#Frederick is told that he's being dramatic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexandersimpleton · 1 year

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Together

AlexanderSimpleton

Summary:

Freddy comfort fic because he needs one

Gwen shot up in her bed.

She was awake. She was actually awake!

She looked around to see who woke her up, but nobody was there. She was alone in her room. And bleeding. Crap. That was a lot of blood.

She looked around her, and saw the thorns she had just emerged from, along with some very panicked birds flying around her.

She figured she should go outside. Her family would probably have bandages. And, after she got healed up, she could make things up with Frederick. She might've not had.. the most healthy relationship before, but it could get better. Unless Frederick was pretending the whole time like Lance said...

Whatever! She'd burn that bridge when she got to it! Now was the time to make sure she didn't die!

Gwen pulled her legs close to her chest so as to minimize the damage, and slowly moved them towards the floor. She told up, and she ran out the door.

As she emerged, there was the real world equivalent of a record brake.

The girl looked around. There were Maria and Lorena tied up, Leland and his eldest two sons, the CPC, Frederick huddled up in a carriage that had been run through the wall, many, many soldiers, Jamie, and Leopold, all that appear to have been fighting each other, but were now staring directly at Gwen.

They kind of just looked at each other flabbergasted for a moment, before Maria, Jamie and Lorena all ran up to Gwen, getting in a group hug and crying in relief

"GWEEEEEEEEN WE MISSED YOU" they all screamed in unison. You'd think they were being dramatic, but that's just how Gwen's siblings cried.

Gwen smiled in relief to finally have her siblings back. She missed them.

And then she looked back at the crowd.

Everyone else was just standing there, awkwardly staring at each other. That was, except Frederick, who was still staring at Gwen. His eyes were practically shining with shock and relief, and literally shining with tears. But they felt like they were missing something else. Something she couldn't quite place.

After a while, the siblings broke off their hug, which Gwen hadn't even realized her sisters had been tied up for the duration of. They also saw the extreme awkwardness of the scene, and Lorena snorted.

"Uhmmmmm..." Leland broke the silence. Gwen's siblings glared at him.

"H-hey. What did Leland do to you?"

The pastel siblings slowly turned to look at Gwen like she had just thrown a puppy in the ocean.

"Hehe. You missed a lot." Frederick said from the carriage. Lorena, Maria and Jamie all turned their heads to glare at the boy harder than they were glaring at Leland. He shrunk back almost immediately.

But, When he said it, Gwen noticed something about his tone. He looked worn. His laughed was wet, like he had been crying. His eyes looked empty, like all that hopeful light had been ripped out of him. And he looked like he would really benefit from some hot coco and a warm blanket. But, the CPC would have taken care of that. She saw how they reacted when Frederick called her ugly. Surely they would have helped, at least a little bit. Right?

One of Leland's guards grabbed the girl's wrist while she wasn't paying attention. It was immediately smacked by a broom from Curtis.

"Gwen!" Prez called out. "Get in the carriage!"

"Huh!?" She responded "I don't know what's going on, but I wasn't to help!"

"You're helping by being in the carriage." Frederick weakly cried out. She could barely hear him. "Unless you have some hidden fighting talent we don't know about, staying on the battle field would pose more risk to your safety that it would actual help. If you stay somewhere safe, nobody has to go out of their way to protect you. That's why I'm here."

Frederick's argument seemingly convinced Gwen, and she begrudgingly moved to the carriage.

As she got in the front, next to Frederick, he curled up a little. Gwen was about to ask why, when she heard him muttering frantic apologies under his breath.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry" he said over and over.

Gwen reached over and touched his arm lightly.

Frederick flinched violently and scooted away.

"I'm sorry Gwen! I didn't think you'd hear, and I was really frustrated, and I didn't think you'd be hurt that much! I was just an idiot! A stupid.. an idiotic loser!

The way he said the loser felt like it had more weight to it than other things he said. The way he looked away from her seemed familiar. While she was gone...

"Did someone.. say something to you?" Gwen asked, a slight bit of horror in her voice.

Frederick's eyes widened. Bingo.

"I- uh-"

Gwen held his hand. "You can tell me. Just if you want though."

Frederick hesitated. "After we got home, after that gala, father was.. mad, to say the least. I don't know what he did to Blaine and Lance, but the first thing he did was grab my wrist and carry me down some secret passageway into..." Frederick flinched a slight bit, and Gwen squeezed his hand harder. "Into.." his voice was barely legible over the righting outside. "A dungeon. He just tossed me in. For what it think was around half a month. It was hard to tell. The only real light I got was a skylight at the very top. And I couldn't ask anyone, because nobody ever came to visit."

Gwen has a question, and she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to. "If nobody came to your dungeon, than how did you get food or water?"

Frederick tensed up, and he clutched the bottom of his seat with his hand. "I.. let's just say there are less rats in that dungeon now..." The boy looked away, and giggled a little, as if he really didn't want to say that.

Gwen took notice now, that he looked a bit smaller, his skin was incredibly pale.

"Have you caught anything Frederick!? Rats carry tons of diseases! Should we take you to the doctor!?"

"Eh!" Frederick's eyes shot open in alarm. "I don't think so, but I probably should go to a doctor now that I think about it.." the boy gave her that awkward chuckle again. Like he'd rather be litterally ANYWHERE else.

"But anyways!" The boy interrupted himself. "Father and Blaine and Lance finally came! I was so relieved to see them! I thought that they'd finally let me out. But.. they just told me that.. everything had been a lie..."

"What!?" Gwen didn't know this! There had to have been something there with her sisters!

"They said that it had all only been for power, and that father had some kind of plan that wasn't worth telling me."

That wasn't worth telling me part struck Gwen the wrong way.

"Of course. I didn't think that was possible. I saw them. Blaine was talking about how he loved Maria. And at the very least, I thought Lance loved Lorena. He was practically swooning over her, both at you castle, and at home." Frederick smiled, refecting back on the memories of watching his brother hug the flowers Lorena had grown for him. But his smile dropped as fast as it had come. "I- tried to say it, but Blaine- Blaine said.."

Gwen waited patiently for Frederick to get it out.

"I... Still remember it. Word for word. 'Shut up Frederick! How do you know what was real or not? You think I wanted to waste all my time pretending to like you? That was the hardest part of this whole act! Holding your hand though ever stupid step.." Frederick began looking past her, his worn eyes shining once again. Not like the sun that they shined like when he talked about his favorite stories though. More like a wilted flower with glossy varnish painted on top. "..saving you from constantly sabotaging everything.." they shone not like the oceans they shined like when he was baking with her, but like a long dean fish, with the sunlight on it's scales. "..and propping you up with baseless confidence, so you felt like a true plaid prince.. did you actually think we felt that way about you?" They shone, not like freshly fallen snow, but of a snowman about to melt into the grass, the sun's rays reflecting off it. "Of course not, Frederick. You're a Loser. And if there's one good things that came out of the disaster you caused, it's that there's no question left who belongs at the top and who should stay on the very bottom." His eyes shone with tears.

Gwen squeezed his hand, and he snapped back to reality.

"O- Oh! Uhm.. They said something about soldiers being here, and they left. I managed to get out with Laverne's help, and we made it to the CPC to warn them. When I got there, I was hoping that maybe they'd be there, when nobody else was. That maybe they'd, I don't know, give me a hug, and reassure me, like it seems like they did with you. But.. they kind of just ignored me." Frederick looked back and saw that Gwen had an oddly.. offended look on her face? Frederick didn't understand why. "I tried to warn them, but nobody really listened. I tried to tell them what happened, too. Two of them were talking to me when I told them. I think their names were.. Syrah and Monika. I hope I'm getting that right. I told them what my brothers said."

Frederick paused for a moment. "They said that it was ridiculous."

Gwen clutched her nightgown hard, paying no mind to the thorns still stuck on it.

"They said that they knew he liked me, and that I was probably just misinterpreting what they said. They didn't even care to ask... I had thought that maybe, this wasn't okay. Maybe love was happier than I thought it was. Maybe love could be like when I'm around you, or around Whitney. Maybe my family were just jerks. They never really liked me, after all. But, now that the CPC said it... They helped you so much. They know about this stuff, they know about all this self worth stuff that I've never been taught. So, now that the CPC says I'm being dramatic... Well, that hope is dead now. I've finally come to terms with the fact that I'm an insignificant, worthless, meaningless, idiotic loser-"

Gwen hugged Frederick. She hugged him as hard as she could. She squeezed him until her arms were going to give out.

