#getting a little TOO silly and quirked up with the sauce | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunsents · 3 years

Text

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred, don-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too - oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

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

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

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

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

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

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

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

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

753 notes · View notes

xtrrdnrypotato · 3 years

Text

Bakugo x chubby reader

Katsuki Bakugo x chubby! female reader

TW: fluff, language, reader is insecure of her figure,

Note: This is my first piece so please go easy on me if I didn’t portray everything exactly. This is also a part of @heart-shaped-cheerios collab event, so go check her out. Also, I hope this fic makes you less insecure with yourself because whatever shape, form or size you are, you are perfect and you're the only one who can do you. Also, if some of the lines sound familiar to you, that's probably because I took some inspiration from Yagami Yato hehe anyways I hope you enjoy

WC: 2.7 k

You stared longingly at Bakugo again for the umpteenth time, your food untouched.

"Y/n!" your friend, Mina, called again, and your attention snapped to her.

"Oh, sorry, what was it?" you asked her, and you swore she looked so close to facepalming herself.

"I said, you still haven't touched your food. Quit daydreaming about Bakugo and start eating!" she said, almost yelled, and you shushed her quickly.

"Shh! Mina, don't talk too loud or he might hear you," you said, glancing quickly at the said boy to make sure his attention wasn't on you guys. Mina sighed exasperatedly.

"Y/n, how many times have I told you, just tell him your feelings. This is our last year in UA. If you don't tell him now how you feel, you may never get the chance to do so," she said, softer this time and you sighed.

"I know, but, you know how I feel about myself," you answered, looking down at your body. "And besides, he's probably not even in the slightest bit interested in me," you added as you took a bite off of your food.

"Hey, you never know! Who knows, maybe secretly, he's also daydreaming about you when you're not looking." You could clearly hear the mischief in her tone and you shook your head.

"Yeah right, as if," you mumbled as you kept eating, unaware of the vermilion eyes staring at you with a somewhat doting look.

It was your dreaded time of the day again. Training. You hated it when it's time for training, hated it when you don your hero costume, hated how you're fully aware you probably look round as hell in it, and hated the fact that Bakugo has to see you in it. But seeing Bakugo in his hero costume somehow made your hatred for training a little more bearable. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed it when Aizawa-sensei announced that you would have to go against Bakugo. Almost.

"Wait, what?!" you gasped as soon as you realized what your teacher said.

"Is there any problem?" Aizawa asked sternly and you gulped, shaking your head.

"N-none, sir."

"Good. Now, everyone, get ready," he said.

"Mina, Mina, Mina! I'm going up against Bakugo," you said to your best friend, clinging to her arm frantically. She immediately looked at you.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes! Oh, what do I do, what do I do?" you panicked as you thought of ways on how to avoid making yourself look like a complete and utter fool.

"Relax. Everything's going to be fine. Just, try not to look like a fool and do your best. Don't think of him as Bakugo, your crush. For now, think of him as Bakugo, someone you have to go against," Mina said as she rubbed your shoulders to help you calm down and that seemed to do the trick. With a deep breath, you nodded and smiled.

"You're right! Thanks, Mina," you said.

"Welcome, now go and get ready. You're up for one heck of a training," she grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully, thanking her once again before leaving to get ready.

Meanwhile, Bakugo watched as you started getting ready.

"Oi, Bakugo, quit staring at Y/n and get yourself ready," Denki teased, flustering the spiky haired blonde.

"Shut up! I'm not staring at her!" he denied as he geared himself up. Denki and Kirishima glanced at each other with a knowing look, before bursting into laughter. Bakugo looked at them with furrowed brows.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?!" he demanded. His eyes suddenly widened as Kirishima put an arm around him.

"Come on, Bakugo, no need to deny! We all do that, you're not alone," Kirishima said, to which Denki agreed.

"Yeah, dude! I always do that to Jiro," he said with a shit-eating grin. Bakugo looked at them incredulously before shaking off Kirishima's arm around him.

"Shut up, both of you!" He was about to deny more when Sero suddenly entered.

"Yeah, if you look closely, Bakugo's a bit softer with Y/n," he casually stated as he put on his helmet. Bakugo's eyes widened once more before he let out an exasperated groan and pushed his friends out of the way.

No, can't be. I'm not softer with her. Tsk, damn Soy Sauce Face.

"Next up, Katsuki Bakugo and Y/n L/n!" you heard Aizawa announce and you stood up nervously, sparing one last glance at Mina, who nodded firmly. With a sigh, you headed to the center of the gym.

"Good luck, Bakugo," you smiled at him and he responded with a simple tsk, before getting in position. As soon as you heard the signal to start, you immediately backed away from Bakugo, activating your quirk just in time for one of his explosions. You quickly attempted to kick his leg to knock him off balance, but he easily avoided your attack and landed an explosion on your back, sending you to the ground. Wiping the dirt off of your face, you stood up and decided to lunge at him. He easily avoided your attacks, until you managed to find an opening. As you were about to punch him, he suddenly grabbed one of your hands and flung you to the ground, face first. You could feel your stomach growling from lack of food this morning, but you still willed yourself to stand up and brace for one more attack. However, just as you were to get up, you felt your knees weakening and before you knew it, you fell to the ground, stomach hurting too much for you to make a move.

Bakugo was determined to prove to his friends that he wasn't soft for anyone, especially not with you, but as soon as he saw your knees starting to buckle, his determined look suddenly softened until he saw you on the ground, seemingly crumpling in pain. He stood there at first, shocked and unable to comprehend what happened, before he walked to you and started lifting you up.

You were curled up on the ground in pain, hands clutching your growling tummy, when you suddenly felt someone starting to carry you. You were just about to open your mouth to protest when you saw the face of the one carrying you.

"B-Bakugo?!" You gasped. He simply ignored you and started walking towards the door and you started freaking out internally. Oh shit, I'm heavy, I'm heavy!!

"Bakugo, put me down! This is embarrassing!" You hissed at him but he still looked completely unmoved.

"Bakugo, put me the hell down! I'm too heavy!" You complained again as you started thinking of ways on how to free yourself from him when he suddenly glared at you.

"Shut up, damn brat. Are you underestimating me?" he asked and you shook your head. Never did it once cross your mind to underestimate him.

"Good. Then shut up and let me do this," he said and you said no more, remaining silent until you reached the infirmary.

You couldn't help but wince as Recovery Girl kissed your cheek. Bakugo brought you to the infirmary, then left as soon as the old healing lady attended to you.

"You children, obsessed with being skinny and all. Look at what you're doing to yourselves," the woman reprimanded you as you remained silent. The silence was soon broken though when your best friend Mina entered the room.

"Y/n!! I was so worried about you. What happened? Are you okay?" she asked consecutively as she ran by your side. You waved her off with a laugh.

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,” she answered with a smile. Mina seemed relieved with your answer, but her frown remained.

“Now, woman, you have some explaining to do to me. Why are you starving yourself?” she asked sternly and your smile slowly dissipated.

“How’d you know?” you murmured, avoiding your friend’s eyes. You heard her audibly gasp.

“So you are starving yourself. God, why Y/n?” she asked, sounding both exasperated and concerned. You remained silent, ashamed of yourself.

“Y/n, come on, answer me!”

“Because I want to be like you guys! You all have the ideal bodies, slim and curvy, while here’s my chubby ass. So I thought, maybe I could try starving myself so I could be more like you guys,” you retorted as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to leave your eyes.

Bakugo was about to enter your room when he heard another voice from inside. Tsk, Raccoon-eyes. Still, instead of leaving, he decided to stay outside the door, eavesdropping on the conversation. Tsk, I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself despite what he’s currently doing. What he heard next though was something he never thought you’d say.

Mina gaped at you, aghast before she suddenly hugged you.

"What are you talking about, silly? You don't have to be like us, Y/n. Yes, you may be chubby, but that’s part of your charm,” she said in an attempt to comfort her.

“No, I..of course it’s easy for you to say that. Look at you,” you pouted, motioning to her slim pink body.

“I’m pink. Yes, I’m slim, but I’m pink. Despite how my body shape looks, I’m still pink, unlike you and Uraraka and others. But you guys still befriended me, right?” she asked and you nodded.

“Of course! I mean, you may be pink but you’re fun to talk to, and you’re nice,” you added, which made her smile sheepishly.

“You really think so?” she asked teasingly before bursting into giggles. Staring at her, you couldn’t help but snicker as well.

“But kidding aside, now you get my point?” Mina asked as she stopped laughing. Wiping the corner of your eye, you nodded.

“I guess?” you answered with a slight grin. Mina looked at you with an “are you serious” look and you giggled.

“Well, I think that’s the best I can get from you for now. But once you’re out of here, I’m going to whip you into shape! And I don’t mean physically! Got it?” she asked in a bossy tone, her hands on her hips. Your slight grin turned into a full fledged smile and you nodded. Mina’s serious yet playful look softened and she hugged you once again, before finally leaving you alone in the clinic.

Mina shook her head as she closed the clinic door behind her.

“She’s always so stubborn,” she muttered to herself. When she looked up, she was surprised to see Bakugo.

“Oh, Bakugo, are you visiting Y/n?” she asked. He didn’t answer, which made her grin.

“She’s up, don’t worry. Get in there, I know she’s also looking for you,” she added and the blonde looked at her with an inquisitive brow raised as Mina held her hands up in surrender and moved out of the way. With a tsk, Bakugo was about to enter when Mina talked again.

“You should probably tell her how you feel already. It’s starting to get out of hand, you know,” she teased. She can obviously see him tense up, before letting out a low growl and opening the door, quickly closing the door behind him, making Mina chuckle.

Your eyes were closed as you pondered your best friend’s words when you heard the door open.

“Mina, I thought-” you were cut short when you saw Bakugo enter. You quickly straightened and cleared your throat.

“H-hey, Bakugo,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Wh-what are..you doing here?” you asked, seeing as he didn’t respond to your first statement. He remained silent and you were starting to get annoyed by his behavior.

“Seriously, why are you-”

“How are you?” he cut you short and you closed your mouth before responding again.

“I-I’m good. Recovery Girl told me I can go out by today, I just need to take a small rest,” you answered and he nodded thoughtfully. You tried to look for more things to say, but couldn’t find any and so you decided to shut up.

“I..” Bakugo said before pausing quickly, as if hesitating what to say next. He cleared his throat before talking again.

“I..overheard what you and Mina were talking about earlier,” he stated and you looked at him, eyes wide before shaking yourself off.

“You did?” you asked and he simply nodded. Great, now you’re probably thinking of how pathetic I am, you couldn’t help but think.

“Why?” he asked, breaking your train of thoughts.

“Wh-what do you mean..why?”

“Why would you try to change yourself? Why would you do such a thing to the point that it almost got you in trouble?” he asked, and you were pretty sure you could hear concern in his voice. You remained quiet though, embarrassed as you looked down to your hands.

“Why?” he repeated himself, firmer this time and you looked up at him.

“So you’d take a second glance at me!” you shot back and he furrowed his brows, as if he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I did that..so you know, you would notice me,” you paused, considering your words before resuming. “I’ve liked you for some time now, Bakugo, but I thought..you wouldn’t notice me or take a second glance at me, because of how I look. Because, let’s be honest, I pale in comparison with the other girls in our class. So I tried being like them, so maybe you’d like me back,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. He remained speechless for a long time, and you sighed. You’ve only made a fool of yourself.

“Look, I know it sounds pathetic, so could you please just leave me-”

“Idiot,” he mumbled and you looked at him, aghast.

“Excuse me?” you asked, incredulous. After that confession, he’d just call you an idiot?!

“You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot for thinking that you need to be like them in order for me to like you. You’re an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t take a second glance at you because of how you look. You’re an idiot for even thinking that I didn’t like you in the first place,” he added and you looked at him, confused.

“Wha-? What are you talking about?” you asked him, visibly confused.

“You really are a dumbass, huh?”

“One more insult and I’ll kick you out.”

“How could you not notice? All my friends have been telling me that I’ve been so obvious, but I guess I wasn’t obvious enough,” he answered and you only gaped at him, even more lost.

“What do you mean “obvious”? What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, starting to get annoyed.

“I like you, dumbass!” he finally yelled and your eyes widened, taken aback. He saw your shocked expression and decided to continue.

“I like you because you’re cheerful, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re helpful. I like you because you still manage to smile even after all the insults you get from others. I like you because you’re you. So when I heard that you were starving yourself because you wanted to look like the others, I knew I had to do something. You don’t need to be like them for me to notice you, because it’s you who I like. I wouldn’t like you if you were like them. And I don’t care if you think you’re too fat or too chubby or whatever because to me, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And you just need to see that,” he said, the words flowing out of him so effortlessly. When he looked at you, he could see tears in your eyes again.

