#tumblr needs to remember your tag or i’ll scream

[the-travelling-witch]

Reread the Val fic, he’s 100% still smoochable, this is ur fault u made him smooch material

oh no, how tragic i say, knowing i 100% had the intention to make him smoochable

ahhh i’m so excited people like my ocs!! mentally i’m jumping up and down, physically i sit on my chair like a pretzel

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be a good boy

for @subeddieweek day two with the prompts cockwarming and first times

rated e | 3,319 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr

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One month.

One month was all it took for Eddie to fall entirely down the Steve rabbit hole.

They talked on the phone every night for a week after the school incident, and most of it wasn’t even dirty.

And then Steve showed up at his door, much to the shock and awe of Eddie himself, and they started hanging out. Like friends.

It was weird, even Wayne thought so, but Eddie was gonna keep this going for as long as he could get away with.

One day– a Friday, Eddie would never forget –Steve showed up at nearly ten at night, much later than usual. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d be by at all, even mentioned that he and Robin might hang out after their shift.

But there he was standing at Eddie’s door.

“Not that you’re not welcome, but uh, what are you doing here?” Eddie asked, standing at the door with his sweatpants on, torn up tank top hanging off of him in maybe the most unattractive way possible.

“Sorry, I can go. I just um, I had kind of a bad day? Just needed to-”

“Oh, you wanted weed? I just restocked, actually, even managed to grab a few edibles this time. Those are pretty rare for our neck of the woods, but I’ll slip you one for free if you promise not to tell anyone I pick favorites,” Eddie winked, backing up to let Steve in.

“No, uh, not weed. Is your uncle home? I didn’t see his truck,” Steve still stood at the door awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“Nope, working a couple night shifts this week to cover for his buddy. They keep talkin’ about switching him to nights permanently, but hopefully he says no. He’s too old for that shit.”

Suddenly, his back met the wall behind him, shaking the mugs hanging up dangerously. The door slammed closed and Steve’s hands were on him again.

“Uh-”

“Remember how we talked about the things we were into? And you said you’d never gotten to try much?” Steve’s breath was hot against Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s dick was twitching in his pants as he nodded.

“Could we try something?”

“What-” Eddie swallowed. “What did you wanna try?”

“You remember when you said you wanted someone to use your mouth?”

Oh fuckin’ Christ.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had only a week before, high out of their minds, talking about their experiences and what they were into, what they thought they’d be into, what they weren’t into at all. It was enlightening, and Eddie had stripped his cock until he was numb after Steve went home.

He admitted to Steve that there was something special about knowing the person who is using you cares about you, that you’ve trusted this person enough to do whatever they want with you knowing that they would never go past your comfort zone on purpose. It wasn’t necessarily about getting off, or even getting the other person off, it was just about knowing he could make someone feel good, be useful, cherish someone in a physical way.

Steve didn’t have much to say to that, but did admit he’d always wondered if he’d be into cockwarming.

Eddie hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

“I…do remember that, yes,” Eddie’s breath left him as Steve crowded him further against the wall, his arms resting on either side of Eddie’s head, boxing him in.

“You wanna try that with me?”

Yeah, obviously. Eddie dreamed about this, literally for years. Sucking on Steve’s dick until he couldn’t think of anything except the weight of it on his tongue? Sign him the fuck up.

But a small part of his brain still fought him on it, screaming that this was a bad idea, that nothing good could possibly come from being that vulnerable with someone he was pretty sure he was falling in love with.

“You can say no,” Steve backed away an inch or so, gave him room to breathe, to think, goddammit.

Eddie could say no. He could remember that this wasn’t a relationship, and probably never would be. They were friends, and Eddie’s unfortunate pining was not mutual.

Steve even said he’d had a bad day, probably just needed to let off some steam.

Eddie could help with that.

“No, we can do it. Stoplight system?” Eddie asked. God, he was gonna regret this.

“Yeah. One tap for green, two for yellow, three for red.”

Oh, yeah. He wouldn’t be able to talk with Steve’s dick in his mouth. Right.

“Where should we-” Eddie was nervous. His palms were sweaty, which was gross, and his heart was racing, which was probably close to a medical emergency.

“Where are you most comfortable, Eds?” Steve’s hands grasped his, sweat and all, and Eddie felt himself relax against the wall.

“My room.”

Steve’s lips brushed against his, reassuring in their silent strength. He led him down the short hallway to his bedroom, gently closing the door behind them.

Eddie let himself pretend that this was special, that this was only for them, that Steve never shared himself like this with anyone else. He’d feel the pain of the truth tomorrow, when the sun brought it along as it rose and Eddie woke up alone.

For now, he’d be here with Steve, making him feel good.

“On the bed or on your knees?” Steve asked, pushing his hair away from his face and holding his head steady so he couldn’t look away. Somehow, Steve already knew him well enough to know that facing these things head on was a difficult task. He wouldn’t let him run.

“Knees.”

If he was gonna have this, they should go all out.

Steve grabbed a pillow from Eddie’s bed, the one he always used when they were laying in it getting high together, and placed it on the floor. Eddie watched him unbutton his pants, no hint of shame or nerves.

Eddie felt like he was vibrating out of his skin, but Steve just seemed calm.

“I’m gonna sit here so we can find where it’s comfortable, okay?” Steve asked as he sat on the edge of Eddie’s bed, now naked from the waist down.

Eddie nodded, suddenly feeling shy. When had he ever been shy before?

“You’ve gotta use words, okay?”

“Sorry, yeah. That’s fine.”

“‘S fine.” Steve spread his legs so Eddie could kneel on the pillow between them. “Look at me.”

Fuck.

Eddie had sucked a dick before. On his knees even. But it was nothing like this, no one like Steve.

Steve was staring down at him with something similar to awe, and Eddie couldn’t handle it.

What right did Steve have to look at him like that, from his place above, ready to be worshiped by a person who never learned how to look up at a god for guidance? How could he look down at Eddie on his knees and see anything worthy?

He wouldn’t ask him, but he wondered.

He wondered how he’d crash back to earth after.

His cock was already hard, but there was no sense of urgency in the way Steve’s fingers scratched at his scalp. He wasn’t tugging him closer, wasn’t telling him to do anything.

He just watched and waited.

Eddie scooted in closer, not tearing his eyes from Steve’s, not wanting to lose this feeling yet.

He leaned in, bent over just enough at the waist to brush his lips against the tip of his cock, eyes still locked with Steve.

“You can taste, baby.”

Fuck, again.

The whimper that escaped him was muffled by his lips closing around the tip, tongue pressing against the precum trying to drip down his length.

He’d heard that Steve was confident, saw it firsthand in the school halls. He had no fucking clue that Steve could do this.

His hand in Eddie’s hair tightened, but he still didn’t tug or push him further down on his cock. His eyes closed for a moment as he moaned.

Eddie wanted to drink that sound, find a way to swallow it with his cum, make it a part of him a ls a reminder that he made Steve sound like that. Steve’s eyes blinked open, pupils blown and cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“Your mouth is perfect. So lucky you’re letting me have this,” Steve muttered, sounding damn near delusional.

Eddie knew he was pretty good at this, but he’d barely even gotten Steve in his mouth. He knew Steve had a bit of a dry spell recently, but this was being a little dramatic.

But he let the praise wash over him anyways, settling into the warmth spreading through his chest and stomach at the words.

“Take what you can but don’t suck. Just get used to it.” Steve was breathless as Eddie sunk further down.

He was big, but Eddie was already feeling a little cloudy, and he’d practiced on a lot of bananas back in the day, so he didn’t stop until his nose was nestled against his pubes.

Steve’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hand flexing against the bedsheet to keep from flexing in his hair.

Eddie swallowed. Steve groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. Feel so good,” Steve looked down at him and smiled encouragingly. “You good? Need to move?”

Eddie tapped once on Steve’s thigh.

“Good. You’re doing so good. Just relax. I got you, baby,” Steve was barely speaking louder than a whisper, but the words sent vibrations through Eddie’s entire body.

He finally let his eyes close and let the thoughts fly away.

The only thing he could hear was the occasional intake of breath when Eddie swallowed around Steve’s cock. He didn’t do it as often as he probably should, but it was hard to remember to do it until the spit was dripping from his mouth and making a mess.

Steve kept a hand in his hair the entire time, sometimes just a calm reminder that he was there paying attention and sometimes to dig his nails in and remind him where he was. Despite how he felt, he was still on the floor of his bedroom, making sure Steve’s cock stayed hard and warm in his mouth.

He sometimes found the energy to swirl his tongue around the sides, cataloging the whines that left Steve’s lips when he did.

The world didn’t exist beyond the feeling of Steve’s cock on his tongue and the sounds Steve let out. Eddie slowly let his head fall to the side, resting on Steve’s thigh, only managing to keep half of Steve’s length inside when he did.

But Steve just pet his hair, traced his cheeks and lips, whispered that he was doing good.

Eddie drifted far, but Steve knew exactly when to pull him back.

“Hey, Eds,” he said softly. “Let’s give your mouth a rest, okay?”

Steve’s hand gently pulled Eddie’s head away, a quiet popping noise making it obvious when Steve’s cock fell from his lips.

He whined and pushed forward, trying to get it back in his mouth. He didn’t wanna be done. He liked floating here with Steve.

“I know, baby. You did so good. But it’s time to take a break.” Steve’s thumb rubbed against his cheek, pausing at the corner of his mouth before pushing in. Eddie moaned, sucking it further in so he didn’t feel so empty. “If you’re good, I’ll fuck your face and come in your mouth.”

Well, Eddie could be good if that was the reward.

Steve pulled his thumb from his mouth and rested his hand against his cheek.

He watched as Eddie slowly came back to himself, to the world around them, to Steve.

“Hey, Eds,” soft, fond, too much for Eddie.

“Hey, Stevie,” too in love, too infatuated, too obsessed.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good.” Steve’s smile was distracting, and Eddie couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. An explosion could happen behind him and he’d still only have eyes for Steve. “Can I get my mouth on you?”

Wait.

What?

Steve wanted…he…what?

“It’s okay to say no, Eddie. It just looks like you could use it,” Steve glanced down at Eddie’s lap. Eddie lifted his head from Steve’s thigh to see what he meant and was actually surprised to see his own cock tenting his pants, a dark wet spot making it very obvious how much he’d been leaking. “I can take care of you. You earned it, Eds.”

See, the thing is, no one had ever sucked Eddie’s dick. Not a single person he’d fooled around with had returned the favor because they were “in a rush” or it “wasn’t the dom’s job.” Eddie wasn’t stupid; He knew those were just excuses for them to get off and run.

But Steve Harrington of all people offering to suck him off. What fucking universe was he living in?

“No, I-” Eddie was gonna just have to admit it. “No one’s ever done that for me. So it may be over quick.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “No one? But you said- you’ve done some of this stuff before.”

“Yeah, yeah. But like, only giving, never receiving? I mean one handjob in a bathroom stall once, but the guy didn’t even spit in his hand first. I like pain, but that was…not the best.” Eddie scrunched up his nose at the reminder of the sensitivity he felt for two days after that. Hopefully the guy learned some basic manners for the next poor guy he got his hand on. “I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

The floating sensation he’d had was mostly gone now, replaced with nerves and an overwhelming need to please Steve.

“You wouldn’t. The only thing that would disappoint me is if I didn’t make you feel good.” Steve turned Eddie’s face back up towards him. “I don’t care if it takes five seconds or five hours. I wanna make you come.”

Eddie should actually say no. This would be the final nail in the coffin, he could tell. If Steve got his mouth on him, no one else would ever live up to it, and since he could never keep Steve permanently, he should say no.

“Okay.”

Steve’s face lights up, his grin contagious as Eddie smiles back at him.

“Get on the bed,” Steve orders, though the smile stops him from sounding demanding. “Make yourself comfy.”

Of all the times Eddie had pictured Steve in his bed, it was not like this. He’d always pictured himself being thrown around, fucked until he was begging to stop from oversensitivity, riding Steve until his legs were shaking too much to keep going. He’d pictured waking up to Steve entering his still stretched hole, after hours of being fucked the night before.

He’d never pictured having Steve’s mouth on him, hadn’t dared to.

Eddie did what Steve asked, keeping himself near the center of the bed so Steve had plenty of room.

Steve leaned over him, covering his entire body, his chest hair brushing against Eddie’s and making goosebumps appear across his skin. It was already too much, even without pressure on his cock.

Lips against his neck, teeth biting into his skin with just enough pressure to leave marks. Hands sliding down his sides and pulling his sweats off his hips. A groan as Steve took in Eddie’s length as it twitched against his stomach.

“You’re perfect.”

The words sunk deep into Eddie’s brain, making a home there for him to find comfort during the times when he forgot that he was good.

Steve’s lips trailed down his chest. He didn’t move slowly, probably could guess that Eddie was too close for teasing or taking his time with him.

“You can come whenever you want, okay? Don’t wait for permission. This is your permission.”

God, this was gonna be so embarrassing. Hopefully, Steve meant what he said.

And if he didn’t, hopefully he at least had the decency to not make fun of him.

Steve nipped at his hip, pressing small kisses across his stomach before licking at his tip.

Eddie’s thighs tensed and his hands gripped the sheets under him.

Just breathe.

Steve’s hands pushed his legs further apart, as far as they would go with his sweats still half on.

Eddie knew he was good at giving head. There were few things he was confident about, but that was one of them. That, and his guitar playing.

