#tumblr broke my sense of humor a long time ago

[asavt]

Something about Kallamar and a follower simping, ig

If you get the reference take a star.

[audistorium]

How I Even Got Here: A Letter from Lemon to Hopeful Creatives

This is going to be a lot. But maybe that's why we(I) made a tumblr. This is a place stories like these can be told.

Four months ago I was not a showrunner.

Four months ago I had no idea what to do.

Four months ago I had little to no friends in Audio Drama as a whole. There were a small handful of twitter people I knew, and I was a ghost in a few discords because I was afraid to ask anyone anything. But.. I was mostly riding solo.

I spent several years learning nothing but sound design after becoming completely enthralled by The Sandman. Shortly after I found SCP Archives and indie Audio Dramas that blew my mind.

Yet even with all that time making soundscapes and learning the intricacies of sound design under my belt, I still felt that gnawing imposter syndrome of creating a show. I've now learned this is pretty widespread in AD creators. Funny how that works, isn't it?

Who was I? Some broke kid from Arkansas that's fascinated by productions of sound and theatre of the mind? A less than well known comedian that wanted to tell the weird tales that manifest from nothing in my brain? I guess in the end that didn't really matter to me. I wanted to tell the scary stories that popped into my head and combine them with later episodes that tell funny ones. An interweaving web that I couldn't get out of my head until I brought it to life.

I talk about the night I uploaded my first episode a lot. My hands were shaking. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest and my face was buried in my palms for a while. I ended up saying "Fuck it." and hit upload. I sat there for a while just watching the episode pop up on different platforms one by one.

There it was. The thing I built up and wrote and worked my ass off for so long for. "What now?" I wondered.

I sat there for an hour kind of looking at the Spotify cover art that had been done well over a year before this point. Yet somehow it felt more real now. More tangible. This was something I could hold in my hands now and say I created. That was an unreal feeling. It was even more mind bending to think that this was only the start of the journey.

I got on Twitter that night and posted about it. It did not take long for someone to reach out. That person was Jesse Hall. Someone who showed me enough kindness to say all of these things that spelled out to me: "Hey, there are communities out there of people that want you to keep making these"

I ended up finding my home, The Liminal Lands discord. A show hiding out in a discord for another show. The thing is, though..

There really WAS this sense of community in it.

Since that point I have been in shows that previously I was only a fan of. I have met people that have been doing this for like 10+ years that treat me as a peer. I have other friends now that are also new showrunners.

I've been asked to be the sound designer in two different productions that are aiming for Tribeca. How nuts is that?

While it does mean my own show has to wait a second, this is incredible that people actually want to involve me at such a level when I feel like the biggest imposter in the room.

It has not been an easy past four months. Not even remotely. I wrote, voiced and sound designed episode 2: Lemonal in 24 hours because I felt like I needed to tell that story. It was one that was very personal. I've been able to share experiences of helplessness, death and fear. But also personal growth.

Soon, of my own humor.

I can put all of myself into this and I never have any intention of stopping that.

Four months later, I am a showrunner. I am the writer, sound designer and often one of the voice actors in my own show.

Four months later, I am confident in what I am capable of, and I am extremely proud of what I've been able to do because so many caring people pushed me and told me that I can do this. That If I stop punishing myself and telling myself my work is bad, I'll learn to love it more. So I did.

Four months later, I have friends that I would not trade for anything in the world and I think that things are only going up from here.

If you stumble across this as a hopeful creative, and you're not certain that you can accomplish what you want.. Well. Look at me.

I had nothing and no one. Our very small budget got us 3 covers and published. Good enough.

Now I have people that care enough to make me better every day. People that just want to be involved in what I made. That is extremely cool, and nowwww, every time I make something new I improve. I couldn't ask for anything better.

Take the leap. People will help you. People will support you.

I promise.

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred, don-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too - oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

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

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

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

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

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

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

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

[stark-tony]

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 2

part 1

Queer Eye for the Cacti by silentsaebyeok

summary: He bought one-hundred cacti on Amazon! Pepper was going to kill him!

What had possessed him to do such a thing? He never went on shopping sprees when drunk. That just wasn’t a Tony Stark type of thing to do. And in all honesty, he was astonished he even remembered the Amazon password.

--

Tony makes an interesting purchase while drunk. What he doesn’t expect is for said purchase to bite him in the ass in the worst possible way.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Tumblr Posts by Jen27ny

summary:   Literally what the title says. All the prompts and one-shots I post on tumblr.

pairings: pepperony, spideychelle

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

warnings:

It Lasts for Always by YellowDistress

summary:  Peter has never asked anyone to kill for him, especially not Tony.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

summary: A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Keeping your head up by frostysunflowers

summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.

 He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water. 

The water.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: kidnapping

Young, Dumb and Suffering by wordscorrupt

summary: In a moment of desperation, Peter decides to take Steve's pain medication to relieve a migraine.

or

Peter accidentally overdoses on pain medication.

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings:

Midnight Oil by JolinarJackson

summary:  After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

Love Will Remind Us Who We Are by blondsak

summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.

//

Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.

Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Summertime Sickness by Spideysickfics

summary: "Well, this is your lucky day, then!" Peter replied enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he broke into a wide grin, "You're looking at a former Boy Scout!"

Tony let out a huff of air.

"No shit, a Boy Scout, huh? When did you quit?"

"First grade." Peter's grin didn’t waver. Tony rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"I'm sure you're very knowledgeable."

OR

An Irondad camping trip and sickfic to soothe your soul

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

to break in these bones by searchingforstars

summary: “We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

--

or, Peter doesn't listen to Tony, pisses off someone dangerous and ends up on the wrong end of a baseball bat.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

5 Times Peter Gave Tony Something by impravidus

summary:  and the 1 time Tony gave him something back

pairings:  none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You'll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary:  The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.

  He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: spideychelle

tags: angst

warnings: none

the little things we don't say out loud by JBS_Forever

summary: “It's not funny,” Peter says, voice catching as he whines, “This is life or death, Ned. I'm actually dying.”

On the other end of the line, Ned sighs, amused and not at all concerned. “So you're Mr. Stark's secret Santa. It's not that bad.”

- - -

In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

pairings: none

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: none

Hiking Essentials: A backpack, plenty of water, and a Spider-kid by kiwifeather

summary:  Morgan, Peter, and Tony enjoy each other's company on a hike through the woods while Peter is staying with them for the weekend. Father-and-son bonding ensues

(Takes place after the snap but Tony survives because this is the good timeline and we know that Tony deserved a happy ending)

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

In Case of Emergency by Bowtiez

summary: Babysitting his little sister at the Stark's lakeside cabin seems like quite the gig for 17-year-old Peter. Of course he's got that covered- he's a mature individual and he can watch over a five-year-old for forty-eight hours.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone know that super-healing doesn't really work on bacterial infections? It's a good thing Morgan knows what to do. Well... it's probably a good thing?

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Three Times Tony Stark Used Italian Nicknames and One Time He Received One by MCUsic_to_my_ears

summary:   Tony can't help but slip into his Italian when with his children.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

More Ancient Than Magic by ironfamjam

summary: Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: torture

Peaches by peterparkr

summary: There’s no response, not even a faint twinge of muscle. Peter tries to listen for a heartbeat, but he can’t seem to focus enough to pinpoint it. Another bubble of thought starts to rise. This could be the reason his spidey-sense is going haywire. Tony could be—

He pushes the bubble down.

OR

Peter and Tony find themselves stranded in the woods after an Avengers mission

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Snowflakes by Jen27ny

summary:  Tony just wants to see his kids happy - which means letting Morgan stick as many snowflakes to the window as she likes, and making Peter talk about his nightmares.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies by baloobird

summary: Tony is spending a fun afternoon baking cookies with his kids, but his older one isn't acting like himself.

Whatever the problem is, it's up to the now-retired hero to figure it out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: bullying, acephobia

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.  

** Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Someone Take Me Home by GallagherHunter

summary:  More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

It’s Gonna Be Lit by Pawprinter

summary: What Christmas gift does one get for the man who seemingly has everything?

Peter is struggling to find out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I'll Be Home For Christmas by snarkymuch

summary:  May gets called away for work, and Tony steps in to make sure Peter isn't alone for Christmas. Harley, Morgan, and Peter being adorable kids, and Tony being a great dad.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The power of makeup by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter shows up to a prestigious awards ceremony with a black eye and a whole lot of regret.

Tony raids Pepper's purse and decides to improvise.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky by ftmpeter

summary: There are two things Tony learns about Peter after Morgan is born.

The first thing is that when it comes to kids, he's a natural.

The second thing is that he's a self-sacrificing little shit.

(Tony already knew that. He has the gray hairs to prove it. But. Still.)

It isn't the kind of self-sacrificing that will get him killed or seriously injured - thank God - but it's just as annoying. Maybe even more, because while he can ground Peter from Spider-Man, he can't exactly ground him from staying up all night to make sure Morgan sleeps through it.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

give the cookies a miss by searchingforstars

summary: “Surprise!” Morgan exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She gestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

--

or, Peter is poisoned by the ones he trusts most.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

i want to be with you 'til the whole world ends by searchingforstars

summary: The last thing he does as his eyes slip shut is wrap his arms tighter around Peter, as tight as he can manage when it feels like the life is draining from him.

Please, for the love of God, I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but please, please, someone look after this kid for me.

Tony would give anything to make sure that Peter Parker is safe.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much left to give. He’s about to have nothing left to give.

The world goes dark.

He drifts away.

--

Or, Peter and Tony nearly lose each other.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Of bright autumn days and things that go bump in the night by frostysunflowers

summary: Halloween/fall themed fics featuring plenty of fluff, feels and seasonal shenanigans!

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: none

Twelve Days of Terror: A Whumptober Collection by seekrest

summary:

pairings: spideychelle

tags: 

warnings: 

[ivyveil]

Mary Me

the one where he proposes aka the 1940s installment of The Soulmates Verse, Sign of the Times

A/N: Bringing this back from AO3, hope you guys enjoy! I wanted to create a series of ‘soulmate’ Harry/Y/N where they try to make it work each decade, and fate hasn’t seemed to get the memo. Here’s my Tumblr masterlist, and my AO3 hub! Thank you for reading, hope everyone is staying safe.

The room was swathed in a deep maroon. Curtains draped against the windows, curves forming around the sills and down the gold columns on either side.

It was a nice restaurant, with expensive-looking candles and fresh-cut flowers on each table. The bar wasn’t fully stocked enough for the crowds milling about, having yet to find its balance of supply since Prohibition ended a few months ago. It was a rough adjustment for everyone, with the prices taking a jolt and the people having to remember what a drink tasted like without poison.

While the idea of a fancy restaurant would allude towards privacy, this dinner was anything but. Granted, it was a personal room but the numerous crowds of friends and family around the table led the mood towards something more lively than dim lights and slow jazz. Tables were pushed against the walls, only a handful actually sitting down, and the band had taken its land near one of the corners, setting up an orchestra to dance for.

It was a gathering, a party.

Nerves were knotted against the floor of your stomach, and despite having a glass of champagne in one hand and hooch in the other, nothing was easing the clench. Perhaps it was residue from hardships that had only ended a few years ago, or it could be the more instinctive nerves - holding alcohol without needing to look over one’s shoulder was still new for everyone. Even now, you saw Nick stealing a glance at the waitstaff, as if sussing out which was the cop.

“‘lright, love?” Harry spoke low, his hand briefly resting against your back as he came around from behind. It wasn’t far into the party, enough time having passed for his entrance to be marked by everyone already feeling tipsy, but not raising an eyebrow at his late arrival.

His suit was understated, a black with minimal design. His mother would tailor all of his suits, resulting in most of them being the absolute extravagant pieces for all the parties he threw - the magnificent ones where the moon grew twice to try and be an inch closer, where the ocean glittered around his villa and you could strain to taste the rose-colored smoke in the air. They were alive with people and spirits and spirited people, and the types who would disappear in the morning and you’d question their existence, but never their stories.

His suit was fine, but his hair was a proper mess. Harry had insisted to you a few days ago, a dopey smile on his face as he leaned against your shoulder, that it was a rebel of the highest degree.  You knew the words were bullshit, but the way he spoke sounded like a home you’d never known, so you listened.

“You need a haircut.” The words came out before you could properly hold them back, the liquor having moistened your throat and disconnected your mind from your choices.

