christopher to the station and both Chimney and Hen referred to him as “Diaz” showing that their relationship was strictly professional. (Cue Buck’s insistence on using nicknames!)

Financially, Eddie was, without a doubt, at a disadvantage. The salary of a firefighter is lower than that of a petroleum engineer, and the cost of living in LA is much higher than in El Paso.

Here’s what I think could’ve made the custody battle go from bad to worse:

One way we’ve seen Eddie make money is through underground fighting. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that he might’ve joined a fight club to earn money quickly and “blow off steam.” Following a similar storyline to 3x08 where Bobby finds out Eddie’s been fighting, Captain Righetti also finds out. But unlike Bobby who directs him to therapy, Righetti takes disciplinary action, possibly leading the court to believe he’s mentally unfit to parent Christopher.

Now to tie this into Buck’s coma dream:

Everything Buck experiences in his dream is something he has either imagined, envisioned, or experienced before. After waking up from his coma, Buck tells Bobby about his dream. Everyone was different except for Hen. His brother was alive and his parents showered him with love—things Buck has imagined/envisioned before. The others were things he has experienced—Chimney pre-Madney, Maddie’s marriage to Doug, and Bobby’s life during his relapse.

What we, and Buck, have never seen/experienced is Eddie’s life pre-Christopher. Ever since Buck learned in 2x02 that Eddie is a dad, it’s been Eddie AND Chris. A package deal. Eddie Begins 3x15 starts off with Christopher’s birth and really drives home the fact that Chris is Eddie’s life. The Eddie we all know began with Christopher.

Earlier in Buck’s dream, he asks Daniel if coma dreams are possible. Daniel’s response is that he doesn’t know—because Daniel is actually just Buck’s subconscious. Buck doesn’t know the answer, therefore Daniel doesn’t know either.

To me, Eddie’s complete absence in Buck’s dream is due to the fact that Buck cannot imagine Eddie without Christopher. He can’t even begin to fathom the thought of it, so it’s easier to just not think about it.

The first memory to physically manifest itself (Ferris wheel) was that of Buck protecting Christopher during the tsunami. At the back of his mind, he still thinks about Eddie and Chris relatively unprompted.

Buck seeing dream Christopher ask for help finding his dad was Buck’s subconscious trying to fix things. Same with Chimney inviting him to help convince Maddie to leave Doug. Buck really only stops to talk to his parents because that’s not something he can fix. He’s making peace with it now that he’s come to the realization that Bobby is his true parent.

So what happened to dream Eddie? My absolute downer of a take is that Eddie, after eventually having lost hope of ever getting Christopher back, suffered a breakdown like in 5b but this time, he was alone and without anyone to break the door down.

Thanks for reading! 🥺💖

repost since tumblr finally fixed my account 😭

#eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buck buckley #911 spoilers #911 fox #911 on fox #repost

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itztlislost · 1 year ago

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i quit my retail job

hey y'all, it has been months since I've been active. the last time i reposted something, tumblr immediately terminated my account. I was able to get it back after emailing customer service, which they apologized that it even happen because they don't even know why it happened. weird, but whatever.

anyways, I was inactive because my mental health was my priority. I cut of friends, stopped doing the things I liked and much more just to maintain a baseline of 'ok', which wasn't great considering my only interaction was people at my job of a cashier at a grocery store.

I ended up quitting when the workplace took a turn for the worst, both coworkers and management becoming toxic and I only had one work friend who kept their head on straight. I'm not going to say we never did anything wrong and that it was everyone else being assholes, that isnt true and I don't believe it was anyone but managements fault.

I'm not really sure what caused for this shift to happen, I was too focused on my own problems at the time before i eventually noticed. basically, everyone was in a bad mood, constantly. we all had problems with everyone and each other, we all wanted things and refused to compromise without complaints. The holiday season ended, hours were cut along with all this and management decided to play favorites. white employees got to keep their hours while the rest of us didn't even get the bare minimum of 20 hours, even if we were apart of the union. I know the managers have favorites, we all do, but they suddenly didn't care about being fair.

I was already fighting a losing battle with hr, all the while I was working 10 hour shifts three days into being of my 300ml Effexor and suffering the worst of my withdrawals at the customer service desk. I finally had a breakdown and meltdown, so bad I woke the next morning unable to speak or open my eyes because of the hours long of me screaming and sobbing the night before. do to how bad I was suffering, I called out sick and included all this information which i did not have to and shouldnt have. I genuinely care about my co workers and managers, I didnt want them to think I was faking being sick and I wanted them to know I had stuck it out for as long as I could all things considered. Instead of understanding, I got a huff in reply a dry 'are you sure? fine, ok'.

after that call I proceeded to spend the rest of the day and my days off screaming and crying while I waited for my doctor to fix whatever mistake set this off. that being said, it made me realize how little my work place cared. I built so many friendships with everyone at work that I tricked myself into thinking that this location and management could be any different than corporate or any other chain. Next day, I put in my two weeks and went to stay with my fiance while I got back on my meds.

I'm doing better now and figuring out a better path since I refuse to go back to working retail. the customers were actually the best part of the job imo, good and bad interactions alike. so yeah this was mainly a vent and also just a reminder to myself every time I come back here to remember how horrible that experience was. but hey, let it be a cautionary tale too i guess. Take your meds, call and make sure they get refilled a week or two before you're out bc trust me you may think they'll refill it fast but don't risk it. also retail sucks major doo doo, quit on the spot once you see any red flags. you're disposable to them, make them disposable to you.

#retail #customer service #toxic workplace #toxic work environment #mental health #mentalheathawareness #antidepressants #withdrawals

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leighzal · 9 months ago

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FAQ: PLEASE READ:

Rules on sending asks?

I am completely fine with any asks, but PLEASE DO NOT SEND NSFW. Please do not get me involved with any type of discourse or boosting/call-out posts. I am here to have fun, and draw and write. I want this blog to be a safe place for others as well.

Rules on tagging you in posts?

Omg please you are allowed to tag me in whatever, as long as it’s not rude. Memes, art, whatever I would love to see what you guys tag me in.

Am I allowed to draw artwork of your characters/story?

YESSS!! I would LOVE to see what you guys draw, it would literally mean the world to me. Just remember to tag me because I want to see it!!

Is it okay to write fanfic of your story?

Yes it’s okay, and again tag/credit me if you do!! But please no AU’s, and do not spoil the plot of the story, or try to write the stories lore. Please ask me if you have any questions regarding this i.e., if you are unsure if something is violating my guidelines.

Anything regarding asks:

If I do not respond to an ask, it is because I am busy. I will try my best to keep up with asks, but please be patient. Also note I am an introvert so sometimes I get nervous when it comes to responding to asks. I like to make sure my work is up to par, if you get my drift. Please do not spam the ask box, I will not respond to spam. If you continue to spam I will block.

Regarding NSFW topics I will cover that below ⬇️

What about DM’s?

I am fine with DM’s just note that I may not always respond. As mentioned previously, I am an introvert so it can be intimidating. I will not respond to hate btw, I will just block and ignore you. If you make countless blogs to spam me, I’ll just report you as spam.

Can I use your art as a profile pic?

Yes, as long as you credit me!

Content you are NOT okay with?

I am not okay with Racism, Transphobia, Homophobia, SA, harassment/discourse, p*dophillia, and Proshippers. I will block you if you send anything related to this, so do not interact with me.

Do you write or draw NSFW?

I do not write NSFW, I have thought about it but have not done so. Please do not ask me to write anything, If I were to write any type of that content it would be on my own time, most definitely under a different handle. Haven’t wrote any of that so I will not go further into it.