“Tsk, making me say stuff like that,” he said and before you knew it, he pulled you in a hug.

“So don’t go trying to change yourself, okay? If you really want to, I’d respect that. But do it for yourself. Not because you want to be like someone else, but because you want to be you. Got it?” he said as he hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help but tear up more.

“Are you saying this because it’s what you really mean, or because you just pity me?” you asked with a slight laugh.

“Shut up, dumbass. You know I don’t do things half-assed, and I wouldn’t say all this stuff if it’s just out of pity, so you better appreciate it,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I do appreciate it,” you answered and you swear you could feel him smile.

“Good. Now shut up..and let me hug you,” he said, holding you tighter and at that moment, you knew you couldn’t be any happier.

#bakugo x reader #my hero x reader #fluff #bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #chubs n' rolls collab #fuffypens #sfw

142 notes · View notes

zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

"Please forgive us for the mess old friend. I couldn't take the time to wash up this place."

"I can see that." Chisaki muttered before receiving a glare from the old man as he only rolled his eyes at it.

Aparently this guy right in front of him, clothes a mess and aparently from the looks of it depressed, was not only a loyal to the Hassaikai, but also childhood friends with the man who took him in and called him his own son and sucessor.

Pops had called him as soon as he got the knees he was back from the U.S.A. bussines talk and also getting the advantage to catch up. But that part he wasn't interested in one bit, since he just needed to knew what this man's importance was.

Suddenly a melody, a beautiful one, interrupted the center of the conversation. He never was one to care for much things, but this song... had catched his attention.. somehow.

"Ah, forgive my daughter. She likes to play on her... uh, mandolin I guess, on this hour of the afternoon."

"Oh, the little (L/n)-chan. So her quirk has strings wwith music?" Chisaki immediatly cringed as the male's face dropped with a sigh.

"No pal. My.. my daughter doesn't have a quirk." Golden eyes snapped open at that sentence and for the first time ever since he stepped inside that house.

"A late boomer? She was suppose to have-" pops tilted his face and stopped as his friend waved him off.

"No no... its... it's more like of a problem. (Y/n)... doesn't and won't have a quirk. Ever. She is quirkless my friend."

Quirkless... he hasn't even thought this was possible. It sounded like it was something taken out of books.

But no. It was real.

"Ah, I heard 1 out of 100 kids have that. I'm sorry to hear that it happened to your child." Pops spoke before looking at him "Why dont you go talk with her Chisaki? Maybe some interaction besides Kurono will help you."

He only stared at the old man before getting up with a sigh and just following the sounds of the music coming from the garden behind the house.

As soon as he opened the glass sliding door he saw a girl, with (h/c) flying along with the calm wind, closed eyes as her fingers played the cords but soon it stopped when sudden (e/c) orbs stared right into his which made him subconsciously flinch. A giggled escaped the girl's mouth as he glared at her as she stood up coming near him.

"Hello. What brings you here?"

Silence. He merely blinked as he stared at you with stoic eyes. He expected you to be upset or even to scoff at his actions. But none. You giggled.

You freacking giggled.

"Not one to talk much? That's okay. But... can I at least know your name?"

He didn't know why. He didn't know how...

But his name slipped his lips at the sound of your sweet voice asking his name.

"You're so lame (L/n)!" He heard a boy's voice and a bunch of cackles as he walked towards your house and stopped when he saw you picking a bunch of notebooks from the ground.

"Yeah! Cant even have a quirk! You're no good huh?!" Another boy with sharp teeth laughed at you as you stood up with a huff.

"You three doesn't have any better thing to do than torment me? I was only out to watch the birds! I left even the school to be home reached because of you guys!"

That was new... his eyes glared holes at the three before a boy pushing you to the ground where you fell on your back.

He saw red.

Before he could even think of. He could feel your arms around him, holding him back from beating even more those brats up as they run away while crying.

"CHISAKI WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?! STOP IT ISN'T WORTH IT!" your cries woke him more than the feeling of blood on his hands as he shakily exhaled, scoffing as you let him go.

The feeling of your warm around him...

"Chisaki-kun! Look at this!" He looked up from his book to frown at the white cupcake, decorated with strawberry sauce and some cut fruits on top of the white cream.

"What do you want me to say about it?" He asked sticky as you huffed, cheeks puffed up as you glared at him playfully.

Cute.

"I made this for you silly! Can you at least taste it?" You brought it closer to his face as he soon gave up and took it from your hands to take a hesitant bite. Watching from the corner of his eyes your goofy smile, waiting for his approval like usual.

He swallowed it before giving it back to you without looking at your eyes, which made you drop your mood a bit.

"What is it? Is it.. is it bad?" You looked in dissapointment at the dessert you made before looking up at hearing him sigh.

"No. It tastes fine." You sighed dramatically making him suppress a small smile. "Is just... there is... why are you nice to me in the first place?"

There was a silence before you chuckled and sitted down next to him, knees draw close to your chest.

"Well... remember that fight you got yourself into?" He nodded, finally closing his book and paying fully attention to you "Wasn't it obvious? They were my ex classmates... from being quirkless, it comes the bullying too so.. I.. kinda have no friends?" You laughed sadly as he stared at you before quickly looking away with a blush when you noticed his staring.

"If that helps... I dont have friends either. Is only a distraction anyway." You snorted at his comment.

"What about me and Kurono-kun?" He scoffed while picking his book.

"Block head is an ally... while you.. w-well.." he hidded his tomato face behind the book so you couldn't see his expression "I guess I could make you... my future.. spouse."

He couldn't help but smile triumphantly at your flustered noise you let out at his suggestion.

#chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #kid kai x reader #bnha villains x reader #bnha villains #zuffer writings

85 notes · View notes

gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

Master of His Own Fate-2

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader, dark!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, jealousy, spanking, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Probably gonna be a four-part series.

Part 1

MASTERLIST

+++++

Why did it feel like everyone had to do their shopping exactly when you had to? You’d bet it was not this crowed earlier. Or maybe it had something to do with the two super-soldiers flanking you that drew people in. You should have just ordered stuff online since this was super embarrassing. Steve’s hand was in the back pocket of your jeans and Bucky was on your other side, pushing the shopping cart with one hand while holding your waist with other. You’re sure you must have made quite a picture, a little woman sandwiched between them.

“Can you remove your hand?” You asked Steve under your breath and he looked away from the cereals he was perusing to glance at you.

“No” He answered and then pinched your ass for good measure. You jumped, your face flushing and you vowed to look at the floor until you left. You had no desire to see what other people thought about you.

“Why are they so colourful? Why can’t it be simple? There are too many!” Bucky exclaimed and you almost snorted. The cereal aisle was like wonderland for Bucky and you’d been walking back and forth here for 10 minutes now.

“I’m gonna go with this” Steve said throwing in a pack of Cap’n Crunch and you rolled your eyes.

“Then maybe Bucky can get Frosted Flakes and we can leave?” You suggested. Steve chuckled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss on your head while Bucky took your advice and got Frosted Flakes.

“I’m gonna eat them off of you” He muttered in your ear and you bit your lip, flushing dark. You let them lead you around the store, checking off items off their list. It was so domestic you felt sick. This was not normal, and you unconsciously kept scratching your soulmark hidden under a wristband. You tried not to look at it if at all possible.

Bucky had stopped in front of the shelves containing condoms and quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He asked with a sinful grin and you wiggled until free of their holds. You had to bear their presence at home anyway, anymore and you’ll be smothered.

“We’ve forgotten the cheese dips. I’ll go get some while you finish here.” You said and turned away before they could say anything. You heard them chuckling softly behind you and willed your tears of frustration away.

Your life had changed drastically in the past few months since the night Steve and Bucky marked you as theirs. Try as you might, you couldn’t escape them, not when they are two of the most powerful and influential people in the world. You lived with them in their apartment at the compound now, and to say life was hell would be an understatement. Steve and Bucky have separate rooms but most nights you’re sandwiched between them in one bed since neither wants to spend a night away. You’d had more sex in these few months than people probably did in years.

You veered left into the sauces and spreads aisle, absentmindedly looking at the display. It wouldn’t matter what flavor you got, it would end up spread all over you and licked by your two lovers. You randomly took a jar off the shelf and were about to go back when you bumped into someone standing behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You apologized to the man behind you. His hand took hold of your elbow for a second to steady you before he stepped away and shook his head.

“It’s alright miss, not a problem.” He said with a small smile. You got a look at his face and your heart skipped a beat. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair, his genuine smile framed by a well-groomed beard. You saw his eyes dart to the jar in your hand and his lips twitched in amusement.

“I’d advise against this” He said pointing to the jar and you looked down at your hands in confusion. “While one may handle blue cheese, you don’t want to try its dip.”

You winced once you realized what you had picked and the man behind you laughed a little as he saw you put it back.

“What will you suggest?” You asked him. This was probably the only normal interaction you had had in a long time outside of work. It did help that this man was what some would call daddy.

“Oh, I am not a good cook. I just stick to the basics you know, less chances of messing up a dish.” He answered and handed you a classic cheese dip. You took it from him with a smile and thanked him. You lingered a moment, for some reason wanting to stay. It seemed like he had the same idea for even though he had picked his own jar, he didn’t leave.

“You, uh – you should get nachos to go with this. They have them on sale.” You said and internally cringed.

“Oh, alright then. Will you show me the way?” He asked and you nodded, leading him around as he followed with his cart.

“You new in the area?” You asked him since all locals knew the store layout pretty well.

“Ah yes, just moved here from Newton, Massachusetts. My name is Andy Barber” The man said and offered you a hand. Your smile vanished even as you mechanically accepted his hand and shook it. Andy Barber. AB. Like the initials on your wrist. Your hand squeezed around your wristband, your heart beating a mile an hour.

“Hey, you okay?” Andy asked and you realized he’d been speaking to you.

“Ah yes, yes I’m okay. Just lost in thought. Here we are, nachos.” You said and uselessly pointed at the display. You told yourself you were being silly, a lot of people with same initials existed. He may not even have a soulmark. Yet as you looked at him selecting his flavors, you couldn’t help but feel lighter than you had in months. You felt belonged, stupid as that may sound.

“So, you live around here?” You wished Andy would stop talking. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to stay and talk the rest of your life away with him.

“Yes, I am a doctor at the Avenger Tower.” You managed to say and saw his eyebrows raise appreciatively.

“Damn, that’s so cool” He said, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I am a lawyer, starting as a professor in NYU from next term.”

“Damn, that’s so cool” you mimicked him and you both breathed out a laugh. You didn’t realize it as you spoke to him that you were walking aimlessly with him around the store, telling him about the sites he absolutely must visit in New York and the best places to get coffee and hotdogs from. You had circled back to the spreads section and stood awkwardly facing each other.

“Uh, it may seem a little forward, but will you show me around the city?” Andy asked, fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt. You wanted him to take it off and see if your initials were tattooed in his skin like his were in yours. You were about to open your mouth when a hand wrapped around your waist from behind.

“There you are sweetie, you had us worried.” Steve’s words felt like a splash of cold water. For a few glorious moments you had forgotten your predicament, lost as you were in conversation with Andy. Your eyes met Andy’s and you saw him frown, his gaze narrowing on Steve’s arm around you and noticing how you tried to get out of it.

“I – uh, couldn’t decide so settled with the classic.” You showed Steve the cheese dip, but his eyes were fixed on Andy whose face was clouded with suspicion.

“Steve Rogers” He offered his hand to Andy, a useless introduction since most people recognized him with ease. You thought Andy would almost decline the handshake but, in the end, politely shook it.

“Pleased to meet you. Thank you for your service to the nation and the world.” His words were polite and yet there was a mistrustful edge to it. You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything and just walk away. You knew how Steve and Bucky could get about other men in your life, and right now you wanted Andy far away from here.

“Don’t mention it” Steve said preening and you took off his hand from your waist and laced your fingers together, trying to pull him away.

“We gotta go, lots to do back home. Thanks for the suggestion mister” You unnecessarily pointed at the jar again and tried to move back but Steve stood still. You were careful not to mention Andy’s name in front of him and you prayed with everything in you that this interaction would be over soon enough.

“Steve, you find her yet?” You closed your eyes in defeat and shame as Bucky walked from the other side and joined your little party. He closed in on you, hands cupping your face and drawing you in a deep kiss. You kept your eyes downcast, not looking at Andy and hoping the Earth will swallow you whole.