The tears started flowing before Frederick could even process what was going on. He wrapped his arms back around Gwen, reciprocating the tightness of the hug. He cried into the top of her head. She smelled like pastries.

They stayed like that for a while, just hugging, until Frederick broke it up. As he did, Gwen said something to him. "You are not a loser, Frederick." She said it with conviction, a certainty that he hadn't seen out of her before.

Frederick nodded, and gave a small smile. It exposed a bit of his teeth, which were still bloody from... Oh God.

The weight of what had really happened to him sank in for Gwen at just that moment.

"Can I... Tell the club?"

"But I already told the club."

"Well I don't think it sank in for them." Gwen said through gritted teeth. She seemed angry. Was Frederick doing something wrong?

"Sorry." He said on impulse.

"No! You didn't do anything wrong. I'm angry at the CPC, not you."

Frederick nodded again.

"Can I tell them?"

"What?"

"Can I tell them... what happened?"

After a little bit of hesitation, Frederick said yes.

Gwen looked out over the crowd, only to realize that fighting was begining to come to a halt. Oddly, Blaine and Lance had joined the CPC's side. They watched a little longer, and eventually, Leland's forces got ran out. Blaine and Lance had a good hug and a cry, while Gwen walked towards the CPC looking very peeved.

As she left, Frederick noticed something where she was sitting. Was that a bloodstain!?

"Were you bleeding that whole time!?" Frederick exclaimed in surprise. The club looked over to Gwen, only to realize that she was, indeed, bleeding.

The club and Gwen's family fretted over her (now scabbed over) cuts, but Gwen still had the CPC to confront. They came to a compromise where Gwen would confront them while they made sure she didn't die.

Eventually, Gwen and Prez came back to the carriage. Frederick was about to ask how it went, when Prez picked him up and hugged him tightly. The hug was rather short though, as she place him back on the seat.

Gwen recognized the expression she had as the lecture face, but before she could start, another girl, Abbi, dragged Blaine and Lance over by their arms. They looked like they very much did NOT want to be there, but not in the way Frederick thought they would. They didn't look like they didn't care. They looked like they really cared. Frederick figured that was what he looked like when his and Gwen's conversation started.

The boys looked at Frederick, like he was going to explode in their faces. Neither of them would have blamed him. But, that explosion never came. He just looked away.

Somehow that made them feel worse.

Eventually, the two broke the silence. They both said "I'm sorry" at the same time, seemingly on accident. They also both bowed, down on one knee. Frederick felt like he was on a throne, looking down on them like this.

In the plaid royal family, a bow like that was an admission of wrongness or guilt. It was essentially saying "I was wrong, you were right", or "I screwed up, please forgive me".

"What I said... It was horrible. I thought it would keep you safe from father but.. clearly it didn't. It just made everything worse."

Lance nodded in agreement. He didn't actually have anything direct to apologize for, but that doesn't change that he was a jerk to Frederick.

"And, not only that. How I treated you before that as well."

Frederick looked up in surprise. Blaine hadn't done anything to him.

"I frankly treated you like garbage. Judging by your expression, not even you realized how cruel I really was. I always disregarded you, and disrespected you. I always found a way to make the conversation about me, and I berated you, and heck, I even beat you on occasion! I really thought that was okay. I thought that I was the center of the universe, and that I was the only one who mattered. It was shameful really. But seeing all this... Seeing how these princesses love each other so much, seeing the CPC supporting each other, and seeing the horrible things that father- no, Leland was doing, and seeing how much I hurt you.. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I'd understand if you never wanted to see me again."

Frederick smiled. He felt bad for it, of course. Blaine was being so vulnerable in front of him and he was smiling. But, he just felt so.. validated. Knowing now that he wasn't being dramatic, that there was a reason that he was feeling the things he did.. it felt so satisfying, like a weight being lifted off his chest.

Blaine waited for a response. He didn't know how Frederick would react.

Frederick.. honestly didn't know. He loved his brother, and it seemed clear he was trying to change, but he was just.. so exhausted right now.

Prez saw his conflicted look, and she walked closer. Frederick quietly told her about his conflicted feelings, and she suggested something. The conversation was so quiet that nobody else could hear. Frederick nodded. Prez nodded back.

Frederick told the boy "Maybe.. we should stay away from each other. Only for a little while, like a month, or maybe even a week. I want you around Blaine, but I just need to e to.. process this, I guess?"

Blaine nodded. "Thank you. For being so forgiving, I mean. I really do hope I can get better about my treatment of you. You deserve a good brother." Blaine walked, a small smile on his face. Frederick saw him walking back to Whitney. He supposed he shouldn't be that surprised. When Frederick thought about it, he figured they'd get along. Lance was about to walk away with his brother when he gave Frederick a tight hug.

Lance whispered in his ear "I saw your little 'conversation' with Gwen earlier. Don't expect to be free of torment next month." Frederick let out a sound of surprise, and blushed. "But seriously. I'm really happy that you're happy with her. I am so glad you found some people who love you like you deserve little bro."

Before Frederick could respond, Lance put him back down, and he moved on with his brother.

It was getting really late. Frederick figured he should probably resolve things with Gwen's siblings while he was here. He walked up to the girls + Jamie, who all glared, but softer.

Maria rushed up to him "Look, we saw all of that, and it's clear you love her now, but what you did was very, very bad, and if you ever do it again than-" she made a hissing sound with her teeth, while dragging the nail of her thumb across her neck.

Frederick got the message.

The boy walked back to the center of the castle, meeting both of his brothers.

That was when the two older ones realized.

They should have thought this through.

"Do we.. have to go back there?" Blaine took a step back as he said it, and Lance jolted up in surprised fear, like he'd just realized.

All three boys started internally panicking.

That was, until one more person walked into the room. Her name was Isolde.

"Mother!?" All three plaid princes called out at once. She had come with several guards.

"Isolde?" Jamie walked up to her. "You said you had something else to get done. Is it done now?"

Isolde nodded

"What was it?" Jamie asked

"I staged a revolution." Isolde responded, casually

So casual in fact, that it took most everyone in the room a couple seconds to register her words.

They seeming all voiced them at the same time though.

"What!? How!?"

"Well, I had this little project going for a while. We figured either he'd win, and come in from outside the kingdom with less troops, and cargo that he has to keep from running away, or he could lose and come back with very minimal troops. Either way, we could use the home turf advantage and Leland's army's weakened state to take them off guard, so we defeated them, and I'm currently the solo queen. Any questions?"

Lance, along with many others, didn't comprehend a single word of that.

Blaine unconsciously muttered "So that's where Frederick get's his leader skills from."

He did ask an actual question though.

"Uhm... What.. happened to fath- Leland?"

"Oh, he's in prison."

"Mother ex machina" Frederick muttered under his breath.

Both brothers looked at him.

Frederick blushed furiously. Normally he doesn't just spout book references like that! What was wrong with him today!

"So, it seems you boys have finally switched sides?" Isolde asked

Blaine and Lance nodded

"I was always on this side." Frederick said.

"Good." Their mother told them. "I did not want to lock my own son's in prison."

"But, now that he's gone, do you boys want to come back with me?" Isolde asked. Blaine and Lance nodded instantaneously. Frederick was more iffy.

"Them and Frederick have got something worked out." Prez said

Blaine nodded. "Our relationship,even before this wasn't very good, so we've agreed to not see each other for around a month. Just so that we each have time to rest."

Isolde listened carefully.

"But then where would you live Frederick?" The woman asked.

Like, half of the CPC that had come possessively clinged onto Frederick.

"With the Cursed Princess Club? I understand"

The entire club looked surprised.

"What, you think I didn't figure out your club by now? I just didn't care to say anything." The woman turned away "But if you ever do anything like when you met him to my son again, I will personally see to it that your club is disbanded."

The entire club nodded. Or well, the half of the club that was clinging to Frederick. The other half was gone. Where did they go?

Isolde and her eldest sons left, each giving a wave as the did. It was getting late.

"Welp!" Prez said. "Curtis should have a carriage prepared by now." Prez walked out the side door, leading the club, and Frederick. Gwen also followed her by instinct, but Maria grabbed her.

"Gwen?" Jamie asked

"Look I-" Gwen made sure Frederick was out the door "Frederick has been through a lot in the last few weeks. He just.. needs me there for him right now."

Jamie seemingly got it, making Maria let go of Gwen's hand.