I have drawn NSFW content, but I will not post it to tumblr. You can find that on my other account on instagram (I am not going to tag it here because it’s a “private” account, but I did mention it before on my insta). If you do happen to find it your age MUST be present in your bio or I will block you, 18+ only. Secondly I do not take request for NSFW, that is something I like to make on my own time.

I may make slight NSFW content here but it won’t be anything explicit, more or less implied. Again I will NOT take asks based on NSFW content (of any kind).

Can I repost your Artwork?

You can REBLOG my work but I am fully against reposting my work. You can find my artwork here on tumblr, and my instagram, anywhere else is STOLEN. You are allowed to share my art on your story on instagram. Again no reposting though, only Reblogs and Story shares are allowed.

DO NOT share my art ANYWHERE, not TikTok, no Pinterest, no facebook, no YouTube! Even if you give credit I do NOT want it reposted. If someone states they were given permission, they are lying.

If you want to dub a comic I have made you MUST ask first!

All of this applies to my written stuff on AO3!

Final Notes:

I am human just like everyone else. Be patient and kind not only towards me but to each other. I, like others, will mess up from time to time again, but I will do my best to better. So if there is something that I have done wrong, please be respectful in letting me know, I will fix whatever was wrong. With this in mind please do not just say “you did this wrong” give me feedback on what I can do to fix it.

Tumblr is a place for you to curate your own experience. If you do not like the things I write or draw remember that the block button exists. This is not meant to sound rude, instead helpful. Tumblr is free for everyone so do what you need to do, to make your blog feel safe and secured. Blocking is not rude, use it whenever you need too, you are allowed to feel happy when on tumblr. So with that in mind do not tell me, or even others, what they should or shouldn’t draw. Just as tumblr is free to you, it’s free for me.

Again if you have any questions regarding this faq sheet, maybe something I have not added, please ask. I will clear up any confusion as best I can! :) With that I hope you all enjoy my content and have a wonderful time! :)

#faq #faq page #faq post #long post

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lettersfromcharlotte · 2 years ago

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Learning to get over myself

As I'm removing all of my social media accounts I wanted to create this blog in order for me to have some sort of digital outlet. It feels impossible not to. Recently I realized that I've spent my entire adult life (and most of my teenage years as well) on social media and it's honestly frightening to think that I can't imagine what my life is like without it.

I was sixteen when I created my first blog, and I did so to share my experiences with traveling abroad with my three best friends and my family back home. My old tumblr blog (where I only reposted things) lasted from May 2014 and on and off until 2019 when it finally went silent. It all feels like forever ago. Lately the words of T.S Elliot has been living in my mind:

Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. But to what purpose Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves I do not know.

I'm trying to remember the things that was important to me when I was younger, but it feels far fetched to do so. If the way we interpret any art from the past is affected by our thoughts and opinions of the present, is same true for our own thoughts and the way we view ourselves and the world? Ten years ago I was obsessing over my own identity, trying to figure out who I was. I still do that, but I'm slowly coming to terms with not identifying with a fixed image of myself. Charlotte the actress, Charlotte the writer, Charlotte the twenty-something. Charlotte the young woman. If I'm not those things, or if I strip all of that away, who am I then? Am I ok with just being a souI, or even going so far as to think I'm "just" a part of the universe? I want to adjust my thoughts from thinking that life happens to me, to thinking that life happens through me. Like we're all one living, breathing organizm, constantly responding to each other kinestheticly. I don't know. Maybe this sounds super pretentious. I probably shouldn't care if it does. All is vanity, or something like that. Like every therapist or mentor I've had lately has been telling me: Be curious about those feeling (like shame) when they show up. Easier said than done! I will try to use this project as a way for me to journal my thoughts, and perhaps use it as a creative mood board as well. I might go through my old reposts and see if I view them differently today. Or share some books or movies or any art that inspires me at the moment. I had so much inspiration when I was twenty, I think partly because of my tumblr blog, partly because i was twenty and my self image was so fixated on becoming something great. I have not yet deleted facebook, although that is my goal and it might happen sooner than later. I know the thought of it makes me happy. I feel this urge to buy an old address book and only stay in touch with the people I really want or need to stay in touch with.

Either way this is a new chapter and I'm looking forward to it. Being in my late twenties is strange. Almost being thirty feels uncanny. Twenty nine years on this planet, as they say. Twenty nine years and almost two months around the sun. I'm trying to come to terms with the whole life happening through me-thing. I'm getting older, but does it matter? Maybe it does, but when I try to think about this mantra I have, "Quiet the mind, open your heart", it makes me feel present in a way that feels selfless and not at all vain. Like I'm looking at life from an outside perspective. Not in a destructive or dissociative way, but like looking at the bigger picture, which feels like nothing at all. Feeling present is the only thing I'm really trying to get a hold on at the moment. It comes and goes in waves.

Take care, whoever you are reading this. Maybe it's just me. Love, Charlotte

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deadantmen · 6 years ago

Photo

Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps #29

“Hey, Jordan, you see me kabob that big S.O.B.?” “After I showed you where to target it? Yeah, I saw it.”

space background by me

#dcedit #greenlanternedit #hal jordan #guy gardner #guyhal #comicedit #reposting because tumblr finally fixed my account

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sunsents · 3 years ago

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Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred, don-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too - oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

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

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

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

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

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

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

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

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 years ago

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Chrome & Leather - Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC, Brother Bucky x OFC, Eventual Billy Russo x OFC

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Minor Character Death, Grief, Mourning, Brief mention of drinking and getting behind the wheel (DON”T DRINK & DRIVE)

Word Count: 4563

Chapter Summary: Steve watches the world come crashing down on the Barnes family. Billy’s plans are slowly falling into place.

A/N: This chapter will be in Steve’s POV mainly and one section of Billy’s POV. I did this so we can what each man is thinking before what happens in Chapter 10.

This is my first fic with an original female character, Jessie Barnes. Face claim for Jessie Barnes is model Jessy Hartel,

A/N 2: Please read the warnings. DNI if under 18 years old. I’ve been so nervous to release this chapter because it is now going to be more towards drama for a little bit.

BOLO meaning - Be on the look out

To read more of my work here is my Masterlist

Thank you to my beta readers @music-culture-mythology & @lipstickstainedred Any other grammar or spelling mistakes are my own.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

I’ll only be doing mini tag-lists for mutuals that interact with me. To stay up to date with my writing follow my side-blog and turn on the notifications for @saiyanprincessswanie-sideblog

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Steve had a spring in his step all day as he thought about finally being engaged to Jessie. The day seemed to fly by for him as he worked on cars and made conversations with customers about his engagement. Living in a small town he wasn’t surprised that people had already heard the good news. The question seemed to be the same: “when is the big day?” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle saying they haven’t set one yet. If it was his decision they would be married tomorrow so they could start building the future they had always talked about. With the land bought they would build the house of their dreams and start a family. The one thing Steve had longed for was a family to call his own and now he was one step closer to it.

It was rare for Jessie to work late like she said she was going to tonight, but he knew she needed to fix things with Becca. So Steve stayed down the street at the garage talking with Bucky, Thor, Tony, Clint, and John. As the guys were discussing an upcoming football game over the weekend his phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve pulled out the phone and smiled as he read the message.

Jessie: Hey babe, everything is done cleaning-wise. I’m waiting to talk to Becca. I’m a little nervous so wish me luck.

Steve knew she was going to be anxious so he quickly texted her back. He hoped that the sisters could finally work things out so they could move forward and fix their bond that was currently broken.

Steve: You got this sweetheart. Once you are done I’ll come to get you. Bucky, Thor, Tony, Clint, John, and I are hanging at the shop down the road. Message me when you’re done.

Jessie: I will, love you.