“Yeah, she’s was just having some trouble selecting the flavor until this gentleman here helped her.” Steve said and Bucky turned to look at Andy who was frowning harder than ever now. Andy’s eyes were searching yours, but you couldn’t let yourself meet his. Your shame and fear were profound and all you wanted was to leave.

Bucky’s eyes moved from Andy to Steve to you and he straightened, his arm curling around your shoulder, hand resting near your left collarbone just inches away from the scarred initials of him and Steve.

“Thank you, our girl here can be a little iffy when it comes to food” Bucky remarked affectionately but his emphasis on ‘our’ was not lost on either of you.

“Not a problem.” Andy finally nodded and took hold of his cart, ready to wheel it away. You almost sighed in relief, but your heart broke a little when he started retreating. Your eyes met for a brief moment and it seemed as if he would stop but then you looked away and he continued moving.

“What are we going to do with you Y/n?” Bucky muttered once Andy was out of sight. They didn’t care they were in a public place, both of them standing almost on top of you.

“I don’t know what you mean” You whispered and felt Bucky’s metal hand tighten over your arm. You hissed and tried to pull away but found your chin being raised up to face him with rough hands.

“Do you want another lesson on how to behave around strange men?” Bucky asked and your eyes widened, head shaking in negation.

“No, no Buck. Please, nothing happened. We were just talking” You begged, trying to convince him. You watched in horror as one of his hand outright cupped your left boob, fingers splayed so they pressed into the scars over your heart.

“You sure? I can show the whole store who you belong to my love.”

You were ready to start bawling when Bucky started fiddling with the neckline of your top, but it was Steve who saved the day. He gently pried Bucky’s hands from you and tucked you under his arm, pushing your head in his chest with a hand while the other kept Bucky away.

“Not here Buck, look at her. Honestly!” Steve started a swift walk towards the exit with you at his side and you couldn’t help but look back. It was one of those situations where you found the precious thing lost within a sea of garbage when you spotted Andy, his eyes not on you but your arm. You followed his gaze and suppressed a sob as you saw your wristband had shifted after your struggle with Bucky, bringing into view the initials that made your soulmark.

ASB: Andrew S Barber

You didn’t know his middle name but you couldn’t be any more sure of who your soulmate was when Andy’s eyes darted to his own covered wrist the moment Bucky shouted, “Steven Rogers and Y/n Y/l/n you both come back here this very second!”

Bucky was getting your stuff checked out, standing at the cashiers with his grumpy dad face on. Steve ignored him and continued dragging you away towards the exit. Your eyes watered and you tried to stem their flow so you could have one last glance at Andy without tears blurring your vision. You both stared at each other and just before you walked out the doors, even from the distance you saw Andy mouth a promise:

I will come for you

+++++

Fate was a cruel bastard, and you cursed your destiny as you lay curled in Steve’s lap after dinner. No one spoke much once you got home but you knew it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. You were wearing a short nightie, Bucky’s favorite and Steve’s hands were absently massaging you as he read through a new mission briefing.

“Wanda was asking about you again” Steve said, and you blinked at him. Just another thing you loved that they had snatched away from you. Wanda was obviously very suspicious when you announced you’ll be shifting from your apartment to Steve and Bucky’s since she knew you wanted to wait for your soulmate to show up. You would have confided in her had you not been aware of the damage your lovers could cause if displeased. Bucky had strictly ordered you to keep away from her until you were in control of your thoughts, which he was afraid Wanda would read. You had looked to help from Steve, who was softer out of the two, but he agreed with Bucky, “Better she not know anything than us having to eliminate her if she did.” They talked of death and violence with such ease it made your skin crawl.

“Can I see her now? I don’t think my texts are keeping her satisfied.” If only you could get a few hours away from their stifling presence maybe it would be more tolerable. The both of them clung to you like a babe to his mum, and your only respite were the hours you spent working.

“Do you think you’re ready to see her now?” Steve questioned you, finally looking up from his mission briefing. Before you could answer Bucky came behind you and plucked you from Steve’s arms like you weighed nothing and perched you in his own lap. Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“The better question would be if you think you deserve to see her.” Bucky commented, his hand fondling your behind under the silk nightie. You shifted under his touch and gaze, uncomfortable under the stern look.

“I’m minding my thoughts, I promise.” You whined and Bucky’s hand cracked against your ass suddenly. You squealed and he held you down with one hand, the second blow even harder than the first.

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant. I don’t like it when you act dumb.” Bucky snarled and you flinched as he raised his hand again. To your surprise, the slap barely had any force behind it and Bucky rubbed your ass softly as if in apology. You turned your face to peek at him and saw him and Steve locked in one of those silent eye contact conversations that you absolutely loathed. Steve was almost glaring at Bucky as if displeased and Bucky had enough grace to look a little ashamed.

“I wasn’t!” Bucky cried out suddenly, throwing his hands in the air and huffing. It was as if they were continuing a conversation that went from telepathy to verbal and your mouth parted in awe when Steve continued speaking too.

“You would have if I didn’t stop you.”

Your gaze moved from one man to another, confused beyond measure. In a flash Bucky was gathering you in his arms, holding you to himself like he was afraid papa Steve would take away his favorite toy.

“I know my limits Steve. She’s mine as much as yours. Stop it.”

You were sure if you tilted your head up you would see Bucky pouting but instead you observed Steve who was in classic captain pose with hands on his hips and disapproval on his face.

“Do you really? Because it sure seemed like you were about to strip her naked in a supermarket of all places.”

“I wouldn’t! I was teasing her.” Bucky said, his head buried in your neck. He took your hand and placed it on his head and you slowly scratched with your nails, making him purr in satisfaction. Steve didn’t look the least bit convinced and his eyes kept bouncing between you and Bucky. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh before getting up.

“She is sleeping in my room tonight.” Your head snapped up just as Bucky’s hold tightened around you in rejection of the idea.

“No, you can’t take her from me.” Bucky snapped and you resisted the urge to slap them both. It bothered you how they went on talking about you like you weren’t even present here.

“I’m not taking her away from you, pal. Just like she learns her lessons when she fucks up, so will you.”

Bucky didn’t look like he would want a lesson, but it didn’t seem like the first time they were having this talk because he said nothing more. He almost didn’t let you leave when Steve took your arm to take you away but finally relented.

“When can I have her back?” Yep, he was definitely pouting.

“When you learn that teasing is pinching her ass in public, not stripping her bare in front of strangers.”

+++++

It had been a while since there were two people in bed and not three. You stretched your feet out, glad to have some extra space. Even cuddled up in Steve’s massive arms, your thoughts returned to Andy. You had finally found him after years of searching, only to lose him on the same day. It was a cosmic joke to have you cross paths now when it was too late to do anything. Your hand unconsciously traced the letters on your wrist, a slight thrill running down your spine as you finally realized what and who these initials stood for.

It wasn’t just a legend anymore. They were right when they said that soulmates completed you. In those precious few moments you had spent with Andy, all your worries had fallen away. You both had built a bubble around yourself where the outer world was nothing but a distant blur and you saw only each other. Conversation didn’t sound strained and you felt so connected despite having just met. You wished you knew he existed a few months ago. How different would life have been then if you were laying in his arms and not Steve and Bucky’s?

You bit your lip when you felt Steve take your hand in his from behind you, his fingers too tracing the initials on your wrist. You stiffened and held yourself back from snatching your hand away. It was never a very good idea to resist when it came to them both.

“Bucky doesn’t know yet” Steve murmured in your ear as he tapped your wrist. You felt your heart drop in your stomach, your fingers curling in your palm. “He thinks it was just some man you were speaking to. His jealousy makes him sloppy and he doesn’t notice details.”

You were turned around to face him, your eyes locking on Steve’s which were a vibrant blue even in the dark. His hands played at the hem of your nightie, teasing it.

“I noticed of course. How could I not, I have never seen you smile the way you smiled at him” You didn’t seem capable of speaking or protesting when Steve’s hands slipped up your clothing and caressed your thighs and belly. His hands were moving but his eyes were fixed on you and try as you might you couldn’t look away. Slowly, gently like one does to precious cargo you were stripped, your body baring itself inch by delicious inch. The calluses on his fingers rubbed against your nipples and you let out a moan, your slick coating your walls and thighs. Your lips met his in a desperate kiss and you couldn’t help but make pathetic mewls as his tongue raced across your throat. He came to rest above your heart, tracing the scar over it. JBB and SGR

“How are these any different to those on your wrist?” He questioned as he entered you slowly, looking deep into your eyes like trying to search your soul. “If we carve your name on our body, would that make you look at us like you looked at him?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to, the heat of Steve warming your insides. You met in a familiar dance, bodies slapping, and moaning together until pleasure took over every cell in your body. Steve pulled out and released on your thighs, rubbing his essence in your skin, his breath warm on your cheek.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if I find you talking to that man again” It was not a question and you shook your head, tears travelling down the sides of your face and getting lost in your hair. “Good girl. We can forget it and Bucky will never know. Because if that happens, even I won’t be able to help you.”

You reminded yourself that Steve was just as much of a monster as Bucky was. He had taken you against your will too, and while he may as well be the lesser of the two evils, you could not trust him. You turned to your side, automatically curling into Steve out of habit when he held you. That is what this relationship felt like. A habit. It was a routine you were stuck in with no way out. You closed your eyes, seeking the escape of sleep and tried to sooth your broken heart over a love it may never find again.

+++++

Bucky was a terrible stalker and you wondered how he remained a ‘ghost story’ for all those decades. Steve had been hoarding you in his room for nearly a week and you knew Bucky was at his wit’s end. He wasn’t even pretending to hide anymore; he’d just stand across the med bay and ogle you like a roadway creep. You didn’t even know what to do, who should you listen to. Being caught in the crossfire between them is not fun.

You finally had enough and made your way over to him. You were a few feet away when he snatched you in his arms, crushing you to his frame and kissing you soundly. Pulling away, he put his forehead on yours and bit your lip.

“I’ve missed you baby.” He cooed and you sighed.

“Is that why you’re lurking here and scaring my nursing staff away?” Bucky nodded, pecking your lips once more before you moved away.

“I’m sorry about the other day you know. I just…lost control.” It was rare that he would apologize, and you were too smart to reject this small consolation. He will probably be kind and soft for the coming few days and you took what you can. You smiled at him, promising him you forgave him.

“I have just one public hour and then we can go home together. Sounds good?” You asked and Bucky’s smile was almost shy when he agreed. Sometimes you believed it when they say they loved you, but how can someone hurt whom they love?

“You asked me once what I see in you, but have you ever looked at yourself the way I look at you? Here you are, one of the most accomplished doctors working for the Avengers, and yet you give your time to general public to treat their common cold and flu. That’s what I see in you. Your kindness, that light, it guides me away from the darkness in me.” Bucky confessed and you looked away from him. He could be so sweet when he has to be. Both him and Steve. You wonder again if they could always be like that, will you be able to love them.

“I – uh, I’ll see you in an hour, okay? Wait in the common room for me.”

You watched Bucky go and returned with a perturbed mind. The hot and cold behavior almost gives you a whiplash. In the past few months, you have spent several nights crying, but just as many moaning in pleasure. Maybe it could have been easier if you’d given in and just accepted them, but love does not come by force. They can carve their names in your skin a hundred times over, and yet it won’t leave a mark on your soul.

Your assistant entered, informing you that general patients were waiting for you and you nodded. Tony gave you an hour free every day to treat patients outside the tower for free. You believed being a doctor your job should be more than saving just superheroes. One by one your patients trickled in, most with common diseases. Some you prescribed for additional testing; all costs covered by the Stark Industries.

“Your last patient ma’am”

You nodded to let your assistant know you heard her and entered the room. You were looking over a report as you entered, the door shutting itself behind you automatically.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” You looked up and the report fell out of your hand. Sitting in front of you was Andy Barber, his eyes crinkled at the sides due to the wide smile he supported.

“I believe I have a heart problem doctor. A beautiful lady stole mine.”

+++++

Taglist is open for all characters

#dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve x reader #bucky x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #soulmate au

721 notes · View notes

tothemeadow · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I hope I’m not too late for this, it seems really fun hehe :) Anyways can I get a burger with hot sauce and onions with a side of French fries to share with Katsuki pretty pls 🥺?