But Steve was incredible.

He was born for this.

He knew exactly how to swirl his tongue, exactly how much to suck before taking more.

When he moaned with Eddie halfway down his throat, it was over.

It was a damn shame, too. Eddie wanted to experience hours of this.

But it felt too good and Steve did tell him to come as soon as he needed to.

Steve didn’t even choke when he came down his throat, just moaned again and swallowed it.

Eddie did his best not to buck his hips up, but he was only human, and Steve was still sucking well past the point of his orgasm being over. He was sensitive, okay?

Finally, when Eddie managed to get a hand in Steve’s hair and tug gently, he let Eddie’s softening cock fall from his mouth as he looked up grinning.

“Was that okay?” he had the audacity to ask, as if he hadn’t just sucked the soul out of Eddie’s cock.

“No, it sucked,” Eddie deadpanned, surprisingly breathless still.

“Ha.” Steve moved back up his body, covering him. “But seriously. Was it good?”

“Stevie, I have absolutely nothing to compare it to except fantasies and you outdid those. So yeah. I’d say it was good,” Eddie closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he felt Steve’s weight press on him from above.

Lips brushed against his forehead and then Steve’s weight was gone.

“No, come back,” Eddie opened his eyes and reached his hands out, searching for Steve’s skin.

“I’m just grabbing you a drink, Eds.”

A drink? Eddie didn’t need a drink.

Well, maybe he did. His throat was a little scratchy, and he felt a bit lightheaded.

Steve was back before he could do a full evaluation on his body’s needs, glass of water in hand.

He couldn’t help the ogling, and he wouldn’t deny that’s what he was doing if asked.

Steve was still hard, cock straining against his underwear. Eddie should do something about that.

“Will you fuck my face?” He asked before he even took a sip of the water Steve handed him.

“Maybe if you drink all of that water,” Steve slid into bed next to him, turning on his side as he watched Eddie take a few sips. “Don’t want you to drop.”

“I won’t. I’m good,” Eddie was not too good for begging, especially not when he still felt tingles up and down his spine as Steve kept his eyes on him.

“I know you’re good, but doing too much at once can hurt you so we’re gonna take a minute.”

He knew Steve was right, but he felt better than ever. He was ready.

He still didn’t argue, knew better than to risk Steve saying no altogether.

Steve held the water as Eddie settled further into the sheets, moving the pillow so his head was resting against it, but still sitting up enough to avoid falling asleep.

Or so he thought.

The moment his head hit the pillow, his eyes felt heavy.

Steve’s voice was distant as he asked if he was okay.

“Jus’ restin’ my eyes,” Eddie mumbled.

“Sounds good, baby.”

If Eddie were more awake, he probably would have heard the smirk in Steve’s tone, maybe would’ve realized that Steve was aware he was losing a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting.

He slipped into unconsciousness with Steve’s fingers in his hair and his warmth in his bed.

Day three: ao3 | tumblr

[a-strange-server]

🦋 Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 👻

It’s finally happening! The most awaited server event makes its yearly appearance! Can you believe it’s our third time?! Here’s to participation in whatever form you desire, let’s be strange together and make some spooky things!

Anyway, as our baby event grows, this year we decided to make one significant change: instead of lasting a whole month, the event is set during the last 2 weeks of October.

Brief info:

The event is set between 18–31 October 2024

We are open to all forms of creativity (fics, art, gifs, etc.) 🦋

42 prompts to choose from (2 types: words & sentences); 3 daily prompts

The main rule — works centred around Stephen Strange

Tag with #strangehalloween2024, so we can reblog on our Tumblr

If applicable, submit in our dedicated ao3 collection

Art by @unnnamedidiot with permission to use for the event. Show your support and reblog their amazing art!

We hope that you will once again have fun with Strange Tales of Halloween, whether by active participation or enjoyment of the contributions! Please remember to show your appreciation in comments, reblogs, kudos, etc. We encourage you to let others know that you like someone’s work! The fandom and its growing content exists because we want to be there, engaging with another. This is what allows Strange Tales of Halloween to be organised each year — you never disappoint by asking about said event!

🎃 Prompt list, FAQ & rules can be found bellow the line:

Prompt List

Friday 18 October — Bedtime story | Basement | Potion

Saturday 19 October — Claws | Whispers | “Follow me”

Sunday 20 October — Lies | Trick or treat | Zombies

Monday 21 October — Abandoned mansion | Scarecrow | “I don’t take orders from a cat”

Tuesday 22 October — Web | Cloak | Vampire

Wednesday 23 October — Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!”

Thursday 24 October — Candle | Wanderer | Shadow

Friday 25 October — Stars | Ruckus | “Say, weren’t you the one playing that creepy tune earlier?" "…I thought that was _you_.”

Saturday 26 October — Screams | Sacrifice | Poison

Sunday 27 October — Morbid curiosity | Wings | “Well, that’s a nifty spell!”

Monday 28 October — Summoning | Buried (alive) | Angel

Tuesday 29 October — Smile | Kingdom | “Are you speaking Latin?" "Why, aren’t _you_?”

Wednesday 30 October — Deal | Pumpkin (Spice Latte / Carving) | Demon

Thursday 31 October — Full Moon Party | Halloween | “Don’t mind them, they’re in the wardrobe.”

⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝

FAQ & rules 2024

1. What must be included in the content of a filled prompt?

Stephen Strange (any version of him: film, TV, or comics etc.) must be either the main or co-main character. Otherwise, anything goes!

2. Can I still take part in the event even if I ship Stephen with someone?

Well, that can be a bit tricky, but generally — yes, you can. We’d prefer to not having Stephen or the other character(s) being there for the sole purpose of shipping, but we’re not against shipping during the event, as long as it all resolves to showing the story or whatever you come up with, that regardless of the dynamic or chosen relationship (platonic, romantic, familial etc.), in the end, it is about Doctor Stephen Strange.

An established relationship, first meeting, or getting together could be allowed if shipping isn’t the driving force behind writing a prompt (yes, of course you can be wanting to have them together, but the thing is — dig harder. Romantic content is a given within the fandom, but the fandom also needs General content! Or/and especially good whumping or angst, or a detective story, an unique AU etc. There are a lot of interesting prompts, so it’s a very good opportunity to try something new or different.

3. What must be included in the tags of posts?

Use the hashtag #strangehalloween2024. Add either into description or a tag the prompts you use (or both). On Tumblr, please include additional tags for NSFW (or NSFT meaning Not Safe For Tumblr) and common triggers (see AO3 for examples). The triggers apply to SFW works if necessary.

4. When can I post my prompt fill(s)?

In the spirit of the theme, these should be posted between 18–31 October 2024. Any strict rules don’t really exist, but we'd prefer if you post prompts the day they were chosen to be posted, e.g. one of the prompts from Saturday 26 October (Screams | Sacrifice | Poison) on said Saturday or after it if you're late, but not eatlier (not on Oct. 20). Don’t worry if you won’t be able to fulfil something on time, you can always participate even if fashionably late. We’d still add it to the ao3 collection or reblog on Tumblr if we see it.

5. Where on the discord server do I post my submissions?

In our gallery for the event in #strange-halloween. It’s for submitting your finished works. Even if it's fanfiction or something that would usually go into art channels, this event is an exception.

Reminder: said channel is not for casual talking, not even about the event, there’s a separate thread within the channel for that.

If your work happens to be NSFW, the usual rules apply: post those into NSFW channels. But if you want, you can write a message in #strange-halloween channel to tell others that you have created something, and point to the appropriate channel.

6. What medium can I use?

Anything! Written prose, poetry, gifsets, mood boards, artwork, playlists, you can even cook or bake something! Make a figurine, crochet something, do a scrapbooking thing, do a cosplay, make a board game, or a quiz. An app for a phone. A game, a collage. Anything goes. All it has to do is to follow the main rule of the event — being about Stephen Strange. No Stephen? No contribution in this one, sorry. So, all is acceptable as a prompt fill. It's all about Stephen Strange in any form he comes in.

7. Can I combine different prompts into one submission (e.g.: Wednesday 23 October Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!” + an earlier/later one) ?

Sure!

8. There are 3 prompts per day. Do I have to do it all?

No. You can do whichever one you want. But if you want to do all no one would be stopping you.

9. Can I use your prompt list with other prompt lists/bingo cards?

Absolutely! Combine it with any other event you'd like to do.

10. Are there any limits to how many prompts I can use/have to use?

Nope! Participate with one or all 42 items! Do as much as you'd like!

11. I’m a bit confused about some prompts; what are the brackets for?

The prompts that have a word in the brackets or also a slash within are the ones where you can be a bit creative (and cheat the system to have more prompts if you try enough), e.g.:

Monday 28 Oct — there's Buried as a prompt. You can use just that word or include the one in the brackets to have Buried alive. Technically, you could also try a different way and get rid of the first one and only have Alive.

Wednesday 30 Oct — we have the prompt Pumpkin so either use this singular word or use the suggested ones to get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, or another option which is Pumpkin Carving!

So, you can either completely omit the additionally suggested words or not. Have fun!

12. I’m not a native English speaker, can I make something in my native language or the one I'm trying to learn?

Of course, there are no limitations. The more, the merrier! Any contribution is valid.

🦇 🎃 👻 🦋 Any other questions? Feel free to send an ask to this tumblr. We can't wait to see what you come up with!

⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Have a great spooky time! 🦋🎃🦋

[shreddedleopard]

Okay I saw this on a post on my recommended and decided to nick it because dhdjsjdjdjs THIS IS SO GOOOOD.

“put ur Spotify on shuffle and write down the first lyric of the first ten songs that come on, post the poem that results” (character playlist edition)

(Okay I tweaked slightly for some to include first two lines so it makes more sense but UM)

• William James Moriarty edition:

Time to put my medal on

Whose blood to spill?

Sick thoughts

We might just be unkind

Double, double, double

Down

I thought I saw the devil this morning

Looking in the mirror

Regrets collect like old friends

When I was a boy, I didn’t care ‘bout a thing

I can’t forget what we’ve been through now

Murder lives forever and so does war

This is the end, hold your breath and

Count to ten

A dozen crows and then some on the

Rhododendrons.

• Louis James Moriarty edition:

Draw the cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man

All my friends are heathens, take it slow

I’m in the rafters looking down

Are you insane like me?

Be careful making wishes in the dark

Our coming of age has come and gone

I don’t even know myself at all

I’ll make it through the rainy days

I’ll be the one who stands here longer than the rest

To carry on for you

(Screaming thanks for those last two Spotify??)

• Sherliam Edition: (I got carried away shutup)

Remember those walls I built?

Well baby they’re tumbling down

Wise men say, only fools rush in

These are the moments that mean the most

Feeling you closing in, brushing against my skin

I’m giving you a night call to tell you how I feel

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned

I wasn’t jealous before we met

I’ll sing it one last time for you

What would I do without your smart mouth.

Sun is gleaming on the water, nothing but the after in our gaze.

(Again WTF I am deceased)

Gonna tag a bunch of people because I adore this, feel free to ignore or if you’re not tagged you wanna jump in, please please do!

@xokiddo @hergan416 @user-needs-new-hyperfixation @methpring @alabaster-moon @tachikoma-x @memento-yuumori anyone else I missed I’m so sorry I suck remembering tumblr usernames LOL but join in!

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire

chapter twenty two - teamwork makes the dreamwork

warnings: canon typical violence, graphic depiction of injuries, punisher type shit again boys. swearing, some creepy shit tbh borderline stalker shit like someone call svu. this bitch is kinda creeping me out tbh. NOT loving the vibes.

a/n: okay i hate the beginning of this chapter but just GET THRU OKAY. BARE W/ ME!!!! cute stuff sprinkled in with the pain. you guys should SEE the draft for the next chapter omfg. it’s becoming a lot. OKAY GO.

— also, i’m really hoping i got everyone in the taglist, some of the tags aren’t working maybe due to your tumblr settings?? i’ll keep adding ur names if it fixes itself :) and let me know if ur not on it and would like to be!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Ten.”

“Fourteen. Easily.”

“Ten.” Frank says a little harsher in your ear. “There’s ten of ‘em.”

“I just counted twelve. The stairway has at least three people.” The other end of the line goes quiet now, and you adjust the volume of the speaker in your ear to make sure you aren’t missing anything. “Frank?”

“Yeah. Fourteen.” He says quietly, and you can almost see the face he’s making. So stubborn.

“You didn’t see the stairwell, did you?”

“Alright, smart ass. Move down, I’ll meet you at the end.”

“What would you do without me?” You sigh and hear the line click off. Even here, tucked away behind the glass window outside the building, it was hard not to smile.

You’d arrived at the base about an hour ago, but there’d been too many people to pull up right away. Frank had spent the rest of the time going through the points of entry and exits in every room from when he was here the first time. There was one area of the holding he didn’t know, though, and a blacked out spot on the map. You’d have to figure it out while you were down there. Down there, even thinking about it made you squirm.

“Be careful.” His voice quickly adds as you shuffle inside the gap of the window, and it clicks off again before you can reply. Your heart still skips a little every time he says shit like that, but when your feet land on the hard concrete ground, any fluffy feelings drop out and splat next to them.