Steve: Love you too

Putting the phone back into his pocket Steve heard his friends making kissing noises. He rolled his eyes at the men. “Oh please, we all know you’re just as bad,” he said, pointing at Bucky. “I’ve heard the stories from you first-hand, jerk. We all know how Nat can be.”

Bucky looked shocked by his friend’s accusation as he put a hand to his chest. “Please I don’t look like a homesick puppy when my phone dings with a message like you do punk.”

“No, you look like a whipped boy trying to get to your phone before your lady brands your ass,” Tony loudly exclaimed, causing the men to burst into laughter.

“Says the man who jumps whenever Pepper calls. Let’s face it guys, we all have it bad for our women. Except for John here. The only relationship he has is with his right hand every night,” Clint joked as John flipped him off.

“But seriously guys, I want you to be on the receiving end of my red-haired vixen. That kitten has claws,” Bucky quipped back. The men continued to laugh and harass one another over who was more obsessed with their women. They were still laughing when suddenly a loud pop could be heard and the men went silent.

Steve looked at Bucky, both men thinking the same thing. “That sounded like a gunshot,” Steve said as all six men went outside the garage and stood on the sidewalk to listen.

After a moment John spoke, “Maybe someone was shooting off fireworks?”

Bucky held his hand up to silence him. “No, that was a gunshot. I wonder where it came from.” The guys stood there, listening to see if there was another one but there was nothing but silence. As they were about to head back inside the sound of sirens could be heard.

Steve stood listening, waiting as the sirens grew closer. Something wasn’t right and he could sense it. Within seconds the Sheriff’s car and two ambulances flew past them. He watched in horror as it approached the diner. “Please don’t stop there, please don’t stop there,” he said over and over in his head until his worst fear came to light as the vehicles pulled into the diner. Before Steve could think straight he was running down the road towards the diner. What could have happened? Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

The red and blue flashes were haunting, calling his name as he ran for his life. In the distance, he could see Billy and both ambulances approach the diner as more Sheriff’s department vehicles pulled up. Within minutes Steve was at the diner but was stopped by a deputy.

“Sir you can’t go in there,” the deputy said as he blocked Steve from passing.

His heart hammered in his chest as panic set in. “Please my fiancee is in there with her sister. What happened? Is she okay?”

“Sir, I need you to step back for me. Let the EMTs do their work. This is an active crime scene.”

“Steve!” Bucky yelled as he skidded to a stop beside him. “What happened? Are Jessie and Becca okay?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair frustrated as other deputies set up a barrier around the diner. “This guy just said it’s an active crime scene and there are EMTs so someone has to be hurt. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Thor, Tony, Clint, and John approached the scene in panic. Thor started asking the same questions as the deputies kept the men at bay. The men stood outside and waited until they heard a loud, anguished cry coming from inside. It was Jessie.

“Fuck this,” Steve growled out as he pushed past the deputies and ran into the diner. The scene before him made his heartbreak. Billy sat next to Jessie on the floor holding her close as the EMTs worked on a bloody Becca. He watched the EMT perform CPR on Becca as they quickly put her on a stretcher.

“Steve what’s going…” Bucky’s voice cut off as he took in everything as well. Bucky screamed his sister’s name as Steve grabbed his friend trying to hold him back as the EMTs made their way outside. Both men could hear Thor cry out for Becca as she was loaded into the ambulance and rushed to the hospital.

Steve pushed Bucky outside to get fresh air. “Buck, take Thor and head to the hospital with the guys. Have one of them call your mom. I’m going to see if Jessie is okay.”

Bucky looked between the ambulance driving away and the diner. “I need to see if Jessie is okay.” Bucky went to step around him but Steve put two steadying hands on Bucky’s shoulders.

“Please go with them. We will be right behind you as soon as I talk with Billy.” Steve's hands gently squeezed Bucky’s shoulder to reassure him. Bucky nodded his head and took off towards the garage to grab his bike. Steve had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. Whatever had transpired in that diner left Becca shot and who knows about Jessie. As he turned to head back in, Jessie was being escorted out by Billy. Jessie stared straight ahead with a haunted look on her face. Whoever did this to them was going to pay dearly.

Billy walked her to the other ambulance to be looked at for her injuries. The EMTs started to look her over as Steve approached Billy. The men stood side by side watching Jessie wince as they dabbed at a bloody place on her head.

“Did Jessie say who did this?” Steve asked.

Billy’s eyes never left her as he stood with his hands on his hips. “Brock.” His voice was laced with venom as he said the name.

“You have got to be shitting me. Did she say why?” Steve furiously inquired.

“No, I couldn’t get her to say anything else. She needs medical attention. Looks like he roughed her up before he shot Becca. I’m going to get my team in here to process the scene. As soon as we finish I will need to talk to her. If you can get anything out of her let me know. I put a BOLO out for Brock already with my deputies. If he is local we will find him.” Billy left Steve to head back into the diner. Steve’s heart broke as he watched her stare into oblivion as the EMT finished with what he could.

“Sir, we’re going to transport her to the hospital to be checked out. We want to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. Do you want to ride with us?” The EMT questioned.

“No, I’m going to grab my bike and head that way. I’ll be ten minutes behind you,” Steve answered as he walked over to Jessie. His hand softly grabbed hers but she still didn’t look at him. “I will be right behind you.” Steve brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She looked so lost and broken. There was no doubt if he could get his hands on Brock there would be hell to pay. The ambulance pulled away as he headed back to the garage. Quickly he locked the doors and jumped onto his bike, heading to the hospital to be with his family.

The hospital was a chaotic scene when Steve arrived. Winnie was sitting down next to Bucky and Nat as they spoke in hushed voices. Tony and Clint were trying to calm Thor down as he paced the waiting room. Steve took a breath and walked into the waiting room. Bucky saw his friend walk into the room and got up to talk to him.

“Any word from Billy about who did this?” Bucky asked as both anger and sadness filled his voice.

Steve ran a hand through his beard as Tony, Clint, and Thor approached them. Looking between his friends he let out a breath. “According to Billy, Jessie said Brock did this. She couldn’t answer any questions except for that.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Bucky angrily responded, as he kicked a chair over.

Thor’s hands clenched by his side. “He better hope nothing happens to my dearest Becca.”

“Any word on if he’s still in town?” Tony asked.

Steve shook his head. “No, but there’s an alert out for him.”

“The Sheriff is a good person. He’ll find Brock if he’s dumb enough to stay local.” Clint tried to reassure his friends.

Steve nodded in agreement. If there was one good thing in their corner it was their friend Billy. He knew how the other man felt about Jessie. If there was one thing they had in common, it was that they both wanted to keep her safe from harm. His eyes scanned the room and briefly fell on Winnie who was trying to keep herself together. He noticed John was missing from the bunch. “Did John not come?”

“He said he had to step outside for a few to take a phone call,” Tony answered. There was an awkward silence that fell upon the room as a doctor walked into the room.

“Barnes family, my name is Dr. Cho,” she stated as Winnie and Bucky approached her.

“Dr. Cho, how are my daughters? Is Becca still in surgery? How is Jessie?” Winnie frantically beseeched as she clutched Bucky's arm.

“Your daughter Jessie has a mild concussion from her injuries as well as contusions around her neck. Jessie is not opening up to any of my nurses but that is common from being physically assaulted. As for Rebecca, I’m sorry to say we lost her in surgery. She lost a lot of blood due to where the bullet entered her. We tried everything we could but we lost her. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Time seemed to stand still in this moment for Steve as he stopped hearing the doctor, stopped hearing anything. He watched as Winnie screamed out in anguish as she almost collapsed to the floor, knowing objectively that he should have heard it but he heard nothing. Bucky managed to catch his mother and they clung to each other as they stumbled over to the seating, sobbing over the loss of Becca. Thor ran over to the doctor and pleaded with her, asking if she had made a mistake. But when she tried to talk to him disbelief took over as he tried to head into the back where Becca would be. Clint and Tony grabbed him, pulling him back into the room as he collapsed to the ground, mourning for the loss of Becca, the love of his life. Jessie was mildly injured and Becca was dead. All at the hands of Brock who should have never been allowed near them.