Yes you certainly may! Angry pomeranian boy is always welcomed ^_^

Summer Feelings Event

'talking in your sleep' / Bakugou K. x Reader

Uh oh, it's summer! You know what that means - sweat, and lots of it. While sitting around home, slowly suffering from the heat and sitting in front of a fan, you casually suggest to head to the public pool to cool off. Katsuki just stares at you, staying completely silent before yelling a fuck yeah and scrambling to get his trunks.

Cut to the two of you chilling out at the pool, chilling out at the shallow end and soaking up the day's sun. Naturally, Katsuki's quirk can get really out of hand if he's incredibly sweaty, so this is a much needed break!

Of course, being the egotistical ass that he is, Katsuki puts on a show of subtly flexing his muscles or puffing out his chest to make himself seem bigger; he knows he's incredibly attractive, so he's going to milk this chance for what it's worth. He'll do anything to have you a flustered mess.

It starts off casual and lighthearted - slinging an arm around your shoulders, cracking jokes in your ear - but then he really starts to ramp things up. He'll call you handsome, a piece of art; however, sticking to his true nature, he's bound to say something vulgar. (Like how hot you are in a swimsuit and how he wants to fuck you silly).

It doesn't escalate further than that since Katsuki isn't an idiot and doesn't want to get bitched at by parents. Instead, he settles with holding you close, holding you against his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder. Surprisingly enough, he falls asleep like that.

Now, Katsuki is downright adorable when he's asleep, and you're trying not to freak out and wake him up. You want to kiss him, you truly do; you opt to run your fingers through his spiky hair, blunt nails scratching his scalp just the way he likes it.

And get this - he mumbles in his sleep.

You swear he says something along the lines of damn dumbass, stop being cute, but you aren't entirely sure. You are sure when he says I'll pound your cute little ass, though.

Talk about a frisky fellow; you do get flustered, but he isn't awake to notice - or so you think.

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #summer feelings event

95 notes · View notes

stevetonyweekly · 3 years

Text

SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them.

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k)

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K)

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k)

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K)

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k)

“It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K)

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K)

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K)

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K)

Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K)

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K)

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K)

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k)

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K)

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k)

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K)

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k)

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K)

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K)

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K)

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k)

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k)

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K)

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K)

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony fic #stevetony weekly #stevetony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain ameria

120 notes · View notes

kiribakutrash33 · 4 years

Text

Lose Somebody

KRBK

Aged up

Canon universe (quirks)

Angst, drinking

Eventual happy ending

Inspired by the song Lose somebody by k ygo & 1 r epublic (give it a listen before reading)

Kirishima has had a crush on Bakugou since their first year at U.A. Sure he was hot headed and would speak without thinking but Kirishima admired him for his passion.

Their friends had constantly teased him about his crush but also tried to get him to admit his feelings.

Kirishima just could never find a time that felt right. He always chickened out at the last minute, he couldn't risk losing his best friend.

Even when they move into a little apartment together after school he reminds himself his friendship is too important to risk.

As long as they're together in some way Kirishima can be happy with that.

That's what he has always told himself.

He will keep his feelings buried.

He knew Bakugou didn't care about things like having much of a social life or dating. He never dated in school and he would turn down anyone that offered.

Hell Kirishima had been the only person Bakugou had ever let in close and he was happy with that, or so he thought.

It all happened over drinks one night, Kirishima had a rough day on patrol and wanted to blow off steam.

"Hey Bakubro wanna get drinks after work?"

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that Shitty Hair?!"

"I'll stop when you stop calling me Shitty Hair" Bakugou just rolled his eyes as Kirishima laughed at his friend's feigned annoyance.

"Tch, whatever. I just have to finish some paperwork then we can go" Bakugou said walking towards his desk.

"Alright bro! Meet me in the lobby when youre ready"

Kirishima headed towards the lockers to shower and change.

They got to the bar near the agency around 10 and thankfully it was mostly empty. They were able to snag a table in the back corner hidden from the rest of the bar.

Sometimes it was nice to just relax without being recognized.

They drank and ate and caught eachother up on their days. Nothing particularly exciting had happened so the topic wandered to their friends.

"Oh hey I talked to Mina earlier today," Kirishima said before take a swig of beer.

"Oh yea, how's pinky doing?"

"Great! Sero finally proposed to her"

"Fucking finally. Soy sauce has been following her around like a love struck puppy since we were in school"

Kirishima laughs to cover up how awkward he feels in the moment.

He's been doing the same thing to Bakugou if he's being honest with himself.

"I'm happy for them, they can't wait to start a family" Kirishima looked out at the small crowd on the dance floor.

He wanted a family of his own one day, the only problem was he always pictured that family with Bakugou.

"That's stupid" Bakugou interrupts his thoughts.

"W-what?"

"Having a family as a hero...its stupid. It's just something to drag you down."

Ouch.... "Whay do you mean dude? Don't you want a family someday?"

"I don't see the point. I want to be the number one hero and /nothing/ will stop me. I don't have time for dating or families Kirishima. I won't stop until I reach my goal."

Kirishima knew that's how Bakugou felt, he had been saying the same thing since they were 15. Why is he shocked he hasn't changed his mind?

Why did just hearing him say those words out loud feel like a knife to the gut?

Kirishima must have let his emotions show on his face because Bakugou stopped mid drink, "Do you want a family Shitty Hair?"

The question pulled Kirishima out of his spiral and he cleared his throat and downed the rest of his beer before answering.

"I would like one someday. I...I want someone to want to spend their life with me. Don't get me wrong I love being a hero and I wouldn't change my career...it's just, just sometimes I wish I could have more of a social life," he stopped picking the label on his bottle to look up, "Go on dates..."

"Nothing is stopping you Kirishima, you don't have to hang around with me all the time. Go on dates if you want"

Suddenly it's too hot in here, his chest feels tight, and his guts feel like their twisting around too much and he's going to lose his dinner.

Kirishima always knew his crush of Bakugou was silly, that nothing would come out of it but this conversation hurt way more than it should have. Why did it feel like he had just been dumped.

#kiribaku #bnha #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakushima #mention of seromina #my writing #angst

528 notes · View notes

redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

Sweet Treats Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!! Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:- Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic. I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant. “Come on, this place is too fancy. Pro heroes eat here! There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door. “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday. Two, we do have a reservation! It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in. Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out! Now come on! Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest. She really had wanted to go here. They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports. The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms. Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room. A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did. Drinks were served and food orders were placed. Laughter and conversation bubbled around. Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts. The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door. A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake. They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion. “This doesn’t look like what we ordered… It’s way too big.” They murmured. “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…” They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward. Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view. Shapely arms pose into a flexing position. A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top… fifty….” His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room. “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level. A man had just jumped out of her cake. A naked man had just jumped out of her cake. A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake. Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh. Yep, it hurt. Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream. She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack.

“That was… The knocks were the cue… I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.

“Mi vida se acabó. Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora. Puedo ver los titulares. El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were. Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own. She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright. Promise. Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth. He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty. “Gracias. Lo siento. I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down. “Want us to get some staff or find your friends? I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment. “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here? He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!” One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want. Make it all an equal playing field.” Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I’m going to murder you all. No court would convict me. Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room. Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners. Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room. Some presents were piled in one corner. “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday. My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.” Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes. “Unexpected for sure. You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had. Will be telling the story for years. The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows. “Not gonna mention the pro hero part? Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head. “No way! I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that! You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image. I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement. “Yeah dude. Honest mistake. We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room. Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter. Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed. “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!” Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor. “Happy birthday, nice to meet you! Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!” Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet. Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs. “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger. You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.” Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe. “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point. Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har. Didn’t realize this was comedy hour. Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake. “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro. You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Sero sighed. “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!” Mina laughed. “Or at least not right away. First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?” Sero groaned.

“Absolutely! We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed! I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that. Personal mementos only! Scout’s honour!” y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots. And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains. They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed. It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of. They wheeled out the other cake as they left. After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said, “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now? Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!” Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table. Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed. Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past. Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident. Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling. It had taken his family half an hour to find him. Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another. And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves. Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon. We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up. “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!” Denki headed to the door. “Later, gators! Had an awesome night! Should do it again sometime. And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night! And congrats on cracking the top fifty!” Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door. Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out. Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night. But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine” Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore.

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut! Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued. “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch. She’s been a mega fan for years. Total simp. That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow. Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned. “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head. “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened. One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck. “Really, it was just an honest mistake! No big deal!” She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa. So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!” Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow. Some exclusive merch. Tickets to an event… A date perhaps?” Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled. Her friends were quick to jump in. “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what? No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?” Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No! I mean…” Y/n drew a deep shaking breath. “I’d… I’d like that. If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n. “Absolutely. Just put in your number and I’ll text you. No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad. Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in. “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room. “Hey slick! Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing. “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back. “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope! I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa. But for now, hasta luego.” Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends. Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends. Soon enough, everything was taken care of. Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out. She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket. When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings. Happy Birthday, Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you. I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures? Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

#reinawritesbnha #happy birthday #i'm blessed to have you as a friend #birthday fic #sero x reader #hanta x reader #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #cellophane x reader #sero reader insert #hanta reader insert #reader insert #bnha reader insert #misuse of cake #aged up characters

155 notes · View notes

hrtiu · 3 years

Text

“Give me a heated argument. A good solid disagreement. And also the making up of it later :) I really think this is a hard one” Thanks to @redsong for the prompt!

AO3 link

Strictly speaking, Ahsoka didn’t really need to escort the Togruta colonists back to Kiros. It was a low-risk mission without any need of Jedi support, but Anakin had suggested the trip and Ahsoka had eagerly agreed. Ahsoka so rarely got to see the good that came from their efforts in the war, so rarely got to see the fruits of their labor. Accompanying the people she’d helped free from the Zygerrian slavers—her people—seemed like a good way to wash the foul taste of such a brutal, soul-crushing mission from her mouth.

She and the rest of Torrent Company flew the transports down to the the colonist settlement on the verdant planet’s surface, and the looks of relief on the colonists’ faces as they walked back into homes they thought they’d never see again eased some of the darkness that had settled on Ahsoka’s heart. First Umbara, then Zygerria—these past few months had been particularly bleak.

“Thank you so much for bringing us back to our homes. We cannot express the depths of our gratitude,” Governor Roshti said as he walked with Ahsoka and Rex into the Governor’s residence.

“It was our pleasure, Governor,” Ahsoka said.

“We will be holding a celebratory feast tomorrow. Please, stay and attend as our honored guests.”

Ahsoka glanced at Rex and the corner of his mouth quirked up—his version of an encouraging smile. They were hoping that Kiros would officially join the Republic, so it wouldn’t do to ignore their hospitality.

“We’d be honored.”

---

Ahsoka sat at Governor Roshti’s right hand at the head of the table, Rex on her other side. The table was heavy with Togruta delicacies—thimiar steaks, roasted cepa, even akul stew. She’d never really lived among her people, so Ahsoka didn’t have much of a taste for Togruta food, but she ate as much as she could handle to show her appreciation. At her side Rex enthusiastically bit into another hunk of thimiar steak, his enjoyment completely unfeigned.

“Maybe you were born into the wrong species, Rex,” she said, leaning over towards him. “You seem to fit right in as a Togruta.”

Rex looked up from his steak and sheepishly wiped the savory sauce from his mouth. “Sorry, Commander, I just don’t often get a chance to eat anything besides ration cubes.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s flattering to our guests to enjoy their food.”

“Is that a Togruta culture thing?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I’m not sure. I never spent much time on Shili.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to go someday,” Rex said, his eyes crinkling with the suggestion of a grin as he held her gaze.

Ahsoka found herself smiling back at him, a warmth in her chest making her feel light a giddy. She looked away quickly.

It had been like this since Rex had gotten back from Umbara, and it was terribly inconvenient. It had taken his near loss during that campaign to reveal how necessary he had become in her life, how his presence was like light—illuminating and coloring an otherwise dark world. She did her best not to think about it. Thoughts led to actions, and if she ever acted on these thrilling, terrifying feelings, she knew her life would change irrevocably.

She shoved another spoonful of akul stew in her mouth and forced the foreign food down, turning back to the Governor to compliment him again on the delicious feast. Then she took a sip of the madyam wine, easily her favorite part of the meal.

“Are you sure General Skywalker would approve of your drinking?” Rex asked, speaking softly to avoid being overheard.

Ahsoka shrugged. “They don’t have the same rules about underage drinking on Shili. And I’m not overindulging. It’s fine.”

Rex looked a little doubtful, but he let the subject drop.