"Okay, but if anyone does anything to you, tell us, so we can kill them."

Gwen giggled. "Okay."

Gwen walked out the side door, and got in the carriage next to Frederick. Syrah had told Curtis to 'accidentally' get one to small so everyone was squished next to each other, forcing Frederick to be next to Gwen. In vengeance Frederick had forced Syrah to be next to Saffron.

On the bumpy ride home, they talked. Apparently Syrah and Monika had to come to daily lectures for a week. After hearing how they effected Frederick, they decided that they got off easy and took it

While everyone else was talking to each other, Frederick took the chance to ask Gwen "How much did you tell them?"

"Just what I had to. I said that Blaine said something horrible and Leland locked you in a dungeon. That's it."

Frederick smiled at her. "Thanks."

They eventually made it back to a bunch of pillow forts and books scattered everywhere.

"Surprise!"

So that's where the rest of the CPC went.

It was like a book fair at school. There were bookshelves all over, with pillows in between. There were cutouts of dragons and knights and sailors and pirate ships.

Curtis had thought it might be rather childish, but Frederick's eyes shone like diamonds when he saw it. He looked at Prez, as if asking for permission, before running in like a child at a candy store.

He looked on the shelves, and ALL his favorites were there. Did the CPC have a supernatural book sense or something!? (It was less a sixth sense and more Curtis stopping their mother on her way in, but Freddy didn't need to know that.)

Curtis had made hot coco, and most of the CPC members grabbed a mug, and some sprinkled marshmallows in as well. Frederick had the most in his mug.

He was grinning like a child, looking through the wooden shelves. That's when Prez noticed something odd on his teeth.

"Hey kiddo, is that blood?" Prez moved closer to inspect his teeth, and there were indeed blood stains.

The boy blushed. He tried to explain, but Prez was still opening his mouth.

The woman let go, and Frederick started talking.

"When Gwen told you about.. the last two weeks, she told you about that dungeon, right?"

Prez nodded.

"Well, nobody really came down there. And I mean nobody. So, I didn't really get food or water or anything."

Prez didn't like where this was going.

"But, I needed food to live. And.. uh..." Frederick covered his eyes. He didn't want to see Prez's expression. "There were a lot of.. rats down there, and.. uhmm... Y'know..." Frederick trailed off, but Prez got the point.

She grabbed the boy, and she pulled him inside, where Curtis was.

"Curtis, I figured out why he's so pale." Prez said. Across the counter was Curtis. "It turns out he's been surviving off of rats for the past half a month."

Curtis froze.

He immediately started getting out ingredients. Flour, sugar, etc.

Prez took the boy to the bathroom next.

"We keep extra toothbrushes. Here, I don't think anyone in the club uses this shade of green."

Frederick took the toothbrush and toothpaste, and stated wordlessly brushing. It felt good, so good, to get all of that rat hair and meat out of his teeth.

He walked outside the bathroom, seeing Curtis and Gwen mixing something or other. He waved at them, and they waved back, before he continued outside.

When he got there, a couple of the members had actually gotten into the books. His eyes were glittering less light a diamond now and more like a flashlight.

He saw Monika laying on the floor reading a visual novel.

He crouched down, and started discussing the book with her. He had come up with so many theories about it, both when he was a kid, and as he grew older. It was nice to have a second opinion.

After a while of that, Gwen and Curtis came out of the kitchen with some trays. They were stacked to the brim wíth cinnamon rolls with a honey glaze. They didn't know what Frederick liked, so they played it safe. Everyone like cinnamon rolls.

Frederick eyed at the food from far away. He hadn't eaten anything in so long.

As soon as the trays were on the table, the CPC all crowded to get a taste of Gwen's amazing cooking. Frederick got first dibs though.

He moved back to Monika with the gooey confection in hand, and when he took a bit, he almost cried.

It really did taste amazing on it's own, and given he's been surviving off of rats meat for half a month, he finished that roll very quickly.

And another, and another. Until the club had consumed all of Gwen and Curtis's confections.

And, after all was said and done, they put the bookshelves away, put most of the books in boxes, and most of the club left, with exception of those who lived there like Nell and Whitney. And now Frederick, he remembered, and Prez, Whitney, and Nell guided him to his new room.

It had a brown wood floor, and the wall paper made it look like it was on top of a pirate ship. The bed frame had a steering wheel sticking out, and all over there were bookshelves with many of his favorites, but more room for other favorites he would find after.

"So, do you like it?"

Frederick gave his wide, happy, contagious smile, and the three took it as a yes.

They all left to go to bed, and Frederick did too.

For the first time in a long, long time, Frederick had a happy dream last night. Of friendly monsters and honey glazed cinnamon rolls.

Part 1 of CPC member Frederick

(may or may not make more sequels to this

#cursed princess club #cpc frederick #prince frederick #pretty much every other cpc character #cpc fanfiction

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thoumpingground · 8 months

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The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Thoughts: Chapters 51-53

Eliza Millward laughing at Gilbert made my blood boil. Glad it's the last we hear of her. I'm so glad she got the Lawrence siblings mixed up, and I'm so glad Esther is safe out of her mother's clutches. I hope she gets to enjoy Paris. I'm really disappointed Hargrave ended up remarrying. I know his wife being middle-aged and plain reflects poorly on him but the woman's gonna suffer more than he is, and that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Gilbert's track to the Woodgrove and Grassdale and Staningley had me sweating a little bit, even though I knew Helen couldn't possibly be getting married. His frenmity with Lawrence is still my favourite thing. "Scoundrel! He must have poisoned Helen against me! Wait, no, he's getting married... And he never told me? Rude... Okay, so maybe not he didn't poison anything but he could have helped!"... Gilbert, you've grown on me, but you gotta know you're a lot. Also, you can't blame the man for being weary of you when he experienced your violent streak. He's not cupid, calm down.

The reunion was... a lot. I'm glad Helen is back to being lively, but she's clearly retained some of her youthful flaws. I hope those two learned to communicate by the time Gilbert started mailing this whole thing cause wow are they BOTH dramatic! The whole thing with the rose was a lot. I tend to side with Gilbert here. Waiting for her to reach out after EVERYTHING was the considerate thing. I have to keep reminding myself she doesn't know about the whip to the face, but I still don't know why she also expects Frederick to play cupid. Accusing him of being indifferent while he's a big pile of nerves... Glad it all worked out. I shuddered when he called her "his angel" though. That's gonna be a red flag for me now.

Everything worked out! I'm glad Aunt Margaret got to breathe, too. Gilbert even got rid of the farm! Wonder what he did with all that free time. Love that Fergus has "latent qualities". Arthur marrying Helen Hattersley was a bit saccharine for me, but I'm glad Millie got to be family with Helen in a roundabout way.

This was such an intense read, but I'm so glad I did! I got some half baked thoughts on Huntingdon and how his conception of virtue and masculinity shape him. Gotta go reflect on that.

#gilbert markham #helen graham #tenant of wildfell hall #anne bronte #wildfell weekly #bronte blogging

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sureuncertainty · 2 years

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I posted 1,280 times in 2022

218 posts created (17%)

1,062 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@elytrians

@ablednt

@annieisyourfavourite

@neoncomets

@marcusbrutus

I tagged 1,101 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#win rambles - 181 posts

#laugh rule - 47 posts

#my art - 35 posts

#my characters - 29 posts

#dracula daily - 27 posts

#the silence agenda - 27 posts

#undescribed - 26 posts

#all for the game - 24 posts

#ref - 23 posts

#yeah - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i really haven't gotten a good round of feedback and i'm doing another round of edits before revising my query and goign back into querying

My Top Posts in 2022:

“no one likes a mad woman/

what a shame she went mad”

24 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

I'm gonna build me an empire And it's lonely at the top But madness and greatness Can both share a face And nobody will ever convince me to stop

(Version without dramatic lighting below)

39 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

today i had the children’s tour at work which is lowkey my favorite but also probably the most exhausting tour and my voice was already rundown so I was a little stressed about it. I had about six or seven very small children (probably like between 5 - 7 years old), some of whom were VERY enthusiastic about Titanic

anyway after the tour when i was catching my breath, i was talking to some of the kids from it in the gift shop. a little boy who had been asking questions the whole time (he was also wearing a captain’s hat) had chosen a little stuffed bear from the gift shop that was labeled a crew member. he asked me what the bear’s name was and I told him that he should come up with the name. he had told me that his favorite story that I had told on the tour was the story of Frederick Barrett (a fireman in the boiler room who’d saved about 70 people from being crushed in a lifeboat... look it up it’s an amazing story) which also happened to be one of my favorites of the crew stories. So I suggested he name it after him