Harry broke into a smile, this time shaking his head slightly so the curls danced, delighted, in the dim glow.

“You like it?” he asked, and you made a sour face in response. He took one of the drinks from your hands, making the low noise in the back of his throat to signal disapproval. Where Harry managed to gather his rebellious streak of societal indignity, but still manage to believe that women should be held up on pedestals and protected, eluded you.

But you were still dizzy with him. Drunk in the way he said your name, caught up in his eyelashes, a fatal swoop in your chest that felt like laying in bed after a long day’s work. You were simply infatuated, but insistent on the fact that the feelings drifted no farther. Infatuation could be controlled, but love.

Love would be an entire beast that you couldn’t battle. It would include leaving him, leaving him because Mary was cemented down in his roots. Not that you’d agree with it, but she was, and it was a reality you lived with.

They’d been sweet on each other for the first couple months. You hadn’t kept up on the details too much. But time had worn their feelings thin, wafering holes poking through in the way they loved. Which was a wrong, horrendous source of comfort to you - but it terrified you, as well. Harry was the embodiment of love, with how he danced and moved and swayed into the moonlight, and yet there was something off in the way he loved Mary. It felt like a commitment for the sake of, rather than motivated each day, and the failures of love haunted you.

“Where’s Mary?”

Harry shrugged, taking a swig of the drink and looking against the crowd. The two of you were propped against the wall, as if only existing in the plane of the party by the physical constraints. If you had your way, your souls would fall through the wallpaper and into something more exquisite.

Harry had a way of making the dullest parties exciting, and you wondered what he had up his sleeve. But his face showed no signs of telling, a crease along his forehead denting in his sudden gloom and moodiness.

“Dunno. Was gonna find her, thought she’d be with yeh.”

That was his mistake, his constant mistake, of seeking his love around you. It was there but not where he expected - it was manifestation he sought, the woman he called ‘darling’ on late nights out, not the friend he called ‘love’ because it meant nothing.

Words didn’t quite fit your mood, so you merely shrugged and shifted your weight between legs. The music had picked up but your feet had been worn to the bone by running all over town the previous night, so you prayed Harry’s stance next to you would dissuade any men from approaching.

“Think I’ve got to end things with Mary, yeah?”

It was a loaded question, especially with Harry’s eyes staring into yours. It was a rush, how the lights cascaded down the side of his face and his hair was a horrible mess, an unsightly vision for anyone in town, but he was utterly angelic nonetheless. It was a weird sensation against your throat, seeing him tragic and sad, and not knowing how to respond that wouldn’t be an attempt to benefit your own tragic and sad.

“Why’d you say that?” you asked.

“It was never right, was it?” He spoke thoughtfully, scanning your face for agreement, and apparently finding some, for he continued. “It’s reached an end.”

Silence befell the two of you, yet it was heavy with the implication of further words against his tongue. They weren’t spoken yet, but you felt with one more moment-

“I’ve got somethin’ I need to say to yeh. After it’s done.” His eyes had swept to his feet, the dirty tips of his shoes from the soil around the town.

You both were misplaced, you felt it in your soul and the way you two would wrap in each other’s auras, clasped at the hands and promising you’d escape this hellhole of a town one day. And it only was proven in how Harry’s eyebrows sloped together, a defiance in the order of things prominent in his pursed lips.

“Okay,” you drawled it out, but Harry didn’t seem to find anything humorous. With a tilted neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing and drawing your eyes in like flies to honey, he downed the rest of your champagne.

“See her over there,” he mumbled, slipping back into the throngs of the party. He was still incredibly visible, a mess of hair and clunky shoes passing through the sea towards his girl. She was sat, pretty and prim, but you could tell she felt only half. Mary had an odd sense about her, a jealousy towards you for sure, but a feeling around her sphere of influence that she wasn’t full unless Harry was there. Half-dazed without, only focused on him with, there was seemingly no win.

The pair of them slipped out into the night together, with your eyes trailing behind. Mary was oblivious as to how the conversation would go, and for that, you were conflicted.

It must have made you an awful person, how the nerves crashed against giddiness. The drinks may have kicked into effect, because before you knew it - you were swaying and dancing against the moonlight, around the tables with the rest of the folk, pained heels clipping against the floor as they did every night, dancing out the mundanity of a town life crippled with the distrust of life. It would be a conversation for the rest of the night, how Harry would retell the dramatic discussion with fire in his eyes and a sadness plunging into his heart, because he always felt guilty and you’d never understand why.

You glided out of the mass, panting with how the dance took your breath away, feeling the redness built up in your cheeks and the sweat on your brow. You passed Nick with his wide eyes and bursts of laughter, and noticed how he winked at you when you left the room. The restroom was calling.

The main hall of the restaurant was bustling with normal activity, waiters dashing around with massively weighed trays balanced against their shoulders. There was a coat rack near the entrance, huddled with pounds of jackets, hats, and scarves, and a lone Harry Styles squatted next to it.

He looked up when you passed by, the hollows of his cheeks straining purple in the grotesque lights.

You paused next to him, almost dashing around to head and pee, but his expression caught you off guard..

He looked in another world. His eyes, blue with morose, opened to look at nothing. Eyelids heavy with almost boredom, but his posture offered enough to let you know his demons were free once more.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, and once he shifted to the side, you took the cue to sit beside him, crossing your legs and ignoring your body’s protests.

His mouth open and closed, his fingers spread wide in front of him to grasp onto his senses, but they were nowhere to be found. His lips were glistening, perhaps from him licking them continuously, but a small streak against his cheek made you think otherwise.

“Was she upset?” It was all you had to offer, but it seemed like you hadn’t struck gold. He continued to mime whatever words that were escaping him, but your attention had been caught elsewhere.

In one of his hands, you had thought he was holding onto his pack of cigarettes. At second glance, however, it wasn’t. It was terrible.

The fact it wasn’t, and the fact his mouth was gaping, and the fact his eyes were glassed and that his shoulders were quivering – it all accumulated into a story you never expected.

A blue velvet box, iconic in its time, holding only one thing inside.

“Harry, is that-”

“She’s pregnant,” he managed to choke out, not glancing at the box, his voice cracking in its sudden revival, “Mary’s pregnant.”

“She’s what.”

“Couldn’t break it off, would she gonna do? Can’t go back to live with her parents, the town’s too far off-” he continued to speak, words that made sense when combined but gibberish with how he stringed them. It was a rant that had been built into his lungs and found a small stream to blow off, with only your collection of stammers breaking through the dam.

“Did you–’re you–is that–”

“Proposed. Bit rushed, didn’t get on a knee, but it did its duty. I did mine, anyhow,” he said, a desperate gloominess clutched your dress as he presented the box. His fingers fumbled against the velvet, nubbed fingertips and signs of bitten skin surrounding the nails.

Opened, the box was empty. The contents were stuck on Mary’s finger, presumably back at the party showing off the latest development in her life.

“Congratulations.” It didn’t feel as if it were you who said anything, the voice too breathless and at ease to have come out of your body, with its thundering heartbeat and screaming mind.

“Gotta get a job, gotta call up Howard ‘n see what’s not ‘n the papers. There’s gotta be something, yeah? Need a crib, now, too.” It was clear his mind was far off, into what he needed to do, in the adult-life that neither of you had never quite fit into, but was now thrust upon him.

All your mind was on, was the trip you two had been planning for the past year. Harry had promised train tickets across the country, down towards where the sun always shone and the waters were constantly warm around your ankles, even in the dead of night. Maps and notebooks had cluttered your office for months, with strings attaching your future endeavors in a maze of findings. It had started out as an escape from the Depression, the one that had seemingly ended but never quite had, the one where your throats were aching for more than speakeasies could offer.

It wasn’t going to happen. It simply couldn’t. You’d never see how he would look, dozed off across from you on your hundredth train, his backpack used as a makeshift pillow. You’d never feel the brutal mountain winds with him. You’d never be able to wander around the greatest cities of America, you’d never explore all the lives you could’ve lived, in towns you never knew existed.

The realization brought you to another moment, another question, one out of place with Harry’s rant but in tune with how your blood ran cold.

“Where’d you get the ring?”

That snapped Harry’s attention, and his bloodshot eyes managed to find you in their blur. Perhaps it was an expectation, for you to ask, but the surprise against his lips, how they parted with a slacked jaw and a sharp inhale, said otherwise.

“Wha’?”

You repeated yourself, and he staggered into a motionless statue of himself, a final shake of his shoulders until he ceased to move. Just stared at you, haunted.

I’ve got somethin’ I need to say to yeh.

“Harry.” To your surprise, it almost sounded admonished.

His eyes were pleading for you not to speak. For speaking would bring it into existence, and he could never juggle it all. Neither of you could, it was a mortal flaw that ran deep into your flesh, and now against your heart, where it felt it would stay forever.

You felt compelled to speak anyway, motivated slightly by the intoxication and the exhaustion and the bitterness in which life was taking from you continuously, without ceasing, and this was the one chance to take something back for yourself. To give a bit of yourself back towards him, to offer a glimpse of the life that could’ve been.

“I would’ve said yes.”

It was quiet.

You thought Harry was being quiet, as well, but his hands reached up to wrack against his scalp, collecting at his hair and his head went between his knees.

He gave a nod, a gentle movement from your perspective, and a choked cry. It was stifled by the sudden uproar within the restaurant – perhaps another fight, perhaps another birthday, you didn’t care – and your arm went around his shoulder, bringing him into your chest.

You cried. Tucked away, hidden behind swaths of clothing that had belonged to the rich and now hung off the poor, surrounded by lights and glamour that suddenly became cheap and instrumental, compared to what you two had deserved. He felt warm against your skin, his forehead now pressed against your shoulder as his body pushed forward in distress. Time stretched to allow for you both to have one moment, a solace against the blazing sun of normalcy. It was one minute until Anne would burst through the party doors, searching for her son, perhaps having caught a glimpse of the truth and knowing where his heart truly was.

But for that minute, his heart was in your chest, the beats matching up, the pair united for a last breath.

The box slipped from his fingers and landed on the floor, half-open and completely empty.

It was a reality you’d have to live with.

[kabira]

01 | first period biology

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence, mentions of school tests

summary — vernon doesn’t entertain bad guys on monday mornings, but the villain of the day apparently didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

note — first chapter woohoo! in celebration of comeback day, i present to you: my first actual tumblr multi-part series. send me an ask or dm if you want to be in the taglist! masterlist coming soon <3

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

I do not have time for this.

Vernon swung through the air, landing nimbly on the road just a few feet behind the newest menace that had decided to grace his neighborhood with its presence. The self-proclaimed Rhino—basically a guy in a rhinoceros suit, as the name suggested—was tearing down 108th street at breakneck speed, which was almost as fast as Vernon mid-swing. Almost.

“Hey, slow down!” he called as he launched himself towards the suited man, and a little kid with a lollipop gaped as Spider-Man swung right towards the Rhino, legs stretched straight before him. “Tsk, how are we supposed to tango if I can’t even keep up?”

Rhino roared when Vernon dropkicked him right in the middle of his back, but the kick didn’t put him out of commission like Vernon had hoped it would. The villain (and Vernon used the term loosely) swung his fist towards him, but he flipped backwards, landing on top of a car, which dented under the force.

“Why is it always Queens?” Vernon asked, annoyed, as Rhino charged towards him. He pushed off the car to avoid Rhino, who crashed headfirst into the vehicle, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Right next to it, a yellow Kia’s alarm went off. Vernon, now hanging from the building behind it, huffed. “And why is it always right before school?”

And a Monday, too. Vernon usually allowed for supervillains busting down his metaphorical door on mornings, but Mondays were usually off-limits. Honestly, what kind of villain gets up at seven a.m. on a Monday?

Vernon scaled the brick wall of the building, looking for a high vantage point he could drop down from, but even the little effort seemed to tire him out more than usual. Having studied until late night the day before, right after stopping a third try at a robbery on seventy-third (honestly, do these people never learn?), he had only managed to catch about three hours of sleep. It was normal by Spidey standards, but not by Vernon standards. Especially when he was supposed to have a test in first period biology.

“Spider-Man!” Rhino bellowed from three storeys below, snapping Vernon back to the present. He sighed as man demolished another car, no doubt to show off his might or strength or whatever it was villains loved to show off these days. “Face me!”