Even the smell of this place makes you want to vomit. It had been a while since you’d seen the top side of this base, but it’s in a hell of a lot worse shape than you remember. Riddled with bullet holes and held up with half-finished scaffolding, it was one gust of wind away from falling in on itself. Besides the condemned state, the building was alive only because of the men crawling around inside of it. Frank was on the opposite side to you, getting the high ground above a group of fourteen milling around the outside. You were tasked with getting inside the locker that held the master keys, and the enhanced strength in your veins nearly hums at the chance of release.

You used to dream about those keys. That box in this room, how teasingly close it was.

Keeping yourself tucked tight to the wall, you try to leave as little trace as possible bare the footprints trailing behind you in the settled dust. As you shift further into the building, you hear something fall and clatter off to your left. You disappear into the shadows as two men walk past, lost in conversation. A familiar buzz rushed in your veins— a feeling you normally hated, but now it was you calling for it, it made you feel strong. Powerful.

You stepped out just as the men stopped in front of the door you needed to enter, and neither of them had the time to scream before you tore them apart— the only sound the clatter of keys falling against the concrete, and the muffled tearing of flesh.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank felt good. It’s a thought he only had admitted a few times, but firing rounds into an open target range, hearing every single one pound into muscle and bone— it felt good.

Even here, surrounded and boxed in on all sides, he still looked down to where you were, watching you try about eight different keys before you figured out the one to the lockbox. His job was to take out as many as he could while you got the keys to go downstairs, and by the time you were done, you’d take it together. He knew the real prize was downstairs, but he’d have to kill every man in this room before he’d let you go down there, and he’d be right in front of you.

The empty click of his gun shot him back into the moment, dropping the larger one for the pistol in his jeans. He moved closer to the remaining five men, making the first shot count right through the eye of the man closest to him. He heard you before he saw you, even the pained groans of the men he was laying into wouldn’t be enough to block out his sensors that honed into you.

A man came from the left, and he took a quick step back, using the momentum to grab the opposite side of his head and slam it over the railing. His skull gave way, cracking in a splatter of dark red, practically pouring over the right side of Franks body. He swung first on the next guy, feeling bones break under the strength of his punch. It was some sick kind of therapy, but it was here he used to feel the most comfortable— throwing his weight behind every hit, there used to be no where else he’d find his brain quiet.

Not now. All he could think of was this morning. Having you laid on his chest, his hands in your hair, and how he didn’t have to think of anything else. Couldn’t dream of it, not when you were that close; close enough he could feel the soft flutter of your eyelashes on his skin, or the trace of your fingers along the scars on his chest. As he watched the consciousness fade out of the eyes of the man in front of him, for the first time in years he found himself wishing he could be somewhere else.

The man drops to his knees in front of him, then face plants onto the concrete floor. You followed, jumping from the upper floor railing down in front of him, your face screwed up as you looked him up and down.

“Way to be discreet.” He can feel the blood pooling in his shoes with each step he takes, ignoring the comment and following you towards the two locked doors that lead to the basement.

“You get the keys?” You were already putting them in the door, but as you turned the key, they didn’t budge.

“These are the ones. It’s just old.” You look up at him, and turn the handle again, shoving your shoulder into the door. It moves slightly, but as you wind up again, Frank kicks it down, stopping you from whacking it again. Rubbing your now bruised shoulder, you look up at him. “I had it.”

“I know.” He steps through first. It’s dark in the corridor, the two of you stopping at the top of the first set of stairs. No lights, and a layer of dust resting mid air gives the whole place an eerie feel. If Frank was even getting a bad feeling from this place, he didn’t need to say anything to know what was going through your head.

He reaches out, threading his fingers through yours and watching as you grab tightly as soon as he fits his hand to you. You were holding him like a vice, and even though your face was calm, your hand was shaking no matter how tightly he held you back.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t hold my hand to do this.” Frank sighs, shaking his head doing nothing to hide the small smile that only you could give him.

“I’m full of shit. You know that.”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, stepping closer to him. You take the stairs two at a time, but he doesn’t mistake the pace for eagerness, if only to get this shit over with as fast as possible. And it would be, fast and quick. In and out. Frank promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to you— and this time, he was planning on keeping it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t realised how far down you were. All those years down here, and you thought it was only a few levels. You used to be able to hear the gun shots going off above you, and you thought it must only be about 10 flights of stairs at the most. You feel like you’ve been going down sets of stairs for hours now.

You haven’t heard anything yet, but you know Bobby will be hiding out somewhere down here. Very few people knew this place existed, and fewer would know the ins and outs of the cells. His father even used this place as a hideout a few times— and it was this that ticked in the back of your mind when you saw that blacked out part on the map. Knowing how twisted Bobby is, you could only imagine what his father used this giant space for. It was a fucking maze even in the light, but it only got darker and darker the further you went.

Neither of you have spoken, not wanting to give your position away, and about twenty minutes ago your initial fear had worn off and you’d dropped Franks hand, the contact only making you wish you weren’t here. It was like you were magnetised to him— not able to stop yourself from wanting to be closer, no matter where you were. Even here, and maybe it was the perfect distraction, because before you knew it, you caught a glimpse of flat ground, and you know you’d made it to the bottom.

“Stay behind me.” Frank whispers in your ear, his hand lightly squeezing your hip as he gets in position. Still no lights, and not a sound.

“The cell. It’s close. We can start there.” You say, and Frank nods, seemingly remembering. His jaw twitches, a tell tale sign he was hyping himself up for a fight.

You walk behind Frank, not that you’re given much of a choice. The walkway was narrow, and the cell doors next to you were all swung wide open except for the one that the end. Yours. You notice a door between cells, closed, with a chain and lock wrapped around it. Frank stops when you point it out silently, trying the handle. When it doesn’t budge, he pushes you to keep walking, but looks over the top of you at the door again.

“You remember it?” As far as you can remember, there was only meant to be the door they took you out of down here, which was behind you on the opposite side of your old cell. Frank shakes his head.

“Wasn’t on the layout..”

“We’ll come back.” Frank urges you further, sticking to your original plan. Madani had sent him a blueprint of the building from when her and the CIA had raided it all those months ago.

Frank stops suddenly, you nearly running into the back of him. Stepping around, you nearly choke on your exhale.

You didn’t want to feel anything. It was just a room, one that you weren’t attached to anymore. It felt so long ago when you weren’t here, but now you were surrounded by the smell of stale air, and seeing the old stains on the concrete— it knocked the wind out of you. You went to step closer, but Franks arm stopped you.

“Not here. Let’s go back.” Frank says, pulling you back.

Right. Bobby. You look around for any signs of life— and he really wasn’t here. That was impossible, you knew him. You remember what he said last time. He…

“He’s not here.” You spin around, confused. “Why would he not be here?”

“Too open. We can wait him out—“

“He should be here. Or at least, around here.” Your voice gets a little louder, and Frank looks over his shoulder before walking closer to you.

“He’s got men here. We’ll find him. We gotta wait it out.” The room felt smaller all of a sudden, the walls feeling way to close. You felt like if you breathed each shoulder would press into the hard, cold concrete. “He’s hiding. Probably back there.”

You could hardly hear him anymore.

You forgot how cold it was in here. Like standing on a frozen lake with none of the open space. You hadn’t realised your eyes were squeezed shut until Franks hands grabbed your face and you felt the light flood back to them.

“Hey.” His voice is calming, even though it’s low and gravelly.

“I don’t want to be in here anymore.” You whisper.

“Let me get you out of here.” He tries to guide you but your legs move so slow. You were shaking like a leaf. It was too soon to be here— you couldn’t do this. It was too soon. The chains that were wrapped around your ankles were still resting in the corner, wrapped to the leg of the bed.

Your chest started to burn, and a feeling you hardly remembered started to bubble in your stomach, but Frank made you focus.

“Tell me about it. The door up here. You ever seen anyone goin’ in or out?”

“I don’t even know if I’ve seen it before.” Your voice wavered, and Frank stayed close to you as you stepped further away from the cell. “I don’t… I don’t think it was ever open. I would of seen it— an open door only a few meters away. Maybe when I was asleep, or his— no. Wait, I remember his dad said something about it, or something about a hanger or something. He used to have vintage planes restored under the building. Maybe it’s below us?”

“Okay. Good. Doin’ good. You think you can break the chain?” Looking over his shoulder, the rusted locks look flimsy enough for someone like you. Nodding, you reach for them, and the feeling of chains under your hands, and this whole corridor of darkness sends a shiver up your spine.

Frank steadies you with a simple brush of his arm against yours. Accidental, but he doesn’t have to try. He always steadies you now. You give the chains one yank and they break off completely.

“Atta girl.” Frank says, and shoves the doors wide open. You just want to get away from that room, so when the stairs lead down even further, you don’t hesitate to walk down. Frank is behind you, then next to you, then in front of you. “You okay?”

“I am. Now.” You nod, and the way he looks at you has you forgetting that tight chest feeling.

For the first time in a while, you didn’t have to count your breaths.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was getting too dark to see, and Frank could hear the splash of water under his boots. Whoever was down here will be counting on the element of surprise. Frank wouldn’t give it to them.

He kept you tucked behind him against the wall, moving through the dark passageways below the base. He has no idea how far down he is now, but the wall still feels like brick under his palm, so not far enough that they couldn’t build structure. That was good— it meant there was a chance they weren’t so far below sea level, which was more chance for a quick exit.

A loud bang from behind him rings down one of the pipes overhead. You both freeze, heads snapping in the direction.

Frank drags you behind him again, moving towards the sound. It was still pitch black, but another bang made him turn left at the first gap. He was trying to remember how many times they’d turned in the darkness— he was at two lefts and a right, now another left—

Another loud bang, followed by three gun shots, the shells clanging on the floor. It had to be close now, whoever it was. He turned again, keeping one hand on you, the other on his gun. When he rounds the next corner, there’s a sliver of light, and another doorway.

“You think that—“ You whisper, but Frank covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.” He knows once Bobby realises your here, all hell will break loose. He can’t see shit in here, but he’s gotta think of another way. Walking straight through their front door would be a dumb-ass plan, but it’s about the only one he’s got right now.

There’s another bang in the opposite direction. Not from the door. Almost in response, there’s three gun shots again, this time under the door. The bang from behind gets closer, and if he waits any longer both of you will lose any advantage you had. They must be communicating through the pipes— no reception down here, and as soon as they heard you coming they’d need a way that couldn’t be intercepted.

“You…in there. I… go around.” You whisper through his hand, mumbled words that he knows mean splitting up. It’s smart, and right now you’re both in more danger together than you would be split up. But he still can’t leave you. Not again.

“Hang on—“

“Bobby… would have the gun. You take him, I’ll get… other one.” You shove his arm off you, and he can only see you about to run off because of how close he is.

It’s smart. He’s almost pissed that you put it together so fast. He feels you push against him, but you stop when you feel him breathe out. He doesn’t have time to hold you here, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to. You lean up on your toes, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down, his head falling naturally into the crook of your neck.

“An hour. If I’m not back, come for me.” You say, and then you shove him off and disappear into the dark.

He steps back with a stumble, forgetting how strong you were. Another gun shot bursts in his right ear, and the light under the door is interrupted by shadows. A body.

An hour. He’s got an hour. Now you weren’t with him, his mind falls into a colder, harder place. One that has him shuffling back along the wall, loading his gun and slamming the door down.

The light hits him— blinds him for a second, but he hears the three men on the right and takes them out first. Two shots in the first body, blood splattering on the dark green paint behind. The next guy gets too close and Frank grabs him by his neck, using the momentum to crush his head against the wall. He can feel the bone split under his hand, but he’s too busy aiming over his shoulder, watching the next body hit the ground from his well placed shot.

He moves with his body low to the ground, using the cover of the wall in front of him to stay hidden as his eyes adjust. He looks around the room now he can see it, and he can tell no one’s been down here for a while. There’s plenty of canned food lining the shelves in front of him. Whoever brought them down was planning to stay a while. Then there’s black cases, he recognises those. Weapons— outlines of guns, grenades, all empty and unlocked, just leaving behind an outline.

He hears more footsteps and doesn’t hesitate, reaching around the corner and grabbing the neck of the next man. Sending his skull back into the brick, he fires his gun again, feeling the dead weight fall back onto him before shrugging it off and reloading.

He loses count. He always does. Must be nine, ten bodies behind him as he makes his way through the apocalyptic looking basement. The men he catches flashes of don’t look familiar— clearly no one Bobby would of had up top. Frank hasn’t seen any of their faces, not never even in Madani’s database. It makes sense, to keep these guys hidden. Because they were getting harder and harder to kill.

Frank shoots the guy underneath him once, then twice in the chest. Still he fights, clawing at Franks face and punching him in the gut. His fists nearly meet bone, they’re so strong. Too strong. Only one person has ever punched him out like this. Eventually, Frank holds his head down long enough to shoot him in the head, but he’s panting.

Wiped, he drags himself up, shoulders tense as he listens out for more footsteps. He’s made his way into an open area now, with a platform on a second level. For being underground, the place opens up in front of him, the stairs leading up giving space for at least two levels before they reach the room at the top. There’s windows in the room up top, perfectly placed to look over where he is. Another gunshot rings out, and he looks up.

“Not the pretty sight I was expecting. Although, you do know how to put on a good show.” The voice echos throughout the giant room, and Franks already moving towards the stairs. “Ah. I wouldn’t.”

Bobby Gnucci has a gun pointed down at him, but it doesn’t unnerve Frank in the slightest. He moves slower, hoping to draw him down further, feigning a little hesitation. This guys ego is as big as this fucking base, and he doesn’t want to blow it just yet. Not when he doesn’t know where you are.