NOT EVEN THINKING about the fact that because it was a stuffed bear, he could name it Frederick BEARett. his parents also found this great, and so that’s what we all decided to name the stuffed bear

i just hope that Frederick Barrett is somewhere in the afterlife happy to have his legacy carried on by a little stuffed bear with his name but as a pun. I know he had a sense of humor so I’d say it’s pretty likely

46 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

doodle of my new blorbo, Andrew Minyard, who did nothing wrong (except for the atrocities)

i love him so much it hurts

65 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

look at this family, a glowing constellation, so full of stars and everybody wants to shine

99 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #the way my top post didn't even break 100 rip #but the one about frederick barrett and the kid on my tour.... god i'm so glad that one got attention #i was just talking to my partner about how my job at titanic kinda saved my life this year #and even tho i'm likely gonna be leaving soon cause things have been going downhill that still means a lot

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solibrie · 11 months

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unfortunately for me. my brain won’t stop rotating a juke/chrobin au… what if juke was in a high fantasy political drama.

it’s soooo not a 1:1 fe13 au bc a lot of that necessitates the 2nd gen and i am not doing all that. there are not enough jatp characters 😭 but it’s also not a 1:1 with the first half anyway

i like the idea of julie being robin & luke being chrom, but with their roles inverted??? julie is the 2nd born daughter of a goddess (the goddess of death), not the heir to the plegian throne, and she’s straight chilling. living her best life. while luke is heir to ylisse but was raised in a cult that enforced hating the goddess of death & those touched by her. caleb is the archbishop (see: cult leader) and tries to instigate a war by sending luke near the border, wiping his memory, and letting julie find him so he can spin it as a kidnapping. except the spell wears off, luke remembers, and suddenly has to reckon the girl he KNOWS with the girl he’s been told about his entire life.

or something

whenever i try to explain the plot of fe13 i feel like i’m talking nonsense 😭 but trust me it makes perfect sense in my brain

reggie is julie’s older brother. alex is frederick. bobby is frederick… 2! bobby and carrie were twins separated at birth when carrie’s mother ran away to plegia. trevor is a general in ylisse. carrie and dirty candy are julie’s bodyguards. flynn is julie’s bestie and reggie’s betrothed. willie is caleb’s pet project, is in on the plan, and hates it SO MUCH but can’t do anything about it because Blackmail. carlos is like 13 and loving life. this au exists so strongly in my mind and it’s one of the most self indulgent, dramatic things imaginable

BUT CAN YOU BLAME ME!!! luke would love to tell julie, “you are the wind at my back and the sword at my side. together, my love, we shall build a peaceful world... just you and me.”

#hummingbird chirp

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starlitangels · 2 years

Text

Waterfall

Pups AU. Requested by @zozo-01 even though I was gonna write it anyway! Have Gabriel and Micah’s first date! 2.7k words

—

“G’night, little darlin’. Happy birthday,” Sam said, kissing Micah on the top of her head.

“Night Dad. Thank you.”

Sam ruffled Micah’s blue hair, still damp from her shower, and gave her a gentle nudge toward her room. She ducked inside and shut the door behind her. Flicking on the lamp on her desk, she went to turn down her covers.

Vzzt! Vzzt! Her phone vibrated on her bedside table. Turning eighteen granted new privileges—like being allowed to charge her phone in her room overnight rather than downstairs in the kitchen so she didn’t stay up late texting. Not that she would. Her contact list consisted of her pack, the clan, and one classmate from each class in case she missed a day and needed some notes or the homework.

She snatched her phone up.

Gabriel Shaw: Happy Birthday, birthday girl. How was your day?

Smiling, she slid up the phone to reveal the keyboard.

It was good! My siblings are as tone-deaf as ever. Frederick singing “Happy Birthday” every year should really be a cringe compilation. But both of them always mean well and I know they love me, so it’s from the heart. So I don’t complain.

She set her phone down on the bedside table and turned off the lamp, crawling under the covers.

Gabriel Shaw: I didn’t interrupt, did I?

No. I’m getting in bed. Just got out of the shower.

Gabriel: Oh okay. Look out your window.

Micah looked toward her window. She slid out of her bed and tiptoed over to the window.

She shoved it open. “How long have you been out there?” she hissed.

Gabriel was standing in the back “yard” of the house—the woods—with a bouquet of bright blue roses. Micah’s mouth hung open in surprise.

He smiled up at her. “Not long. Just got here, actually.” He beckoned with a wave. “Come down!”

“Are you crazy?! My dad will kill both of us!”

Gabriel winked. “I already cleared it with him.”

She sighed dramatically and climbed out the window. Letting go of the window frame, she shifted and pushed off the wall a moment before her feet turned to paws.

She hit the ground gracefully on all fours, taking the impact better as a wolf than she could as a human. Once she was secure, she shifted back.

Gabriel stuck the flowers out for her. “Happy birthday, Micah,” he said.

She took them, careful not to stick herself on a few lingering thorns that had been missed in the de-thorning process. “Thank you. How... how did you get blue roses? They’re not natural.”

Gabriel smiled. “They were white.” He cleared his throat. “Danny helped me. Out of all of us, Danny’s the best at literally any other magic. He changed them to blue. A month ago we tried watering cut white roses with blue-dyed water but it didn’t work as well as we hoped so we did this instead.”

Micah chuckled, burying her nose into the soft petals of one of the flowers and inhaling deeply. “So, your little sister’s boyfriend helped you figure out how to ask your little sister’s best friend out on a date without your overprotective little sister—and beta of your pack—finding out?”

“Trust me, none of that was easy. But Natalie knows I like you. And she’s made her stance on me asking you out very clear. I can ask you out, I can date you if we get to that point, but if I ever do anything untoward or disrespectful, she will let you do whatever you want to me in reprisal without you getting in trouble—and she will assist you.”

Micah’s chuckle turned into a full laugh. “Sounds about right.” She tightened her grip on the roses. “But I know you. You’d never do anything disrespectful or untoward. Your parents raised you right.”

Gabriel looked away, shoulders curling up toward his ears. “I... I, uh...”

Micah grinned and reached out with one hand, resting it on Gabriel’s upper arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, Gabe,” she said. Still testing out how the nickname he never used felt in her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with being told you’re a good guy.”

“Well, uh... thanks.” He cleared his throat. “And even if I ever did—for whatever reason—you’d be right there to put me in my place.”

“Immediately and without hesitation.” Micah winked at him with a smirk.

That coaxed out Gabriel’s grin. “I know.” He cleared his throat again. “So, uh, Micah?”

“Yeah?”

“I promised you a date a couple months ago.”

“I recall.”

“Saturday at five?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Gabriel’s grin widened until he was beaming. “Great!” He leaned to look over her shoulder. “But I really should get going before Tanker chases me off the property.”

Micah glanced behind her to see the last glimpse of her parents dodging out of sight in their bedroom window. She rolled her eyes. Of course they were watching. She turned back around to face Gabriel. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday.” He turned to leave—and paused. Slowly, he rotated back. “M... may I say goodbye?”

Micah’s ears burned. “You may.”

Gabriel smiled. He swooped down—Micah was nine inches shorter than him—and pecked a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Micah,” he whispered.

“G’night, Gabe.”

Beaming like an idiot, Gabriel twisted. With a single leap he shifted and bounded off through the woods.

Entire body feeling warm, Micah picked her way over the ground to the back door and slipped inside. She ignored the looks on her older siblings’ faces—one of mild surprise and one of wickedly impish delight—and went to dig a vase out from one of the cupboards. She filled it with water and the plant food wrapped into the bouquets rubber band before setting the blue roses on the mantle.

Quiet footsteps entered the living room. “About damn time he asked you out,” a familiar voice said.

Micah rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, bright eyes,” she snapped before dodging out of the room and running upstairs to her bathroom. She washed off her feet before going back to her bedroom to go to bed.

—

Dress code?

Gabriel Shaw: Well I was thinking a hike. So whatever you want to wear on a hike.

Shifted hike or just human hike? Those are two different outfit choices.

Gabriel Shaw: Human.

Ah. So someone wants an excuse to see me in my leggings ;)

Gabriel Shaw: That’s not what I was thinking! Gabriel Shaw: Oh God. Gabriel Shaw: You have a dirty mind, you know that?