Vernon looked down. In the morning, everything was awash with sunlight, including Rhino. The suit was a dark gray but didn’t seem to be made of metal, looking about three to four inches thick like some kind of hide-like body armor, and light glinted off the visor that only half-showed his adversary’s face. If he hadn’t been about to be pummeled to death by the guy in rhinoceros suit, he would have appreciated the beautiful workmanship more. The horn was a nice touch.

“If you just wanted to see me, an email would have been fine!” Vernon called, letting go of the wall and righting himself in free-fall as he hurtled towards the Rhino. “No need to put on a show for little ol’ me—”

Okay. Maybe he had miscalculated the distance or maybe Rhino was less distracted than he thought, because instead of him dropping in on the villain like a ton of bricks, Rhino swung his suited arm, catching Vernon in the chest with bone-shattering force, and sent him flying.

Vernon hit the sidewalk with enough force for his body to skid a few feet before coming to a rest. His backpack (which had somehow not been torn to shreds) absorbed most of the blow, but the impact had knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a few seconds, wondering if he should just stay down. His head was already pounding, and a sleepy spider was a grumpy spider.

He changed his mind at the last moment as Rhino’s fist swung towards his face, and he flipped onto his back, jumping out of the way just as the fist came down where he had been lying milliseconds ago. Beneath the mask, Vernon’s eyes widened as he saw the blow break the asphalt.

I really do not have time for this.

“What the heck is that suit even made of?” he muttered as he dodged another blow, trying to work out a way to subdue Rhino as fast as possible. The suit was big and heavy, which usually made for slower reactions, and a good old webbing-down would have been the perfect way to wrap up the show, but if the suit was strong enough, even his web fluid wouldn’t hold. Vernon had to knock him out somehow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rhino made a throaty, hacking sound like could have been laughter. “Unfortunately, you will be dead before you can even get close enough.”

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Vernon said, dodging yet another attack, resulting in Rhino’s head getting stuck in the cracked windshield of a car for a moment. God, that guy was like a battering ram. He couldn’t keep this up forever. “We can always sit down and talk about this.”

“Spider-Man, I’ll kill you!”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Vernon raised his wrists, aiming at the car. Thwip-thwip, went the fluid from his web shooters, trapping the Rhino against the side of the vehicle. “Shame,” he said, as the man thrashed against his web restraints. “I know a really good taco place around here.”

The Rhino yelled, lifting the entire car bodily. Vernon watched as he raised the car over his head, the webbing breaking from the strain of the suit against them, and threw it directly at him.

Ah, crap.

Vernon would like to think he would have managed to get away from there in time even if someone hadn’t snatched him up into the air, but he doubted it. There was something majestic about watching a villain he’d underestimated lift a whole car up to throw at him.

The person caught him under the arms and lifted him into the air, away from the enraged roar of the Rhino that resounded throughout the street. Vernon’s first reaction to being picked cleanly off the road would be fear, but his spider sense hadn’t gone off yet. He tried to look up at his captor/savior, but the back of his head collided with something hard. “Ow,” he mumbled. “Who the hell are you?”

“The guy who just saved your ass, webhead,” the boy replied derisively. Or at least it sounded like a boy, very much like those guys in the cafeteria who used to drop snide remarks behind Vernon’s back pre-spider bite. The guy dropped him on the roof of a shorter building, and Vernon rolled out of the way, getting to his feet. The boy was dressed in a metallic-looking dark blue-and-gold suit, a bucket-like helmet over his head. The lower of his face was uncovered, exposing lips twisted into a scowl. “I’m not even getting a thank-you?”

“…thanks,” Vernon muttered after scrutinizing the guy for a moment. “Uh, who are you actually?”

“I’m Nova, creep.”

“Nova Creep.” He considered this. “Interesting.”

“Just Nova!” the boy snapped, sounding even more displeased than before. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my team and save the frickin’ neighborhood.”

Saying this, he turned and took off again, no doubt heading for wherever the action was. Vernon watched him go, choosing to take a breather instead of following him back down.

New superheroes in town? It wasn’t unheard of, and Vernon had had his fair share of newbies and oldies both to deal with in his year-long career as Queens’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

He looked down over the edge of the roof. Sure enough, there were three of them—a girl in a white suit, moving around the wreckage like an acrobat and slashing at the Rhino’s suit, Nova Creep shooting fist lasers (Flight powers and fist lasers? Unfair.) at him, and—was that Iceman?

Vernon hesitated. He could join the fight and help finish it more quickly, but if Iceman was here, the X-Men couldn’t be farther away. He could leave the three to it and get to school in time to catch forty winks before class, no harm done. Was he even needed?

Unfortunately, he knew he was only giving himself the illusion of choice. Spider-Man never walked away from a fight, even if someone more capable was dealing with it.

He shot webs at the metal post hanging out from the opposing building and swung back down, joining the fight just as Rhino caught the girl around the middle like he had Vernon, sending her flying back into an already wrecked car. Vernon cushioned her landing with webs, managing to protect her body from the broken metal chassis, and she was back on her feet in seconds, joining his side.

“Thanks,” she said, which surprised him. Most superheroes didn’t take the time out to thank him, but that was usually unnecessary, since they evened out the score by saving his life. “You know this guy?”

“Nah, he’s new in town,” he replied, watching Nova and Iceman fight the Rhino. Iceman froze him from the legs to his waist, but it didn’t hold for long before Rhino broke through the ice. “Strong, though, I’ll give him that.”

“It’s the suit,” the girl told him. Now that they were up close, Vernon could see that her costume somewhat resembled a white tiger, with the pointed ears and yellow eyes. He wondered if she’d been bitten by a radioactive white tiger. “It’s made of some kind of polymer.”

“Polymer?” he echoed, even more surprised. He’d assumed metal.

“Self-regenerating,” she affirmed. “It’s not indestructible—I slashed through the hide with my claws, but—”

“Your claws?”

She raised her hand. Under the white glove, her nails extended into wicked, claw-like tips. “Cool,” he said, voice cracking halfway through the word. He cleared his throat. “Very Woverine-ish.”

“He’s a mutant,” she said dismissively. What was he supposed to call her? Tigerwoman? Tigergirl? “Rhino’s suit regenerates. We have to knock him out.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” Vernon muttered.

“A little help here?!” Nova yelled, zipping through the air in a zigzag manner to avoid the Rhino’s hits. “Or are you two going to stand around and chat all day?”

Vernon’s lips twitched into an unintentional smile. “I’ll web him up,” he told tiger lady. “You think Nova can pull him up?”

Tiger inclined her head. “Not on his own, but with a little frosty boost…”

“Great.” He sprinted towards the group, shooting webs at the Rhino’s head to get his attention and distract him from the others. “Hey, Hippo! Over here!”

The Rhino ripped off the webbing from his visor, not wasting a moment before charging him. Vernon lunged, wrapping the Rhino suit up in webs as he scaled the wall, trapping him in the web fluid. It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew—but he only needed a few seconds. And some blind faith.

The excessive webbing wrapped around Rhino like a net trap, and Vernon pulled, lifting him into the air with as much strength as he could muster. Below him, Iceman froze a column of ice under the Rhino’s butt, giving him a little extra height. Ten feet…twenty feet…

“Tiger!” Vernon yelled.

She lunged, pushing off the hood of a dented car to give her extra height, and ripped through the thin web holding him up with her claws. Rhino plummeted to the ground, crashing into a car and through it, the fall only broken by the ground, the asphalt cracking beneath the force.

Vernon watched him anxiously. The suit should have been heavy enough to render the man inside unconscious, unless he had a really good cushioning system in place.

He counted to ten in his head. Rhino didn’t move.

Thank god for bad cushioning, Vernon thought, swinging back down to the ground. “You guys think you could carry him?” he asked the three. Iceman didn’t even look over, broodily watching the unconscious villain’s body. Oh well. “He’s a heavy hitter.”

“We could make it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with him,” Tiger said. Then she glanced at him, cocking her head in a perplexed manner. “Wait, why do you—”

“I gotta run.” He shrugged sheepishly, adjusting the straps of his bag, which had only undergone minimal damage. The wonders never ceased. “You see, I’m late to first period biology.”

Vernon crashed through the doors of his school so fast he almost ploughed down Joshua, who had been standing just before the entrance, probably waiting for him.

The journey hadn’t taken more than a few minutes—he tried not to change clothes in suspicious-smelling service alleys as much as possible, but some situations left him no choice—but he only had a few minutes to get to class, and detention was something he couldn’t afford to get. He hated disappointing Aunt May more than he hated getting his ass beat by some B-list villain.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax,” Joshua said, righting him. The hallways were almost empty, but not quite, indicating that he wasn’t too late to the not-party. The boy fixed his glasses, giving Vernon a look. “Did you get into a fight?”

Vernon blinked at him. “What? No. This guy called Rhino—”

“Shh.” Joshua dragged him to one side, away from earshot of the general populace of Midtown High, and gave him a concerned look. “Dude, your face is bleeding.”

Joshua was one of the only few individuals in the world who knew about Vernon’s identity as Spider-Man, which was just as well, because if it hadn’t been for his blue-haired best friend he would have walked into a test with his nose gushing like a bloody geyser. “Thanks,” he mumbled, when Joshua handed him a clean-looking handkerchief. He raised it to his face. “Did you wipe your nose on this?”

Joshua made a face. “Not that I remember.”

“Good enough.” He cleaned off the blood as well as he could, which was hard, because he was feeling jittery and apparently his hands agreed. “Do I look fine?”

“You never look fine, my friend,” his friend said sagely. “But you look like you always do, so I guess, yes.”

Vernon shot him a grim smile, and started down the corridor towards 12-B, which was where he was supposed to be in ten minutes. He wasn’t even late, actually, but Mr. Malkin didn’t need a big excuse to give someone a C+ for a tardy warning. Joshua followed close behind. “So, which guy beat you up this time?”

“I didn’t get beat up.” Vernon rolled his eyes. “Well, not entirely—”

“Vernon Parker, report to room 10-A.” Both the boys’ heads whipped up towards the source of the sound, which came as an announcement from the speakers. “Vernon Parker, room 10-A, please.”

“What?” Vernon whirled on Joshua, panicked. The blue-haired boy’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, but he only shrugged in response. “But the test!”

He tried to think back to anything wrong he might have done in the past few weeks to get called aside like this, but he couldn’t think of anything. Plus, he hadn’t been summoned to the principal’s office, which confused him even more. Why room 10-A?

“Now you’ve had it, Parker,” Flash Thompson said as he passed them, grinning.

Vernon scowled at his retreating back, his grip tightening around the bag strap. “Whatever,” he muttered, then threw Joshua his bag. “Take it to the class, won’t you? I’ll try to get back as soon as I can.”

Without waiting for affirmation, he jogged off to find room 10-A, wanting to get whatever it was over with so he would get back on time. When he got there, the room was empty except for a lady in a pencil skirt and jacket, holding a clipboard in her hand. Upon his entry, she smiled at him in a friendly way, which only served to tick him off further.

“Whatever this is, couldn’t I do it some other time?” he pleaded. He hadn’t seen this staff member before, but he didn’t seem to be in trouble, and his grades had enough pull to get him out of some random appointment before classes. “I have a test in like, five minutes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to your teacher about this,” the woman said, continuing to smile. She gestured to one of the seats. “Take a seat.”

Reluctantly, he obliged, not really having an excuse not to now. “What is this, exactly?” he asked. Now that panic had taken a backseat, doubt was beginning to creep in. Why only him? And how had he never seen this woman before?

“In light of recent events, the school has decided to start counselling sessions for all of the students to help them cope,” she said. She had a really nice smile, her skin tan and unblemished, cheeks dimpled. “I’m Melia Fox,” she said. “I just need to ask you a few questions, and you can be on your way.”

He stared back at her, miffed. A year of incidents, and they suddenly decided to have counselling sessions now? “Why just me?” he asked slowly. “I’m sorry, but isn’t there some kind of rule or protocol for—”

“There is,” said a new voice. Vernon whipped around, and there at the end of the classroom, where moments ago had been nothing but air, stood a tall black man with an eyepatch. “And Agent Fox is following it.”

Vernon gaped. “I—what?”

“Spider-Man,” Nicky Fury said, with a note of muted resolution in his voice, “we need to have a little chat.”

[okmcintyre]

I was tagged by @togetherkru , thanks so much for thinking of me! I loved reading your answers & these are always a lot of fun to fill out! 😊☀️

1. why did you choose your url?