“You’ve been busy.” He says, not moving when Frank takes a step up. “Do you have any idea how long I spent training those units?”

Frank continues to the top of the platform, now level with the barrel of Bobby’s shotgun.

“Not as long as I spent with her, of course. She is quite special isn’t she? I suppose you already know how special—“

“Say another fucking word about her and I’ll kill you.” He has the balls the fucking smile, and Frank feels his hands get tighter on the barrel.

“That isn’t what I heard.” Frank doesn’t show a damn thing on his face. “You are here to take me into… federal custody. That’s how it was put, yes? Never did I think I would live to see the day. The Punisher returns only to be a glorified pig.”

“You willing to take that chance?” Bobby steps back when Frank pushes up.

“I’m willing to offer to you a deal.” Now Frank smiles, a dry scoff breaking the silence in the room.

“You really got your head up your ass, don’t you?” Bobby backs up against the door of the room overlooking the large building, but he doesn’t seem out of options. Frank considers taking the shot.

He could still do this.

Forget the whole deal, take you out of here and leave all this shit behind. He’d never make you come back to a place like this, never have to watch you walk into a room he couldn’t get you out of. He’d take you away from everything. Maybe upstate, do a few jobs here and there to keep the money coming in— he thought about it too much, probably for too long.

He’d keep you safe.

He knows he could. This shit might not end for him, but he could end it for you here and now. Do the one thing he’s good at.

“Let me show you something that might change your mind.” He opens the door, and the first thing Frank sees is the monitor over his head, and your limp body strapped to a chair.

Your eyes weren’t open, and you were bleeding from your head. That little scar on your face… completely covered with dark blood, your shoulders sagging over. Your hands and feet were cuffed together, and there was a strange haze over the room you were in.

His blood was boiling. He lunged at Bobby, but he’d been too busy staring at the screen. Too busy to notice the three guys in the room. Without the element of surprise Frank gets the wind knocked out of him, and then he feels his face hit the concrete.

They were too fucking strong. Hands the size of his own gripping his arms and legs, holding him to the floor like he weighed nothing. He ripped and strained at anything he could but there was no point in fighting. It didn’t stop him thrashing, only looking at the way your head was flopped down on the monitor, damp with your own blood. He got a few decent hits in before they wrangled him in again, his blood colouring the concrete.

“I admire it. Your… energy. Truely, it would be a shame to waste it here. Which is why I’m prepared to offer you a…solution to your problem.” Frank grunts and spits as the men haul him up, punching him in the stomach over and over so many times his vision starts to blur. Those stitches you did on him are ripped open and popped, blood soaking his shirt. “Clearly you’ve grown fond of my little girl—“

“Fuck you.” His mouth pools with blood, spraying over Bobby’s face as he gets closer.

“But I need her alive. Clearly, she doesn’t want to stay, so I’ll give you a fair deal.” Frank can’t feel the hits any longer, but he knows they keep coming. His legs give out as the men shove him on a chair, one of them focusing a strong hit to the open wound on his side that has him nearly screaming. He wouldn’t give him the fucking satisfaction. “I let you go. Both of you. Today. Enough blood has been spilt, and I’ve already made the mistake of taking one of her little conquests. So, I let you both walk out of here today. You go back to your little law firm, and your loyal friends at the CIA and you tell them it’s over. I’m dead.”

“Y-you must be lovin’ this. You feel like the big man yet?” Frank stutters out, falling into a wave of near unconsciousness. He’s laughing with no breath, loving the look on Bobby’s face, even with his eyes nearly swollen shut. He keeps punching him in the face, and even though Frank is the one getting beat to shit, it’s a win to him. He feels Bobby’s hand on his jaw, pressing hard. It’s nothing compared to the strength under the other sets of arms, but he still has to grind his teeth not to wince.

“You go back and tell them you were too late, and this? This all goes away. She can go home with you.” Frank isn’t focused, but he looks up with what little light he’s still holding in his vision. He sees you stir on the monitor, your head flipping to the other side. He thinks he recognises the room you’re in. He tries to move, but he’s weak now. “She goes with you, and you live your little fantasy for however long it takes for her to get bored, and realise I’m the only one that can give her what she really wants. What she can’t admit she craves.”

You were tugging at the cuffs. Thrashing now. Frank needs to fight— you were fighting, and he needed… fuck. He needs a full breath in, but they aren’t stopping. Fists flying at his ribs, ones that were already half cracked. Fists that could punch through stone, bruising their way through his body.

“The only condition I have, is that when I call, you bring her to me. You let me do whatever it is I need to do— whatever I want to do, and then she goes home free.”

“Free.” Frank spits again, shaking his head. What this guy really wants is for you to be at his beck and call for the rest of your life. Tethered to him, and he’s only offering because he knows you’ll never stop fighting him now you know what’s out there. Never stop fighting for him. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t let you be someone’s prisoner again. He—

“Free. That’s right.” Bobby says, and Frank can’t tell where he is anymore. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? I know what happened to your family. You need this as bad as I do. You get her a nice house, warm bed to come home to. And when I call? You bring her in. It’ll be easy. Look at how docile she is now! I’ll get you some of that stuff and she’s out like a light.”

Frank bares his teeth and lurched forward. Someone’s hands wrap around his throat and restrict his air flow. He sees stars, but he’s still fighting. Bobby says something in a language Frank doesn’t recognise, then talks right in his ear.

“You’ll come around. When you see what I do to her when she doesn’t comply, you’ll be begging me to offer this again.”

Frank can’t make a sound anymore. Too much pressure around his neck. Then he feels something else, something he recognises. It’s the barrel of Bobby’s shotgun pressing into his stomach, and he blacks out before he can hear if it goes off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stop moving.” Frank grumbles from beside you. It was impossible not to shift around in this tiny bed, which you were almost positive had been the scene of a crime at some point.

“It’s a water bed. It moves on its own.” Whoever decided putting a water bed in a hotel room was a good idea was dumb. Especially when every time one of you shifted it sent you both closer together. It wasn’t the first time on this trip you’d slept next to each other, but you weren’t sure how you felt about being shoved together in a bed that was stained a faint yellow.

“It moves when you move.” He says and rolls over, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. “You’re shivering.”

“Do you have any other complaints? You want to point out my grey hairs next?” You feel the heat of his breath of the back of your neck, and then the bed turns tidal as he sits up completely, shifting behind you. “Oh my god. What the fuck are you—“

You’re cut off by heavy fabric suffocating your open mouth, and it takes you a second to realise why everything’s gone dark. The first inhale and you can tell what it is. It smells like him. You haven’t admitted it to yourself yet, but you like that smell.

“Put it on. We’ll get you better clothes next time we stop.” He doesn’t roll over, still watching you as you wordlessly slip into the soft fabric of his jumper. You’ve worn it before, and Frank must of noticed how comfortable you seemed in it.

“Thought you’d want me to freeze.” It’s easier to play it off, the gesture one of many you haven’t decided how to read yet.

“Not when you shake like a chihuahua. Fuckin’ water bed…” He groans again and drops his body back down, nearly sending you flying off the other side. “Better?”

“I think I’m getting sea sick.”

“Go to sleep.”

You wait until you think he’s asleep to speak again.

“Thank you.” You whisper into the dark.

“Don’t worry about it.” He whispers back. When he shuffles behind you, and the waves of the mattress send you back against him, you squeeze your eyes shut and fall asleep before you can figure out why you don’t want to move from his side.

Gunshots woke you from sleep.

Your eyes didn’t open as fast as you wanted them to, and as you sucked in your first conscious breathe, you could taste something was wrong.

It tasted like stale bread— the air had a taste. You didn’t have a lot of experience with poison or gas, but you couldn’t think of anything natural that cause that kind of taste. Paired with how fuzzy your head felt right now, you knew you’d been fucked with in some way.

When your eyes finally opened, all the air you’d reluctantly taken in was shoved out of you. This room. You knew it just from staring at the floor. The stain on the ground. You tried to move your arm, but all it did was rattle the chains tied to the metal frame of your—the bed.

You tried to move your legs, hearing the same clanking sound with no payoff. You still thrashed against them, the fight sense kicking in and you not having enough clarity to save your energy. Everything was dialled to ten, being strapped back in here, held here.

Frank.

Frank would come. An hour, and he would come for you. You knew he would. You just had to outlast the hour.

Footsteps started coming down the hall, and you swallowed dryly, trying to ignore the sickness bubbling in your stomach. Even the smell of this room was the same. Same mattress. Like he was hoping… expecting you to come back. You know it’s him. Before you look up, you know.

“There you are, sunshine. How I missed you.” Bile burns in your throat.

You can’t talk, the gas in the room filling your chest and throat with dry, green smoke. You feel his grimy hands in your soaked hair, and when you’re forced to look up, he’s wearing a gas mask. It doesn’t hide the blood covering his face.

“I think it’s time we got caught up. Shall we?” Your eyes burn. Any of that strength you were feeling before seeps out of you, and the first slap of his hand sends you straight back into the darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[sarahjswift]

Chapter 2 of my New Fanfic!

STILL working on a title...hopefully a song lyric from Taylor though! If you have any ideas, tell me in the comments!

I have about 4 chapter already written, so you should get them maybe every other day before uploads become farther apart :) as always, huge thanks to my Tumblr bestie @backtobl4ck

Warnings: Language, Light Smut 👀, Slight Mention of Self-Harm Word Count: 1.2k

This room was a piece of shit.

Aelin dumped her bag onto the floor and glanced around the room. It was so tiny that only a small hospital single bed fit in it. The floor had the same ugly carpet as that other room, and a tiny - barred - window sat above the bed frame. A tiny cactus rested on the windowsill in a desperate attempt to bring cheer to the room. 

She collapsed on the bed, exhaustion clouding her vision. It had been a busy week, and she tried to recount it. Monday, the intervention. Aedion had been there, and that was it. That was everyone who cared about her, one fucking person, who happened to be her family member. Then Tuesday, Aedion sleeping over to “check on her” and researching help for her. Wednesday telling her about this place and packing. And now Thursday, here. 

Aelin stared up at the ugly popcorn ceiling, thinking of her new home - the “Whitethorn Rehab Center”. It was a nice enough place, and its patrons seemed like good people. But they had all mixed together and Aelin didn’t remember any of them. Well, that wasn’t true. Her new therapist - she remembered him. 

She hoped none of her surprise had shown on her face when she first saw him. He was easily the most handsome man she had ever seen, with soft brown skin and beautiful silver hair. Aelin thought of his jaw dropping eyes. They were green and seemed to be probing her entire being.

Once, she would have found him tempting. Once, she would have blushed to be in his presence. Once, she would have gotten his number and slowly seduced him until they were dating and obsessed with each other. 

But all the desire and love had drained out of her 12 months and 4.5 days ago. 

____

Aelin did nothing but nap until one of the nurses took her to eat dinner in a large cafeteria. Although the room was crowded with people, it was mostly silent except for some murmuring. 

“You are going to sit with your therapy group,” the nurse said. She looked like a sweet woman, with dark brown skin and black curls. Her eyes were blue and soft, understanding. Her name tag read Eillia. “Go grab some food, hon. I’ll just be over in the corner.” She walked away to where a group of other nurses were standing. 

Aelin watched her go before turning and sitting down at the table she had been shown. She wasn’t hungry - in fact, the smell of the food in the cafeteria made her nauseous. She hadn’t had an appetite in twelve months. 

A woman she recognized from therapy - Lysandra - sized her up, her emerald-colored eyes darting up and down Aelin’s body. “Can I help you?” Aelin snapped, annoyed with the woman’s obvious distaste. 

“I don’t know, can you?” Lysandra purred, her voice lilting and seductive. Aelin raised an eyebrow and snorted, shaking her head. “Okay then. Don’t pick fights you can’t win.”

A dart of fury went through Aelin, and she opened her mouth to protest before a man with carrot-colored hair cut in. “Ladies, let’s just eat. No need to make enemies on your first day!” He chuckled nervously, taking a bite of his macaroni and cheese. 

“So Lucas, how long have you been here?” another woman asked him. She was soft-spoken, pretty and demure. Elide. 

Aelin tuned them all out as they all began chatting. She didn’t have the time for mindless small talk. She wanted to scream, she wanted to flip the table over and shatter the windows. How could these people talk and laugh when the love of her life was gone forever, and she would never see him again?

Her breath was coming faster and faster, her chest heaving. She spotted Lucas’s knife on the table. Glancing around, Aelin swiped it, quickly stuffing it into her pocket. 

For later. She’d need it for later.

______ 

The club was loud, and crowded, and way too hot. Rowan shoved through the mass of bodies, trying to make his way to the bar. He was already regretting coming with Lorcan, who had disappeared and was likely flirting with some woman somewhere. The haze of drunkenness swept through Rowan’s mind, blurring his senses. He wasn’t wasted, but he definitely wasn’t tipsy. 

Finally, he reached the bar. The barmaid was a pretty woman with pale skin and red curling hair. She looked at Rowan, giving him a once-over, and her red lips curved into a smile. “How can I help you?” Her voice was raspy. 

“A tequila shot, please,” Rowan answered. She turned and bent down a little too far, making sure Rowan saw the view. As she prepared his drink, she peered at him through her lashes. “What’s got you drinking alone? Where’s your girlfriend?” 

“No girlfriend,” Rowan said roughly. “You?” 