You sound like your dad.

Gabriel Shaw: Not surprising. He raised me. Gabriel Shaw: Anyway Gabriel Shaw: Back to the matter at hand Gabriel Shaw: Hike. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself by going axe-throwing, and I know you’re not into traditional dates like dinner or movies or both. So I thought you’d enjoy a hike.

I appreciate that. Very thoughtful of you. I don’t think even Natalie could wrangle me into wearing a skirt to a fancy restaurant or something like that.

Gabriel Shaw: I know. Which is why I figured a hike would be better.

Despite her jokes, Micah did not put on her leggings. She didn’t actually like leggings. They were too tight and she’d never found them comfortable. She didn’t know what other people liked about them so much. So, despite the fact that she had a pair for working out, she never actually used them.

Instead, she yanked on a pair of comfortable shorts. One of her many black tank tops followed. Since graduating high school, she hadn’t bothered much with wearing shirts with sleeves.

She sat on the floor to yank on her sneakers.

A knock echoed off her doorframe.

Her dad was leaning against the frame. “Excited?” Sam asked.

She nodded. Her expression faltered. “Little nervous.”

“I don’t blame you, but why are you nervous, little darlin’?”

She gestured vaguely toward her head. “I don’t know—because I’m the weirdo with the blue hair. I thought about dyein’ it back to my natural hair color but—”

“Now why would you do that? Gabriel’s crush on ya developed after you started dyeing your hair blue.”

Micah looked up from where she’d been tying her shoe. “You’re bein’ really chill about this.”

Sam shrugged. “Gotta accept that my little girl is growin’ up. And Gabriel’s a good kid. I’ve watched him grow. I know he’ll be good to you.

“And that you are my mate’s child and you will rip him to shreds if he hurts or disrespects you. Not that he would. But the fact of the matter remains that you’ve always been strong enough to take care of yourself.”

Micah laughed. “Fair enough.” She hopped to her feet and gave her dad a hug. Sam clung to her gently, nose buried in her hair. “I’ll be okay, Dad. I know datin’ was never really my thing but... I like him. I’ve always liked him. Embarrassin’ as that is to admit.”

“Embarrasin’? Why?”

“I... what’s more cliché than havin’ a crush on my best friend’s older brother?”

Sam laughed. “Oh, Micah,” he sighed. “Be grateful it’s someone you know so well.”

“I am. Really. I am,” she replied.

“C’mon. He’ll be here soon, and both of your parents need to have a little talk with you.”

“Oh God,” Micah groaned in complaint, following her dad out of her room.

—

“So this isn’t a hike,” Micah said.

Gabriel smirked. “I thought you’d rather run.”

Her grin widened. “You know me so well.” She bent her knees. The both of them stretched out their muscles. Once they finished, Micah leaned forward. “Race ya!” she exclaimed.

Gabriel swore as Micah bolted ahead. “Get back here!”

Gabriel should have had the race in the bag. He was six-foot-five, for crying out loud—she was five-foot-eight. Nine inches taller than her—but she was so fast that even his longer stride eating up more ground than hers made no difference compared to how much faster she could move her body.

Micah cackled, tearing down the path. “Catch me if you can, wolf boy!”

He was just barely behind her. But the wide, bright grin on her face when she cast a look over her shoulder made his heart pound harder than it already was from running. Her tight blue waves bounced on her forehead.

She turned again to face forward and sprint.

They reached a bend in the dirt trail. “I win!” she exclaimed, skidding to a stop.

Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. You win,” he relented.

They both laughed, trying to catch their breath.

“C’mon. The trail isn’t that long.” Gabriel waved for her to follow him. They started a slow, easy pace up the trail. Pleasant conversation flowed easily between the two of them. They’d known each other Micah’s entire life. But without Natalie—and usually Danny—there to add to the conversation, there was a lot less sarcasm and snark. And a lot less wrestling as everyone tried to make their point.

“Y’know, it’s really quiet without everyone else here. I know it’s been a bit since we got to play DnD with everybody, but usually at least my sister is here to be obnoxious. I like how peaceful it is with just us,” Gabriel said.

Micah hummed and nodded.

They continued hiking.

After a few minutes, Gabriel slowed to a stop. “This is where we go off the trail,” he said. “Come on.”

“Off the trail?” Micah quoted. Gabriel nodded. “Okay. Lead the way.” She followed him as he stepped off the path and into the wilds beyond. They were both shifters. The rugged underbrush was familiar. It was easy for them to pick their way around it. The wild forest was like a second home to most shifters—and Gabriel and Micah were no exception.

“Okay. We’re almost there. Close your eyes.”

“How am I supposed to navigate the forest with my eyes closed?”

“I’ll guide you, if you’ll let me.” Gabriel offered her both of his hands. Reluctantly, she took them and shut her eyes. “Okay. Keep going. Just follow where I tug you. Watch your step.” He held onto her gently. She clenched her jaw in concentration and followed his instructions. “Lift your left foot higher to clear a root. That’s it. Good. Just keep following me.” His grip around her fingers tightened slightly. “The ground is a little uneven right here. Just hold on tight.”

“Mmhmm,” Micah muttered.

She trusted him, but she didn’t like this.

Running water reached her ears, which had been drowned out by the birds and the wind in the trees.

“Okay,” Gabriel said. “Open them.”

Micah opened her eyes.

“Oh, my God,” she said softly.

A waterfall fell into a small pool from higher up the mountain face, rushing away to the creek the trail occasionally ran alongside of.

Spread out on the bank of the pool, just out of range of the waterfall’s spray, sat a picnic.

“It��s beautiful.”

Gabriel smiled. “You like it?”

“I do.”

“G-great! Here. The stone can get a little slick. Let me help you over.”

Micah let him keep his grip on her hands as they picked their way over to the picnic blanket. He helped her settle before folding himself down across from her. He opened the cooler. “Hope you don’t mind—Natalie did most of the cooking for this.”

Micah laughed. “I don’t at all. Because at least it means the food will be edible.”

“I’m not that bad in the kitchen!” Gabriel complained.

Micah threw her head back. “Says the man who can’t make ramen without damn near setting the drapes on fire.”

“That was one time!”

“Yeah, and we’re never going to let you forget it,” Micah retorted.

“You guys are bullies. All of you.”

“If you didn’t get riled every time, we’d probably stop.”

“You and Natalie wouldn’t. You’re chaos gremlins. Evelyn too.”

Micah shrugged. “What can we say? The Greers are the only ones with decent manners.”

Gabriel snorted. “That’s for damn sure,” he muttered.

—

“Okay, okay, okay—longest playlist?” Gabriel asked.

“Alt rock. I have... ten hours of songs?” Micah replied.

Gabriel swore under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Micah nodded. “Yep. How about... best childhood memory?”

He leaned back on his hands. “Camping. I was eight. Dad snuck me out of the tent while the rest of the family slept on. We climbed up a hill and found a great spot to see the sky with no light pollution. Dad’s always been busy—sometimes it’s easy to feel a bit distant from him. But it was one of those moments of pure connection that felt like... like he was my dad, not just my father and alpha.” Gabriel cleared his throat and cast his gaze over to the waterfall. “That took a melancholy turn. Sorry.”

Micah shook her head. “No, no. It’s okay. I... I never knew that. I could have guessed—but as a stupid kid who notices?”

Gabriel grunted. “Yeah. Okay... I have a question for you.”

“That’s how the game works.”

He licked his lower lip. “Can... can I kiss you?”

Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth fell open. To say she wasn’t expecting the question—this soon—was a bit of an understatement.

She cleared her throat. “Y-yeah. You can.”

Gabriel reached up and slid his hand around the back of her head, fingers sliding through vibrant blue waves. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, leaning forward.

Micah met him eagerly. She didn’t want to admit—even to herself—that she’d been daydreaming about this for... a long time. She couldn’t even remember when her crush on Gabriel started. It felt like... it had just always been there. As much a part of her life as her wolf.

That was ridiculous, but sometimes she didn’t remember what her life was like before her powers manifested either. So she wasn’t surprised.

The feeling of his lips on hers...

Fireworks. Magic. Energy.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she lifted a hand to wrap around the back of his neck, holding him closer to her. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest it drowned out the waterfall.

Micah didn’t care. And, given the way Gabriel wound his fingers into her waves, he didn’t either.