I actually just updated my URL after nine long years, mostly because I was uber jealous of y’all with t100 specific usernames. 😅 The majority of my content is catered to that fandom, so it made sense to freshen it up. After ruling out my first choice (@madigriffin, I mean how cool would that be!) I decided that since I relate most to Harper’s energy I’d go with her last name.... and added a variation of my own first name that I thought looked cute. 

2. any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

Yes! Goodness I have private sideblogs for writing drafts/inspiration, and to organize gif-making tutorials that I like to keep on hand... then there’s my Bellarke Fanfiction sideblog (@twosuns-ofbellarke)... and I help out with a couple The 100 appreciation/edits pages. I have my old URL too, just in case I ever want to start using it again.

... And I do actually have @augustkomtrikru active too, which I’d intended to use as my main URL once the prequel started up that is, before Season 7B broke my damn heart and I vowed off anything Rothenberg related unless he goes back and fixes that mess that ended our beloved show. 🤷‍♀️

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

I joined on January 4, 2012.

4. do you have a queue tag?

No, but I do tag original posts! 

#t100kt, #friendskt, #luciferkt, #tumblrkt, #liveblogkt, #ask away!

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

I came to tumblr because I was struggling to find my groove on LiveJournal and Blogger (wow just aged myself there, didn’t I?👵). I liked that I could post different kinds of content here... and I was obsessed with Fringe, which was still on air. This quickly became the place I came for spoilers and spaz at all the beautiful gifs from the show.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Because our fearless leaders marching away from the rover together, looking like badass supermodels, is a big mood! 💥

7. why did you choose your header?

It matched the icon & I found it in my old cell phone edits ready to go

8. what post of yours has the most notes?

This Clarke & Bellamy post from Season 6, with 1700+ notes.

9. how many mutuals do you have?

Is there a way to see that? I have a bunch and they are all lovely people! ☺️

10. how many followers do you have?

Last I checked I was around 1.7k, I’m super grateful for everyone who sticks around for my hodgepodge of posting!

11. how many people do you follow?

4935, we have a lot of great fandom here and I lack chill...

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

1. (noun) any content on the internet whose humor derives from its surreal nature and/or its lack of clear context... a shitpost is funny simply because it isn't a predictable repetition of an existing form. Shitposts can become memes, but memes cannot become shitposts.

So now that Urban Dictionary explained what that means (I told you, I’m not a spring chicken anymore! 😂) I don’t believe so? Unless you include my old liveblogs, they were absolutely without context.

13. how often do you use tumblr?

I’m always popping in throughout my day. I like to keep up to my notifs & new posts in the tags, and then when I have more time on my hands I’ll look into my mutuals and feed a little more properly.

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog? who won?

I can remember a couple years ago butting heads with a couple folks when I first got into fandom: the posting etiquette here was quite different from the message boards I was used to interacting on... and I had a mishap or two as a result. I genuinely believe that no one wins when that happens though, so I really make an effort to keep this a positive space. Learn from the mistakes. 💛

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to compare this’ posts?

Thanks gosh @togetherkru that you didn’t know these either! Like, what is that? Google doesn’t even seem to know. 

16. do you like tag games?

I LOVE THEM! 

17. do you like ask games?

Also love them! The posts are always wildly unpopular but they are a lot of fun

18. which one of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Every one! There’s so much talent here and so many folks have established their blogs as a cornerstone of their respective fandoms. And again, I have no idea where to find a list of all my mutuals to compare... but I always feel like I’m the new kid on the block, I’m pretty sure most of my mutuals have been here years longer than I have.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

I have a crush on my mutuals’ beautiful gif-making and writing and artsy abilities, if that counts? 😃

20. tags (if you guys want to)

I’m going to tag some folks from my notifications, feel free though to participate anyone reading this! Or if it isn’t your cuppa tea, don’t feel obligated those I tagged... have a great day everybody! 🙂☕

@bt06, @padfootx, @isweartobreathe, @bravestartingwithyou, @kizo2703, @pendragaryen, @whatabeautifullife13, @immortalpramheda, @1jemmagirl22, @frecklesandfanfics, @little-oxford-st, @infp-with-all-the-feelings, @kris-lulu, @womanwithaplan, @bellamyschin, @peaceloveandbabyducks, @geekyogicheese, @al3xia17 & anybody else who wants to play!.

[mshermia]

Meet Cute - Webpril Day 12: Identity Reveal

summary: After Peter's identity is revealed, Tony's new favorite pastime is to tell the story of their first meeting to everyone that would listen. Repeatedly. Peter knows though, that the day Tony came to the apartment to recruit him wasn't really the first time they had met.

Or: Tony finds out that Peter was the kid at the Expo (tumblr prompt)

Read on AO3

###

It was safe to say that nobody had found more enjoyment in Peter's Spider-Man Identity being revealed than Tony.

Over the past few months since Peter's name had been everywhere from newspaper headlines to trending Twitter hashtags, Tony had used every occasion that presented itself to tell one story in particular. A story he had apparently been withholding from the world at great personal suffering.

"To be fair, I was a bit desperate for help so I had to move fast, but honestly..." Tony arched his brows with rehearsed ease. "...it's not like the kid was hard to track down. It was more like he was begging to be found."

It had been embarrassing at first. Well, truth be told it still was, only Peter had grown used to Tony's performance.

Tony sat up a little straighter, gesturing to himself. "I, of course, had been sitting on his aunt's sofa for the better part of half an hour trying to make small talk before Pete even showed up." With an exaggerated sigh, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "On time for once in my life and the kid goes dumpster diving on his way home from school."

Thor held his stomach laughing, at Tony's antics or Peter's own face in reaction to it, Peter wasn't sure. Now that he took the time to look around the group, he did notice that there weren't even any new people present that Tony could try to amuse with the story. No, it was only the team and MJ still standing next to him. They had all heard this story before, but apparently, that wouldn't stop Tony either.

"Of course, you know me, I tried to keep things subtle—"

Natasha huffed out a laugh. "Yes. Don't we all know that side of him... Tony Stark, paragon of subtlety."

But Tony wasn't phased by her interjection, if anything he only raised his voice a little to be heard above her bickering. "I did the whole thing, staring at him intently, winking, as I was laying the foundation with the internship. The kid..." Tony laughed like he just remembered it for the first time. "He was just staring at me like all his dreams had just come true. Well," Tony smirked. "Can't really blame him for that, right."

While Bucky looked a little bored, Sam and Wanda seemed thoroughly amused to hear this story for the umpteenth time.

"Honestly, it was just adorable. His little bambi-eyes widened in awe, sparkling. That little smile on his face... like the sun had come up. It was precious." Tony sighed with overacted bliss. "I don't think even Morgan has ever looked at me with that much adoration."

"Jeezes," Peter mumbled. He sucked in a deep breath, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Hey now..." Tony pointed at him. "Don't give me that look. You know it's true. We were both there."

Peter scratched the back of his neck and met MJ's eyes with a shrug. It's not like she didn't know the story. She might have even been one of the first ones to hear it, years ago, long before the public had known about Peter's secret identity. That was back in the good old days when Tony had had a lot fewer opportunities to tell it.

Just then, Barton walked up, his eyebrows raised. "Man, you still not done? I've heard this story like 50 times."

Tony's head spun towards him. "Listen, for 13 years I had to keep this basically to myself!" He pointed at Peter. "That one should be thanking me for all those years of self-control. It's a miracle that it didn't burst out of me somewhere along the way revealing his big secret."

Rubbing a hand across his face, Peter tried to estimate if a trip to the buffet might take long enough to skip the rest of the retelling. He jerked in surprise as a hand clapped his shoulder.

"Don't feel bad, Pete," Rhodey sighed. "He's majorly embellished the way we met as well."

"That's not really..." Peter scrunched up his nose. "I mean, it's pretty accurate, minus the way he talks about how my 'bambi-eyes widened in awe' when I saw him."

MJ turned to him, eyebrows raised. "That's what you think is embellished? You still look at him like that whenever he enters the room."

"Oh, shut up," Peter mumbled into his drink.

As Rhodey broke out in laughter, MJ moved a little closer. "It's really cute," she whispered in his direction.

Peter frowned, stealing a glance at her. "Huh?"

"You know..." Her hand clasped his, their arms entangled, her voice still low, only for him to hear. "All his teammates had abandoned him, he was separated from the woman he loved, and then he found you and fell in fatherly-love with you. You were like..." She tilted her head a little, before the smile on her lips widened. "...like his life raft. And here he is, bragging about it in front of them. It's adorable."

Peter grimaced, eyes shifting back to Tony. "That's so not..."

He hesitated, not sure what he felt. Tony was just reenacting the part of the story when he had found Peter's suit hidden in the hatch on the ceiling of his bedroom. There was something about the broad smile on Tony's face that Peter couldn't argue away.

"It's adorable," MJ repeated, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah, well..." Maybe... maybe she wasn't wrong. There was something about how much Tony seemed to love to tell the story, not even just when Peter was around. At one dinner party, Peter had walked in on a group of research assistants clinging to every one of Tony's words while he was already in the middle of telling the story. And as much as Tony tried to make it sound like a joke, his eyes were always soft, the smile on his face genuine.

No, MJ wasn't wrong. And Peter couldn't deny that he too enjoyed that part. Not the story, really, but the sense of enjoyment as he watched Tony's animated gesturing. As he watched how content Tony seemed, telling it.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well that might be the reason, I haven't said anything about how this wasn't even the first time we met." 

"Wait a second," Steve called out so loudly, it didn't just stop Tony but every other conversion in the room. He pointed at Peter. "You're telling me I've had to listen to a story that has Tony fawning over how much his kid fawns over him for like 10 times and it's not even true?"

"Er..." Peter's eyes went wide, painfully aware that the attention of the room was suddenly squarely on him. Super-senses were really no fun when you were on this end of it. "I mean, it's just.... I was definitely surprised to see him then..."

"Underoos!" Tony's hand clutched his heart, but his eyes sparkled with humor. "There's no shame in your adoration for your old man. You don't have to lie about how much it meant to you to meet me!"

His lips pursed, cheeks a little hot, Peter shook his head in irritation.

Rhodey frowned at him. "Wait, so you're saying it did happen like that?"

"I mean, yeah..." Peter shrugged, avoiding Tony's eyes. "It's just not like it was the first time I had ever laid eyes on him or whatever."

Next to him, MJ gasped. "Oh please, please tell me that it was at like an autographing session that you camped out in line for!"

"No..." Peter scratched his head.

"Go on, go on." Clint leaned a little towards him now, waving for Peter to continue. "I do want to hear that story!"

Peter's eyes flickered over at Tony but his face had gone blank. He didn't remember. Of course, he didn't. Peter had never expected him to. It had been a long time ago and it would be absurd to think that Tony could have picked him out from a crowd of people like that, that he could remember with all the people he had saved over the years. Peter bit the inside of his cheeks. It wasn't even a great story. In fact, objectively they hadn't met-met then just like... stood close to each other. It didn't even really count and—

"Hey, stop..."

Pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by Tony, Peter looked up, finding everyone's eyes still on himself.

"It's okay, kid." Tony's voice was surprisingly soft. "It's nobody's business, okay? And you..." He pointed at Natasha, no trace of the softness now. "Stop giggling like that, will you?"

"Oh, come on, you're just worried you made an ass of yourself." She leaned back in her chair, head cocked to the side.

"He didn't," Peter swallowed hard. "It wasn't like that, just..." MJ shifted next to him, her hand slipping back into his. "It was just a long time ago and..." He blinked up at Tony. "You wouldn't remember. It's fine. It's not a big deal. Your story is... is a lot more amusing and..."

But Peter still had the room's full attention on him, some eyes now narrowed, some eyebrows raised. His face had only grown hotter to the point that Peter could feel the heat in the tip of his ears.

"Well, erm..." He grimaced, giving in after all. "You, er... you remember the Stark Expo? Few... few years ago."

"Oh, do I..." Rhodey groaned.

"Yeah, well..." Peter struggled not to trip over his own words. "It was that. I... erm... I was there with my uncle and... and that's where I saw Tony for the first time."

There was a moment of silence.

"Yeah, no," Clint called out. "Doesn't count."

"Stop!" Natasha signaled for him to be quiet, then pointed at Peter. "You said met. So, did you see him or did you meet him?"

Peter blew out a low breath. "I mean... it was just... there was a whole lot of stuff going on with Hammer's soldier thing-ys and then stuff started to explode—"

"Hold up." Rhodey sat up straight all of a sudden. "That's the day you were at the Expo with your uncle? The night Vanko tried his little revolt?"