Angered, there was a call for revenge deep in his bones, but that could wait for now. Steve approached Bucky and Winnie, kneeling next to them he wrapped his arms around his family. They would get through this together.

After Winnie and Bucky were allowed to see Becca’s body they headed up to Jessie’s room with Steve. Jessie was resting as Winnie, Bucky and Steve walked into her room. Winnie approached her daughter and kissed her head gently as the men slowly walked closer. Jessie seemed to stare into space, not acknowledging them. Winnie tried to comfort her daughter, encouraging her to open up to tell them what happened but Jessie would not respond. The trauma was overwhelming for Jessie and the doctor had told them to just give her time. So they sat with her in silence. Dr. Cho had said they were going to keep Jessie overnight for observation but would release her in the morning.

Bucky had talked his mother into letting him take her home so she could get some rest. Bucky turned to Steve as they were about to leave. “If anything changes with her during the night my cell will be on. I’m going to stay with mom.”

Steve hugged his friend tightly. “I will, I promise.” He watched as his best friend and his future mother-in-law left the room. Walking back to the chair next to the bed, he sat down as he watched Jessie drift in and out of sleep. The bruises around her throat were growing darker by the hour. Oh, what he would give to have ten minutes alone with that monster who dared to touch his future wife and sister-in-law. This was supposed to be a day of forgiveness between the two women but Brock ripped that away from them. This was also supposed to be a time of happiness as he just got engaged with Jessie. How can life be so cruel?

For now, he would stay by her side and protect her from any harm that dares to come her way. He would kill Brock before he let that man come near her again.

Sleep was something that didn’t come for Steve as he watched Jessie like a hawk. By the time he knew it, nurses were greeting him and letting him know the doctor would be in to check on her within the hour. Steve stood and stretched as he watched Jessie sleeping the little bit she could. The sound of a soft knock had him turning in the direction of the door. Billy was standing there and signaled for him to step into the hallway.

Once outside the door, Steve leaned against the wall. “Any news on his whereabouts?”

Billy ran a hand through his beard. “No new leads yet. I heard that Becca didn’t make it through the night. I’m sorry for the loss. How is Jessie doing?”

Wiping a hand across his face Steve sighed. “Jessie isn’t talking to anyone, not even me. She slept on and off all night. The doctor stated the bruises around her throat were from when Brock strangled her. They mainly wanted to keep her for the night for observation but we are expecting her to be released today.”

“That’s good news. She will do better in her own home. Has anyone told her that Becca didn’t make it?” Billy inquired, but when Steve shook his head no he couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak she would feel all over again.

“Once Bucky and Winnie get here we’re going to give her the news.” Steve sighed as he thought about how the news was going to tear her apart. “If you get any information about Brock let me know.”

Billy shook his head. “I assure you once we get him you will be the first to know.”

Steve clenched his jaw in frustration. “I wish I could get my hands on him for ten minutes for what he did to Jessie and Becca.”

“Trust me you aren’t the only one,” Billy smirked at the thought. “I will stop by later to get her statement.” He shook Steve’s hand and turned to leave.

Steve headed back into the room and waited beside Jessie until they could go home.

Billy’s phone started to ring as he walked out of the hospital. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was John Walker. With a heavy sigh, he picked up. “Now is not a good time.”

“We have a problem boss.” John was out of breath and panicking.

He climbed into his vehicle and tried to compose himself. “What is the problem?”

“Brock showed up at Rogers’s property while I was making the last drop off at 5 am. He ambushed me in the dark, said that he wants his money now and that he was taking everything here as a down payment. Then he knocked me out. I just came to and everything we placed here is gone!”

Billy clenched his teeth as he began to see red. “Fuck! That backstabbing bastard. He knew I was going to get Rogers on federal charges for running a chop shop.” None of this was supposed to happen. Brock was just supposed to rob the diner and leave the women shaken. He had explicitly told Brock not to harm the women in any way, especially his woman. Billy’s neck jerked as he thought of Brock touching Jessie. No one touches what belongs to him and lives to tell about it. “I will handle this since your incompetence is getting on my last nerve.” Billy hung up the phone as he tried to think of his next move. Grabbing the steering wheel tightly he imagined how he was going to handle Brock. He should have known that imbecile wouldn’t follow simple directions.

Composing himself Billy started forming a plan. There was more than one way to get rid of Brock, Steve, and Bucky. A sinister smile formed on his face as he pulled away from the curb. Jessie would be his soon enough.

Bucky and Winnie had come by the hospital half an hour later. Steve then broke the news to Jessie that Becca did not survive her injuries. His heart shattered watching her cry in anguish over the loss of her sister. Winnie sat on the hospital bed cradling Jessie as both mother and daughter grieved. Bucky and Steve shed tears at the sight in front of them as they mourned together as a family. Jessie kept repeating that she was responsible for her sister’s death. They tried to reassure her but it fell on deaf ears.

An hour later Jessie was discharged from the hospital and the four of them headed to Steve and Jessie’s home. Steve knew the grief of losing a family member as he lost both parents, but he couldn’t imagine what Winnie felt as she had just lost a child. If Steve could get his hands on Brock he would make sure he would pay for hurting his family.

The day felt like it passed in slow motion. Thor was the first to show up to be with everyone to grieve. Thor who was once the positive force in a room during gatherings was now knelt next to Winnie crying with her. Steve watched the display from the kitchen, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose the love of his life. The club would have to keep an eye on Thor in the coming days and weeks.

It wasn’t until late afternoon when Billy showed up to speak with Jessie. As much as everyone insisted on giving Jessie time Billy said it was important for the case. Jessie finally spoke coherent words since the incident. “I want to do this,” she whispered.

Billy sat in a chair next to her as Steve and the others sat down in the other seats in the living room. Billy reached over to take Jessie’s hand and lightly squeezed it in reassurance. “Tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Jessie took a hesitant breath and told them everything. “Becca and I had finally worked our differences out before Brock showed up. He came in demanding money and holding us at gunpoint and when I sassed Brock he hit me. I was mad that he was there and all I could think of was how to get Becca out of there. He had me at gunpoint the entire time he dragged me to the office while Becca got the money from our charity event we held earlier in the week. When Becca headed back to the dining room I decided to try and fight him. I got a few hits in until he let me go. I told Becca to run as I made it to the dining room. But as I made it past the counters he tackled me. Brock did say something unusual.”

“What did he say?” Billy inquired.

“Brock said I don’t care what ‘he’ says. Now that I think of it Brock mentioned it twice. Something about how I was off-limits to Brock. Though once Brock was on top of me choking me he mentioned that he was going to kill me. Becca tried to help but he hit her. I thought I was going to die until I saw his gun on the ground. So I reached for it. I figured if I could get to it maybe I could save us from him. By the time I got the gun, Brock had noticed what I was doing and we started struggling over it. Becca was trying to pull him off me. I-I remember closing my eyes and praying I could get the upper hand but… the gun went off. I killed her.”

The room fell silent. Billy moved closer to Jessie as tears fell from her eyes. “Jessie, you didn’t kill your sister.” His hand held hers as he tried to reassure her.

Steve watched as Jessie shook her head, then opened her eyes. She looked around the room and watched as Winnie cried into her hands while Bucky rubbed his mother’s back. Briefly, she looked at him and then at Billy. What he would give right now just to hold her and let her know this wasn’t her fault.