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Pups AU #Micah Collins #Gabriel D. Shaw #fun fact:#my husband proposed to me on a hike at the top of the trail #was Danny cloaked off to the side of the date? no absolutely not #is it funny to imagine he was though? yep #Starlit Fic

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vivianweasley · 4 years

Text

Reason Why I Hate You (Fred Weasley X Reader)

Summary: You hated Fred Weasley, but you just didn’t know why. Maybe it was because there was some unfinished business between you two from a past life? past life au and a bit of enemies to lovers.

Prompt: this is for @slytherinsunrise‘s writing challenge and the prompt is Historical AU! Hope you guys would like it:)

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Fem!Reader

Warnings: murder, major character death, arranged marriage, terrible husband, reader’s family in past life is pureblood supremacist, sound of explosion (firework), angst in the past life, fluff in this life

Word Count: 2.2k

Special thanks to @valwritesx for giving me wonderful advices<3

Disclaimer: all the pictures in the moodboard are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

It all began on an early autumn afternoon.

1815, an afternoon in September, Frederick Weasley just threw a water ball on his potions professor, and he was now hiding in a broom closet, waiting for his angry professor to go away.

But he heard footsteps approaching the door. Just when Fred was sure that detention is waiting for him, he saw a girl at the door.

“What are you doing-” before you could even finish your question, Fred pulled you into the broom closet, closed the door, and covered your mouth with his hand.

The space inside the broom closet was so limited that your bodies were pressed together now. You felt your face heating up, and your heart was racing. You should be furious. You should scold the man in front of you for being rude or even slap him for that, but you were just standing there stiffly, with your eyes wide opened.

There was another series of footsteps approaching the broom closet now, and you heard the potion professor yelling, “You’re dead if I catch you! Ten points from Gryffindor!”

After the sound of footsteps faded, Fred finally let go of you. You finally got the chance to step on his foot, causing him to jump in pain.

“I probably deserved that.” His hands were still rubbing his foot, but he didn’t forget to joke, “So, tell me, what brings you to the broom closet?”

You glared at him, “I was looking for my cat.”

He nodded, “I’m guessing that you are curious about what brings me here, to this broom closet, to meet with you.”

“Oh, I already know. You just threw a water ball on the potions professor, and now you are on the run.”

His face suddenly lit up, “So you just saw my work?”

“Who doesn’t know about Frederick Weas-”

“It’s Fred.”

You glared at him and continued, “Who doesn’t know about Frederick Weasley’s shenanigans.”

“So you already know my name!” He smiled, couldn’t hide the pride on his face, “May I have the honor to know yours?”

You rolled your eyes, “Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

He bowed a little and pretended to tip his imaginary hat, “Y/F/N Y/L/N, my pleasure.”

This man was frivolous, reckless, and didn’t respect any rules. You had all the reasons to hate him, but why was your heart beating so fast? You sighed, as you could already foresee a future that’s out of your control, “My displeasure.”

Like many romance novels from that period, the girl with a strict upbringing fell in love with the infamous troublemaker. You and Fred were very different people. You were like different sides of a coin, but this couldn’t affect the attraction between you two. Once the spark between you was ignited, there was no turning back. It was as if fate was pulling you together.

You decided to get married after graduating from Hogwarts, but your family forbade this marriage.

They said the Weasleys were blood traitors, and Frederick Weasley was nothing but an ignorant boy of ill-breeding. Your pureblood supremacist family could never give you their blessings. In fact, they already betrothed you to the youngest son of the Burkes, Ralph Burke.

You’ve met Ralph a few times. Not only did he believe in pureblood supremacy, but he also believed that women should do nothing but stay home and be a good wife.

Fred’s situation wasn’t too good as well. His family hated your family, and they wanted their son to marry the Johnson girl.

You and Fred met under a sycamore tree. He sounded desperate, “Let’s run away! Let’s run to a place where no one knows us. France, America, anywhere but here!”

You nodded. You didn’t want to care about how eloping would ruin your and your family’s reputation. These ridiculous rules controlled you all your life; it was time for you to finally do something reckless, something for yourself.

He let out a sigh of relief and held you tightly, “Three days later, I’ll wait for you under this sycamore tree at night. We will get married the next morning!”

After the longest three days in your life, you tiptoed around the house to make sure that everyone was asleep, and you started running as soon as you left the house. You only brought a small bag of galleons to help you survive the first few days and left everything else behind.

You wanted nothing from your past. All you wanted was to start a new life that is carefree and full of choices you could make on your own. A life that you could spend with someone you love.

But when you reached the sycamore tree, the person waiting for you wasn’t Fred, but Ralph.

Ralph’s face was emotionless when he told you that Fred already left the town two days ago because he was afraid. He was afraid of being tied down by you and being forced into another marriage by his family, so he ran away on his own.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew Fred loved freedom, but he was never someone who would break a promise.

Ralph took you to the Weasleys, and Mrs. Weasley’s reaction confirmed everything as she yelled, “Where is my sweet Frederick? What did you do to him??”

So it was true. He ran away, without you.

You felt lifeless as you collapsed. You couldn’t understand it. If he was so afraid of the restrictions that marriage brings, why would he even suggest eloping with you?

You felt deceived and betrayed. Anger and sorrow were clouding your reasons. You were willing to sacrifice everything for him. Your reputation, your family, the life you had, everything. But he still ran away without you. He left you behind.

You felt like a joke.

You felt hopeless.

Three months later, after still not hearing anything from Fred, you gave in to your family’s expectations and agreed to Ralph’s proposal.

You were locked up in the Burke Manor after becoming Ralph’s bride. Misery and resentment were the only things that kept you company in this cold cage that was shaped like a luxurious manor.

Finally, after two years of living in this agony, you closed your eyes forever.

You left this world still resenting Fred. You left without knowing that two years ago under that sycamore tree, he closed his eyes before you.

That night when you and Fred met at the tree for the last time, Ralph was there, too. After hearing that his fiancee was planning to run away with another man, a blood traitor, he couldn’t stand the humiliation. He confronted Fred, but Fred didn’t seem to care at all. Merlin, Ralph hated that smug smile of Fred.

Rage took over him, and he raised his wand at Fred. It was a simple death curse. Ralph took care of the crime scene calmly and returned home, pretending like nothing ever happened.