The feast wound down and Governor Roshti showed them to their quarters. They’d be staying in the house of one of his daughters, in a guest suite that was as luxurious a home as anyone had access to in the colony. The rest of Torrent Company went back to the transport to sleep, but Rex was invited to stay with the family as well, having been heavily involved in the Zygerrian operation.

Governor Roshti’s daughter Daivi, a stately woman with elegant purple montrals, led Ahsoka and Rex to their rooms. The feast had gone late into the night, so the house was dark and the rest of the family already turned in for the night. At least, that’s what Ahsoka had assumed before a little boy no older than five darted out of a hallway and ran up to her, grabbing her hand.

“Are you a real Jedi?” the boy asked, bouncing with excitement.

“Yalit!” Daivi said. “What did I say about pestering our guests?”

“Oh it’s alright,” Ahsoka said with an indulgent smile. She crouched down to the child’s level and patted his red montrals. “I sure am a Jedi!”

“So you can use the Force?”

“Yep!”

“Can you do stuff like this?”

The boy reached out a hand and something in the air shifted. A ball halfway across the room—some toy must have left out—suddenly started rolling towards him, completely unaided. The room fell utterly silent.

The ball reached the boy and he gathered it up in his arms, then looked up at the adults surrounding him, staring slack-jawed. “Did… Did I do something wrong?”

“Sweetie,” Daivi said, her jaw tense, “It’s too late for you to be up. Go to sleep now, alright?”

Yalit looked around him, his eyes wide and his lower lip quivering. “Ok…”

He hugged his ball tightly to his chest and walked dejectedly back to the hallway from which he’d come. The adults in the room watched him leave, then Daivi moved onward towards the guest quarters.

“Um, your son-” Ahsoka said, shocked that Daivi would just pretend nothing had happened.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” she said with a nervous laugh, still soldiering on towards the door across the room.

“He’s Force sensitive!”

Daivi froze. “We… don’t know that.”

“He moved the ball with the Force! And I felt it—it was definitely the Force and not some random accident.”

Daivi turned around slowly, her white facial markings appearing especially pale in the dim lamplight. “If true, that is a great blessing,” her expression not matching the sentiment of her words.

“He should be brought to the Jedi Temple and trained. He needs to learn how to control his abilities,” Ahsoka insisted.

Daivi bit her lip, and her hands twisted nervously in front of her. She looked at Ahsoka pleadingly for a long moment, but Ahsoka had no idea what she was pleading for. This whole situation was making her confused and uncomfortable.

“Please, Master Jedi,” Daivi said, bowing her head low. “Yalit will be fine with us! He… he really doesn’t have very strong powers. He can barely do anything. It would be a waste of time for the Jedi Temple to train him.”

“That’s just because he’s not trained! If he were trained he’d pick up so much!”

“It… It… He’s too old, isn’t he?” Daivi said, looking near tears.

Was she worried her son wasn’t good enough? That was silly, Ahsoka was telling her the Jedi Council would be pleased to have him. It was strange that they hadn’t picked him up earlier, but she knew that children sometimes slipped through the cracks. The galaxy was such a big place.

“He’s a little older than the Temple usually takes, but I’m sure they’d make an exception-”

“Commander Tano,” Rex said, taking her by the arm and pulling her towards the guest rooms. “It’s late, and our host looks tired. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

Ahsoka looked up at Rex in confusion, but his stony expression revealed nothing. She let herself be pulled, though, trusting his judgment.

“Well, thank you so much for hosting us, Daivi. We’ll see you in the morning,” Ahsoka said, following Rex into the guest suite.

“Good night,” Daivi said, her voice small in the retreating darkness.

Rex shut the door behind them and stopped in the middle of the room, his back to Ahsoka. “Are you really going to take that child away from his parents?” he asked, his voice low and calm but with an underlying tension that Ahsoka had learned to pick up on over time.

Ahsoka looked blankly at him, not sure what was wrong. “The Jedi Temple is the best place for any Force-sensitive child to grow up. It’s an honor to go there—a rare opportunity very few people are ever given.”

“Hmm,” Rex grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing but simply accepting.

He set their luggage down on the table in the middle of the sitting room and started for one of the guest rooms off to the right.

“Wait up, Rex,” Ahsoka said.

He stopped but didn’t turn back towards her. “Yes, Commander?”

Ahsoka pursed her lips. He was doing that thing. That thing where he disagreed with her but wouldn’t just come out and say it. “Come on. I know you have something to say.”

Rex’s head bowed and he shook it once before turning to face her. “It’s not my place to have opinions about the Jedi, Commander.”

“Well, I’m asking you for it. What are you thinking?”

He looked up, meeting her gaze with his own steely stare. “I don’t think you should take that child away from his family.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrow markings in surprise, genuinely taken aback. Her first instinct was to say it was Jedi business and he wouldn't understand, but then that’s what he’d said and she’d insisted he tell her anyway. “Oh…”

“As I said, sir. It’s not my place to have opinions.”

Ahsoka’s brow furrowed. She knew Rex would follow whatever orders she gave him, but that wasn’t the point. She wanted him to agree with her. “It’s not like we’re stealing children from their parents, Rex. He’ll have a good life at the Temple—the best life. He’ll have training he can’t get anywhere else, a safe home to grow up in, a place of privilege and respect galaxy-wide. Most parents are thrilled when their children are identified by the Council.”

“Most parents, maybe. But obviously not these parents.”

“What are you trying to say, Rex? That it’s bad when the Jedi Council invites children to go to the Temple?” she said, getting annoyed. “That it was bad when I was taken to the Jedi Temple? That Jedi are kidnappers stealing unwilling children away from their parents?”

“I don’t know if that child is willing or not, but his parents clearly don’t want him to leave them. Are you going to take him anyway? Because if that’s what you’re planning on doing, then yes, I think it’s bad!” Rex said, his voice rising in volume with each word. By the end of his speech his skin had reddened and his golden-brown eyes flashed. Ahsoka had never seen him this angry before. Angry at her. Judging her way of life.

“Have you even considered that if the Jedi Temple don’t train that child, someone else might? Someone with bad intentions? Someone from the Dark Side?”

“He’s made it this far without being noticed by any Force users, so he’ll probably be fine.”

“Look, Rex. This is how it is for all Jedi. I won’t apologize for my people and our traditions.”

“You asked for my opinion, Commander.”

“Well, that was when I thought your opinion might be reasonable!”

Rex narrowed his eyes at Ahsoka and folded his arms across his chest. “You were taken before you could even remember your parents, but that’s not true for this child. He’ll remember his parents, he’ll remember that they willingly gave him up to strangers to be raised on a faraway planet. I won’t pretend that I understand all the Jedi ways, but I know something about not having parents.”

His words cut her like a vibro-blade, slicing right through everything she’d prepared to counter him. Ahsoka had never been one to shy away from conflict, but she’d never been in such conflict with Rex before, and it hurt. She wanted to run away and hide. She needed to find a way to end this conversation now.

“Well I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway,” she said, arms crossed and shoulders hunched up under her jaw. “The Council has protocols for these kinds of situations, and it’s out of my hands. Judge me all you like, but that’s the way it is.”

Rex sighed and unwound his arms, letting them fall to his sides. “Look, little’un. I’m sorry. This is your world, and I trust your judgment. I’ll follow your orders.”

“Thank you.”

With that he retreated to his room, and Ahsoka gathered her things together and went to the bedroom opposite his. Sleep was a long time coming that night, and visions of Rex’s disappointed, angry, sad face haunted her dreams.

---

The next day dawned bright and clear on Ahsoka’s misery. Rest had provided little comfort, since sleep did nothing to fix the disagreement Rex. Yes, Rex had told her he’d follow her orders, but she didn’t want him to follow her orders because he’d been trained to no matter what. She wanted him to follow her because he believed in her and believed in what she was trying to accomplish.

What the night had done was provide Ahsoka with space to consider Rex’s points. She’d been raised at the Jedi Temple, and she knew what that life entailed. She’d rarely missed her parents—barely remembered them, really—and the Jedi masters, padawans, and younglings had been her family. It was a good life, and she knew that firsthand.

But maybe Rex had a point. Her parents had willingly given her up, and as far as she knew, the same was true for the others younglings at the Temple. As much as she didn’t want to accept it, Yalit’s parents obviously didn’t see their child being trained at the Jedi Temple as a blessing. And… well Ahsoka and Rex were both equally parentless in most respects, but he obviously felt differently about it than she did. His perspective was valid, even if it was different from hers.

Ahsoka got up and got dressed for the day, thoughts stewing all the while. Daivi knocked gently on her door and invited her to breakfast, so she emerged from her room and found her way to the dining table.

The table was set with sizzling thimiar bacon and plom fruit, but Ahsoka found she didn’t have much of an appetite. Daivi and her husband sat at the head of the table, their expressions tight with worry, and Yalit sat next to Ahsoka, smiling and oblivious. Rex was across from her, shovelling thimiar bacon into his mouth and avoiding her gaze.

Ahsoka could speak up. She could explain that the Jedi Council believed all Force-sensitive children should be trained at the Jedi Temple, that it was a great honor, and that Yalit would be well taken care of for the rest of his life. She knew his parents wouldn’t object. The Jedi were a powerful organization in the galaxy, with near mythic status as warriors and defenders of the Republic. How could they refuse?

And Rex would support her. As he’d said last night, he trusted her. It wasn’t just that he had no authority to contradict her, he trusted her. She wanted desperately to be worthy of his respect.

She cleared her throat, and the eyes of everyone around the table turned to her. Daivi took Yalit’s hand in hers and squeezed.

“I think I may have had too much to drink at the feast last night,” Ahsoka said with a weak laugh. “I can hardly remember anything after getting home.”

A confused expression crossed Daivi’s face, then understanding dawned. Ahsoka thought she saw tears forming in the older Togruta’s blue eyes.

“It was a long night, Master Jedi.”

“It’s my own fault. I can’t resist madyam wine, and I’m not allowed to drink it back on Coruscant.”

“Well, you should take some with you then!” Daivi said, getting to her feet with a smile that was heartbreakingly hopeful. She rushed over to the pantry and pulled out two large bottles of wine—drink that Ahsoka knew was a luxury in this fledgling colony.

“Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“Please! Take it!” she said insistently, her eyes intense and pleading. She held the bottles out to Ahsoka, and Ahsoka took them, understanding that this was what the grateful mother wanted.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Ahsoka said, holding the bottles in her arms and getting to her feet. “We should be on our way—my Master is expecting us.”

Their hosts agreed and helped them pack up their things, insisting on carrying their luggage for them all the way back to the transport. Ahsoka and Rex climbed up the gangplank, and Ahsoka turned back to wave goodbye before getting aboard. Yalit smiled broadly at her from his perch in his mother’s arms, his red montrals jiggling back and forth with the force of his wave. Daivi and her husband clung tightly to each other like they’d just escaped slavery a second time. Ahsoka felt a pang of hurt, that they would be so averse to their child joining the Jedi, but she let the pang pass.

Soon enough the transport was in hyperspace, and Ahsoka hid in her quarters. She sat on the floor in a meditation pose, but serenity would not come. She simply stared at the floor, thinking of everything and nothing at once.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she said.

The door whooshed open and Rex walked in, a bottle of madyam wine in each hand. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Ahsoka said, still staring at the floor.

He handed her one of the bottles, then opened the other for himself, taking a long pull before setting it on the ground. Ahsoka opened her bottle and followed suit, the sweet liquid clinging to her throat as she swallowed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rex said eventually.

“I know,” Ahsoka said, taking another drink from her bottle. “But your opinion means a lot to me. And I could see his parents wouldn’t take it well.”

“Thank you for listening.”

Ahsoka looked up and met Rex’s eyes, daring a small smile. He returned the smile, his eyes crinkling again in that way she loved. “I can’t promise I’ll always side with you,” she said, “but I’ll always listen.”

#rexsoka #fanfic #prompt #rexsoka renaissance #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #ahsoka tano

55 notes · View notes

cutemoniic · 2 years

Text

Aaron POV;

Aaron is a good kid.

He doesn't tell lies, he does his homework, he plays with his sister and helps his mother, Simon, cook for dinner, just so she can teach him how to do certaint dishes. He knows how to do marinara sauce pasta, how to bake cookies and she even trusts him with the oven! It's a lot, but he's very proud of it. His favorite hobby also consists in the TikTok app where he has an account, and he studies history topics well just so he can help others understand it better -- he makes a point of being kind even to mean trolls, and gives advice to those who have to be prepared to welcome a new sibling in their home, and talks about how to be kind to others. It's his joy and pride.