The barmaid shrugged. “Situationship.” Rowan nodded and took the shot. “I’m Remelle,” she said, leaning across the bar. 

“Rowan.”

___

Thirty minutes later, they were making out against the club building. Remelle tasted like whiskey and cinnamon, and she smelled like a bar in the best way possible. Rowan was drunk and horny, and she was a perfect fix. 

They stumbled toward the parking lot, Remelle laughing huskily as Rowan tripped on a rock. They reached Rowan’s car and locked themselves inside. Rowan pulled the backseat down and when he turned back to look at Remelle, she was only in her underthings. She grabbed Rowan’s shirt and tugged him to her, bringing her mouth to meet his. 

          He ran a possessive down her leg, which she curled around his waist. Remelle pulled his shirt off and let out breathless giggles at the sight of his top half. “What?” Rowan growled, kissing down her collarbone. 

       “So muscular, shit,” Remelle snorted. She let him lay her on the extended car seat and watched lazily as he kissed his way down, down….

After they were done, Remelle propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Rowan. Her hair tickled his face, and he closed his eyes. She leaned down and kissed him roughly, biting his lip for good measure, before turning and beginning to pull her clothes back on. 

“Sorry if I didn’t make it clear before, but I’m not looking for a relationship,” she informed him, buttoning up her black work shirt. “Just wanted some release. Stressed out from school and all.”

“I don’t want anything either. Just some quick bangs sometimes,” he replied, full of relief she felt that way too. 

Remelle laughed and looked at him fondly. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. You’re hot.” Rowan snorted and rolled his eyes. Remelle took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. “My number is on the condom packet,” she breathed before walking out the car. 

Rowan watched her go, the quick satisfaction of their actions leaving quickly, self-loathing sinking in. He was a therapist, for fuck’s sake. He was using the coping mechanisms of his patients, habits he’d said himself were toxic. Yet here he was, using other’s bodies for a quick distraction before his memories came back.

He got dressed, sent Lorcan a quick explanation text, and drove home, the alcohol wearing off. He got home at 1:23 am and didn’t even shower before sinking into his mattress, his unhappiness surrounding him like a cloud. 

But one image stayed in his mind as he sank into sleep - a picture of beautiful blue eyes.

[wander-wren]

there’s always comment tips floating around tumblr but today it’s MY TURN BABEY i’m not covering Every Possible Comment, just my personal tips and tricks

pick a few default phrases. write them down even if you want!! my go-tos are “i love this so much” and “thank you for writing/sharing!!” and “omg this is perfect.” sometimes all of them together! i’m an overachiever so i usually go more in-depth, but just these sorts of things is great too

straight up just describe what you’re doing. “it’s 2am and im going to be so tired tomorrow but it was worth it i love this so much” (look theres a default phrase!!) “i’m sitting here crying into my chicken nuggets oh my god” “i laughed so hard reading this i woke up my dog”

if its a multi-chapter, try to predict whats coming! in a nice way, not demanding or “if xyz does/n’t happen i’ll riot” (unless its something guaranteed to happen, like “if [tagged pairing] dont get over themselves and kiss soon i’ll scream.”). esp if the fic is ongoing!! i’ve changed directions of longfics slightly bc of what readers predicted!! fanfic is a communal activity!!

speaking of ongoing fics: feel free to express excitement for future chapters but dont demand them, and DEFINITELY don’t let that be the only thing you say. “update soon!” is different from “oh wow i loved this bc xyz, cant wait to see what happens next!” the former makes it feel like a thankless chore, they latter feels like encouragement.

if a fic is not usually up your alley but you liked it, say so! just be polite. “i dont usually read [ship] but i was curious and i liked this bc xyz” is cool!! “i usually hate [ship] bc its gross/weird/toxic/etc and Other People always write [insert common trope] but this one was good” is less cool. you dont need to trash on the thing the author clearly likes, but it IS nice to know i could open you up to a new idea or something!

pick a line, any line, that made you laugh or “aww” or cry or get angry or ANYTHING. paste it in the comment box. write “this made me [insert emotion/reaction]” or “YESS/NOOO [character name]” or “oh my god i love this” or whatever floats your boat

if you want to go above and beyond, if i’m reading a longer work that i can already tell is gonna be a favorite, i just open the notes on my phone and copy paste all my favorite lines with my reactions as i go, then bam, ready-made comment

can guarantee (source: me) it will make a writer’s WEEK bc its like, barely any extra effort but it shows what made the most impact, and sometimes it makes someone see their stuff in a new light bc maybe they didn’t expect the line to hit that way! but woah! its so cool how different people experience art!!

also, comment when you reread. comment on older fics. if authors ask for suggestions or take requests, ASK. you get a thing you want, authors get interaction and cool fun ideas, it’s a win-win! everyone else is just as awkward and anxious and starved for human communication as you i SWEAR

also leave nice things in bookmarks bc that EXTRA makes my day when i remember to check once every six months. plus it helps future me remember why i bookmarked it

[qppmomentsandfluff]

New blog about qprs!

so I search the qpr tags often and I find that I see way too little actual content about the moments and scenarios you can get in a qpr.

I am a simp and love my partner very much, so I’ll use this as a blog to share your stories and moments, but the real motivation behind this is for me to scream into the void about the love and adoration I feel for them and to remember all our little happy moments.

if you want, you can gladly submit your own moments and stories! but a blog like that already exists, so idk, but if you do then please:

Talk preferably about fluffy, positive things

use content warnings if needed

have patience, as I am still new to all the more complicated tumblr stuff

Thank you! and hello, qpr community 👋

Disclaimer: my qpr is romantic-aligned and I will occasionally use amatonormatively associated language, so if you don’t like that be warned :)

[badassxbirdy]

Edit: Mobile nav is here. Blog maintenance may have temporarily broken the link in the description box. 😅

August Activity Update (Pinned Post)

It’s time once again for an activity update! If you’re new here: these monthly posts help me to keep track of what the frick I’ve been doing, particularly when tumblr breaks or the brainfog strikes. This update includes things posted or in drafts for the month of July, as well as the first three days of August as I’m a little late. Everything else can be found in previous monthly updates under this tag. There’s also the thread tracker here.

The full activity update (along with OOC house keeping) is below the cut. Bold text = links.

If you want to see all IC interactions without the other stuff, click here. If you’d like to start something new, there are opens, memes, and the wishlist, or you can just hit up the DM’s. You can also add Ty on Wire for IC texting.

Now onto the update!

OOC Housekeeping

@innerwar has just released a book! Check out the deets here for Amazon, or here if you prefer google books!

I’m giving the blog a clean and tidy. That includes clearing out the likes, so ignore it if you get any random likes on older posts. I occasionally double click by mistake.

Apologies for the huge dip in quality lately. Ditto the quantity! I’m beginning to feel a little more like myself than I have for quite a while, so hopefully this will improve things! 😅

Thank you for the kind words regarding the loss of the oldest pooch. People have been lovely, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the support. ❤️

Threads, replies, and other IC interactions:

(In alphabetical order by username)

At the motel. (link) - @demcnsinmymind

Azzy proves a point. 👀 (drafted, and I am screaming over this whole interaction!) - @demcnsinmymind

Drunk!Ty being her silly self. (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

Taking Lance on a hunt! (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

Car trouble (buried somewhere in the depths of the queue. I’ll find it and yeet it to the top asap! ❤️) - @demcnsinmymind

Damon shields Ty, Ty is ANGY. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Werewolf problems. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

The idiots reconcile. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Ty encounters Vampire!Damon. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

The children are bickering again. 😂 (link) - @derschwarzeengel

“She’s a ghost AND a bitch!” (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Universe differences (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Damon encounters dark!Ty (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Judging 50 shades (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Ken in France means… (link) - @derschwarzeengel

“This isn’t what it looks like.” (drafted) - @discipulusmaleficus

“Tell me— What is your day job?” (link) - @first-born-to-his-name

Ty is about to die of embarrassment. ☠️ RIP. (link) - @heavenguided

Meeting the captain. (link) - @hvbris

Ty is massively confused by Wednesday. 😂 (link) - @hvbris

Human!Ty and FBI!Fish (buried somewhere in the depths of the queue, I’ll find it and yeet it to the top asap! ❤️) - @imprvdente

Mischief at the fair (drafted) - @indyflanery

Bad jokes with Charm (link) - @innerwar

Monster encounter (drafted) - @lcbcshcart

Demon problems (link) - @magaprima

Demon problems part 2: electric boogaloo (drafted) - @magaprima

“I totally didn’t do what you think I did.” (link) - @pantslessoptimism

Leaving the compound. (link) - @razorfst

Drafts: 11

Memes/Asks: 13

Headcanon, dash games, and assorted silliness:

Tyler needs everyone to know what “kenning” means. (link)

I think that’s everything! As always: please let me know if I’ve missed something. I never intentionally drop threads without notifying, rest assured that if it’s not here I simply have not seen it. Remember to be kind to yourselves, and stay safe! ❤️ — Em

[winterandwords]

Word Find Tag (mirror, climb, struggle, jump + second, scream, warm, easy)

@zmwrites gave me mirror, climb, struggle, and jump, and @kaiusvnoir gave me second, scream, warm, and easy. Thanks, friends!

I'm going to cheat a little bit and not search a current WIP for these. Instead, I'm using November Breaks because I recently put the whole book up on Tumblr at @NovemberBreaksByWinterSimpson and I'm still a bit excited about it, so.

MIRROR

The end of the world isn’t real because it happens to everyone at the same time. When I’m alone, the end is a cold mirror and I need him to cushion the impact with long cashmere coats and flasks of strong coffee. Time and space have always been two sides of the same coin. Motion is a hesitant dimension.

CLIMB

I bite your lip, hard, because I know you want me to. My fingers find your throat and the world is nothing but a slowly climbing tide and clouds crashing empty to the ground at our feet.

STRUGGLE

Some reflex in my brain, some tangled neural pathway, leads me to the memory of a struggle fading to stillness and the extra weight that finds its way to a body as its last breath leaves it.

JUMP

I keep remembering a dream where I jumped off a building that wasn’t this one and landed on concrete and how unexpectedly conscious of everything I still was when my body burst open. I see it from every possible angle in the space behind my eyes and it no longer fully distracts me, but I notice it.

SECOND

I walk into the warehouse and do what I’m being paid to do. That’s how it goes. There’s no off switch, no reverse gear. Ten seconds and the trouble is face-down on the table. The others did get out of the way, but they don’t seem too calm about the spreading pool of blood. They ought to be used to it, in their line of work. I am.

SCREAM

Screaming never did anything for me. It still doesn’t. It’s convenient that he lives so far out of town, though. He can scream all he wants and no-one will hear a thing.

WARM

In the depths of December, I’ll wrap myself in my warmest coat, walk down to where the sea meets the sand in salt-frozen darkness and blacken my lungs with toxic chemicals. Sometimes I’ll soothe my soul in ways cigarettes can’t reach and I’ll dispose of the evidence in the quiet of early morning. Then I’ll sit on the deck with clean hands and a cup of coffee and be at peace.

EASY

It’s almost too easy, but easy is what I need right now. I don’t want a fight. I only want the end result. All it takes is one push, and he falls, head over heels over head, his neck audibly cracking about halfway down. He’s still alive when he lands, barely, and he reaches for a breath he’ll never take.

Tagging @blind-the-winds, @calicojackofficial, @indecentpause, @obsidian-goblet and YOU (open tag for anyone who wants it). If you'd like to take part, the words to search your WIP for are eat, drink, breathe and sleep 💜

[kavaeroexe]

Yandere Star Wars someone hurting their so?

S/O going to be on their full protection yeyeye

Stand back

Yandere!Star wars x reader

summary: You’re getting an injury and you need to retreat, what will they do?

warning: typos, bad grammar  

attention! please do not try to repost my works, I only post my works on Tumblr, if anyone see someone stole my works please inform me through the comments, tag me in the works, or message me!  

.

.

Anakin Skywalker

I’m pretty much sure he’ll fight faster and get you hidden as fast as possible

He’ll make sure to put you in a comfortable position if he needs to continue fighting the droid so he can open a way for both of you to get out

If you’re able to look at Anakin’s behavior while fighting, you could see his moves and his face is filled with rage, but you’re getting hut, you only focused to stay alive and relying yourself on him

let’s just say, he can’t control his anger the second he finds you getting shot by the droids

so why doesn’t he destroy them all?

with that much power pushed by anger and revenge for you, it’s easy to take care of such a mere droid.

he could never forgive those who hurt you.

but his mood changes when he approaches you and looks at you, he doesn’t want to scare you.

“You okay? alright keep your eyes open, we’re not far from the ship”

if you can’t walk, he’ll carry you in piggyback ride position or bridal style depending on the location of your injuries.

while resting on the medbay or on the ship, he’ll comfort you 24/7

“hold on dear, just hold on, look at me, don’t worry”

“you’re the one worrying so much Anakin”

“Well because if you do, I don’t know what should I do next”

.

.

Obi-wan Kenobi

this man is caring

retreat as soon as possible together so he could give you first treatment, then if he could avoid fighting, he’ll try to avoid it, but if he can’t he’ll guide you getting out and taking care of the rest

he wants you to avoid the battlefield as fast as possible

so you could get treatment faster.

well he doesn’t do revenge

correction- not now

I mean if it’s droid then maybe he’ll let it pass

but someone recognizable? mhm mhm

yeah he will remember their face forever, until they’re dead, at least.

the next time he meets the one who hurt you the last time, he’ll make sure they’re dead.

like dead. he needs to see them dead in front of his eyes

but when it’s the time you get your treatment he’ll be on your side all of the time until you feel better

but you both don’t make physical contact, to avoid people knowing about your relationship.