"That wasn't a revolt," Tony interjected, his face a little paler. "He made a bit of a scene, that's all."

Rhodey huffed, then mumbled, "Don't let Pepper hear you call it that."

But Tony's attention was squarely on Peter, along with everyone else's. "You were at the park that night?"

"Wasn't that in like..." Clint looked over at Natasha. "Like, in '09? Or '10?" His eyebrows raised, his gaze shifted back to Peter. "Weren't you like 5 then?"

Peter pulled in a long breath. No longer getting flustered by the other Avengers had taken him some time to learn but now, he had almost mastered it. "I was 8, actually."

Waving both his arms, Rhodey signaled for him to stop. "Let me get this straight. You met him during the attack? But Tony was—" Rhodey stopped himself, then cast a glance at Tony in turn. "That must have been during the evacuation?"

Tony didn't react at all though. He was still looking right at Peter, just sitting there almost eerily quiet.

"Yeah, well..." Peter cringed at the memory. He hadn't even realized then how real it had truly been. It had all seemed like part of the show. "Things got a little crazy and people started running. I lost Ben for a bit." It was easier looking at Rhodey, like he was speaking just to him, not a whole room full of Avengers, including Tony. "One of Hammer's drones landed right where I was standing and then Tony swooped in, came to stand right next to me, and blew that thing to smithereens."

Nobody had to know that Peter had thought it was just a show, raving to Ben about it all the way home.

There was a beat of silence until Clint slapped both his thighs and burst with laughter. "Oh god, that's epic."

Just like that, the rest of the group joined in, exchanging laughs and looks of disbelief.

Steve held out his hands in a futile attempt to shush the chatter and hearty laughter. "That can't be everything. You're trying to tell us, there was nothing dazzlingly smart-ass he said?"

"Well, actually," Peter bit his lip. "He said 'nice one, kid' and then just flew off."

Spluttering with amused laughter, Steve turned to Tony. "Do you even remember that?"

Carefully, Peter glanced over at Tony as well, finding his eyes still waiting. "Hey, if I had a list of all the heroic deeds I've done..." He shrugged, lips pulled into an crooked smile but Peter knew him well enough to recognize that it didn't hold the same ease as it had before.

With a couple more quips from Thor and Clint, the mood in the room quickly shifted back to it's prior camaraderie, but Peter didn't miss it when Tony got up. Without any fuss, he gestured to the door that led out to the balcony. Peter gave MJ's hand a soft squeeze before he followed Tony out there. It was a balmy late August night, the air so much purer, the sky a lot prettier than it was in the city.

Tony had his arms braced against the balustrade, looking up there with the serenity like they hadn't once see space up close and personal.

"Why did you never tell me?"

Peter shrugged as he stepped up next to him. "It's not important, is it? It was so long ago and I knew you wouldn't remember so—"

"Oh, excuse me!" Tony squinted at him from the side. "Who said that I don't remember, huh?" He tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. "Very sneaky by the way to leave out the ultra cool Iron Man mask and gauntlet that you tried to fight the evil robot with."

Peter's jaw dropped. "But... that's impossible."

Lips pulled into a soft smile, Tony looked at him with something in his eyes that had Peter blush once again. "You know, it's pretty adorable that you think I meet a lot of kids who put themselves on the line like that, breakneck as that particular fever dream was. Granted, I didn't put it together until just now but..." Tony blew out a soft laugh as his hand came up, squeezing Peter's shoulder. "Yeah, you really always have been that hero at heart, kid, hm?"

His eyes stung and he looked down at how his hands clasped the railing, trying to blink the emotions away.

The room behind them had gone back to normal. There was roaring laughter from Thor that drew everyone's attention and Tony was good enough to look away as Peter wiped at his eyes.

After a moment of silence, Tony cleared his throat. "I'm gonna petition the court to add this to the rescue tally."

Peter snorted out a genuine laugh. "It's so cute how you still think you'll even have a chance to beat me."

"Hey, I'm still in the lead! 54 to 36." He pointed a finger at Peter. "55 now!"

Peter smirked. "Yeah, whatever. I'm catching up quick and you don't go out there anymore, so it's only a matter of time when it's only me rescuing you anymore."

Tony gasped. "Did you just call me old?"

"I think I called you a pensioner. If you want to jump to the being old part, well..."

Biting his lip like it would stop him from grinning, Peter shot a couple of glances at him until Tony simply shook his head. He waved Peter closer and Peter went without a second thought. Tony's arms pulled him in a tight hug.

"It was a pleasure saving you from your overachieving kamikaze mission, kiddo," Tony sighed. "Again."

Peter laughed into his shoulder. "Yeah, thanks, dad."

"You keep using that word like it's a big gotcha," Tony mumbled.

Peter chuckled, couldn't even really pretend that he was embarrassed being called out like that.

"Alright then," Tony clapped a hand on his back but didn't loosen his hold on Peter at all. "Let's go and tell them all about your Iron Man merch, hm?"

"You wouldn't dare..."

At last, Tony pulled away from him, the smirk on his lips dangerously sparkling. "Oh, wouldn't I..?"

A nervous giggle bubbled out of Peter. "They'd never believe you though." He would have to act fast and destroy all the photographic evidence that May had surely still stored in some of the boxes of old prints.

"Yeah..." Tony pursed his lips. "Too bad that I don't ever keep the footage from old missions..."

Peter's jaw dropped. "No..."

"It's alright," Tony grinned. "I'll let you bribe me with cookies and hot milk."

"Isn't that Morgan's deal?"

"Hey," Tony shrugged. "I'm all for treating all my kids equally." Then his grin widened. "We can make it cookies and egg nog for you."

As Tony's arm came to rest around his shoulders, still joking about how cute he had looked in his Iron Man mask, Peter already knew what his next mission would be. Now all he had to figure out was how to bribe an AI.

[alliterative-albatross]

So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

~

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again. 

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise! 

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory. 

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs, 

~ Jay

[jay-kwellyn]

TW: self harm, she’s talking about her neck again soooo...

Can I be real with y’all for a minute? I came upon some realizations over the last 24 hours. First off the one from five minutes ago.

Tumblr has been the most supportive place on the internet for me since high school. It was the first place that being a heavily and unknowingly closeted little gay weeb could come enjoy cool fandom things and gay things and the most specific humor I’ve found out of anywhere. I’ve gotten so many asks and messages from people who have follow me since before my accident and before I came out and started posting bad make up pics and crying about lesbians. I appreciate every single one of you more than you can possibly know. I’m willing to share what I’m sharing because of them.

I had a tendency for self harm when I was a child. I felt like If I was doing something wrong in life (so basically all the time) I needed to feel some sort of pain. I do also think that stems from getting spanked as a child although I don’t blame my parents as that was the way they were raised and they know better now and don’t spank my siblings. I would hit my head on things or punch myself in the face as hard as I could stand when I thought I was trying as hard as I could or if I failed at something.

The reason I mention that is because I think tumbling was a form of “productive” self harm for me. It inherently hurts to flip and lift people and work out constantly. I’d always go home sore or cramping and I thought I loved it. I also do have to mention the feeling of freedom it gave me but I think both sides are important. I genuinely grieve for my tumbling ability but as I assume y’all could’ve guessed by the change of content that I can’t do that stuff anymore. When I broke my neck I lost all body movement under my neck. I was only in the hospital for 6 weeks which is actually insane but it still took months of doing more physical and occupational therapy before I could walk around without a noticeable limp. To this day I still have to think about every step I take other wise my right foot will drag. The entire right side of my body is considerably weaker than the left in the sense that some of the muscles still don’t react when I try to move them. The worst places are my right hand and right thigh and calf. It makes doing more then really bad basics or trying to grab AND let go of something at the right timing near impossible. I’ve spent the last two and a half years trying my best to get that control back and I don’t think it’ll happen ever SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I’m quiting circus. I’ll still probably juggle every once in a while. It’s much more enjoyable to me as a hobby to pass time as opposed to a potential career. I’m not forcing myself to workout as much as I did before. I don’t need that. I’ll be ok just being fit. I’m going to be a music producer and singer songwriter. I’m going to inspire as many people as possible. I think I can do it. Thank you for your continued support and for reading this long ass sad message to myself. I’m going to start dropping my music soon. When I do please let me know what you think. I love all of you. Have a good day. I’m gonna go cry now.

[zachrykdouglas]

🌹💀🖤 "May the devil never know your name. May it be kept away from all that's precious about you and sentenced to the flames. I learned a long time ago how love feels when it comes from a darker place. One where you know it's there, but all you see is red. Some days I wondered if life would ever make sense to me. I wondered how often kids at my age went through hell without ever catching a name. I knew being different was an advantage. I knew being bold with my emotions would eventually get me further away from everything not meant for me. I'm a child of a universe that's constantly changing. I once followed love to the edge of it all, only for it to step away as soon as I asked for a little more. I'm timid at times. I'm a shy, introverted human who's unwilling to waste energy on small talk or try to put together your rhymes. I'm a musician made from beaten down instruments that lost their way, their ability produce anything but out-of-key notes. I'm made from scraps left by wolves before me, attempting to lure me in close enough to kill me. But they never knew I was born into a darkness, a deep rage of infinite fight. They misunderstood my eyes. They misunderstood their own power when they tried to match mine. I'll turn green before the sun can touch me, before a calming word reaches inside my heart to calm me. Now I walk alone along these paths I've given light to. My enlightening moment came when I was below the rocks, pulled deeper than any human has ever known. I was a wreckage no one wanted to explore. My gold was worthless. My treasure covered in my own blood. All it did was keep away anyone looking for love. It's funny to me how long we voluntarily suffer just for the sake of being miserable. It took me years to clean myself up and look presentable. When I came across you, I knew you were something more than an artist. Something more than a mother and goddess. You speak fluently in my sarcasm, my dark and unsettling humor. I see it in the colors you use to be seen by those hopeless enough to think they'll never see daylight again. You broke the sky in-half to find yourself. You paint because it saved you. I see forgiveness all over your hands." (at Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CTBR_r2Lr9C/?utm_medium=tumblr

[sketchguk]

Hi, friends! I can honestly say that I’ve been on Tumblr for about 9 years, but only 7 of those months have been spent on this account. Being a part of this fandom means so much to me, and as cheesy as it may be, I’ve never felt so much love from a community like this. I think that I should spread a little love back to everyone through this festive follow forever post in the spirit of the holidays (there’s also a message for my beautiful followers at the very end, so bear with me). Although I may have not spoken to you all personally, you’ve made my experience here amazing!! Whether it’s seeing you on my dash or in my inbox, you’ve all made me smile one way or another!! I’ll admit right now that I’ve sent so many anonymous messages to you all because I’m really shy, haha. Not to mention, I follow so many amazing content creators, gif/gfx makers and fic writers alike, and I want to make you smile as much as you have made me!! Y’all are so lovely, and I’m not totally sure why anyone chooses to interact with me or to follow me nonetheless. Maybe you’ve read a fic of mine, or none at all, I appreciate you all the same 💕 I know some of you may be in and out of hiatus, but just know that I’m thinking of you!! And if this is the first time you’re coming across my blog, I guess this is a good time to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Teresa. It’s nice to meet you 😄