“It was my fault. If I never reached for the gun Becca would be alive…” Jessie softly insists but is interrupted by the Sheriff.

“Jessie, I’m here to tell you that Brock was out for blood that night. If you never tried to fight back we could have also lost you as well.” Billy insisted as Jessie started to cry from his words. “I promise you I will get Brock and there will be justice.” He stood from his seat and walked out of the room as Winnie went to comfort her daughter. Bucky and Steve followed Billy outside the house.

The three men stared at one another before Bucky spoke. “Are you sure you will be able to find him?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he got far at all. We’ll be searching for Brock at all the places he’s known to frequent.”

“What can we do to help?” Steve questioned.

Billy looked between both men. “I don’t think it’s wise that you two get involved.”

“I was involved from the moment he hurt my sisters.” Bucky angrily accentuated as he stood with his arms crossed.

Knowing they would want to be involved Billy inwardly smiled. This could play in his favor. “If I hear something I’ll let you know.” The men shook hands and went back inside the house as Billy left.

Billy pulled his burner phone out and he texted Brock. “We need to meet soon as the whole county is looking for you. Can you meet me at Rogers’ property at midnight in a couple of days?”

Brock: “That’s fine but I want double the amount we agreed on or I spill that you tried to set up Rogers and Barnes on federal charges for running a chop shop on top of robbing the diner.”

Billy’s jaw clenched in anger as he texted Brock back. “Done.” Oh, he was going to make him pay dearly for crossing him. No one crosses jigsaw and lives to see another day.

The days seemed to pass by slowly for the grieving family and friends. Steve had set up the spare bedrooms for Winnie and Bucky. It was easier to keep the family together during their time of mourning. Clint had called Thor’s brother Loki to come to town to take care of his brother since Thor was pushing everyone away. Thankfully Loki was able to arrive the next day and weaseled his way into his brother’s house.

Family was so important to lean on, especially as they needed to start talking about funeral plans. Becca’s body was released to the funeral home after an autopsy was performed on her. Bucky and Steve were working hard to take care of both Jessie and Winnie.

The diner was still closed due to it being a crime scene and wouldn’t be able to open until the investigation was over. Bucky and Steve decided to have the garage closed until they at least got past the funeral.

It wasn’t until several days later that John dropped by the house to talk to Bucky and Steve. John informed the men that he spotted Brock at a rundown house at the edge of town. John was going to tell the Sheriff but figured both men would want to visit Brock before the authorities. They had thanked him and once John left Steve and Bucky talked over a several beers about what they wanted to do to Brock.

Steve walked over to Jessie and kissed her gently. “Bucky and I have to run an errand real quick. Clint will be here for you and your mom while we’re out. I love you, Jessie.”

Jessie’s blue eyes locked with his. “I love you too.”

Both men left the house and made their way to Jessie’s truck. The bikes would be too loud if they were going to sneak up on Brock. Once they get their hands on Brock he’s going to wish that Jessie would have shot him dead. Steve would make sure he felt the same pain that Jessie did when Brock hurt her. Bucky was also unhinged, he wanted to make the man pay for hurting his family. Revenge was at the forefront of their minds as Steve started the truck and headed towards the house that John told them about. No one would hurt their family and get away with it.

Chapter 10

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#saiyanprincessswanie #chrome & leather #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers #brock rumlow #billy russo #bucky barnes #biker au #biker steve rogers #biker!steve rogers #marvel au #mcu au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic

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matchamorphosis · 4 years ago

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𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐙 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

・゜ʚɞ ゜・ 𝑎.𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ʚɞ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 ・゜ʚɞ ゜・

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you’ve been testing ari’s patience and it’s up to him to put you straight— even if it’s going to be your first real punishment.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut with plot

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || daddy!ari levinson × little![black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.7K — oof i’m sorry

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, ddlg lifestyle and dynamics, daddy kink, extremely bratty reader, big mean daddy!ari, punishment, cursing, spankings, pussy slapping, some steamy scenes, spilt apple juice, a ruined Care Bear’s coloring page, use of nickname: muffin//muffin cake — MINORS DNI || 18+ INTERACTION ONLY —

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || my head was spiraling out of control and I felt bratty + missed my daddy!ari nonnie so I wrote this :): planning on making much more ddlg scenarios like these because they always seem like such a hit and i have so much fun writing them! anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy this! ♡

↬ p.s || do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

it all started with a simple question.

the simplest of simple questions you know the right answer to. neverminded the fact that the supreme authority in the house, Ari Levinson, would still call you a big dumb baby if you’d answer correctly.

today was not the best day for you to endure one of your aggressively bratty tantrums he says you’re to old to commit — just as well as it wasn’t the best day for you to exclaim your snappy clever remarks he insisted you’re to little to speak of and understand.

you’re either his big girl or his little girl and no in-between’s.

today ignited something in you, lit a measly match that trailed a kerosene path he didn’t dare think fast enough to put out critically. Ari was too slow to realize the build up and now he’s facing the burning fire that’s practically charring the good nature that was usually your morally-correct actions and behavior.

today you just didn’t feel like being good.

simple as that.

however no matter what you did you wouldn’t win, not on daddy’s watch.

glossy black Mary Janes kick the air in a fiery frenzy, folded arms shielding your face as you sob into the pink fluffy play rug. it’s laying underneath your arts and crafts table and of course your thrashing petite body that’s spiraling in the tantrum.

muffled curses and melodramatic wails fill the pink playroom and the cause of this brat fit was the man at the opposite end of the table. no more than a foot away from you, thick muscled arms crossed over his navy blue polo chest. tapping his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for your tantrum to end he holds the plastic package of goldfish grahams he took from you.

it wasn’t a good decision to ease your previous brattiness with the brownie baked cookies. of course he couldn’t help but give into your sweet tooth if that meant for you to calm down. although Ari didn’t expect you to finish all the sugary goldfish in your snack bowl in the ten minutes you were out of supervision.

additionally, he didn’t see it coming at all when he left you at that to sip from your juice box and snack on the chocolate goldfish while you colored perfectly in between the bolded lines. all so he could finish some paperwork but not until finding you ten minutes after with the whole package at the account of checking in on you.

the sight of your hand in the bag greedily grabbing the graham goldfishes and shoving them into your mouth was a damn sight to see. even when he secretly hid it in the highest and secret, kept out of eyesight corner of the pantry closet— you somehow retrieved it and smuggled it back in your playroom.

the confiscated, nearly-empty package is now in his fisted grasp. Ari cannot believe the shade of anger and disappointment breaking unknown levels of his calming limits.

words cannot describe the irritation inflaming his mind, you’re suppose to be his good little girl.

his precious little starlet who behaved and acted accordingly but instead he has a brat screaming ass up and face down into the play rug. crying her bug head off because he took your spoiling sugary snack from you that he shouldn’t have given in the first place.

rolling his eyes at the scene in front of him, his blue hues lock on your baby lotion thighs that your tiny purple argyll mini skirt reveals. cotton thigh highs adorned with purple bows at the frilly cuffs that match the small silk ones braided into your hair he helped design, capture his eye.

ever since this morning your attitude has been off and not only did it confuse Ari but it confused you to at first. until you slowly grew into liking the devious part that was hidden inside you for so long that maliciously appeared when you woke up on the naughty side of the bed.

from Ari getting you out of bed, giving you your routine bath, arranging your outfit and getting your hair ready. as well as eating breakfast, you pouted and grumbled the whole time but Ari was still so soft and patient with you. it made your heart gooey but you were craving his mean side.

so after you two got ready and started your separate chores and hobbies for the day, you were slowly working your way to anticipating Ari get mean with you. just like your magic always worked wonders, he did get mean. scolded at you when you were in the middle of reading your book, raising his voice just a slight at you that you did all your chores wrong and haven’t even completed some.