And just like that, Fred disappeared. No one knew the truth. No one knew that until his last breath, he was still holding a wedding ring. The world only knew a coward called Frederick Weasley, who ran away on his own after promising forever to a poor girl.

~~~

September 1991, you were admitted to Hogwarts along with the famous Harry Potter. You soon became friends with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And naturally, you also became friends with the other Weasley kids, except for one, Fred Weasley.

You were even great friends with George, but there was something about him that warned you to stay away from him.

Fred was hurt, but he wasn’t too worried because he knew for sure that he could find a way to make you like him.

1995. You were having lunch with your friends at the Great Hall. It was a perfectly normal day until you saw a spark floating in front of you. And before you realized what it was, something exploded on top of your head. For a moment, you thought your heart was jumping out of your chest.

You looked up and saw fireworks exploding across the Great Hall and spelling out “Y/N Happy Birthday.” You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly who would come up with something dramatic like this.

You also heard some people gasping and saying that they were jealous. But you weren’t happy with it at all. It not only almost scared your soul out of your body, but also made you feel embarrassed.

You stood up and tried to run away, but you heard Snape’s voice, “Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Weasley, this is not a carnival. Detention.”

“Professor, it was all me. She has nothing to do with it!” Great, at least he’s not only a stupid git, but a chivalrous stupid git.

“Good. Ten more points from Gryffindor.”

The Gryffindor table soon started groaning, and you sighed. What kind of birthday gift is this?

After class, you and Fred were sent to the divination classroom to wipe all the crystal balls. You were sent here because Snape didn’t want to risk having Fred breaking all of his precious potion bottles. As of Trelawney’s crystal balls? Snape couldn’t care less.

Looking at the classroom that was filled with crystal balls, you sighed. What did you do to deserve this bloody simpleton in your life?

“Y/N, I’m sorry...” You could hear the guilt in his voice.

But you still replied bitterly, “Forget it. It was nothing. Who cares about spending birthday at Hogsmeade anyway, right?” You knew you shouldn’t be so passive-aggressive, but you just couldn’t put away the hostility towards him.

But Fred couldn’t take it anymore, “Why do you hate me so much? If it was something I did, I apologize. But you hated me from the very beginning. What the bloody hell did I do?”

“I-” You rolled your eyes. Isn’t it clear enough? You hated him because...Then it struck you. You didn’t know how to answer his question. Yes, you could say you hated him because he was reckless and pompous, but was this the real reason why you hated him?

“I-I don’t know.” You lowered your head, feeling both defeated and confused.

“Then could you at least try not to hate me that much?”

Guilt started rising in your stomach, but you didn’t want to admit your defeat, “Why do you care? There are so many others who love you.”

“I care because I fancy you!”

You were still dumbfounded and not sure how to react, but you heard a cough behind you. You and Fred turned together and saw Trelawney.

Except now, her eyes were rolled back, and she started speaking in a hoarse, guttural voice, “180 years later, the star-crossed lovers meet again...One with regret... and one with resentment...On this fateful day...destiny ties them back together once again...”

And then she coughed again and returned to her usual self, “Oh, that was embarrassing. What was I doing here again..Oh right! You two can leave now. I don’t need cleaning here.”

“But Professor Trelawney, Professor Snape said...”

“Oh don’t worry dear, I already told him. You two are good to go!” Trelawney thought back on how scared she was when Snape told her that Fred Weasley was cleaning her classroom. She came here as fast as she could and was relieved when she saw all the crystal balls were still intact.

“Do you think Trelawney was talking about us?” Fred asked after you two left the classroom.

“When did you start to believe in that?” You sounded nonchalant, but deep down, you always believed that Trelawney was actually excellent at divination, so you started panicking after hearing that oracle.

Fred ignored your question, “What did she say? One with resentment? That sounds like you.”

“And you’re the one with regret? Do you even know what regret feels like?”

“Yea! I regret that I did make a great impression. I regret that...I didn’t make you fancy me like I fancy you!”

“You are hopeless, Frederick Weasley. Stop saying that if you don’t mean it!” You were angry. Does he even know that he shouldn’t say something like that? What if people took it seriously? But knowing how frivolous he was, he probably said that to everyone. So why were you still blushing? The more you thought about it, the angrier you got, so you decided to walk faster to get rid of him.

But Fred kept up and stopped you, “But I’m serious. I mean it.”

He looked so sincere when his warm brown eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. You stuttered, “F-fine...then I guess I...don’t hate you either...”

“Great! That’s some progress!” He grinned, “You know, if we start running now, we might still have time to go to Hogsmeade.”

You raised your eyebrows and he continued, “If I could make up for your birthday, would you go on a date with me?”

“I... could consider that.” Your face was heating up, but you started walking faster again so he won’t see how flustered you were.

But of course, he kept up again. “Why are you always calling me Frederick?”

“I don’t know. It just appeared in my head. Plus, I feel like you hate it.”

“I do. It sounds sad.”

“Who knows, maybe it’s your name in your past life,” you joked.

“Then I’m pretty sure I hated it in my past life, too,” he shrugged, “Whatever, this life is all that matters now.”

You didn’t reply as you looked at him. He was smiling at you, and at this moment, you knew your future was going to change, in a good way this time.

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#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #tw major character death #slytherinsunrise1k

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

meet you there

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY CONSENT. likes/reblogs/comments are perfectly fine!

prompt: this actually wasn’t a request but it was a fic title prompt from my 4k sleepover that @accioxreparo sent my way -- the title she came up with was ‘meet you there’ and i’ve picked freddie. you can view the original idea here, if you please. general reminder that my requests are currently CLOSED

pairing: fred x ravenclaw!reader

word count: 2.6k

warning(s): character death

A/N: i’m real sorry

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @acciotwinz @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake | message me to be added or removed! [lots of tags not working for me today idk i’m sorry!]

Ages 8 and 7

“Freddie! Did you see? Did you see what I did?”

Eight year old Fred squealed with delight as you did a tiny little backflip on your broom in the air outside the Burrow. The pinks and purples of the sky were melting together, and he knew that night was growing nearer. “I did, Y/N! Can’t wait ‘til we both get to Hogwarts and can play Quidditch together. You’re going to make a fantastic Seeker. That was bloody brilliant!”

“Frederick Weasley!”

Molly’s voice was shrill, but she peered out through the window of her kitchen and shook her head, as if she were trying to guess how many times she’d scolded Fred already today. She sighed, choosing to fight a different battle than that of his language. “It’s supper time, Freddie.”

The both of you flew gently to the ground and landed. You tossed Fred the extra broomstick and wiped the sweat from your forehead. “See you tomorrow then?”

“Nah, later,” Fred replied. He nodded toward the other end of the large field in front of his house. “After dinner, let’s go up the hill and look at the stars for a bit. My dad says there are supposed to be wicked constellations tonight!”

You giggled before pulling your hair back off of your shoulders and turning to head back toward your own house just around the bend. “Don’t let you mum see you!”

“Don’t worry,” Fred told you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I won’t. Meet you there!”

Ages 11 and 10

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. How come Fred would get to start at Hogwarts without you? Your mum told you it was because he was already eleven. You still had a few months until your birthday. But it still wasn’t fair!

You slumped on the couch next to the empty fireplace as Fred attempted to bring his huge trunk down the steps. They both hit the floor with a loud thump!

“Bloody help me, won’t you?”

“Not when you talk to me like that,” you frowned. It didn’t take long before the two of you were erupting into giggles, though.

Fred placed himself beside you and gently elbowed you in the ribs. “Hey, don’t be so sad. You’ll be at Hogwarts in just a year’s time. And besides, aren’t you excited that I’ll know my way around the castle, and I’ll be able to tell you all the places to avoid and the best times to sneak out of the common rooms?”

You huffed and kicked his foot before beginning to tug at the hem of your shirt. “You wouldn’t! You’ll get me into all sorts of shenanigans, and.. and.. probably detention.. and probably turn my hair bright green or something!”

“Only if you’re placed into Slytherin,” Fred grinned. The sunlight flooding the windows highlighted the dimple on the right side of his face. “So it’d better be Gryffindor.”

You rolled your eyes. “And how are you so sure you’re going to be placed in Gryffindor, mister?”

Fred pointed at himself, as if to say, isn’t it obvious? “The whole lot of my family has been in Gryffindor for years! George and I aren’t going to break that streak. What kind of Weasley d’you think I am?”

“The annoying kind?”

“That’s plain rude,” Fred replied before thwacking you with a throw pillow. The two of you began hitting one another incessantly before Mr. Weasley’s calls came from outside. It was time to go. You were embarrassed at how quickly the tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned toward the fireplace so Fred wouldn’t see.

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” his voice was softer than before. “When you get to Hogwarts next year, I’ll show you all the secret passageways and let you know what the best sweets are, and I promise to not turn your hair bright green. Even if you are placed in Slytherin.”

A gentle smile tugged at your mouth, but it didn’t stop the tears from coming still. Fred continued when you didn’t, “I’ll miss you, you know.”

You sniffled and bit down on your wobbling lip. “I’ll miss you, too. Have fun playing Quidditch.”

Fred’s eyes went bright as the two of you wandered outside to meet the rest of the Weasleys. “That reminds me! Be sure to keep practicing here, yeah? With Ron and Ginny. I reckon mum’ll let them play a little bit with you. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Fred tugged his trunk and placed it into the back of Mr. Weasley’s Ford Anglia before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Mr. Weasley was calling his name again. Fred gently elbowed you in the ribs once more before bopping your nose with his finger. His grin was brighter than the sun. “Meet you there!”