“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay, it’s fine, hang on”

he’ll feel bad because he can’t hold your hand to calm you down, but you both want to avoid the risk, so you’re fine with that

it’s just him that feels bad

so when you’re able to get out from the medbay, and in a private time, he’ll hold you and make sure he doesn’t touch your injuries at all to make you feel comfortable.

it’s not you who asked to be cuddled and hold, it’s him that needs reassurement that you’re fine, that you’re now able to be in his arms, honestly he does it without him even realizing, he does that to make himself feel better.

because I’m sure he’s scared inside, it’s just his face and feeling don’t match each other lmao

the next time you go on a mission, he’ll question whether you really need to go to the mission, even though you’re with him.

but when you said yes, he’ll let you go, but told you to inform him before and after you start your mission.

next time something like that happened again, guess he needs to start using the strict way instead, just to keep you safe.

.

.

Luke Skywalker

he’ll panic inside and outside the moment you get injured

“OH SHIT Y/N RETREAT RETREAT”

Honestly he made the situation get worse

Han would scold him later like “DON’T PANIC IN FRONT OF THE ENEMY, IT’LL HELP THEM KILL YOU”

“BUT Y/N GET SHOT”

“IT’S NOT LIKE THERE ARE NO OTHER PEOPLE TO HELP THEM, THERE’S ME, LEIA, AND THEMSELF TO HELP THEMSELF.”

“da kark stop screaming or I’ll shove your mouth with this lightsaber like you sucking di-”

retreat as fast as possible

at one point he’s confused about whether to retreat or fight until the end, blame the pressure around him ngl

okay maybe this one fits for ANH Luke

but I’ll give you the ROTJ Luke that suits Yandere Luke...

I mean he’s still panicking, but he knows what to do

place you somewhere safe, place a kiss on your forehead before he’s back to the battlefield to open a way or maybe... fulfilling his revenge that he doesn’t even realize it’s a revenge

he’s stupid I know

sometimes he’s ignoring the whole karking Jedi code without him even realizing

has I told you guys he’s stupid?

but not really that kind of stupid, I must say.

but he’s a sweet, gentlemen, perfect man so I forgive him.

“Stay here alright? I’ll meet you again soon, in a blink of your eye”

cheesy of him but he kept his words

he fasts af bro

you blink the second time, he already carrying you, holding you tightly, placing another kiss on your forehead the second time to calm you down

honestly he’s calming himself by kissing you

very much like Obi-wan

like padawan like the master.

when you get your treatment, he holds your hand most of the time, making sure to you that you’ll be fine

once again he’s just couraging himself that you will be fine, just to calm himself down.

.

.

Din Djarin (my first time writing him I’m sorry)

this man was confused about which one to do first

treat you or vanishing the enemies

sometimes he picks it randomly

okay maybe based on your injuries

but for your information, he’ll make you retreat even though you only got a scratch

because his theory would be like: you get hurt - stay fighting will make you lose focus because of the injury -> get hurt even more -> dies -> he’ll be alone.

well.

what can I say?

just because he seems calm every time on his job or needs to fight doesn’t mean he’s not panicking.

but behind that tin helmet and his face, I’m 100% sure that he’s super panicking like it’s the end of the world

but you’re his world though...

his feelings and face don’t match him like Obi-wan

he doesn’t care anything at the moment but you

so when they’re able to be back, he’ll immediately grab bacta spray and other supplies

told you to rest 

no, don’t even think to get up from where you are

if you need anything just ask him

just don’t. get. up.

“Sleep, you’ll need that for tomorrow”

he’ll hold you in the middle of the night for a moment

he felt grateful you’re still here with him

and the morning, he’ll not wake you up until you wake up by yourself

he also prepares medical supplies in case there might be some other injuries that you don’t even realize yesterday.

he prepares breakfast too

force you to eat them all

he even shares his portion

caring guy <3

will not let you go on a mission or hunting for the next 2-3 weeks.

.

.

Fennec Shand (Not as bad as Din ones cause I got a friend with an exact personality like her)

this woman will shoot everyone in her sight and then calm you down

“stay here, I’ll be right back.”

at first she only wants to open a way so you both could retreat, but she just can’t control herself being mad at the enemy, I mean not just the one that hurt you, but every single one of it.

yes, everyone.

no mercy for yandere Fennec 

but sometimes she realizes that she still has you to take care so she’ll end up just opening that way for you

when she helps you walk away from the battlefield, I could feel like she’s shooting one of the dead corpses, just in case

even though they’re truly dead, she still hasn’t satisfied yet. 

if her enemy seeks revenge...

don’t worry, she already prepared herself 

because she seeks revenge as well lmao

this time she has no mercy

yeah she never got any mercy for the enemy before

the difference is she got more brutal and violent

and everyone dead

happy ending

but when she comes back, she’ll be by your side throughout the recovery

sweet Fennec exists for her darling only

yey

[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.”

[javier-djarin]

Son of the Medjai: Chapter 10

The Mummy AU

Ship: Pero Tovar x Aria MacKenzie (OC)

Rating: M

Word Count:    3,556 Words

Warnings: Language, Violence

Masterlist

Summary: Kazemde and Beckett have taken Aria. Now, Pero is prepared to do anything to get her back, and he’s bringing hell with him.

A/N:  @rebelscumlena​​ and I have been super busy, but we haven’t forgotten you! Here is chapter 10! We’ve only a few more chapters left before this fic is over. Please let me know if you want to be on my taglist and what you think of the fic! If there is a strikethrough in your name, Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. Any Translations will always be found at the bottom of every chapter. If you know the OP of the gif, please let me know, so I can give them their due credit.

Everything was a blur. Once Kazemde left with Aria, Pero’s vision was filled with nothing but rage and the drive to survive. He fired his weapon until he was out of ammunition, and then used everything within arm’s reach to take down more of the mob. His ribs were throbbing with each movement as he followed Shakir to the only escape in the entire museum. He grabbed one of the spears that were on display in the hallway, swinging and stabbing at their attackers. Only a few managed to fill the hallway behind him, but Shakir and William held them off. Murphy had grabbed his own ancient weapon and aided Pero. Blood seeped down his arm, but he fought through the pain. The crowd pushed in on them, but stayed far enough out of their reach to avoid their attacks. “They’re trying to corner us,” Pero spat.

“Once we reach the archives,” Mostafa shouted over the chanting mob, “we can barricade the door to buy us time to escape.” The old man fumbled with the keys, but eventually unlocked the door. Shakir pushed Will in first, followed by Murphy. “Go! I’ll hold them off.”

“I’m not leaving you out here to die!”

“I’m doing my duty to protect our pharoah. Now, go!”

Pero growled and flipped the spear in his hand before launching it into the crowd. Mostafa locked the door before tossing the keys into the room with them, Shakir pushing it closed behind them. The sounds of the attack were muffled behind the thick wooden door. “Fuck!” Pero snapped, kicking over a table.

Shakir ignored his outburst and swiftly led them to the back of the archives where a trap door under an elegant rug waited for them. Pero stood, facing the door and taking quick, sharp breaths. Murphy dropped his hand from his arm and rested a bloody hand on Pero’s shoulder, pulling him towards their only chance at escape. Aria’s screams still rang in Pero’s ears as Kazemde dragged her out of the building. “Tovar,” Murphy snarled, drawing Pero back to the present, “we need to move. You can’t get her back by glaring at the door.”

Pero shoved him off and stormed to Shakir. He ignored the hand Shakir gave him to help him into the hole and moved first. He landed in a long tunnel that led out of the building, but hopefully not too far. He was not about to abandon his arsenal here to fall into the possession of Kazemde’s minions. “We need to get to my compound,” Will said, landing with a thud next to Pero.

Pero grabbed a torch off the wall and snatched the lighter from Shakir once he joined them.

“Izzy needs to look at those ribs before --”

“I’m fine,” he coldly stated, “the less time we spend at the compound, the sooner I can get to Aria.” He practically ran through the tunnel until he reached the end. He felt a burn in the back of his throat, remembering the look in her eyes as she watched him disappear into that mob. He’d made her a promise, and he intended to keep it, even if that meant he’d burn Egypt to the ground to get her back. “I’m coming, Aria,” he whispered, tightening his grip on his torch.

***

It took almost an hour to get back to the car before driving to the compound, and before William would even let Pero near the armory, he was forced to let Izzy examine his ribs. He hissed and swore while Izzy rebandaged them, trying to set the one that was fractured. “Who the hell did you piss off this time?” the man asked.

Pero glared at him. “The usual. Beckett and a mummy returned from the dead.”

Izzy shook his head, while tying the bandage in place. “Right,” he replied, as if this were a daily occurrence. “I’m only helping you, because who else is going to get that nice girl back? You were much more pleasant with her around.”

Pero tensed. “I’m going to gut Beckett the moment I see him,” he seethed.

“Good,” Izzy huffed, “never cared much for Beckett. The bastard owes me a fuck ton of money anyway.”

He glared at Izzy before hopping off the medical table, snatching his shirt from the chair. He stalked to the other side of the compound to find Murphy, Shakir, and William stockpiling weapons and ammunition in the armory. Pero stormed to his locker, pulling out fresh clothes before changing, as he ignored the conversation taking place behind him. He stared into the mirror, hanging there. Last time he was here, he could see her behind him, trying not to glance over her shoulder to watch him change. White hot embarrassment had crept up the back of her neck, flushing her cheeks when she’d finally turned to face him. He was almost certain that was the moment he knew how he’d felt about her, and dammit, he wished he’d said something to her before Kazemde took her. He slammed his locker shut, angry that the one thing he’d promised her he couldn’t give her.

You could never fail me, she had said to him. His chest tightened. He needed to focus right now, and get to Aten before they did. Kazemde and Beckett would not see tomorrow’s sunrise if it was the last thing he did. The rest of the men were watching him, waiting for his orders.

“Your plane,” he said, staring at Will, “can she fly?”

Will smirked. “Coincidentally, Izzy just fixed her last week. She’s ready for flight.”

Pero smirked. “Perfect. I want you to fly us in as close as you can. Kazemde will know I’m coming, so we need to be swift. Murphy,” he said, turning to him and noting the blood still dripping down his arm, “You and Shakir will grab the gold book from Nefertari’s tomb. Will and I are going to rig the main entrances with explosives to slow the bastard down.”

“What if the book needs the key?” Murphy asked.

“Leave that to me.” He took a ragged breath.

After Izzy finished stitching Murphy’s wound and Pero packed an entire arsenal that could supply a small army, they waited impatiently for William to rush through flight checks. Murphy leaned against the side of the hangar door with Shakir, as they watched Pero snarl and snap at his former employer. He’d seen the Spaniard angry, but this was new. He’d never seen him unhinged, like he’d already lost her. Murphy didn’t like it any more than Pero that his sister was in the arms of the deadliest person in the world, but he trusted that Aria had a plan; he trusted they would get to her in time.

Shakir shifted next to him, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Legend has it that Kazemde was the one who killed Nefertari,” he said, “and if that’s so, then Pero has seen Aria’s death…in more than one way.”

Murphy’s eyes widened in horror. “You mean --”

“Pero knows he will lose her if he doesn’t get to Aten before Kazemde.” Shakir straightened, giving Murphy a stern stare. “Ausar cannot lose Nefertari again. They were promised a lifetime together if they stopped Kazemde.”

Murphy turned to watch Pero as he aggressively tossed his bags into the plane. “While we were in Aten, I glossed over Aria’s notes about Ausar and Nefertari, but I never saw the mural they discovered. She wrote ‘to defeat ultimate evil would be to pay the ultimate price.’” He sighed. “We need to hurry.”

Shakir nodded. “Yes, but Pero’s plan will not work. If he faces Kazemde alone, he will die.” He paused, watching Pero. “Just like he did all those years ago.”

“I guess that would be the ultimate price,” Murphy muttered. He knew that Pero would never let Aria pay that price, and that was something Murphy found himself ever grateful for: that if they walked away from all this, Aria would have finally found someone that valued her far more than she valued herself.

Pero climbed into the co-pilot seat of William’s new tri-motor plane. He’d never flown one with this many engines before, but he’d do anything at this point to get to Aria. William finished loading the plane, tossing some parachutes in behind Shakir and Murphy. “If I can’t land, use these,” he said.

“You mean jump out of the plane?” Murphy asked, astonished.

Will shook his head and rolled his eyes as he joined Pero at the front. “She flies just like what you’re used to. Just a little faster.”

Pero huffed, waiting for Will to begin pre-flight and taxi out to his runway. He glared out the window as he watched the flat landscape blur together. He scanned the desert, willing himself to see her, or maybe even have another vision to catch a glimpse of her face. I’m coming, Aria. Despite the quick trip to the ruins, he knew this would be the longest flight of his life.

***

Aria stood, hands bound next to the British bastard that caused all of this. Kazemde perched at the end of the cobbled street with his eyes closed in silent prayer as he faced the desert. She scowled at both of them, sending daggers Beckett’s way. “You’re prettier when you smile,” he muttered, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

She gritted her teeth. “Last time I checked,” she spat, “I didn’t give a shit.”