it was scary just for minute that he even had a hint of anger in his voice but damn did you enjoy the wetness in your panties at the same time when he ordered you to do them fully and correctly. until finally what he believed would be the end to your brattiness, nap time arrived.

thankful for it as he started lunch, thinking that when you’d wake up he would recognize his well mannered princess but what he didn’t expect would happen afterwards as he woke you up that you were more crankier than before.

the two of you had your lunch of toasty grilled cheese, thick tomato soup and chicken salad. you were still moody and cranky when you sat down in your pastel chair with the wooden pink painted words of princess displayed on the crest rail.

of course he looked at you as if a mountain troll was stealing his princesses throne because he didn’t recognize the pout pulling at your full glossy lips. the scrunched brows making a dramatic impression that married well with your anger inflicted face that spoiled your pretty facial features.

as much as your daddy thought you looked adorable being cranky, every little thing seemed to tick you off. you had a problem with everything that could either easily be fixed or was out of your hands.

the grilled cheese wasn’t cut in the shapes that you wanted, he placed the cheesy slices in your wrong disney princess plate, you didn’t want to eat your greeny nasty salad, you wanted another cup of sprite. which you were neglected of because ari had a limit set for you from not drinking anything more than the amount your tiny hello kitty cup provided.

and most importantly you wanted to have Lulubelle, your tangerine teddy bear, to eat at the table.

of course he fixed his first two mistakes but you knew better than to argue against and ask for anything that went against the rules. instead of putting you to a corner, he set up another option.

encouraged you to eat your greens to set a good example for your stuffies. replaced the second cup of sprite you wanted with a juice box of your choice and placed Lulubelle on one of the living room couches telling you she will wait for you to finish eating and washing your hands.

but even with those resolutions there were major bumps and outbursts.

you played with your food by smacking your spoon against the soups surface which caused little splatters of red dots across the glossy cherry oak table and grumbled under your breath as you picked off the crust of the grilled sandwich.

flicking it with the swiftness of your two inch acrylics, the pieces landing in Ari’s soup or hair.

it was as if you were set on getting on his nerves because damn right you were.

rolled your eyes and silently mimicked his mouth when he ordered you to stop. deviously giggled when the funny vein on his forehead that only bulged out when he was really mad at you was potentially going to pop out.

a smirk playing your lips when the corner of your eye caught every clench of his fist when you would hit the table leg obnoxiously as you slurped your soup. misbehaved yet did what he ordered you to when you believed his attention was back on his own food.

it was a very long lunch and as much as he thought he was going to snap at you and put you in your time out chair that was rarely used because you never ever acted like this, he left you to wash up as he cleaned up after lunch.

you would normally help him with cleaning the table or giving him any dirty dishes for him to clean when he was busy at the faucet. but he allowed you to run off into the living room and play with your stuffed bear in whatever todays make belief adventure the two of you were on.

cleaning up was easy since he only had to clean the bowls, plates and utensils the two of you ate with but it wasn’t until he started to clean the table did he notice all the soup drops against the cleaning plastic as well as the chunky pieces of lettuce, tomato, and bread crusts under the table around your chair.

Ari was close to exploding, because he taught you better then to throw food and waste it but he gave himself a breath, counted to ten and made sure to make a mental note tonight. after your special cartoon marathon, he’d have a very important talk to you about food waste and how wrong it was.

so after cleaning up and warning the two of you were going to have a talk tonight, he settled you in your playroom since it was a room away from his office. Ari never felt comfortable or secure with leaving you all alone downstairs without someone watching over you.

adjusting and nestling the baby monitor on one of your teddy bears heart strap, he placed the stuffed bear near your arts and crafts table. even if you were glaring at him for doing so, you weren’t a baby. although as usual, your daddy shushed at you and placed a kiss at your temple that made you silent as you pulled out your coloring books from your big wooden weaved basket with a grumble.

Ari knew you despised the baby monitor but he made it a priority to place it near you at all times when he wasn’t near. even if the meeting was only going to be around fifteen minutes, your daddy wasn’t going to narrow down the possibilities of something going wrong.

after settling your desired snacks when you remind him that it’s snack time, Ari settled your juice box that he already pierced the straw through the tin foiled hole and your brownie goldfish in your hello kitty snack bowl halfway. checked his watch knowing he had to attend the virtual meeting in less than a few minutes.

kneeling down at your level as you munched on the fish shaped cookies and colored in a fluffy cloud a Care Bear was sleeping on. pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your temple, “Daddy is going to be working in his office princess. can you behave like a good girl until daddy’s done with his meeting?”

the smile that was on your face disappeared, you didn’t want daddy to go and leave you alone!

I mean what was more important than sitting and watching you color? have you feed him the chocolatey goldfish and draw pretty sparkly hearts and shooting stars for him?

“Daddy I don’t want you to go! can the work wait?” you whine but Ari shook his head with a sigh, standing up to your dismay. peering down at you as you glare up at him.

“no the work can’t wait, muffin. it’ll only be twenty minutes and after Daddy does the work he’ll be back here. helping you color a page from your coloring book, how does that sound?” the soft lowness of his voice didn’t leave room for you to bite back an aggression but only nod.

“yes Daddy I would really like that.” Ari smiled to himself at that, thinking that your brattiness has finally come to an end as he left your room.

oh how wrong he was when he arrived back once the meeting was over.

Ari literally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar and you didn’t even look ashamed at all. not stuttering trying to explain your faultless contribution to this crime-like action.

to add onto the shock, when he snatched the bag just full of five goldfishes and crumbs did you start to cry and spiral into you tantrum even when he said nothing yet.

now we are here five minutes later.

with Ari looking down at your still continuing tantrum but noticing it’s lessening with your kicks and whines.

the only thing he feels is disappointment.

not only were you ruining your chances of watching the annual cartoon marathon the cable TV’s going to premiere later on tonight— that he allowed you to stay up to after relentless begs and your good behavior from previous weeks before — but you completely spoiled your appetite for dinner.

your favorite meal he made specially to go along with the cartoon marathon but now watching your tantrum become even more relentless Ari is confirming that you most definitely will not participate in it. maybe even cut your day short once you complete your night routine after dinner and make you head straight to bed.

“are you done being a brat now?” Ari, you’re soft daddy bear snapped viciously.

however you’re still letting out whines and sniffs as you reveal your red teary eyes from the carpet. the sight of them makes him want to drop the bag, kneel down and scoop you in his arms. kiss your face and tell you he’s sorry that he took the cookies away from you, but he can’t.