Though if you told him, he would lower his eyes when you'd praise him for never telling lies. He doesn't, of course! But he thinks that lying by omission is equally as bad, and he would currently call himself a bad kid for finding a loophope. Particulary for hiding things from his mom, who is blissfully unaware and trusts him to not tell lies.

And he isn't! But for now, there are three things he's not exactly telling her.

The first one is that he got a C- on his Geography test. When he asked the teacher where Alternia was on the big globe they have in class, the latter made a face at him and told him to not be silly, and to not make up countries. Since then, the same teachers has been picking on him a little -- and this has been bothering him. He doesn't tell lies, he has lived on Alternia and even has photos to prove it. He made the mistake of giving those to the teacher, and those photos misteriously vanished, and the teacher states that Aaron simply never gave those to him and is ignoring him in class whenever he makes a statement or has an objection.

The thing has been gnawing at him quite a bit, since he had been called liar and... what was the word? He got to learn it from TikTok in a comment he saw... Ah, yes! He's being 'gaslighted', which means that a person is making him question his reality with actions or words. His teacher is gaslighting him, but Aaron is more bothered by the fact that his precious photographs are gone: those used to be his childhood memories. One has him holding Rosie's egg and his mom is sporting long, black hair too, and he wants those back. He resolves to sneak into the teacher's office and look for the pictures, and if he finds those damaged or missing, he will tell his mom. She will surely come with her stilettos clacking on the floor and make a mess of the teacher, probably fire him too, and Aaron has compassion but there are limits that he has. His mom can fix everything, so he will see what he can find in the office tomorrow. Maybe he’ll even tell her directly tomorrow. It depends if he’s feeling mischievous.

The second thing he isn't telling Simon is that he has noticed how the portions in their plates are all the same number, precise down to a T, and that's because he doesn't mind and thinks that it's just a quirk his mom has: why would he protest? The food is a lot, good and tasty, so this isn't really a problem. He's perceptive, he has been told so.

The third thing he isn't telling her, instead, he told the tall person in robes who appeared in their new house's kitchen while he was trying to sneak a cookie and got caught by them. Of course he apologized like the good kid he is.

Normally, in a situation like this, he'd run to his parents room with Rosie in tow, still sleeping, and he'd sneak in their big bed smelling like them both: he'd press against his mom, or Wrath, and whisper to them that there's something wrong. Simon would get up to check, and he'd be left safe and sound and sneak in his mom's spot in bed, still warm with her body heat and scent. He'd be content with just that.

But lately, when he does this, he notices that Simon's breath is evener than usual and her sleep is deep and peaceful -- why would he disturb her? He can handle this alone, he thinks. The blue blood in his veins makes him super strong, and he knows that he needs to protect his mom. He has to be brave. He'd tell Georgie, their nanny-hellhound, but he isn't sleeping in their room right now, or even in the house. He wish it was a day where he's in service, but Simon told him that he has requested a vacation of a week, and since Georgie had been gone, the thing started appearing.

Even now, Aaron shivers a bit if he thinks too hard about it. Rosie has to sleep with her tiny light on, and he doesn't mind it -- the curtains of their window drawn back also help, too. The moonlight that comes into the room is fantastic, draws shadows on the ceiling and he likes to watch those before sleeping. But another shadow has made them stop dancing, and he's peeved more than scared.

It's the middle of the night, and after Simon tucked him into bed with a warm glass of milk and honey, he hasn't closed an eye. His pointy ear twitch when he hears the familiar scratching on the glass, and promptly jolts up in a sitting position.

Every night that their nanny isn’t there, without falthering, the creature shows up.

It's face smears against the glass, but even so Aaron can see that it has eight slits for eyes that circle over where it's forehead should be, and those all blink wrong. It looks sick, way too pale and looking like the milk he just drank an hour ago -- with unnaturally long fingers, it scratches at the glass without damaging it. Tempered, strong protective glass got installed on the window since his mom accidentally broke the window while cleaning it. She apologized a lot for that, but Aaron likes how strong the window is now. It protects him, and protects Rosie sleeping at the other side of the room, sleeping peacefully. When the creature darts out a long, black tongue to slap it on the glass, it leaves back no saliva, or even a trace that it was even here -- but it is. It's staring at him, like every night. Ew, he thinks, and grimaces. Mom will have to clean that up tomorrow, if it leaves fluids all over the window.

As the creature chatters oblong, broken teeth at him, Aaron slowly gets up from the bed: on the way, he grabs his trusty baseball bat, sturdy and unbreakable, and moves where the light hits the floor, in full view of it.

This seems to excite it: fingers curl on the glass and threaten to break, and Aaron is scared for a single moment -- that is, before he remembers that he's supposed to protect his sister. Eyebrows knit in concentration, Aaron hisses at the sick creature and swings his bat in the direction of the window, despite the distance being a good foot or so -- it's to scare and imtimidate it into leaving. Another swing to intimidate does the trick, and the thing jolts before dropping down a solid two floor worth of a fall and disappearing from view. ‘’Go away,’’ he encourages it, barely whispering to not wake Rosie up. ‘’Bad.’’

Aaron hopes that it takes fall damage, like in Minecraft. He steps close to the window, and taps at the glass to see if the thing will try to sneak attack him, but there's nothing. Inching closer to the window lets him learn that the creature is gone, the long veil it sports over its shoulder trailing behind them and disappearing into the woods. Satisfied with the outcome, the troll boy sniffs in satisfaction and barely concealed pride at having ran it off and goes to put the bat back near his bed.

Problem is... sleep is gone at this point. No way he won't sleep if he doesn't drink something warm, and since there's nobody awake, he might get away with it too without waking nobody up.

He decides that he'll tell mom about the rude teacher, Mr. Too-Good-To-Return-His-Photos, tomorrow, he decides as he watches the milk heat up and he scoops a spoonful of raw cocoa powder to snack on. The man doesn't know what's coming to him.

#;;Narrating #ask to tag ;;#unreality ;;#body horror ;;#lov aaron. hes such a sweet kid

2 notes · View notes

loveforpreserumsteve · 3 years

Text

About Last Night (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Mpreg AU)

Eleven:

It was odd how people started to treat Steve after he told his coworkers. Of course, he didn't really need to speak the actual words since his scent had started to change the way an omega's scent did when they became pregnant. Even the people he didn't tell knew just from that alone.

Well, that and the fact that Steve's flat stomach was starting to protrude in the start of his fourth month. Not much. Just poking out around his slack's waistband as though he was bloated.

Now, everyone was treating his differently. The omegas wanted to ask him questions about what it felt like and what name he was thinking of and, Oh my goodness, the baby shower! It was all so overwhelming and reminded Steve that he didn't have a god damn clue what he needed to raise a baby or what he was going to do about Bucky.

While the omegas flittered around excitedly, the alphas kept a safe distance but glanced over protectively every so often. Almost deciding that since Steve's alpha – who was technically not his alpha, but Steve's omega-mind was still choosing to think of him that way – wasn't there, they'd be there for them. Which Steve weirdly appreciated. Even if he'd stubbornly kick anyone's ass, pregnant or not.

"This has got to be the freakiest thing ever," Natasha commented.

"You've already seen it," Steve scoffed.

Laura continued gazing down at the sonogram as she assured, "It's adorable!" Baby talking, "Look at the little body and the tiny hands! Gosh, they're just gonna be so cute!"

"It looks like an alien," Natasha joked.

"Yeah, you're not going to be godmother now," Steve deadpanned.

Passing the picture back to Steve, Laura rubbed Natasha's back. Pretending to be offended, Natasha touched her chest, "Ouch."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and tucked the picture back into his wallet. Laura curiously asked, "Are you having any weird cravings yet?"

"Not really," Steve lamely answered, popping the lid off his lunch container. "At least nothing too bizarre. Like, I'm not having tuna salad sandwiches dipped in chocolate or Cinnamon Toast Crunch in pickle juice. Nothing like that."

Laura giggled at that while Natasha's brows furrowed and she focused on his meal, "Is that buffalo chicken?"

"I love buffalo chicken," Laura commented, dipping a spicy tuna roll into soy sauce.

Quickly chewing the bite from the homemade wrap, he shrugged. Momentarily annoyed with the fetus since, "All I've been craving is buffalo chicken and pepper jack cheese. I'm not going to have any taste buds by the due date."

Smirking, Natasha took a bite of her pasta salad, "That's actually funny."

"Why's that funny?" Laura asked.

Steve rolled his eyes at Natasha and explained to Laura, "I hate spicy foods."

"You hate spicy foods?" Laura's brows quirked as she dipped the rest of the role in the sauce.

Nodding, Steve took another bite. Hating it all the more with that reminder. Adding, "I even bought a jar of maraschino cherries."

"Whoa," Natasha mocked.

Throwing a piece of cauliflower at the redhead, Steve said, "I thought people were supposed to be nice when you're pregnant."

"Laura's being nice," Natasha gestured towards their brunette friend, "I'm trying to balance it out. After all, we don't want you to get a big head."

"What ever would I do without you," Steve chomped on some celery.

"You wouldn't be having this –" Natasha batted her eyelashes dramatically "– dream child with a compatible alpha, for starters."

"Ya know," Steve said around another bite while Laura nearly choked on her spicy tuna roll. As Natasha rubbed Laura's back, Steve playfully threatened his best friend, "If I wasn't so hungry, I'd throw another vegetable at you."

In silent reply, Natasha winked and blew a kiss his way.

Sheepishly glancing up from her sushi, Laura asked, "Are you really... ya know...?"

"Compatible?" Steve assumed. Laura nodded and Steve rolled his eyes, "I don't believe in all that silly mumbo jumbo nonsense.

"It's not silly," Laura giggled. "Soul mates are totally a thing."

From beside her, Natasha placed her hand on Laura's shoulder, "Aww, you're so cute."

Playfully, Laura shoved the other alpha's hand off and said, "Okay, fine. Everyone laugh at the hopeless romantic."

A small smile tugged at Steve's lips because he wished he could be like that.

For the rest of the day, Natasha and Steve teased one another, but Steve's mind was elsewhere. Somewhere soft and cozy that smelled like a Christmas tree farm. All day, Steve had been checking the time. Hoping that it was time to leave, but the clock seemed to be going slower than usual. His back ached, his fingers were stiff, and for some reason, he was finding himself growing anxious. And in his anxiousness, he started jiggling his leg.

It wasn't the first time that he had gotten this anxious in the past couple of weeks, but that didn't help him any. It wasn't helping Natasha any either as she softly asked, "You okay, Rogers?"

"Yeah," Steve falsely assured. When her brow quirked accusingly, Steve added, "I just need to be in my nest."

Relaxing at that, she reached over and lightly marked him. And while that helped a little, it wasn't the right alpha scent he needed. He needed Bucky's scent, and Bucky's scent was in his nest.

When the workday finally ended, Steve rushed home. In his hurry, Steve's fingers weren't cooperating the way they should've been, and to top it off, his bladder was now about to burst. It couldn't get any worse.

"Would you like some help?"

Correction: now it couldn't get any worse.

Not turning around to look at his neighbor, Steve dismissed, "No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It'd be no trouble at all."

Only, it would be.

Because if you give an overbearing neighbor a chance to help you, he's going to see if you're free sometime. When you can't come up with a good enough excuse, he's going to guilt trip you into agreeing. When you agree, he's going to be upset if you don't show. When he gets upset that you blew him off, he's going to get angry. When he gets angry, he's going to get violent.

And if you give a mouse a cookie...

"I'm sure," Steve quickly answered unlocking his door and entering his apartment before Johann could try to persuade him.

Not even taking off his coat or toeing off his shoes, Steve rushed for his bathroom. Quickly, Steve relieved himself and wondered how someone the size of a lemon could affect his body so much.

Once done in the bathroom, Steve entered his closet and changed out of his work clothes. All Steve wanted was to pass out in his safe, cozy, nest for a couple of hours. So, he dressed in his loosest joggers and a baggy sweatshirt and made his way out to the living room where his nest was.

Instantly plopping on the comfy furniture, Steve situated himself so his head would be on the t-shirt with Bucky's scent. Only the scent had faded in the past week and a half. Now it just smelled like Steve.

Tears building in his eyes, Steve's lower lip quivered and turned his face further into the shirt, hoping to find any trace of Bucky. Since he couldn't detect any though, sobs wracked through his petite frame. The anxiety grew in that moment and his body started shaking.

With stiff, sore, and swollen hands, Steve reached for his cellphone and found the contact he needed. Sniffling, Steve tried to calm down as he waited for the alpha to answer their phone. Even forcing himself to sit up as he waited.