If you’re reading this, hopefully we can chat a little more. I would love to get to know such lovely people 😊  To my beautiful mutuals, I love you all sooo much 💓 I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, but I hope that this is a start! @190713 @95swifi ✩ @alwayschoosechocolate ✩ @aureumjeon ✩ @beebopboobop ✩ @boobearcupcake ✩ @btsaremyfaves ✩ @btssmutheaven ✩ @bwiq ✩ @engeljimin ✩ @ddaengwrld ✩ @emiyooa ✩ @geniuslab 💌 ✩ @gimmeyoon (@gimmeyoon-main) ✩ @girlwiththespecs ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @hobimygs​ ✩ @hoseoknysus ✩ @idiotscalledfriends ✩ @joonary ✩ @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) 💌 ✩ @littlemisskookie ✩ @llsanjoonie ✩ @lovehrs ✩ @magicshop-myg ✩ @map-of-yoongi ✩ @maptoyoongi ✩ @mercurygguk ✩ @minflix ✩ @minlexia ✩ @minyoongsueit ✩ @mygsii ✩ @outroguks ✩ @pjmskosmos ✩ @sdmnluv ✩ @softaellie ✩ @spookitokki (@spookitokkimain) ✩ @starrytete 💌 ✩ @syugasshi ✩ @taesseok 💌 ✩ @tokyoscript ✩ @ve1vetyoongi ✩ @vminary 💌 ✩ @vtbts ✩ @vxngguk ✩ @wthkook ✩ @yourdelights 💌 If your url is bolded, scroll down for some words of affirmation. ✨ If you have an emoji (💌) next to your url, scroll down for a special message. 😇🌟  And here’s a shoutout to some of my favorite fic writers, because you all allow me escape to my happy place !! Thank you so much for contributing to the writing community !! This online space is pretty hectic, especially as of late, but you all make it worth it. Even if you’re taking a break from writing, I am here cheering you on !! And to let you know that I’ll support you no matter what. I hope you never lose your spark for passion and creativity !! Sometimes life gets the best of us, and other times, things are not in our control, but I want to send my love and appreciation to you nevertheless. Your fics have inspired me to try my own hand at writing, and I’m forever grateful ✨ You’re spectacular, every single one of you, so never forget that! Kpop isn’t that serious, but I’ll probably think about your fics until the day I die. @bymoonchild ✩ @floralseokjin ✩ @foreverpark ✩ @geniuslab ✩ @gimmeyoon ✩ @gukgalore ✩ @gukkheaven ✩ @guktwt ✩ @jamaisjoons ✩ @gukyi ✩ @kookswife ✩ @kinktae ✩ @kpopfanfictrash ✩ @minflix ✩ @mygsii ✩ @personasintro​ ✩ @prolixitae ✩ @readyplayerhobi ✩ @spookitokki ​ ✩ @ubemango ✩ @ve1vetyoongi (yee, you might see some repeats because my moots are super talented) 💖  A love letter from me to you: 💌 @geniuslab Megan !! This might sound soo sappy, but you’re the very first person I followed when I made this blog !! It’s because I’ve read all of your fics (perhaps more than once on my old account), and you inspired me to start writing as well. You have no idea how happy I was when you said you would get back into writing fics. I guess I’ll expose myself right now, but I’ve sent a few anons to you on the matter haha (yes, I am a 7 Chances enthusiast, one of many). You’re so talented, and I admire you so much 🥺 A gif maker and fic writer ?? Nothing you can’t do !! Among other things, you’re such a kind-hearted individual. I’ve read plenty of your text posts, and there’s just something so warm about the way you carry yourself. You deserve the world, and I wish for nothing but the best for you !! I hope you have an amazing new year and that you have space for peace, love, and healing. Please know that I support you through and through, and that you are well-loved ❣️

💌 @kitsutaes (@geniusguk) Yas !! I know we just started chatting, but I love getting to know you !! It’s hard for me to reach out to people because I’m shy, but I’m really grateful that you hit me up 😊 It’s been so nice getting to know you, and I hope we can get closer 💕 I’m already learning so much about you because our chats just flow from one topic to another !! You said you wanna visit new york one day, so I’ll hold you to that 😉 I’ll be your tour guide, and the only exchange I’ll ever need is your friendship !! Some dried mangoes would be nice too 😚 haha jk … unless 😳 I hope you have an amazing year filled with lots and lots of love. May you receive everything you’re wishing for !! 

💌 @starrytete Mirelle !! I’m still getting used to your new url LOL. But how could I ever forget you?? You are quite literally the human embodiment of an angel. You’re always spreading positivity, and I adore you with all my heart. I wish that I could be as radiant as you !! All the emojis that I’m using in this post?? An homage to you 🌼☀️ I don’t think I can ever look at emojis the same way thanks to you haha. Sending you lots of love!! I hope we can speak more in the future!! May the new year bring you happiness and good fortune!! Please take care of yourself, ok?! Message me whenever because my inbox is always open 🥰 

💌 @taesseok Mia !! I just love seeing you on my dash. I’ll give you a quick run down: Teresa: :[ Mia: *posts* Teresa: :] It’s like the universe knows. You’re a light in this world, and I hope you never lose your spark !! May you smile as often as I do (all thanks to you) 💗 I wish for nothing but your happiness since you deserve it and more. In fact, it’s the world that doesn’t deserve you and your sparkle !! I hope this year was rewarding for you, but I already know that 2020 will be better and better. I’ll be sending you lots of positive energy for the new year hehe 💞 Hopefully we can talk more soon !! I’d love to be friends !!

💌 @vminary Kiara !! I’m so happy that you reached out to me all those months ago because you’ve become one of my closest online friends !! I can’t tell you how much you mean to me because the limit does not exist. It’s so easy to talk to you, and sometimes our conversations are big sis/lil sis -esque (I’ve always wanted a sister lol 🐣). I feel as if we’ve taught one another so much, especially because of our cultural differences and the tiny age gap that we share. I find myself missing you because of the time zones LOL. In the middle of the day, I’m wondering whether or not you’re sleeping well :’) Why do you have to live across the world?? 😔 I would totally send you a package if I wasn’t broke haha. I’m sending you all my love here though, and I hope that’s enough !! 💛

💌 @yourdelights Destinee !! You are SUCH a sweetheart. The messages that you send me are so kind, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Do let me know how you stumbled across my blog because I feel like you’re way too cool for me LOL. Your posts are always so hilarious, and the tags have me dying. Your sense of humor >> !! My love for you is immeasurable, and I hope you know that, ahh. I think it was truly solidified when I found out you’re a fan of day6 and the rose :’) I’m not really a multi-stan, but from that moment on, I was sold. That was the only time my instincts did not let me down 🌹💝 I swear I’m getting introduced to new fandoms because of you haha. And when you went on a lil hiatus, I really missed seeing you on my dash !! I hope that you’ll be with us for a long time though !! I really can’t wait for what’s in store for next year, because no pressure or anything, but I’m sincerely excited for your WIPs hehe. I’m rooting for ya, so make sure you make the new year your b*tch !!  Lastly, thank you so much to my followers !! I see y’all in my activity, and I wanna let you know that I love you from the bottom of my heart !! At this point, I’m more of an update blog than a fanfic blog LOL :’) And if you follow me because you’ve stumbled through my fics, I just want to say 🤯 what?! It blows my mind that anyone reads my work, let alone enjoys it. I never would have though that I’d find solace in reading and writing considering I’m a full on STEM nerd. In conjunction with that, I literally started writing fiction 7 months ago to this day. I didn’t even realize that it would lead me to such amazing connections. With so many lovely people, popping in and out of my dashboard, inbox/DMs, and activity page, my heart b u r s t s with love!! Your interactions mean the world to me, even the most minute things like reblogs make my heart flutter. I really do check the reblogs to see if anyone has left a tag. Single words and keyboard smashes mean the world to me too !! Before I was a fic writer, I was just a silent reader. I always admired writers for the worlds they craft, the characters they develop, and the plots they devise, all for it to come together in one cohesive work of literature. Now that I have a vague understanding of what that’s like, I know that it’s nothing short of strenuous. Words are so powerful, and although I’m a really sensitive sap, I’ve read so many things that hit me to the core, and now I’m sure to tell the authors how much I enjoy their fics. If they went through hours (perhaps days/weeks/months) of drafting, writing, editing, and formatting, a quick comment from the reader really doesn’t hurt !! It’s the most rewarding thing a writer could ever ask for. As an amateur author myself, being on the receiving end is the thing that keeps me going !! I promise you, I don’t take any of it for granted. Your words seriously resonate with me, and it’s a huge motivator for me !! I hope that in the new year, I can work on new pieces for you all (as much as I don’t want to make up excuses, juggling life is not easy as a student!!) I always say that I write for myself, and as true as that is, I want to share my stories with you lovely people !! I pour my heart and soul into my work, and the build up of excitement is nothing if it means I can’t share it with someone else. So, old supporters, new supporters, look out for new content in the future. I hope you’re as excited as I am for the new year!! Please take care, y’all, and remember that I love you. My inbox is always open 💌 So let’s be friends 😇

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 2

I haven't done my customary read-through on this chapter, so if there are any spelling mistakes and such, please let me know so I can fix them! (at some point, hopefully later this week)

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

Chapter 2: Host the Ghost

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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“Danny?” Jazz finally responded, thrown off. It was undeniable that this was her brother in front of her, but… how was he also a ghost? She was the one who had had an accident with the Ghost Portal, and there was no way he could’ve gone through the same, since the Portal had been turned on ever since. “How are you-- What’s going on?!”

“You’re asking me?” he muttered, shifting to a more comfortable position. Jazz felt faintly jealous of how well he took to the skies, his ease up here. She could barely float in place, and here he was, moving about like he’d been doing it for years.

“Well, yeah!” She threw out her hands, dismayed. “I’ve been ruining my school record chasing ghosts all day long, and now I find out you could’ve helped! How long have you had ghost powers anyway?”

He blinked at her, clearly stunned. Then he offered her an awkward grin, raising one hand to start rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, of course, his characteristic display of nerves. “I, uh. Look, it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jazz huffed, crossing her arms. Danny seemed genuine, sure, but maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought. If he had been hiding ghost powers from her, for who knows how long, without her realizing…

“Okay, so, uh,” Danny said, snapping her out of her thoughts. He shifted again, his legs merging together in a ghostly tail, which twitched in… irritation, maybe? She wasn’t very good at reading the emotional tells of ghost tails. Not yet, at least. “Do you, uh, know about parallel universes?”

She rolled her eyes, chagrined. “You know I do, Danny. Mom and Dad talk about that kind of stuff all the time. Not to mention the Ghost Zone, which we know is in a different dimension.” Not that she understood why he brought it up. Unless… Unless he was implying--

“Right, right.” He bit his lip, probably thinking over his words. “So, um. I’m… from another universe, I guess? I accidentally went through a Portal in the Ghost Zone and didn’t try to go back because I thought this was home.”

Jazz stared at him, unblinking. As she remained quiet, Danny started fidgeting more and more. Plucked at the edge of his glove, tugged on the collar of his suit, swept his tail through the air.

Finally she took mercy on him, and broke the silence. “So my brother isn’t half ghost?”

“Probably not.” Danny shrugged, his vivid green eyes coming up to meet hers again. “I know I got my powers two years ago, when I was fourteen. I’m guessing that you took my place in this universe—timeline—for whatever reason.”

“I see…” She frowned at this new information. It did explain why he was so casual about his powers: he’d had them for far longer than her. But still… “So did our parents finish the Portal two years earlier, or something? If you got your powers when you were fourteen, your version of me must’ve been like… twelve.”

“Uh, no?” Danny shook his head, then quirked one eyebrow at him. “My Jazz is two years older than me. She’s eighteen now, but she was sixteen when I had the accident.” Then his eyes widened as realization struck. “Wait, are you saying that your version of me is the older sibling?”

“I mean, yeah?” She scratched her cheek, feeling increasingly thrown off by the conversation. The little experience she had with ghosts hadn’t prepared her for situations like this one at all. “So, what, we just swapped places? The younger sibling becomes the half-ghost?”

He shrugged. “Guess so… Wait, so then who was down with you when you had the accident?”

“Nobody?” she answered, tone questioning. “Why, did you have someone with you-- No, never mind,  of course you did. Sam and Tucker never would’ve let you do something like that without being there to watch.”

“Heh, yeah.” He grinned, a little sheepishly. “To be honest, they were the ones who convinced me to check out the Portal in the first place. I’m kind of surprised you checked it out, to be honest.”

It had been pretty out of character for her, yeah, she could admit that. But… “Our-- My parents were just so sad, when the Portal didn’t work… Even if I didn’t believe in ghosts, I just wanted to help, you know?”

He snorted, but his smile remained, soft. “Yeah, that’s why my Jazz took them out of the house. Wanted them to get their minds off of the failed Portal. Which is also when Sam and Tucker convinced me to show it to them, and, well. I’m sure you can guess how that went.”

Then his eyes widened, like he realized something. “Wait, so does anybody know about you being half-ghost?”

“No?” Oh, but of course. If Sam and Tucker had been there during his accident, then of course they knew about Danny being half-ghost. They would’ve helped him as much as they could, with his powers and his disappearances and everything else.

Danny eyed her speculatively. His tail twitched, but she still couldn’t quite link an emotion to it. She doubted it was irritation, now. “And how long have you had your powers?”