Ari cannot let this tantrum slide and give you what you want no matter how much it hurts his heart he isn’t trying to calm you down himself in the security and warmth of his arms around his little one.

he needs to put his foot down.

and it serves him right, because once latching your eyes on your mean Daddy’s austere blues you grab your white tiger stuffie nearby. covering your tear stricken face within the faux white fur with a gritted and bratty hmph!

it was infuriating how your Daddy had to take all the things you wanted away from you. obviously you didn’t have a say in anything cause you were suppose to be his good girl but why continue to act good now when you know you’re Daddy is going to ruin the only thing that you’ve been anticipated since the beginning of December?

today approximately around eight o’clock on the dot the big people channel you were forbidden to watch from was going to premiere all your favorite holiday cartoons. The Powerpuff Girls, Scooby Doo, Charlie Brown, Looney Tunes, and the various vintage episodes of nostalgic Mickey Mouse.

if all went wrong as you went down with your ship you could watch some of the holiday issued tapes of Strawberry Shortcake and Winnie the Pooh on your vcr but it wasn’t as often you would have access to the other cartoon specials you enjoyed premiering their limited episodes at the touch of a remote and Ari knows this!

your big mean Daddy knows how much you’ve been looking forward to it but he’s probably going to instead send you off to your secluded bed in the separate room he sends you to when he was to furious to have you sleep with him in your shared big king bed after dinner.

belly full of your favorite food that’s going to stir badly in your stomach as you shift under your warm covers restless because it wouldn’t be your goddamn bedtime. only having the single company of your golden fairy nighty nightlight and the only stuffie he’d allow you to cuddle for the night.

it makes you want to explode because you know how this is going to end but you’re head is to tired to even say anything in retaliation or beg him not to reconsider.

but maybe… if you think up something quick to throw him off it’ll buy you enough time to behave and show him you could be good.

even though you screamed all the naughty no-no words Ari would have you over his lap in a second if you even thought of them. throat sore and red eyes stinging from crying so damn much and rubbing your closed eyelid fiercely against the play rug and stuffie.

a plan is concocting in your mind, nothing devious but it will have its dose of your witty pettiness and unholy brattiness.

daddy won’t suspect a thing, you thought as you stopped your sniffs and cries.

wiped your tears with the cashmere sleeve of your cropped lavender cardigan as you got up from your sprawled position. patted your argyle patterned skirt down to smooth out any wrinkles and got back to work on the arts and crafts table.

and your plan is beginning to work because it does take Ari by surprise when you get up from your pathetic little position. the purple argyle skirt now fully covering your bum, he knows you’re ignoring his stern stare when you scoot your knees back to the small crafts table.

continuing to color from your coloring book as if nothing happened.

Ari scoffs to himself, what kind of mind game were you playing on him?

“what do you think you’re doing muffin?” Ari spoke and for once you stare back at him. eyes slightly red as evidence of your crying, they’re calm now as they meet his.

“nothing Daddy, i’m just coloring,” you spoke, the crayon in your hand shading in a midnight sky. Ari continues to stare down until he takes the crayon from you— but what he doesn’t expect is that when he snatches the crayon from you he accidently knocked over your apple juice box.

the mellow yellowish liquid spills onto your crayon box, containing the limited edition colors you prized. soaking your beloved coloring tools with the sticky juice; it made your bottom lip tremble as you quickly grab the slightly soggy box. you let out a whine as you feel tears spring in your eyes.

the unintentional incident and your heartbroken state almost has Ari yet again stumbling to fix what wasn’t really his fault. leaving the room to get paper towels and a cleaning spray.

coming to terms with this, you’re surprised to find the casualty of your crayons diverting the attention away from you and onto something else.

maybe if you kept this up, eight o’clock would come and he’d have nothing else to do then allow you to have your cartoon marathon.

you thought as you tapped a single finger to your peachy cheek in thought.

all you had to do was put him in situations that would conflict him into think it was initially his fault therefore guilting him into giving you what you wanted!

then you’d be set on the living room rug with a plate of your favorite food on your lap. a stuffie at your hip and looking up at the tv as the credits for the first cartoon of the night rolled in.

quickly finding some Lysol wipes and tissues in the playroom you clean up the mess and the cardboard crayon box as Ari’s loud footsteps come closer and closer.

swiftly disposing them in the craft trash basket and settled in your cushion seat before he arrived in the doorway with his arms full of cleaning supplies. when Ari stepped back into the room he was surprised to find you already cleaned up the mess and properly sitting as you continued coloring.

twirling a braided lock of purple silk bowed hair around your finger. figuratively showing how much you were controlling those dominant Daddy instincts of his he wasn’t going to have you get your way.

you still need to come to terms of all the wrongs you committed today and if all goes well he’d decide if you could attend to that cartoon marathon. “muffin?” Ari spoke and on que your head lifts up, your pearly white smile so tender and innocent as if you weren’t messing with mind to get whatever you wanted.

meaning excuse all the trouble you got yourself into.

“yes Daddy?” voice soft and perky as you settle the crayon on the table, he catches you sitting up straighter. elbows resting on the table and arms pressing close to your chest to pronounce your plump cleavage the top three un-buttoned piece of your cardigan displayed.

the delicious sight has him licking his lips, wanting to throw you over his shoulder with the loud and rough slaps to your ass and take you to your room. throwing you on the bed and rip every little piece of clothing off of you.

—but that’s what you want him to do, you want to have him distracted from the task at hand. especially when the task is putting you in your place and marginalizing your chances of watching the night special of holiday cartoons.

“what do brats get?” that question has you dropping your eyes from his to stare blankly at the coloring book and lined arrange of crayons in front of you.

did you want to answer him correctly or did you not want to answer at all?

the options where bouncing in your head but you didn’t realize Ari’s still waiting for you to answer when you ignored the question. picking up a crayon and colored in a Care Bear as if he didn’t ask you anything at all.

“muffin are you listening to me?” Ari sighs, tone no longer the softness as a few minutes ago and no longer bearing the same patience as before.

it doesn’t match your inattentive focus, you’re still coloring and teasing him. the sleeve of the tight periwinkle cardigan slipping off your shoulder, showing more of your rich skin that Ari wants to kiss and mark with his lips.

shaking his head out of it, telling himself that he was the adult and you were the brat and he was going to— no matter how much you were going to cry — discipline you into obedience and get his well behaved muffin back.

“i’m going to count to three and if-” he’s cut off when you roll your eyes on him, catching his voice in his mouth like a frog in his throat. Ari’s conflicted entirely and pissed entirely because you’ve never rolled your eyes at him, ever.

so as you persisted to ignore Ari, scribbling one of your multi colored crayons, you have a pink one in your hand. shading in a heart and an idea shines like a lightbulb above his head.

without any warning his large hands snatch the coloring book from under your grasp. the pale purple crayon in your small hand that was once shading in Share Bears fur runs along the whole paper. the sudden climax of running colored wax against moving paper, shocking you to a gasp.

an offended wail excludes from your mouth but Ari is too pissed to feel sympathetic. getting up he holds the coloring book he bought for you during the weekend above his head. somewhat enjoying and taking pleasure as you stand up on your tippy toes and jump to retrieve it with fail.

indeed taking pleasure as he stares down at your full tits bouncing in your comfortable tube top that’s underneath the cardigan. loving your cries and whines as you beg him to give your coloring book back.

eyeing your tiny delicious figure that's far too small to reach the skyscraper height that holds your beloved Care Bears coloring book. it made Ari’s heart melt when you hugged and pressed your kisses all over his bearded face when he gifted you it some day ago but he never thought he’d enjoy taking it away from you.

right now he has to put you in your place and ignore the tightness in his pants to deal with later. “Daddy you ruined my drawing!” your sobs and whimpers proclaim, continuing to jump as your cries became louder and tears become more present.

“you didn’t answer Daddy’s question little one,” he hissed and with that your cries come to an end to just reveal a glare then a smirk.

quitting your attempts of retrieving the coloring book you turn around and walk away. a slight hypnotic flow of your hips and curves making Ari’s eyes train to the plump assets.

“what was the question again?” you sighed tiredly, encouraging the deadly glare your Daddy has on you.

a yawn overcoming you as you hovered your hand over your mouth that makes Ari scoff. glossy lips still bearing cookie crumbs at the corners you stretched, you lick them off and you bite your lip at him.

mocking him in your divine rebelliousness.

letting out little high pitched noises as you arched your back with your hands twined together above your head. again, to emphasize your cleavage, “would it just go in one ear and out the other or would you actually listen and answer like a good girl?” Ari seethed.

you stand there and register it and of course you were heading off the direction you want but maybe you can turn the tables on him. “i’ll be a good girl Daddy, I promise i’ll listen,” voice soft and assured.