"Hello?" That velvety voice answered.

"Hi," Steve sniffled. Trying to keep his breath even, "Can you come over?"

"Of course," Bucky quickly agreed. His voice serious with genuine concern, "Is everything okay? Are you okay? What about –"

"Fine. We're fine. Everything's fine," Steve quickly assured. However, a hiccup broke through and he rolled his eyes at himself. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he explained, "Your scent faded from that shirt you gave me, and I've been anxious all week, but especially today and I just need you."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, sweetheart," Bucky confirmed.

"Thank you," Steve sniffled as new tears of relief started building. Chewing on his lower lip, Steve decided to just go for it as he asked, "Do you think that maybe you could spend the night?"

For a moment, the other line was quiet, and Steve lifted his hand to start chewing on his nails. Worrying that he had overstepped. Especially since the pair had only hung out a handful of times in the past couple of weeks. However, Bucky soothed all that anxiety as he agreed, "Of course, I can. I'll be there soon."

"Okay," Steve nodded, sniffling again, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, doll."

Hanging up his phone, Steve let out a sigh of relief and stood from his spot in his nest. His eyes were irritated, and he walked back into his bathroom to remove his contacts. Grabbing his thick lens glasses, he shoved the round frame eyewear up his nose.

Getting a glance of his reflection, Steve shook his head and hoped that Bucky wouldn't laugh himself into an early grave with how ridiculous Steve currently looked. Possibly more aggressively than strictly necessary, Steve turned off the light and rounded the corner to leave the master bedroom.

As he started getting comfortable in his off-balance scented nest, he grabbed his cellphone and called down to the lobby. After all, if he didn't want to go down to the lobby just to bring Bucky back up with him, he'd have to make sure that he wouldn't have to go down to the lobby.

Unintentionally loudly yawning as soon as the woman answered, Steve said, "Yes, hi! This is Steve Rogers in 27 B."

"Good evening, Mr. Rogers. How can I be of assistance?"

"I'm expecting some company," Steve explained, "When he gets here, can you please send him up?"

"Of course," the woman assured, asking, "I'll keep an eye out for Mister..."

"Barnes," Steve supplied.

"I'll be sure to send Mr. Barnes up when he gets here."

"Thank you," Steve allowed his shoulders to slump as he tried to relax.

After giving a farewell, Steve flopped over to lay down. Trying to get comfortable and hoping that Bucky would get there soon. Letting out another yawn, Steve's eyes fluttered closed. Once his mind realized that, Steve forced his eyes open again, but it sure was difficult. Especially since every day after work, he had been coming home, climbing into his nest, and napping until he either had to pee or was hungry.

Yawning again, Steve covered his mouth and closed his eyes. Resting his hands on his baby bump, he tried to soothe himself with the comfort of knowing that Bucky was on his way.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag

3 notes · View notes

halo-jpeg · 3 years

Text

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 8

WARNING. HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Richie watched as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon, lighting the sky red, orange, yellow, begging the clock to tick just a bit quicker so he could be free from his job. Britney and Mason, douchebag 1 and douchebag 2, were chattering away like hormone-driven starlings right behind him rather than wiping down the counters like they probably should have been. It was 30 minutes until his shift was up and the flow of customers had more than ebbed by now. Normally, Richie wouldn't want his shift to ever end; normally meant he had Bev or Ben at his side to keep him from drowning himself in the backroom sink. Tonight, neither were here, so he was stuck with the two preppy assholes he was so desperately trying to tune out. On any other occasion the music leaking from the tinny speakers would have been enough to get him through the day, but tonight things were different and the radio was instead tuned to bark out the score of some sports game Richie couldn't care less about but had the one or two patrons (who were already served and seated) tilting one ears towards the sound in interest. If given the chance Richie would have been just fine talking with Britney and Mason; he didn't like them, not really, but his big mouth was begging to run after almost a straight 45 minutes of near-silence and professionalism, and the problem was that they didn't seem too fond of talking to him.

And so, Richie simply stood. And waited. And grew more and more bored out of his mind. His fingers began to drum against his chin which was rested on the palm of his left hand which was- in turn- propped up by his elbow on the slightly-sticky surface of the counter. He fought the urge to tap his foot and he fought the urge to hum or dance or bop his head all because he didn't think he could stand knowing the other two would judge him for it. Judgement wasn't often something that bothered him but the memories of last night's talk with Beverly kept trying to pop up into his brain. Yes, that was another reason he was desperate for something to do- Richie just couldn't stop thinking about that talk. The door to the cafe popped open and, golly, it was Richie's lucky day- in stepped one bite-sized brunette with a tentative scowl on his face full of freckles. Just like that, Richie perked up again, his smile splitting his face right in two and his stomach beginning a circus performance consisting of backflips and pirouettes.

"Well, wouldja lookit that!" Snapping his fingers, Richie leaned forwards and across the counter to greet Eddie with his bright eyes, "Spaghetti-man, welcome! Just in time, I was tempted to throw myself into one of the ovens!" Eddie's scowl vanished and instead came a confused little grin that looked pretty goofy and melted away the last of any problems the world had to face.

"Christ, Rich, that's a little dramatic," Eddie pulled up to the counter and began to say something else but, well, Richie was a little distracted taking in the sight of him alone. It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd interacted and, after his little talk with Bev, Richie couldn't really get Eddie out of his mind. Fitted in a fluffy coral-toned knitted sweater and a pair of black jeans, he was looking adorable. Imagining Eddie with some accessory like a bracelet or black nails was even cuter- suddenly, Richie felt very much like Bev said she did whenever she went digging through his wardrobe. Eddie quirked a brow and snapped Richie right out of his thoughts.

"Sorry? What was that? My head's still a lil' out of it tonight," He straightened his back, blinking his scattered thoughts away and cracking his knuckles as if he were being thrown into a cage match, "Can I get you something to drink? To eat? A seat at the bar, maybe? I could use someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going crazy around here," As he said 'crazy' Richie spun a finger around his temple, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I actually just came by to say hello, since... y'know. The party and... and all that shit. We had a deal, didn't we?" Eddie took up Richie's offer for a barstool, leaping up onto it and folding his hands on the counter. He glared down at the tabletop as he spoke, bashful. It warmed Richie's heart and he smiled even wider, clasping his hands and holding them up to the side of his face; his eyelashes battered wildly and then he was the Southern Belle.

"Well, my oh my, ain't you a doll? Stoppin' by just to get a glance at lil' ole' me?" With another roll of his eyes (that seemed to be an Eddie Kaspbrak trademark) Eddie finally looked up again and rested his cheek on one hand.

"I regret it now, Trashmouth. You're gonna make my ears bleed." Laughing, Richie spun on his heel, briefly catching Britney and Mason's gazes and then went straight for the cups to whip up a signature drink for his friend, even if it was against company policy both to create anything original and to give out anything without it being paid for. Who gives a shit, Richie thinks to himself, and gets right to it.

"How's a mocha sound, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"It's- It's fine, but how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Especially not with, like-" Eddie didn't need to finish his sentence, nor did Richie have to actually see him to know he was passing discreet glances at the two coworkers most likely listening in. Eddie was embarrassed about his silly little nickname. Challenge accepted- Richie had plenty of those. Flipping switches, tapping buttons, spinning around the kitchen with practiced ease, Richie pumped out a perfect dark chocolate mocha with steamed vanilla milk and caramel sauce drizzled artistically across the mountain of whipped cream on the top. It was a masterpiece- no surprise there.

"And here you are, Eduardo." the cup was set down and Eddie gave Richie an awkward, thankful smile. "Enjoy it- and here, dip one of these in it," Sliding open one side of the bakery treats display case Richie pulled out a slice of banana bread, "It's fantastic. Like, seriously, Eds. Ten out of fucking ten."

"When did your shift start today? I didn't know you worked," Eddie's cheeks flushed a soft red thanks to his own curiosity and he hid it with a sip from his drink. Richie shrugged,

"Nine. I was exhausted. Had to steal a coffee or two throughout the course of the day like the rebel I am." Richie reached up, popping the collar of today's brightly coloured shirt (pink, blue, yellow, purple, an amalgamation of triangles and circles and squares) and hunching his shoulders in, grimacing dramatically and sauntering back and forth like a biker dude who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and loved the road more than anything else, "I run 'gainst the law, dawg," Eddie cracked a toothy smile and let out a dancing chuckle, "I rob gas 'tations and pick pockets for a livin'," Richie reached a hand up and began to fuss with his hair in an attempt to transform it into an impromptu mullet. Bringing the attention towards his curls Eddie's face screwed up but his smile still lingered.

"You need a fuckin' haircut, dude, like- wow. It's like a whole mop, Richie," And then Eddie's eyes grew wide and he recoiled, "Did you make my drink with that mane exposed? What if- what if you got your stupid hair in it? You know you're committing a guideline 37 health code violation? It's literally against the law not to wear a hair net, you know. And did you wash your hands?" Richie flipped his collar back down as Eddie spoke, letting out a huff and stumbling over to the sink to jam his hands under the faucet. "I heard people's hands carry up to almost five million different kinds of bacteria. You'd better not be putting that into people's-" Richie's hands now soaking wet, he lifted them and flicked them violently in Eddie's direction. The shorter boy cut himself off and let out a startled cry as he was assaulted by these droplets of water, half-jumping-half-falling out of his chair to scramble out of range. "You asshole! This sweater is a gift from my mom you know, and it could get damaged or-" Someone in the shop barked out a hissing 'shhh!' and Eddie went silent, his face bright red.

"The patrons request silence, my lo- friend, jeezly-crow," Richie dried his hands on the towel just near the sink, acting like he hadn't almost called Eddie 'my love' (he only didn't say it because of his coworkers and Eddie's pride) and returned to standing across from him. As soon as he was near enough Eddie delivered a half-assed punch to his forearm that was more teasing than actually harmful.

"That was quite the show," Britney, for once in her life, regarded Richie with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, and then glanced over at Eddie who was now smiling sheepishly and clearly dreading meeting a new person. Britney stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you... Eduardo, was it?"

"Ah- Eddie, actually, my name is Eddie- Richie is just... just stupid sometimes, sorry," Rapidly, Eddie wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and took Britney's hesitantly within his own. Only Richie noticed the way his brows flicked a little closer together- Eddie was uncomfortable. That much was obvious.

"It's part of my charm, isn't-"

"Oh my God, I know, right? He's such a goofball!" With a horribly dopey grin, Britney pushed at Richie's shoulder and let out a high-pitched titter, "Imagine having to work with him every day!" Both boys let out an awkward chuckle, sharing a glance that said a multitude of different things; Who the hell is this chick? and Well she's just a little rude. and Can she maybe leave us alone? and many, many other things as well. "So, Eds- can I call you that?-" Britney didn't give him a chance to protest even though he wanted to, "How long have you and Richard been friends? How'd you meet him?" Britney leaned in just beside Richie, basically elbow to elbow as she crossed her arms and leaned into them to- oh- everything clicks together just like that, just as Britney uses her arms to push her chest higher. She was trying (and, well, failing, frankly) to flirt with Eddie. It seems that the asthmatic has yet to notice.

"Well, I... Not long, we just met a little over a week ago, I guess. It's actually kind of funny we-"

"Only a week?" Britney batted her lashes and Richie debated on telling her that her interrupting was not a good flirting technique, "But you two seem so close already! Gosh, I'd have guessed you two were high school friends at least!"

"Nope," Richie interjected before she could continue, "Just new friends. He's great, I'm great- that makes double great- Anyhow, Britney, we should let him enjoy his drink shouldn't-"

"Quite the mouth on him, huh?" Somehow, impossibly, Richie had failed to get her attention. Demanding all eyes on him was his specialty, but it was as if Britney had garnered some sort of tunnel vision, like a race horse with blinders perched on either side of it's head. Flirt racing. Place your bets. Richie felt a flame of jealousy and immediately squashed it down, feeling like some bitchy schoolgirl. "Chatter chatter chatter, all day long. How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, usually," Eddie was fiddling with the hem of one sleeve, his cheeks puffed out lightly in irritation. Who knew one man could have so much patience. "I... Well, I kind of like the chatter, actually. My own thoughts race so fast, it's cool to finally have someone who can keep up with them." Shrugging, Eddie turns to Richie and opens his mouth to speak, but, what a surprise, Britney beats him to it.