“A little over a month.” She narrowed her eyes at him, puffing out her chest a little. Her core whirled in her chest, in sync with her burst of annoyance. Just because he had two years of experience and friends that helped him didn’t mean… whatever he was going for. “Why?”

“Assuming that everything else follows the same timeline… You’ve fought the Lunch Lady already?” He ignored her attempt at intimidation completely. Not entirely surprising, in hindsight. She probably wasn’t terribly impressive compared to some of the ghosts he must’ve met.

“Well, I didn’t fight her, but I did encounter her, yes. And Dora as well, if that means anything to you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “And you probably weren’t an idiot with Dora’s amulet like I was, so you only had to fight one ghost dragon.” Then he sobered up a little, his smile losing its humor. “But you got the Lunch Lady to leave without fighting her? That’s pretty impressive.”

Danny’s tail split into legs again, and he took a seated position, one leg crossed over the other. Leaning forward, he placed one elbow on his upper leg. “But, sooner or later, you’re gonna run into a ghost you’ll need to fight.”

“I’ve fought ghosts before!” she snapped back. Just because he had two years of experience didn’t mean he could act all high and mighty! “Just because I talked it out with Dora and the Lunch Lady doesn’t mean I can’t fight! I had to beat Dora that first time, didn’t I? And all the animal ghosts, those can’t be reasoned with either.”

“That’s… fair,” he allowed, uncrossing his legs again. Instead, he started to circle around her. “But how much control do you have? What kind of abilities?”

“I have plenty of control!” She bristled, her hair flickering more aggressively, like licking flames. Then she released a hissing breath, forcing herself to calm down again. Just because she was fourteen didn’t mean she had to act like it. “And… Just the basics, I suppose. Invisibility, intangibility, flight. My ghost sense, of course.”

He nodded, but his brow creased in a frown. At least he stopped circling her again, coming to a halt in front of her. “So it really is right after your accident.” His voice was quiet; she wasn’t sure if he had intended for her to hear it.

“So now what?” she asked instead, crossing her arms. Looking at this version of her brother that, somehow, came from a different universe. God, that sounded crazy.

Danny bit his lip, glancing away from her. Nodded to himself, like he’d made up his mind. Turning back, he looked her right in the eyes, expression determined. “How do you feel about me training you?”

She blinked, caught off-guard by the unexpected suggestion. “I-- What?”

“Well…” He shifted, suddenly looking a little awkward. “It’s just-- I had some help figuring out my powers, and I still struggled. The only person who really could’ve helped was… asking for something I couldn’t give him.” Danny took a deep breath, looking more serious than she had ever seen her brother—or any variation of him. “But I can make sure you don’t have to go through that. I have two years of experience. I can help.”

It was… an alluring offer, she could admit. And genuine too—she knew her brother well enough to tell.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your own universe, though?”

Danny grimaced. “Eh, probably. But natural portals like the one I went through are unpredictable; I have no real way of tracking them down. The Ghost Zone is called the Infinite Realms for a reason, y’know?”

“Well, I didn’t know, because I haven’t heard anyone call it that before.” She cocked her head at him, trying to get a good read on him. It didn’t quite make sense. Why wouldn’t he be trying his hardest to get back, no matter how hard it was? What about his own family? “But if tracking down a portal is so hard, then what do you plan on doing? Isn’t Amity Park in danger without you there? Or did the ghosts stop coming?”

He barked out a sudden laugh. “Oh lord, no. They’re worse than ever.” He grinned, widely and brightly, showing off his small fangs. “But Va-- Red and Danielle can take care of them. They’re both very competent ghost hunters.”

Making sure to memorize the names, especially the aborted first name for Red, she watched as Danny’s grin fell a little, his shoulders slumping down. “As for getting home… I’m assuming that Team Phantom will be able to find me. The Booo-merang tracked me down into the future, once, so…” He shrugged.

“The future?” slipped out before she could stop herself. If their worlds seemed to be following the same line, did that mean that she was going to travel to the future at some point? Dangit, now she got them distracted. She’d tried so hard to ignore the earlier names and ‘Team Phantom’, too!

Danny’s expression fell the rest of the way, his mouth going flat. “I… Yeah. Don’t worry too much about it, Jazz. It’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh.” But she would let the topic drop for now. Whatever the context was, something had happened, and it wasn’t good. Her core whirred in her chest, and she grimaced. “Ah, um. Any chance we could continue this conversation on the ground?”

“Oh, of course!” Danny grew wide-eyed, then nodded. “Lead the way, I’ll be right behind you.”

She dove, aiming for the forest a little further away. There was still a lot she needed to discuss with Danny—this Danny—and she couldn’t risk bringing him to their home if her actual brother might be there.

Her landing was a little rough, as she stumbled over her own feet and transformed back to a human the moment she hit the ground, but at least she hadn’t fallen. Danny came in easily, his white-booted feet touching down soundlessly.

Then bright light sparked from him, familiar white rings sweeping past him, leaving him perfectly human as well.

It was the ultimate proof that this really was a half-ghost version of her brother. Not that she had needed it, of course, but seeing it… Well, seeing was believing.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, stepping closer to her with a worried expression on his face. “Sorry, I totally forgot how new you are to this stuff.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, waving off his concern. “But-- Team Phantom, really? Not a very creative name, is it?”

Rolling his eyes, Danny stopped trying to get closer. “It’s what we decided to call ourselves, alright? We needed something better than ‘Ghost Getters’, which is what my Jazz came up with, and Sam and Tucker figured we might as well name ourselves after me. Since I’m, y’know, the actual face of the team.”

“Nobody knows they help?” That made sense, she guessed. Just because they didn’t have to worry about being recognized, because no one tries linking a ghost to a living human, didn’t mean that human helpers were protected as well. “Wait, so did you pick Phantom as your ghost name?”

“I mean, yeah?” He shrugged. “It’s a play on Fenton. Why, what did you pick?”

She grimaced. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have criticized him. After all, she had also picked a synonym for ghost.

“…Specter,” she finally admitted. “But at least mine doesn’t sound exactly like my actual last name! How do people not catch on to that?!”

“Oh, Jazz, you and I both know that people wouldn’t think of linking a ghost to a living person.” Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulders, clicking his tongue. “Besides, our parents are dead certain that humans can’t have ghost powers.”

“Was that a pun?” she hissed at him, wondering why she was surprised in the first place.

He laughed, distancing himself from her again. “Yeah! Come on, you gotta work on your witty banter too. It’s a critical part of battle!”

“No it’s not,” she snapped back, flaring her eyes at him. “And if you’re actually going to help me train, I hope you plan on bringing more useful advice.”

“Hey!” He pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “I’m a great teacher, thank you very much. And you don’t know how often banter has served to distract my enemy so I could catch them off-guard.”

She sighed, but let it go. “Fine, as long as we’ll focus on actual half-ghost stuff too.”

“Of course we will.” Danny dropped the pretense, falling back into serious. “I know how hard it can be to be half-ghost, Jazz, especially with our family.”

“Speaking of our family… How are you planning on handling that?” She raised a brow at him. “Since I’m assuming you still need food, just like I do.”

“Oh. Right…” He made a face like he had, in fact, totally forgotten about necessities. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m not carrying a ton of money, and I can’t go wandering around town all willy-nilly because people will think I’m this Danny.”

“You hadn’t thought of that at all, huh?” she asked, unimpressed. “Really, Danny?”

“Hey, it’s not like I chose to come here!” he snapped back, his eyes flashing green briefly. “Even if I went into the Zone to look for a portal back, I still would’ve needed food or water. I can’t live off of the ambient ectoplasm like ghosts can—and neither can you, by the way.”

She sighed. “That’s fair. Alright, let’s see… How long can you stay in your ghost form?”

“Without shifting back?” Danny frowned, thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. Never had a reason to try, I guess. Several days, for sure, but I’ll need to eat more to make up for the extra energy I’m burning through.”

“Right. So then, how about this. Danny—my Danny—and I are both teenagers, so we’re eating a lot. We can use that to play off the disappearing of leftovers and such. I’ll make sure that there’s enough food in the fridge, so you can grab some of those. I’ll keep an eye on where my brother is, so you’ll know when it’s safe to go into the kitchen for food.”

“And, what, spend most of my day haunting the town?” Danny shook his head dismissively. “I mean, most of that will work, but the moment your parents get a ghost scanner together I’ll have to start shifting back. Otherwise I’m gonna be running away from them all day long, and I’m really not up for that.”

A ghost scanner? Yes, that would throw off their plans… “Do you know what that’ll look like? The ghost scanner, I mean?”

“Yeah? Unless they’ll change its design in this world. Why?” He frowned at her.

“Well, why don’t we just… sabotage it?” She shrugged at his incredulous look. “I’m not saying we destroy it completely! But if we can stop it from picking up on you—on us, both of us—that would make life a lot easier, right?”

Danny paused, as if considering it. Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, no, you’re right. That thing was always a pain, anyway, since it picked read me as a ghost even in human form.”

“Okay, so that’s food.” She raised a fist, uncurling a single finger. “You can grab drinks the same way, and if you carry a bottle you can just have water with you…” A second finger joined the first. With her other hand, she started tapping on it as she thought.

“And sleep?” Danny asked, dryly. “I don’t need as much sleep if I stay in my ghost form a lot, but I’ll still need some. Unless you can me to lose consciousness and shift back mid-air.”

“You can… nap in my room while I’m away?” She made a face. It wasn’t a great option—she didn’t like the idea of Danny being in her room without supervision—but she didn’t know any better ideas. “It’s not ideal, but my parents will be in the lab all day anyway.”

“Ugh.” He wiped a hand over his face, but nodded his approval anyway. “So I’m gonna be living a nocturnal life for the time being. Great. Brilliant.”

Oh, that was right. Forcibly shifting him into a different sleeping pattern would probably cause trouble, wouldn’t it? “Is that okay? We can build up to it slowly, if you want. That should make the transition easier on you, or on your body, at least?”

Danny flapped a  hand. “It’s fine, never mind. I barely sleep during the night, since the ghosts keep attacking. Most of my sleep I get while napping in class, anyway.”

“I can’t imagine that that does your grades any good.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Danny’s grades were never the greatest, anyway—he could coast on by without much effort, so he preferred to focus on other stuff—and she knew her grades had already taken a hit from the regular hunting.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “There’s nothing I can do to change it, and definitely not now, while I’m here. No point in worrying about it.”

“That’s not a very good way of coping,” she chastised. But, fine, she supposed she might as well drop the topic. “But alright. I gotta head home before anyone gets worried. What about you?”

He hummed, taking a moment to think it over. “I think that I’m gonna fly about a little, explore the city. See what kind of differences there are between our versions of Amity Park.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth. “I’ll stay invisible, don’t worry. I’m not gonna be the one to tip off Amity Park to the existence of ghosts.”

“Okay,” she said, slowly, “good. Make sure to drop by somewhere tonight, so I can help you grab leftovers.”

“Yeah, alright.” Light flashed in the clearing as Danny shifted back to his ghost form. He met her eyes again, and now that she was looking more closely, she realized his eyes were the exact color of ectoplasm. Eerie. “And Jazz… thanks. For going through the effort of arranging things for me behind your parents’ backs.”

“Of course.” She smiled at him, trying to press as much warmth into the expression as she could. “Thank you, too, for helping me with the half-ghost stuff.”

Danny huffed, shaking his head. “What else would I do? You’re my sister, Jazz, even if you’re not my Jazz. Stay out of trouble, and I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Only if you do the same.” She watched as he floated up, smooth and effortlessly. “See you tonight, Danny!”

He raised one hand in a wave goodbye, then suddenly shot off.

Show-off.