Beckett turned to her and grabbed her arms to force her to look at him. “I’m not the enemy here,” he growled. Aria tensed and tried to pull from his grasp, but it only made him hold on to her tighter. “You’ll do well to remember that. Right now, I am your only ally.”

“Ally?” She scoffed. “You left my brother and Pero for dead in that museum.”

His grin turned sadistic. “Tovar had it coming.” Beckett moved closer to her. “I don’t know what you see in the son of a bitch, but if there is a God in Heaven, his skull is bashed in and he is bleeding out on the marbled floor of your precious museum.”

Aria felt the chill of fear run down her spine.

“With any luck, Kazemde will make your death swift,” he continued, “and Tovar, if he survived, will suffer.”

A wall of sand erupted in front of them, and Kazemde beckoned them to join him. With an iron grip on her arm, Beckett pulled her with him. “I don’t know how he does it, but this will get us to Aten in a matter of minutes.”

She froze, resisting his pull. Minutes. Pero would not make it to her in time, and for the first time she doubted that he would follow through on his promise. It had taken them a couple of hours to get out this far away from Cairo for Kazemde to do whatever it was he needed to do, but she was certain it wasn’t enough time for Pero and Murphy to get ahead of them. Kazemde’s cold, boney hands grasped her wrists, pulling her into his side as they stepped into the wall of sand -- their portal to Aten.

***

It had only been a few hours since the museum, but Pero felt like it was a lifetime ago. He tried to close his eyes, imagining the look of bliss on her face when they’d finally had a moment to themselves in her room. He tried to smile at the memory of her beet red cheeks when Murphy barged in. But it was no use. The thoughts only caused more tightness in his chest. He feared that he would never see those looks again. “You know,” Will’s voice called over their headsets, “when this is over, you’re going to owe me more than what we agreed.”

“And I intend to pay it,” Pero snapped, glaring at him.

Will laughed as he checked the gauges. “We’ll talk when this is over.”

“Uh, Tovar?” Murphy’s panicked voice startled Pero. “I don’t think that’s a regular sand storm headed our way.”

Pero turned and looked out the small window on Will’s side. There was indeed a sandstorm headed straight for them, but it dissipated as it crested over the cliffs to the East of them. Three small figures fell from the clouds a few feet, and he knew. He was half tempted to grab a chute and jump from the plane now, but a firm hand on his shoulder held him in place.

“Remember the plan,” Shakir calmly reminded him.

***

Aria kicked Beckett off her as she stood, fixing her top and shaking the sand from her hair. The desert was calm and silent, and as she peered in front of her she saw the ruins of Aten stretched out in front of them. “We’re back,” she whispered to herself, the horror seeping into her veins.

“Just remember that I am your only ally here,” Beckett whispered in her ear.

An icy chill crept down her spine, and she turned to glare at him. The gusto that was fueling her earlier had disappeared. Now that they’d reached Aten, the gravity of her situation sank in. “Please,” she breathed a plea, “don’t do this. You’re just as expendable to him as I am. The second he gets what he wants-”

Beckett smirked. “I have contingencies in place.”

A small buzz permeated the air around them. It wasn’t until she saw the anger flooding Beckett’s face did she turn to face the noise. Warmth spread through her chest at the sight of the plane off in the distance, heading directly for the ancient city. “Pero,” she sighed. Aria knew he’d fight the devil himself to keep his word.

A breeze whipped between them, and she could have sworn she heard his voice carried to her saying, “I’m coming, Amor.”

She closed her eyes briefly, letting the wind curl around her like a warm embrace.  The sand shifted next to her, and she opened her eyes to see Kazemde stepping close to the edge of the dune they stood on. He lifted his hands, erecting a wall of sand in front of them. Her screams were soon drowned out by the violent sandstorm he conjured and sent hurtling towards the plane that held everything she held dear.

***

Pero left his seat, prepping a chute. “Can you land before that new storm reaches us?”

Murphy and Shakir joined him, with the arsenal being strapped to Murphy as they prepared to jump. Suddenly, a force slammed into the side of the plane, throwing them to the floor. Pero rose to his knees, glancing towards the cockpit. They were in the middle of the storm, sand clogging the engines. He growled and moved back to the co-pilot seat to help William. “If we don’t clear this soon, the engines will fail,” William said with a grunt as he pulled up on the yoke, trying to ride the wind. Suddenly, the plane lost altitude. “You guys need to jump.”

“In the middle of this storm? Are you mad?” Murphy asked, crawling his way closer to Pero and William.

“It’s either that or die in a plane crash!”

The plane lost altitude again, and Pero felt his stomach drop that time. He and William both pulled up on the yokes. A gust of wind slammed into the side again, forcing Murphy to hit his head on the window next to him. He reached up and felt the blood streaming down his face before the throbbing pain started. Shakir slid next to him, grabbing the first aid kit from under Pero’s seat. They hit more turbulence, and Pero’s grip slipped on the yoke. Shakir found gauze in the bottom of the kit, crudely wrapping it around Murphy’s head. “If we’re going to jump,” he shouted over the wind howling around them, “then I think now would be the best time. We have to be close to the city by now.”

Gritting his teeth, Pero fought to keep control of his yoke, while Will struggled to do the same. “I can’t just abandon Will.”

“I can land this thing by myself,” William added.

The engine sputtered and stalled. The propeller stopped.

“Go!” William shouted. “I’ll ride the wind. It’ll be a crash landing, but I’ll be fine!”

The plane’s nose dipped.

Pero and Will shared a brief glance. There would be no jumping. It was too late, and now, Pero needed to help him land or kill them all. “Buckle up! Things are about to get bumpy!” Will barked at Shakir and Murphy, who had tossed their arsenal bag behind him. “We need to keep that nose pointed up, otherwise when we land…”

Will didn’t need to finish his thought. They all knew what would happen when they would land. Bits of rock and sand chipped away at the glass, almost as if Kazemde was using it to find a weakness in the plane to cause their cabin to depressurize. The plane began to shake, the yoke almost impossible to pull up. “Fuck,” Pero muttered, as he pulled with all his might.

They slowly began to level, when suddenly the wind stopped and the sand around them fell. The tension against the wings lifted too fast, forcing Pero and Will to overcorrect their positioning. They both scrambled to regain control, when a sand dune appeared in front of them. “Hang on!” Will exclaimed. He and Pero pulled on the yokes again, but it was too late.

The impact forced them to slam forward, the yoke meeting Pero’s chest and the harnesses preventing anyone from flying into the objects in front of them. The nose of the plane crumpled on impact, and sand began pouring in, burying Will and Pero. The force of the crash knocked the air out of Pero’s lungs as he scrambled to unbuckle. He dug for the clasp in between painful breaths as they felt the plane shift and sink. Panic began to rise in him as he realized they’d crashed into quicksand, and the faster the sand shifted the faster they sank. With each breath, he felt the weight of the world crush his chest. No air was getting in, and his vision was starting to blur. This was it for him. He was going to die, leaving Aria to her own devices. Finally, that image of her he’d tried conjuring earlier flooded his memory: she was curled against his chest, sated and happy. He had many regrets in his life, failing her being the worst. But taking that brief moment for themselves, was not one of them. He was determined to let that be the last thing on his mind as he fought tooth and nail to get out of this metal cage he was sure to die in.

***

The storm faded. That’s when Aria saw their plane, smoke trailing behind them, head for what was no doubt a crash landing on the other side of the ruined city. When the sand erupted and smoke billowed into the sky, she knew their fate, and something inside of her painfully ripped -- shredded itself -- into a thousand pieces. Murphy, her brother and best friend, gone, along with Pero. Pero, the only man she was certain she could ever feel this strongly for. Even in the few weeks she’d spent time getting to know him, she knew that whatever they had budding between them was it for her; there would never be another. So, as she watched the black smoke billow into the now clear sky, she knew her chances of escape had vanished. Soon, she would join them in the afterlife. They would never have that chance to rent a hut on the beach, spending however long they needed together, healing from everything Kazemde put them through.

Aria closed her eyes as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. She imagined relaxing in a plush bed with tangled sheets, the windows and doors opened to welcome in the warm, ocean breeze. Pero holds her close as he lightly runs his fingers through her disheveled hair. She looks up into his deep, brown eyes, noting how at ease he is. She’s never seen him at peace. Gently, he cups her face, placing a soft, passionate kiss on her lips that soon turns ravenous as he wraps his arms around her, bringing her body flush with his.

“Here’s to hoping he’s bleeding out, realizing he failed you,” Beckett breathed into her ear, snapping her out of her dream.

Aria opened her eyes, turning to stare at him. Her grief was so strong, she couldn’t even give him her signature glare. “What did he ever do to you that caused you to hate him so?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Beckett smirked. “What does it matter? He’s dead.” He moved around her, forcing her into the crook of his arm and pushing her forward. “And I’m sure he’s rotting in Hell right now.”

She glanced back at the smoke, the tall stack polluting the surrounding air. Aria felt the pain of her loss in her very soul. She didn’t mourn her brother and Pero. Instead, she mourned the life they would never live -- the life they never even had a chance to start.

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[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture

Word count: 2843

Part 3

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character

AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.

After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 

Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.

Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.

“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.

“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”

“Twice,” you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.

“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.

“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.

“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”

Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.

“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.

“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”

Bucky looks completely lost.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.

“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 

“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.

The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.

“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.

“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”

“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.

“Do you?” she snaps.

“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.

When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.

You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.

“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.

“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.

You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...

“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.

“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.

She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,” she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.

“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.

“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”

The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.

You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.

The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 

You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.

“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 

You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.

“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.

“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.

“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.

“I…Oh, yeah—” 

“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.

“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.

“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”

You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.

“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 

“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.

“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”

“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—

“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”

“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”

“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.

“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.

“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”

“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.

“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.

“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.

“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.

“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.

“You’re on,” Clint says.

Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.

“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.

“Negative.”

Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.

“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.

“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”

“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.

“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.

“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.

The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.

Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.

You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.

CRUNCH.

The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.

He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.

She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.

“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.

Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”

“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.

Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 

“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”

“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.

Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.

You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.

“I love you t—”

But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.

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

Click here for Part 5!

[wheelsup]

a friendly bet

category: fluff/humor, spencer x reader warnings: briefly jealous Spencer word count: 1.34k A/N: this blurb was requested by loml @rigatonireid! the prompts are: "you're absolutely dreadful" + "you're my favorite know-it-all"

Spencer Reid really does know it all. His intelligence might be the most attractive thing about him — tied with his face, his hair, his height, his kind eyes.... Maybe Spencer Reid is just overall attractive and you love everything about him, inside and out.

So yes, you’re completely biased on the topic of your boyfriend, but you are aware not everyone shares this fondness of his brain.

He can’t really help that he corrects people all the time — his impulse just takes the steering wheel and makes his mouth move before he can consider if it’s appropriate to comment. The rest of the team is familiar with the quirk, but even they still take offense from time to time.

And the strangers you meet on cases are even less receptive to it. Local law enforcement tends to think that the FBI only shows up to throw their weight around their city, and Reid’s little know-it-all interjections only increase the tension.

It makes it that much harder to get along with them, which isn’t always something your team can afford when the stakes are high. So, you decided to make him a friendly bet that he couldn’t go one whole day without correcting someone on an instance it wasn’t truly necessary.

“I thought you liked my rambling?” Spencer’s bottom lip curled into a pout that you quickly smoothed away with your thumbs.

“I do! I just… think it might make things easier if you hold back a little. Some of the guys here are getting their feelings hurt.” You laughed and stroked his cheek, coaxing a smile out of him. Your proposition wasn’t a criticism of him. It was of everyone else.

“There’s no way I correct people that much,” Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes, playfully pushing your face away from him like you were being ridiculous.

“Then take the bet and we’ll find out.”

And sorry to say, there was a way.

Not an hour into the day, the vein on Spencer’s forehead was at danger of bursting through his skin. It only came out when he was angry or deep in focus, and you really couldn’t pick which of the two were causing it now. (It was a bit of both.)

This morning, you were trailing about thirty feet behind everyone when coming into the station and Spencer, being the good boyfriend he is, held the door open for you the extra ten seconds. The receptionist at the front desk subsequently chewed him out about ‘letting all of the cold air come into the office’.

That was Spencer’s first test of the day.

Surely, every person in the world knows that’s not how thermodynamics work. Not even close. And if she didn’t know that, that was definitely cause for concern. So really, this felt like a necessary time for Spencer to speak up. For her sake.

But he saw the way your eyebrow quirked up and he knew it was a challenge. It was too easy of a win for you. So he decided to bite his tongue and apologize for the inconvenience.

His second test rose from an argument between Morgan and Prentiss. The barista Hotch picked up drinks from messed up the team’s order and they discovered they were short one coffee. Both threw empty threats at the other and insisted they needed the drink more, but it had come to a stalemate.

“Emily, I worked late last night.”

“What happened to ladies first?” She slid the cup to herself, and Morgan snatched it right back.

“I’m not seeing any lady here!”

Before Emily tossed her chair at Morgan’s head, Hotch suggested they just flip a coin to make it totally fair.

Spencer’s brain was screaming inside: The odds of a coin toss are actually 51/49! Trials have shown that a coin favors landing on the side that was facing up when it was thrown, so really, whoever picks that side has a better chance!

It isn’t so much a correction as it is a fun fact. A harmless little fun fact, surely people would like to hear it! He should share it, they’ll love it.

But you remembered Spencer telling you about this once before, and your eyes are narrowing on him with a smug expression.