Ari cocks his head to the side at that promise, quirking a brow but not breaking the stare he has on his precious angel that’s playing the devil. he’ll put that promise to the test, walking around the small yet wide arts and crafts table he finally stands in front of you.

making you heart thump louder and louder with each step he takes.

crouching down on his knees to face you at your eye level, Ari sees the devilish twinkle in your starlight eyes. waiting for him to ask the question he knows you can answer correctly.

“what do brats get?”

his stern and mean face that always makes you stutter on your own words and trip over your own feet clashes with yours.

of course you can answer correctly, you can but you can’t believe how fun and thrilling it is with not just your growing ego but the wetness growing in between your legs. soaking your lace panties when your hands lift up to trace his bulging biceps through the short sleeved polo.

“treats?”

you whisper, before your hand goes to grasp the bulge of his trousers that he lets out a pleasured hiss. before you can smirk he’s slapping your hand off his trouser covered cock.

and in a blitz of a second you’re squeaking out a squeal as Ari grabs you by your arm. dragging you to the rocking chair resting near your bookshelves of thick hardcover storybooks and sits in the cushion seat before throwing you over his lap.

whines and cries getting louder when Ari lifts up the tiny argyle skirt to reveal your ass. tummy squirming against his lap he pulls gently at your hair to lift it up.

“keep squirming and i’ll add another five to the twenty you already have,” he hisses but you still can’t believe everything has lead to this.

Daddy never gave you spankings.

never gave you physical punishments before but as much as you were despising the situation you can’t believe how your slicked core is getting wetter with each second that’s passing. with your Daddy’s large hands caressing your ass cheeks and those thick fingertips teasing your pussy’s slit.

“you’re going to count each spank I give you and after each spank I want you to thank me. no whines, no crying just ‘thank you Daddy’. do you understand me?”

Ari’s deep low voice above you rumbling your core like thunder on a dark stormy night. only leaving you to whimper in fear as you nod but were caught off guard when he landed a loud swift slap! to your ass. causing you to gasp in pain.

“yes!” you cried but squirmed when he chuckled down at you. leaving you wandering what you did wrong before he landed another spank to the same cheek. causing you to cry out and feeling the honey of your pussy drench your inner thighs.

“what was that? did you even listen to your Daddy?” he hissed as another rough spank crashed onto your ass, “what do you fuckin say?” he practically roared, leaving more tears to drop down the landscape of your dewy face.

“one! thank you daddy!” you wail pathetically, tears soaking your cheeks, you knew your Daddy is doing what was best for you but you couldn’t help but want to squirm away from his grasp.

catching you doing so he grips your neck in his grasp. “don’t you fuckin run from me now muffin, you acted like a brat so i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat. we have one down and nineteen to go, don’t disappoint me,” Ari seethed before grasping your panties and pulling them off you.

by pulling off he ripped them at the area that covered your ass, marveling at the wetness of not just the panties but your pussy as well. “my muffin got worked up misbehaving? you get your dumb cunt wet when you disrespect Daddy’s authority?” he murmurs.

stuttering and attempting to answer the words become inaudible once your lips part at the calloused hands of Ari’s. soaked panties in his hold, he shoves them into your mouth. making you taste your own sweetness as he licks his own fingers from your honey and moans at the tangy palette.

“I thought we established no talking, you really are just a stupid little girl,” as much as his words sprung tears in your eyes you couldn’t help but feel your core burn. clenching your thighs together as result he darkly chuckles at the pathetic action.

his hands grip your thighs to forcibly split them apart, “oh muffin cake don’t distract Daddy now,” he darkly chuckles and before you now it a loud and swift slap hits your wet pussy. making you cry out in pain that’s slowly growing into pleasure.

“you’ve done enough of that for today. right now Daddy’s gonna have to punish you,” his hand that’s still at your cunt rubs it.

the slick of your wetness sounding off creating an erotic echo in the room and just like that he’s slapping your small wet pussy with his rough hand again.

“and no matter how much you cry or squirm or beg me to stop I want you to handle it like the big girl I know you can be. do you understand me?” his growl overcoming your muffled pained whimpers and moans as you feverishly nod your head up and down.

pulling the panties out of your mouth you nod your head, “yes Daddy, I understand,” you whimper after a few hiccups.

you can’t see the smirk plastered on his face but you can see his risen hand in the air from the corner of your dress up hand mirror. angled on the floor to capture the moment, shuddering when it disappears from the mirrors image you feel the rough spank at your cheek.

not as rough and angry as the first three but still enough that it stings tremendously, “two, thank you Daddy,”

“that’s what I like to hear muffin,” Ari smirks before getting back to work.

your Daddy continued to give you your deserved spankings, your ass bruised and sore by the time he was finished and was satisfied with each one you counted and thanked him for.

praised you for not squirming even when you wanted to as he covered your ass with the thin material of your skirt.

“you did so well muffin cake. handled and took your punishment like the good girl I knew you could be,” he whispered lovingly in your ear m as he carried you to both your shared bedroom to rub some soothing lotion on your sore bum.

“thank you Daddy. I-i’m so sorry I was so bad today,” you whimpered as chocked hiccups become more unbearable. eyes swelling up with tears and a little sob erupting from your mouth. Ari shushes it by taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay baby, I promise everything is okay. no matter how bad you act always know, always know that Daddy still loves you. i’ll always love you muffin cake, that’s forever.” those soft blue hues lace with yours and you truly do feel at ease.

nodding your head at his soft supportive assertion, his forehead pressed to yours and your noses rubbing tenderly against each other. making you giggle and he grins as he laughs with you before setting you down on the bed.

Ari rubs the soothing cold lotion against your bum, continuing to shower you with divine praises, sweet appreciations and heart warming adorations that made your peachy cheeks sore from your never-ending smile.

afterwards he gently carries you in his arm downstairs heading to the living room. telling you how you and him were going to fix the coloring page he ruined as snuggle you face into his neck. large bunny stuffie in you locked armed connection he settles you down on the couch.

grabbing the fluffy throw blanket draped on one of the other couches he grabs it and wraps your lower half in it. giggling as he tucks it around your sides to make sure you’re nestled nice and warm, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Ari glances down to his watch with a soft smile, clutching the remote on the coffee table he turns the TV on.

smirking at your confusion when he goes on the channel that’s minutes away from airing the cartoon marathon.

“Daddy what are you doing?” your hushed voice catches his ears, Ari turns his head over his shoulder at you looking up at him with those conflicted doe eyes.

“i’m letting my muffin watch her cartoons. Daddy knows you’ve been waiting a month to watch them and daddy knows his princess deserves it,” his soft smile only but eludes your guiltiness.

“but i’ve been really bad today. b-bad girls don’t get TV time. they don’t get to watch cartoons,” you sob as tears began to fall once more but they’re quickly wiped away at Ari’s warm hands, cooing you into calming down.

“Daddy knows you’ve been bad today, but you proved to Daddy that you were good at handling your punishment. bad girls don’t get TV time, you’re right, but bad girls who take their punishments well and understand what they did wrong get TV time. because they’re no longer bad girls,” he smiles and you smile as well, leaning in for a kiss he accepts.

“there’s only a couple of minutes left before the premiere starts. Daddy’s gonna be in the kitchen starting dinner, if you need anything just call Daddy’s name out okay?” he whispers and you nod your head, shifting attentively on the couch to get into a comfortable position.

smiling to yourself as you pull your bunny plushie closer when the commercials end and the beginning credits to How The Grinch Stole Christmas starts to roll in.

you come to a solid conclusion.

no matter how you get in your bratty fits that your Daddy is going to forever love you. and no matter how stern Daddy is and how angry you are at him, you’re forever going to love him.

and no spanking or ruined drawing is ever going to change that!

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