[kayyy-lmao]

I was tagged by @mvickym to answer the following questions thank you 🥺

1. What are you wearing? a big sweatshirt that was my moms and sweatpants

2. Ever been in love? nope

3. Ever had a terrible breakup? no

4. How tall are you? 5’3 I think but I definitely tell ppl I’m 5’4

5. How much do you weigh? No❤️

6. Any tattoos do you want? 100% I have 5 planned but I am broke

7. Any piercings that you want? I wanna get my nose redone and get more on my ear

8. OTP? me and a sugar daddy

9. Favorite show? teen wolf parks and rec love island and kuwtk bc I’m garbage who likes garbage

10. Favorite band? One direction mcr and 100 gecs

11. Something you miss? My friends :((((

12. Favorite song? currently Crave by Waterparks but it changes all the time

13. How old are you? 19

14. Zodiac sign? Taurus sun Aries moon and Capricorn rising

15. Hair color? Blackish brown but I’m gonna dye it soon

16. Favorite quote? it’s a tie between “Herr God, Herr Lucifer, Beware. Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.” -Sylvia Plath and “Kiss my design vagina” -Gemma Collins

17. Favorite singer? Harry styles ayesha erotica lil peep and basically any female rapper

18. Favorite color? hot pink

19. Loud music or soft? loud

20. Where do you go when you’re sad? my bedroom or where my paints are (I’ve never sounded more pretentious but I’m a shit painter I promise but it helps me cope)

21. How long does it take you to shower? 13 minutes if I’m just doing a simple shower but if I’m shaving and exfoliating and shit like that like an hour

22. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? like 20 minutes if I’m being quick or multiple hours if I wanna pull out a fucking LOOK

23. Ever been in a physical fight? not really

24. Turn on? Like alt fashion and a good sense of humor

25. Turn off? Being inconsiderate and not washing your ass

26. The reason I joined TUMBLR? I decided I really wanted brain damage

27. Fears? BUGS!!! I literally will sleep on the couch after a bug is in my room like it’s baddd also trump winning again pls vote everyone

28. Last thing that made you cry? a tiktok of a cat a little before it was euthanized

29. Last time you cried? rn man holy shit was that tiktok sad

30. Meaning behind your url? remember that dead dead meme ayyy lmao yeah that and I’m too lazy to change it

31. Last book you read? I’m dyslexic so reading is a no but I listen to the audio book of the bell jar by Sylvia Plath

32. Last song you listened to? Right now by one direction

33. Last show you watched? parks and rec

34. Last person you talked to? my mom

35. The relationship between you and the person you last texted? my oldest friend

36. Favorite food? my homemade mac and cheese

37. Place you want to visit? literally anywhere man I refuse to leave the house till new cases in my state are under 100 a day

38. Last place you were? my room

39. Do you have a crush? no

40. Last time you kissed someone? never

41. Last time you were insulted and what was it? I honestly can’t remember

42. What color underwear are you wearing? red and black with a Betty Boop all over em

43. What color shirt are you wearing? navy blue

44. What color bottoms are you wearing? black with grey lettering

45. Wearing any bracelets? no

46. Last sport you played? whatever one the last gym class I took forced me to

47. Last song you sang? Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyoncé

48. Last prank call you remember doing? me and my friend called Dennys and asked if Denny was there and I guess they didn’t hear us right and thought we said someone else and they got very upset I think drama was happening between them and I ended up blocking Dennys

49. Last time you hung out with anyone? A while ago fuck COVID

50. Favorite movie? Donnie Darko Pride and Prejudice The Romeo and Juliet one with Leonardo DiCaprio Jennifer’s Body Beautiful Boy and this is us the one direction documentary

Thank you for tagging me!!!!! And i’ll tag @homoerotic-subtext-and-murder @everythingismeee @hypestyles @whattheheckisahufflepuff and @sorryybabyyx no pressure tho

[phandomficfests]

Writer’s Corner: phanburnhamizzard

Introductions

First things first, tell us a little about yourself. Hi, I’m Jenny!  I’m a 46 year old who works in the Physical Therapy field and has recently discovered that I am Asexual.  I have a younger sister who is smarter, prettier, and healthier than I am, and no, that isn’t fair, lol.  I have a Grandmom who is 99 (!) and a kitten, Lucy,  who is 4 months old.  I recently lost my best kitty friend, Violet, who was 18.  I love listening to audio books, writing, playing World of Warcraft, watching stand up comedy, watching Dan and Phil, playing with Lucy,  and unsuccessfully trying to fix all that is wrong on the internet.  

How long have you been writing for?  Since I was about 12 years old.  I wrote non-fiction essays and a ton of poetry.  When I was 18, I placed first in my state and third in the United States for a poem I wrote.  I recently re-read it.  The competition must have been pretty light that year ;-)

Tell us about your current project. I am writing a piece for the Phandom Reverse Bang where Dan and Phil are in Heaven.  It is a challenge, as I don’t want it to bring anyone down, but since they are dead, there is some sadness in it.  I started it off as a comedy, and will ease people into the reality of their situation slowly, and then end with some comfort and hope.  

What is your current word count?  On my current work it is 4727.

 Questions on Writing

What was your favorite book as a child, and has it influenced your style or preferred genre of writing? The Chronicles of Narnia, which my mother read to us each night.  This is a great question, but I feel like I’m going to let you down when I answer that I don’t think it influenced my writing style or preferred genre of writing.  It definitely influenced what I like to read (fantasy)!  My writing style is very dialogue driven and reality based.  I try to make Dan and Phil as realistic as possible, even in the AUs.  Some of the compliments I treasure the most are when people tell me that they can just hear Dan and Phil saying the things that I wrote.  

What was the moment where you realized you wanted to write about Dan and Phil specifically? I read a short fic on Tumblr about 5 years ago, one of those that was going around for a while with the style of 4 things this and 1 thing that.  I wish I could find it or remember the title, but basically, it was 4 times Phil answered the phone and 1 time he didn’t.  I don’t know if it was because it seemed so plausible, because it moved me, or perhaps because it was short, but I thought, “Hmm. I wonder if I could do that?”

Are there any themes or tropes that you particularly like to explore in your writing? I love reality.  I love writing what I think is happening, will happen, or has happened in greater detail than they reveal.  I love comfort and cuddles, support and humor, and of course, some romance.  

 What’s your editing process like? Do you outline first, write in drafts, use a beta reader? If I’m writing for something big, like the Phandom Big Bang, I use an outline, then fill in the paragraphs with story points, then go back through and flesh them out, then hand it over to my AMAZING friend and beta chloechecksmyflow who fixes everything and makes it readable.  Then I read it aloud and make some polishing touches, and then I submit it and hope for the best!

If I am writing a shorter piece or something that I’m just going to put up for myself and hope that people find it, I get an idea and just write from start to finish in one go, then go back through and edit it 3 times, then publish it.  I don’t use an outline for those pieces and honestly, it shows.  I really should take more time with them.  

 What’s the strangest place you’ve ever taken story inspiration from? @AlannaHarlow did an art challenge where she took a topic and drew a beautiful piece of art for that topic for every day for a month.  I jumped in on day 2--uninvited but sweetly welcomed--and wrote a fic for each topic.  Since they prompts were made for the visual arts, the stories were often very challenging for me to come up with.  “Korean Fashion” comes to mind as a particularly hard one.  I even made one piece just a series of Haiku on the theme because that is all that would fit.  It was a great exercise in stretching my imagination, that’s for sure!  

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write? “The Power Of Friendship”.  It was my first PhandomBigBang and it has some very heavy moments in it.  Spoiler alert, everything turns out fine (which isn’t really a spoiler because in my fics, everything always turns out fine!) but there are two chapters that broke my heart and brought me to tears.  The story had to have those traumatic moments to work, but I had a very difficult time placing the boys in the type of emotional and physical pain they had to be in to make the plot realistic and interesting.  

 What one piece of advice would you give someone that wants to be a better writer? Write.  Write every day.  Even if you have no plans to share it, just write a little something.  Every time you write, that pathway between your brain and the page or keyboard gets easier to navigate.  Don’t worry about how good it is, or if the idea makes sense, or what some stranger might think of it.  Don’t even bother editing it.  Just write something down.  Once that connection is strong, you’ll be surprised to find what you see popping up on the screen in front of you!  

Don’t forget that you can check out Jenny on tumblr at @phanburnhamizzard​ or on AO3 here. If you’d like to be on the list for a Writer’s Corner feature, sign up here!

[itsthegirlinthebowtie]

dancing with our hands tied

pairing Peter Parker x Reader

word count 800

summary in which Tony Stark’s daughter finally meets her father’s newest prodigé at a party.

author’s note so uhhhh i’m finally brave enough to post something I wrote on tumblr?? it’s rly small but I started to write a lot in my free time and I wanna do something with it occasionally. This was a short thing I wrote awhile ago and figured it was a good place to start, I was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Dancing With Our Hands Tied obviously haha, hence the title. I hope someone out there enjoys it, feedback is much appreciated! 

BTW the reader character is written as Tony’s daughter, I wrote this pre endgame :)) 

I’m gonna tag my favorite @orgasmicfruit for screaming with me about spiderman and reading my writing and being supportive ily lots. Also thanks to @-happytbh- for also supporting me and giving me confidence, and @cupofteaguk for honestly inspiring me to write in general because she’s just so talented it makes me want to push my writing ily traci <3. 

                        ~   ~    ~    ~   ~   ~   ~

“You look like you could use some company.”

You turned your head at the gravelly voiced comment, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Oh?” You asked, your red lips rounding in a soft o shape. “And why is that? Are you simply assuming someone standing alone probably wants company? Because I can promise you that’s not true.”

The source of the voice smiled, white teeth flashing. “Definitely not. I usually don’t want anyone to bother me, I just find that sitting alone makes people think you want company even when you don’t. But if two people are sitting alone together, no one bothers them.”

Your eyebrow stayed raised, but you couldn’t help but feel your lips quirk up slightly. “Very observant.”

“I’ve been called worse.” The boy said, sitting down on the stool next to you. He was wearing a classic slim suit and black tie, his hair ruffled messily throwing off the whole look. The suit was a nice fit on him though, not that you noticed.

“So why are you here at this fancy shindig? Not just anyone comes to these things. At least I hope not. I was hoping Mr. Stark liked me or something not that I was expecting anything I mean I only just started…sorry. I’m rambling aren’t I? I do that sometimes when I get nervous I just…sorry.”

You couldn’t help it, your lips broke open into a smile. He thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. Not that he noticed that either. “I’m y/n. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are my parents.”

His eyes opened wide at the realization that he was talking to the daughter of his kind of boss. “Oh! A please to meet you. I didn’t realize.”

She continued to smile at him, so clearly he hadn’t messed up too badly. “I’m glad,” she said suddenly. “It’s a nice change for once. And I think I know who you are.”

He looked shocked for a moment. “Really?  Has Mr. Stark told you about me? Not that I’m that noteworthy I just mean…sorry. I’m rambling again. I’ll stop now. I hope.”

“You’re fairly noteworthy Peter Parker, or should I call you Spider-man?”

He shot finger guns at you, then immediately looked as if he regretted it. “Spot on m’lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said face dropping suddenly into a frown. Peter looked uneasy, before her face broke out into a smile again. “I’m kidding, you can call me whatever you want.”

“Oh, ok.” he said, realizing that this girl he’d now introduced himself had quite a sense of humor. Not surprising considering her parentage.

“So my dad invited you right? It’s nice to see someone my age here even if you are a superhero.”

“Yeah, something about getting to learn from other superhero role models or something. And hey, I may be a superhero, or an attempt at one, but I’m still a high schooler for better or worse.”

“Seems we’re in the same boat there.” She said in response.

The conversation lulled at that, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Peter was someone who tended not to like sitting in silence, but for some reason with y/n he didn’t mind. It felt natural.

Not long after the lights in the venue lowered down, and a spotlight pointed at the stage and the DJ table there. Y/n’s father was standing next to it in his Iron Man suit minus the helmet. Y/n rolled her eyes. He wore that thing all the time, it  but was obnoxious. She and her mom complained about it all the time, yet he still seemed to do it.

“Let’s get this party started!” He shouted at the crowd of superheroes and other people of note. “But not you y/n, stay safe. No one go near her. The spotlight shut off and the DJ started playing music. Y/n rolled her eyes again and groaned. “Why does he always do that? Jesus.”

Peter started laughing next to her, and she turned her head to glare at him. “Sorry, it’s just, the man’s got a flare for the dramatic.”

“I’m afraid you’re not wrong.” Y/n said with a laugh.

After a moment, the song changed and y/n’s eyes lit up. “I love this song!”

Peter paused a moment, looking at her smile and suddenly blurted out in a sudden burst of courage, “do you want to dance?”

Y/n looked at him surprised.

“Not that-you have to I don’t want to, you know, pressure you or anything I’m not about to-“

“Yes, I’d love that.” She said interrupting his embarrassing rambling.

A smile burst out on his face, and y/n couldn’t help but notice how it lit up his whole face and made her heart skip a beat slightly. He jumped off his stool and held out his hand to her. She took it, and it was warm and soft but slightly callused. Following him out to the dance floor, she couldn’t help but think, crap, my dad’s gonna kill me.