‘Come on. Tell them’ your face seems to say. He knows it’s bait, and he doesn’t bite. Thirty-seven minutes into the day. He can do it.

And to your surprise, he did last. For a while. (A while being an hour and twenty-four minutes.)

After the morning briefing, Spencer saw some young male deputy follow you into the conference room. Where you were working. Alone. Why the hell did he need to speak to you alone?

He’s tall with cover-boy good looks (much like Spencer himself), but the thing that Spencer hated most about him was the way he’d been looking at you all week. It’s a nicer word than Spencer would use — he’d say it was more like staring. Watching. Creeping.

Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a creep and Spencer’s very suspicious of him.

So, he did what anyone would do and hid behind a tall potted plant near the window to peek into the room through the blinds. (It’s very inconspicuous, they should use him to go undercover sometime.)

“Can I help you with something?” You gave a polite, tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I was just, uh—” he forced a laugh and rubbed his neck in some lame attempt to be charming that made Spencer roll his eyes. “I was wondering if you could fill me in on the investigation.”

He placed a couple of files onto the table next to you and rested a hand on the back of your chair.

You blinked uncomfortably between his sudden proximity and the flirtatious expression adorning his face. “Oh, uh, did you miss the briefing?”

He shook his head no. He was there, he was just making an excuse to come talk to you.

“Could you talk me through it again? I guess I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.” He flashed a smile and leaned his elbow on the table, effectively boxing you in with his whole body.

Before you could tell him to kindly fuck off, you got distracted by the sound of rustling leaves. Then four seconds later, Spencer burst in through the door.

“Actually!” he huffed, a little out of breath, “Goldfish have a long-term memory ranging from three to five months.” Once he catches it, he crosses his arms over his chest and straightens out his spine to make himself bigger. “So you should be able to figure it out on your own. Unless your brain is smaller than a goldfish’s, of course.”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at the deputy’s beet-red face. Spencer scrambled to pick up the files and shoved them back into the deputy’s arms as he “gently” ushered him out the door.

“That was cute of you.” You left a soft kiss on that protruding forehead vein that was finally beginning to go away. “You lost, by the way.”

.

“There’s no way you’re making me do this.” Spencer stood in front of your bathroom mirror with the grimmest expression on his face.

“Sorry, cutie, but you lost,” you teased, preening his hair into place.

A few weeks ago you saw an old picture of Spencer with his hair slicked back, and it’s all you’ve been thinking about ever since. You thought it made him look model-level good and begged him to do it again, but he was of a different opinion. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

“I can’t go to work like this, I’ll look like a joke. There has to be something else!”

“This is the only thing I want.”

He sighed, shoulders sinking as his whole body deflated. “You’re absolutely dreadful.”

You planted a sloppy, exaggerated kiss on his furrowed brows and continued combing the gel into his hair. “And you are my favorite know-it-all.”

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visual aid (tumblr wouldn't let me insert it ugh)

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taglist: @ellesgreenaway @suburban--gothic @sturmmhond @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @blondefrnk @andreasworlsboring101 @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @reidgifs @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit

broken tags: @iamonlyhereforcriminalmindsthings

[ggukkiereads]

hi hii I was wondering if you had any taekook x reader fics ? 🙈 , also wondering if I could I go as 🗯 anon if that's okay? I love ur recs so much and ur page is a LIFESAVER , ily bae <3

🌷 Dear 🗯️ anon! I am sorry for answering so late. My drafts are all messed up but I was able to focus on this. On my 📍 pinned post, I actually asked if you meant love triangles or MMF smut but you didn't reply. So, I'll just put both =)

Enjoy! Much love and credit goes to all these wonderful writers who brought these fics to life 💖🥳

TaeKook Fics (Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook)

Love Triangle/s

M/M/F Smutty One Shots/Series

#ReadwithMe (fics in my reading queue/planning to read)

Love Triangle

All I Want @ardentlyjae - series [6/6] | 126k | War AU, Soldier!Taehyung | Heavy Angst, S

I actually read this on AO3 but I realized it’s on tumblr too. I remember this fic every time I hear Kodaline’s All I Want, which the fic was inspired by

Anima Meaology @arckook - series [5/5] | 26k | Soulmate AU, soulmate glitch (those with mismatched tattoos on their wrist) | A, F

I read this long ago on AO3 when I had this soulmate AU-fixation phase and I saw it on tumblr recently. Just had to read it again 🥺

Aquarium, Part 2 @whatifyoulivelikethat - two shot | 6.9k | cheating/infidelity, healing/comfort, second chances | A, F

I really like this comfort fic 🥰. Also shows that people deserve second chances, even the person who caused so much hurt. Screamed about it here and here

Change @junghelioseok - series [10/10] | 39.2k | a kind handsome stranger (Taehyung) makes you question your deteriorating relationship (Jungkook) | A, S, F

can I just say that Taehyung is such a sweetheart here 🥰? I always envision Paris Taehyung 2018 in this

Everything Goes @jamaisjoons - one shot | 24k | Fuckboy!Taehyung, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Stranger!Jungkook, unrequited love | A, S  (really angsty)

First Light @inktae - one shot | 24k | Bestfriend!Taehyung, Masked Jungkook who can’t seem to leave the forest, Fantasy AU, based on hotarubi no mori e | F

If you’ve seen my fic recs list, inktae is always part of my recs. The way they write is just emotionally and visually haunting. Their works are just masterpieces. This is beautifully heartbreaking and heartbreakingly beautiful.

House of Cards @aiimaginesbts - series [10/10] | 40k | infidelity au, taehyung in an arranged marriage with someone else, roommate Jungkook | A, S, F

don’t we all want to have a roommate like Jungkook who will be there to comfort you over your heartbreak over someone else?

Stealing the Bite by wildernessuntothemselves - series [6/6] | 37k | witch!reader x werewolf!taehyung x vampire!jungkook, supernatural au, fantasy au | S, A

I mentioned before that some are divided re the ending, so I wonder what’s going to be the reactions of others

The Muse @daddychims - one shot | 30k | Author!Reader, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Fuckboy!Taehyung,  Coworker!Jungkook, Taehyung offered OC to watch him have sex with another so she could write an erotic scene | S, A, F

The Universe of Us (read on mobile) @/taesthetes (officially closed her account) - one shot | 21k | Dream AU, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Kimi no Nawa-inspired | F, A

I am never going to shut up about this fic lol. It’s not exactly a love triangle, ugh hard to explain but please read this wonderful fic. Check their other KTH x R x JJK soulmate fic Cloud Ten too.

When You Least Expect @johobi - series [12/14 + drabble] | 118k | Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, Childhood Friend Taehyung, set up with another guy (Jungkook) | S, A, F

ugh, I want to put another tag about Jungkook but I guess it’s a surprise. I just love the drama 🍿

🌷 I’m forgetting two more fics but I’ll update this once I remember. I haven’t read recently released fics too! I’ll add if there are good ones that come along

MMF Smutty One Shots/Series

A Piece of You @httpjeon - one shot | 13.9k | abo dynamics, camboy AU, camgirl AU, fan jungkook joins the cam session | S, F

All’s Fair @kimvtae - one shot | 13k | soulmate AU, college AU, dating Taehyung for a year but different name (Jungkook) showed up on OC’s wrist (lol it’s not a problem if you can get them both) | S

Blacklisted @/httpjeon - one shot | 21k | dom/sub AU, CEO AU, “after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men” | A, F, S

Business @btssmutgalore - two shot | 28.9k | executive!reader, inventors/start-up owners taekook | S (seriously, how could I have missed including this here)

Dulce Periculum @forgottenpasta - two shot [2/2]  | 16k | Hybrid AU, Tiger Hybrid!Tae, Owner!Reader, Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook | S, A, F

Easy Like Sunday Morning @ofsugakookies - one shot | 11.8k | boyfriend AU (yes, both of them), dom!taehyung, sub!jungkook | S, PWP

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - two shot [2/2] 11.6k | Hybrid AU (dog hybrids) | S, A (side note: I realized I’ve read all of their fics! give their masterlist a try)

Just Kidding @/whatifyoulivelikethat - series [5/?] | 21.1k+ | nympho OC, friend Taehyung, tae’s roommate Jungkook | S, kinda F, crack

this is actually fun 😊; and the episodes are written in a drabble-ish sort of way so you won’t feel like it needs to be updated to get the story moving. It’s basically just reading fun scenarios of nympho OC and these two satisfying her needs *wink wink

Not So Digital @jiminables  - sequel to Digital Boy | 2.7k | camboy!taehyung, bestfriend!jungkook, short mxm | S, slight F

Playing to Win @tayegi - one shot | 8.6k | FWB AU (tae), sort of enemies to lovers (jungkook), TaeKook (mxm), originally Taehyung x OC (fwb) | S

okay this is one of my favorites! I’m amazed at how the power dynamics were written. Taehyung seems a dom with OC but with Jungkook he is all soft and sub; then, there’s that dynamic between Jungkook and OC who disliked each other originally. I just found the shifting so interesting and the writer was able to display these changes in dom/sub behavior among the three characters really well

Pour Up @jungkxook - one shot | 14k | fuckboy AU, fratboy AU (applies to two of them), one sassy OC, one kind of jealous Koo | S (thank you dear author for reposting this! 🥰)

Shhh @bang-tan-bitches - drabble (with OT7 sequel) | 2.7k | PWP (just pure hot imagine)

Shameless @imaginethisbts - one shot | 5.1k | established relationship (jungkook x oc), Taehyung’s POV, exhibitionism | S (not exactly threesome, because JK and OC are just doing it in front of people, Taehyung had a bit of action in the end)

Sugar & Spice @divine-bangtan - one shot | 20.8k | Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU, Baker AU, Noona AU, Assistant!Jungkook, Rich!Taehyung, pining Koo, a bit of M x M  | S, F, A (it’s all good everyone ends up happy 😊)

Sugar and Spice @sunkissedjk - two shot [2/2] | 8.6k | Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar (jjk) or spice (kth) | S

ugh this is such an indulgent imagine. If taekook are your friends and they help you decide what type of sex you prefer through a demonstration, wouldn’t you want for multiple demos before deciding? *wink wink

Sacrilegious @therealmintedmango -  part of the Gods and Monsters series | 15.6k | Demon!Jungkook, Fallen Angel!Reader, God!Taehyung | S (so sinful 😈💦)

Sweat Pea @nitaescence - series [10/10] | 63k | DDLG!AU, caregiver!jungkook, caregiver!taehyung, little!oc | S, F, A

so I’m glad there was an ask about caregiver!jungkook because I remembered this. I actually checked if there’s a follow up drabble because the ending is open to any interpretation so I’m curious how other readers interpreted it

051 + Scum’s Wish @scriptmin - one shot | 3k | bestfriend!jungkook, pining!oc (unrequited), rebound!taehyung | S, A

it’s actually kind of sad 😭 but I added this because it's good to have variety. Not all smutty pieces will be a happy one

Tattooed Two @/httpjeon - one shot | 8.5k | tattoo artist AU, boyfriend Jungkook joined by his bestfriend Taehyung | S, F

The Doms Next Door @tatertotthethot - series [3.1/?] | 33.8k+ | BDSM AU, Poly, Neighbor AU, Tattoo Artist AU | S

I really love this series. It’s so funny too, I remember Jimin here - he’s THAT bestfriend you want to have. PLUS TaeKook are absolutely hot. If you're not interested in being a sub or partaking in bdsm, you will reconsider

The Hush Series @suga-kookiemonster - two shot [2/2] | 16.9k | coworker’s friends TaeKook, sort of E2L (Jungkook), dom!taehyung, a bit of voyeurism | | S

okay, I really like author’s writing. It can be about sinful delicious smut scenes but I noticed the members always have this developed characterization. I actually find Taehyung so adorably charming - makes me wonder if irl tae is secretly sinful too behind that sweetness lol

Thic Trilogy @btsinned - series [3/7] | 37k+ | CEO AU, Hybrid AU, College AU, Chubby!Reader | S, F, A

🌷 I’m throwing in fics in my reading queue #ReadwithMe

Attitude Adjustment @s0seo - one shot | 11.8k | Roommate AU | S

Chain Reaction @kissmetae - one shot | 3.2k | boyfriend Taehyung and friend Jungkook helping OC relax | S

Cherry @kpopstories - series [4/?] | 29k+ |  college AU, fuckboy AU, love triangle | A, S, F (this is part of my ongoing reading list)

Cobalt Blue @hauntedlilies - one shot | 11.3k | artist AU, “you asked Jungkook to draw you like one of his french girls” | S

When You’re Mad @honeyj00ns -  one shot | 3.8k | established relationship (boyfriend Jungkook), enemies to lovers Taehyung, Taehyung is JK’s bestfriend, Christmas AU, College AU| S

Madam Cupcake @craztextae - series [6/?] | 69.2k+ | Sugarbaby AU, Idolverse, idol!jungkook meets OC through an app called “sugarmamas(.)com” | S, F

Player Two @minjoonalist - one shot | 10.6k | Gamer!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Taehyung, Brat!Reader | S

Tag Team @goodnight-tae - one shot | 5.2k | stripper AU, TaeKook are roommates and friends who share most things 😉 | S, PWP

Whoa @bangtanlalaland - one shot | 4.7k | skater!taehyung, 1970s AU, coworker!jungkook | S, PWP, Crack

posted: 2021 March 12; updated: 2021 May 12

link to other fic recs here

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