"I'm sure I could keep up with them, hon, if you gave me the chance," Britney let one eye fall down in a wink and Eddie gaped, frozen. His face drained of colour, a ghastly white that highlighted each and every one of his freckles- then it flooded red and he gripped the sides of the counter, looking at Richie again but this time as a silent plea, a save me oh my God- "What's your number?" She smiled, her rose red lips curling up in a way that could only be described as evil, "Or I can give you mine. I'd like to get to know you better." One part of Richie wanted to let this play out just because it was such a wonderful opportunity to watch Eddie flounder. The other part, the moral part, was screaming at him to intervene.

"Oh- I, I uh- I'm so-sorry I don't-" Eddie's tongue was tied. He swallowed hard and shook his head, his breath beginning to come in hitches, "I- I'm not interested I'm s-sorry if you got the- the wrong idea or-"

"Oh, come on, pretty please?" Britney leaned in closer and Eddie leaned away. "With a cherry on top? I promise it'll be fun-"

"Fuck off, Brit, he said no," Richie tried to keep his tone level, knowing that if he didn't his jealousy would show, but it seems he wasn't firm enough and that Britney didn't quite get the message. Eddie was still shaking his head, patting at his pockets as if searching for something, something to get him out of this more than awkward situation and turning up empty handed.

"We can maybe go to dinner tomorrow night or something like that, I'm a pretty fun girl when you get to-"

"Britney, that's enough!" Slamming one hand down on the countertop and raising his voice, all eyes turned to him- even those of the patrons, though this time no one hissed out a shush. After a beat of silence, Richie continued with a calmer tone, "You're clearly making him uncomfortable, I think you should just get to wiping down the counters or something so we can start closing up," Someone behind Richie scoffed; Mason. His other coworker. Rounding on him, Richie crossed his arms, trying to look somewhat intimidating in the face of this super-jock. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Well, I just think your little friend there's really makin' a mistake," Mason shifted his weight onto one foot, peering around Richie and staring the poor flustered Eds straight in the eye, "She really is a great chick, and... Well, you look like you could use a ride like her." Eddie's jaw dropped and his face went redder. He looked as if he were about to pass out, and Richie was stunned all the same.

"Jesus Christ, man, you can't just say that! What the hell's wrong with you?" Richie took a step forwards, glaring even harder but Mason wasn't deterred, wasn't afraid, was still dead set on either picking on Eddie or maybe actually attempting to give some sort of skewed advice.

"She'll do nearly anything you want if you ask nice," Britney was smiling though she looked a little stunned herself by this show of boldness, "And it seems she likes you, too. You're her type- short, thin, kinda... well, kinda girly to be honest," Eddie stared down at the tabletop, fighting to control his erratic breathing and seeming to have given up on patting his pockets for- oh shit, his inhaler. Was Eddie having an asthma attack?

"Mason, you fucking idiot, give it a rest. Eddie isn't interested. Leave him the fuck alone!" Richie was growing irritated- something about Mason felt off today. Usually the boy didn't outright pick on other people, he was always at least subtle about it.

"Oh, shit-" Mason let out a little chuckle, and stepped around Richie to approach the counter, "Unless- wait, unless you're not into her?" Richie was so close to slamming a fist across Mason's stupid face. After years of not understanding why everyone called his own face punchable, Richie finally got it. Some people just looked like good boxing practice.

"No fucking shit Sherlock of course he isn't into-"

"Unless you're some sort of fairy?"

Oh, the silence that followed this statement was suffocating. It was as if a thick blanket of quiet had throttled the room; Eddie's hitching breaths had stopped- in fact, so had his breathing altogether. His eyes had hollowed out, his face had lost all colour for good this time, and his shoulders had jumped up to his ears. Britney's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide, breath stolen away in a more figurative sense. Richie was entirely and utterly shocked. He had known Mason wasn't the ideal fella. He cheated on girlfriends and drank too much and stole things, but this- this was... more than Richie had expected. It took a lot for Richie to dislike someone and he disliked both him and sort of Britney for quite the big book of reasons; but downright homophobia was not in his book until today.

"What. The fuck." Richie's voice had gone low, dangerously low. Mason turned to face him instead, his eyes dancing with quite the colorful array of emotions yet somehow appearing haunted, dead, all at the same time. If Richie had to get all poetic and describe it he'd say those eyes were reminiscent of an ocean- chaotic in the crashing of the waves, and yet endlessly empty. He was smiling wide. Proud. Like a shark. Eddie was still silent.

"Maybe I've got things wrong, maybe that was wrong," Mason held his hands up defensively, and Richie made the mistake of letting him continue, "Maybe... Well maybe he's not a fairy." A pause, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, "Maybe you are, Tozier. Maybe you're the little fag-"

"Shut up, Mason. Just shut the hell up." Mason leaned in, arms crossed, smile smug,

"You know, as sick as you are, it doesn't even surprise me." From Richie's right there was a gasp, a choked sound reminiscent of some form of words.

"Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God-"

"I probably should have realized sooner, to be entirely honest. I mean, your hair, your clothes, your stupid nails and your stupider voices-"

"Richie- Richie I-" Richie's head was spinning with red hot rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, his teeth gritted tightly.

"You don't know a single thing about me you asshole,"

"I guess it's possible both you and your friend here mingle with that crowd, huh? Maybe the- Oh Jesus, maybe the reason you're so defensive is because the two of you are, like, boning or-" And, that was the final fucking straw. Richie didn't register his hands flying out to shove, hard, at Mason's chest until the boy was stumbling backwards, right over Britney taking them both to the ground. Richie was taller than Mason. Mason was heavier than Richie. With the right momentum, the right force and angle, he could- and did- send Mason almost flying.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? Jesus- and to think I might actually, one day, maybe be able to tolerate your obnoxious ass here at work?"

"Rich- I c-can't-"

"Wow, I was naïve! Do you have a single scrap of human decency in that tiny frocking brain of yours or are you only powered by fucking and alcohol?"

"R-Richie! I-"

"Well guess fucking what, you dog? I've got quite the gift for-"

"Richie!!" Just as Richie was about to spit right onto Mason's stupid face Eddie dragged him out of his furious haze with a choking wheeze. His head snapped right, gluing onto Eddie's trembling form; one hand was grasping at his throat, the other supporting him on the countertop, shaky, pale. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked positively awful with his mouth open wide and his chest heaving painfully up and down. "Rich- I- I-I-I c-ca-can't breathe I-"

"Shit, Eds, I'm so sorry," Richie didn't waste a second in hopping over the counter, tearing off his work apron and tossing it to the floor, discarding his anger with it, "Come on, let's go, let's get you some fresh air okay? We can hurry to your place and get your inhaler, yeah?" Despite the hate, the disgust, Richie couldn't care less about how he must have looked as he took Eddie's hand and began to drag him to the door, half-drunken mocha and quarter of banana bread left for the other two to clean up. On their way out Richie was almost certain he heard one last snide comment, some slur, but his only focus right now was Eddie and the way he was sucking in rasping breaths like a drowning man. Rich shoved the door open with one shoulder, holding it ajar and letting Eddie pass by, resting a hand on his back as he did so and beginning to steer him down the sidewalk in no particular direction. "Where's your house? What's your address? Should I call Bill or Stan or- We have to get you to your inhaler, don't we?" Cowering like a hurt puppy, Eddie shrunk into Richie's side, still gripping and clawing and gasping. "W-What do I do where do I go what-"

"No-" Eddie forced the words out through gritted teeth, shaking his head and holding up a single finger- just give me a minute. The two came to a halt underneath the golden glow of a streetlamp just recently lit. The sky was a dark purple now, growing into blue.

"Eddie, don't you need you inhaler?" He shook his head again, and Richie screwed his brows together, "But your asthma, we can't risk it we should just-"

"NO, Rich- Just-" Eddie gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, "Just give me a- a fucking minute!" Richie shrunk away, pulling his arms to his chest and taking a tentative step back. Eddie turned, hiding his face, and continued to sputter, refusing Richie's help and planting one hand over his eyes and forehead. A minute passed- Richie tried to suggest once more that the inhaler was the safest option. Eddie denied it with another string of breaths and curses. At last, an agonizing three minutes later, the rise and fall of Eddie's chest grew steadier.

"Are... Are you sure you're alright? I... I don't know how asthma works but I don't think ignoring it is healthy." Risking being yelled at again Richie stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on Eddie's frail shoulder. For one quick moment those big brown eyes stared up at him and then they flicked away, down to their shoes instead. The smaller boy's ears burned red with shame.

"I don't-" Eddie scoffed, "I don't fucking- I don't fucking have asthma okay? I'm fine. I just- need to- calm the hell down."

"You- what? You don't have asthma? Then what was all that stuff at the party-"

"It was nothing, okay? It was just my stupid brain being all messed up! It's not asthma, jackass, so just- let it go, please. Jesus," Eddie shook off Richie's hand and took a few steps back, one hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He started to pace. "I can't believe that guy, what an asshole! And that girl, I just-" He cried out incoherently, too frustrated to piece together another phrase, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I really am. I don't know what got into them- Mason especially, he isn't usually that bad and I... Well, that wasn't cool. Something was wrong about him tonight and- fuck," Richie brought his hands up to his face, underneath his glasses to scrub it vigorously, "I don't know, man, I'm so sorry." When Richie's hands fell again Eddie was looking at him, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his chest, concerned. A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"What...? Of course I am, I'm not the one who almost choked on-"

"Then what the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" Eddie surged forwards and, this time, pushed Richie with both hands, though the outcome was very different and Richie hardly budged.

"Woah woah Eds what-"

"He could have hit you! Are you stupid or something? That guy would have had your fucking neck snapped before you could even do anything about it and you were just going to let it happen because he said some nasty shit to me?" Again, Eddie thumped a fist into Richie's chest, and then another.

"Of course Eddie he can't just-"

"People have said that shit to me all my life, Richie, you don't have to go risking your stupid neck because of it!" This time Richie caught Eddie by the wrist before his shove could connect, and then caught the other hand right after, holding them tight, "Let me go, Richie I can't deal with you being like this right now it's like you're not even listening to me and-"

"Eddie, calm down you're gonna throw yourself into another fit!"

"I'm okay, asshole, I'm not gonna break down and die right here and now because I'm angry at you! I-I get angry all the time I'm not some child- I-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and then he spat out the words coated in acid, "You don't get to act all 'night in shining armor' just because some airheaded asshole wants to tell me what's good for me! I can take care of myself and I fucking hate it when people treat me like some stupid kid!" Eddie was gasping again, though this time he kept his mouth shut tight, trying to hide that he was struggling. He looked furious and terrified and hurt, a trio of emotion that Richie never wanted to see on his face again. Richie let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting go of Eddie's wrists. As soon as he did Eddie crossed his arms and took a step back, averting his gaze. The tips of his ears were burning brighter.

"I... Eddie, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to- to belittle you or talk down to you or anything like that. I just saw that you were getting badmouthed and I acted before I could really think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Trashmouth, you seem to be a little fucking impulsive." His voice strained, it was evident that Eddie was trying to reign in his temper, his 'asthma' already calming down once more. "Just... just please let me handle myself in the future. I can do it, I swear,"

"Yeah, I... I know you can. You're," Richie chuckled, and punched Eddie weakly, tentatively in the shoulder, "You're all sorts of spunk in one tiny package," Allowing himself to grin just for a split second Eddie slapped offense onto his face and wore a pout that would better fit a toddler.

"Are you calling me short? That's real low, Rich, that's just-"

"Low, is it? Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Oh- fuck you!" Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away to conceal his smile as Richie let out his bright cackling, ripping through the silence of the night in a way that was more pleasant than Eddie thought possible. "God, you're just such an asshole, I hope you know that," He jabbed out an accusatory finger and Richie shot up his hands in mock surrender as if that finger were a gun.

"Don't shoot!" He hollered, stumbling a step back, "I have a wife and kids to get back to!" Eddie laughed, dropping his hand, and just barely stopped himself from asking if Richie had a husband to get back to instead. That was a can of worms for another day.

"I'm exhausted now thanks to you. You're like a baby, always whining and shit. Come on, Stan works and Bill's probably asleep by now. Wanna come watch a movie or something? I think we have a copy of Die Hard lying around." Eddie began to walk back in the direction of the cafe- Richie had taken the complete wrong path in their hasty escape- waving one hand for him to follow. Richie was now beaming, knowing just what to say to (hopefully) piss off Eddie even more.

"Oh, awesome! My favourite Christmas movie!" Eddie spun on him. Mission accomplished.

"What the fuck did you just say? Christmas movie?!"

#reddie #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #stanley uris #the losers club #it #it movie #it chapter 1 #it chapter one #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it 2019

8 notes · View notes