Ages 15 and 14

You stared in the mirror at your very obnoxious coloured blue hair. It resembled that of your Ravenclaw tie. You so wanted to be angry at him. You wanted to be angry, but you had to admit -- he was kind of brilliant.

As promised, he hadn’t turned your hair bright green when you’d arrived at Hogwarts a year after him, especially after you’d been placed in Ravenclaw, and not in Slytherin. He forgave you for not being placed in Gryffindor, though. He’d said he was excited to pummel Ravenclaw to the ground in Quidditch, anyway.

You knew the counter spell, but you kind of wanted to show off this new look of yours. Plus, wouldn’t he be absolutely floored if you waltzed into the Great Hall, not batting an eyelash at anyone who was brave enough to give you a look?

You plopped yourself down at the Gryffindor table during breakfast after making a few heads turn -- including three sixty head turns from the house ghosts. George spat out his tea and was not-so-subtle when it came to trying to hide his laughter. Fred raked his bottom lip through his teeth and smiled brightly.

“Ah, good morning,” he said before turning back to his porridge, “and how are we?”

“We are brilliant,” you picked a piece of his toast off of his plate and bit into it. When he threaded his eyebrows together and tried to get it back from you, you just stretched your arm back. “Oh, I’m sorry, is this yours? I figured, you know, since my hair now matches the colour of my robes, I was allowed to take your breakfast since you’ve been a foul little git.”

At first, his eyes widened in horror. But when he saw the faint smile on your lips as you continued to scarf down his breakfast, his shoulders relaxed. He raised his eyebrows, “Was worried you might be mad at me for a second there.”

“Mad? Never.” you replied. “Now if it had been green, well, that’d be a different story. But I’ve got to say, Weasley, I reckon blue suits me just fine.” You flipped your hair over your shoulder and started to laugh.

Fred yanked the half eaten slice of toast out of your hands and shoved the rest of it into his mouth. Your jaw dropped dramatically as he licked his lips and took a long slug of his tea. “Couldn’t agree more, Y/N,” he began and you rolled your eyes. Always the jokester, he was. But when he looked at you with a new type of admiration and serenity in his eyes, you froze. “You could have blue hair and purple eyebrows and I’d still think you were the most beautiful girl on this earth.”

It was just a small moment, one shared between the two of you, when he grinned so earnestly you swore he might spill out all his heart’s desires to you. But as quickly as it appeared, it had vanished, and he went back to wiggling his eyebrows at you teasingly and eating his porridge. “Hey, wanna run some Quidditch drills after this?”

“Sure,” you replied a little too quickly, trying to catch your breath. You stood up from the table to get some breakfast of your own. “Meet you there. Oh, but first, Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

You smirked. “Before anything else happens today, it’s my turn to dye your hair.”

He thought on this for a moment before reaching out for a high five. He loved how you’d come to negotiate with him over the years. He guessed it was from being on the receiving end of tons of his pranks. He swallowed down his nerves and replied, “Deal.”

Ages 17 and 16

“Fred! Bloody hell, what’s gotten into you?”

“Just have to get you alone, don’t I?” he smirked.

The two of you were stumbling giddily, alone in a back corner of the desolate girls’ dormitory in the Ravenclaw common room. Most everyone were either in lessons or out on the grounds on this gorgeous day, but the two of you chose to be locked inside, for you didn’t exactly know how much time you’d be able to spend alone before he left. Especially with Toad Face breathing down your necks every chance she got.

His lips were locked with yours for what seemed like hours. It was slow and easy and comforting before he reluctantly pulled away and started tracing circles onto your hands, trying as he might to lot let you see the glassiness in his eyes.

“Promise me something,”

“What?”

He sighed. “Next year, bring home the cup. You were robbed this year, love. Bloody Umbridge banning us from matches, and now the entire schedule is all wonky. Bring it home. But I swear if you tell any Gryffindors I said that, I’ll deny it.”

You raked your bottom lip through your teeth before poking him in the stomach. “You? A Gryffindor, hoping a Ravenclaw wins the cup? What would the other students think?”

“I reckon they’d think I’m out of my mind.”

You snorted. “Well, yeah, you are.”

The laughter faded away after a few moments, and Fred peered lovingly into your eyes. You could tell how much his nerves were eating at him -- leaving this all behind, not finishing school. The wrath of his mother. The unknown of how the shop will do. You traced the freckles on his cheeks and nose.

“You’ll be okay, you know. Actually, more than okay. It’ll be bloody brilliant, alright?”

Fred swallowed thickly before squeezing your hips. “You promise?”

“I promise. Do you promise to wait for me once you get there? I’ve got some exams to finish up.” You winked.

Fred laughed lightly and pulled you into his chest before placing light kisses onto your head. He took a long, deep breath and continued to caress your hair as you both tried not to think about the upcoming weeks. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried with all of your might to focus on the sound of his heartbeat, but each thump of his pulse was just another reminder that you were one second closer to him leaving.

“I promise,” he echoed you. “I’ll meet you there, won’t I?”

Ages 20 and 19

“Of course we’ll win! We’re bloody brilliant, aren’t we? Reckon Voldy won’t even be able to stand a chance, ruddy pumpkin head, he is.”

“Fred, please, just -- can’t you be serious for one moment?”

“Haven’t got a serious bone in my body, I’m afraid.”

“Freddie.”

His sigh had sounded different. It had a strange sense of urgency to it. He turned over in bed, took your head in his hands and pressed his lips together. He began to gently caress his thumb over your jawline. He’d never looked so serious in all his life. “I promise that everything will be alright. But you’ve got to try and get some sleep, darling.”

“But I can’t --”

“You’ve got to try. I’m right here.”

You swallowed down your tears and nuzzled your face into his chest. You breathed in the all too familiar smell of Molly’s washing detergent, and squeezed his fingers in yours. The two of you lay wide away in the darkness of the night, your breathing finally in sync with one another.

“When this is all over, we’ll be a proper family, alright? You and me. I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before laughing again. “You didn’t really expect one of us to leave without getting married first, did you?”

He groaned a bit when you teasingly punched him square in the stomach.

That was just last evening.

How had everything changed so drastically in less than twenty four hours? Why had those few precious hours in bed gone by so quickly?

Why hadn’t Fred been able to keep his promise?

You and George both had your arms wrapped tightly around one another, probably to help one another stay upright. You didn’t quite know how you were able to still walk, not when your body felt like all of the blood and oxygen had been drained from it. The two of you fell to the floor beside him; Fred’s body was still warm, his skin so soft, as though he were simply asleep.

You wanted to go back in time. Any amount of time, just to get more of it with him. Just to hear him say he loved you, to tell you he couldn’t wait until you both would get married, just to hear him say your name.

He’d managed to fight without gaining but a scratch. His hair was still perfectly messy, just like it always was, his hands folded neatly across his chest. It was miraculous, really, that there were so many others here, in this room, alive, who looked far worse than he did. And yet it was him who was dead.

It was him who’d had his life stolen out from underneath him, like a cruel joke.

You turned to George, blurry through your vision, and choked out the only few words you were brave enough to speak. “He didn’t keep his promise.”

George dropped his head and let his hoarse cries rattle through the Great Hall. He squeezed your hand and lay across his brother, begging him to wake up, just wake up. You tried to pull George back to his feet, but his body felt much heavier than it had just a few hours ago. Percy pulled him into a hug and let George cry, very similarly to the time when you were all very young and he’d fallen off of his broom and broken his ankle. And who had made him feel better? Fred, of course.

Fred looked so tranquil, it was almost terrifying to look at him. And yet, you couldn’t look away. You tried, through your blurry vision, to memorize everything about him -- the arch of his eyebrows, the way his eyelashes brushed gently against his cheeks, the spattering of freckles across his nose, the way his one ear was slightly crooked from the other. You wanted to remember the way his fingers felt interwoven with yours, like they’d been crafted that way because they were meant to be there, the way his lips always felt so soft. You ran a hand through his hair to try and push down that one stubborn part, but it sprang back up, just like always, and you managed a small chuckle. You couldn’t forget. You just couldn’t. You didn’t want to forget a single thing about him, and you were afraid that as soon as they took his body away, that you would.

You traced a gentle line over his freckles again. It must’ve been hours that you’d been lying there, because he felt cold now. Your body froze at the contact and you had to use every single ounce of strength you somehow had left to not crumble to pieces. But you managed to place one last, gentle kiss to his forehead as the sunlight of a new day flooded the Great Hall.

“I’ll meet you there one day, Freddie.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley angst #hp imagine #hp fanfiction

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freddie-weaselbee · 4 years

Text

A Whole New World//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, symptoms of depression, mentions of depression, minor character death (only mentioned), language, honestly it’s really cute once you get into it trust me

Summary: “Do you trust me?” After constantly pestering Y/N and finally making her explode with anger, Fred decides to try to make her smile again, in the most extravagant way possible.

Word Count: 4.4k

Song: A Whole New World from Aladdin

A/N: Apparently I’m a sucker for the astronomy tower I didn’t even realize until I wrote this that it takes place in the same place as my last fic, but oh well. Also I would literally sell my soul to be able to reenact this with someone, preferably Fred. Also also I’m making a taglist so message me if you wanna be on it!

The astronomy tower was one of your favorite places to visit when you were upset. Something about the way the infinite number of stars continued to shine down made you feel more at peace. It made you believe that maybe there was a plan for everything, and it would all work out eventually.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend most of your recent nights watching the sky glimmer with specks of light. The past few months had been hard on you, and you felt an increasing need to escape as much as you could. Your friends noticed, but they didn’t know how to help. You were usually so upbeat and happy, always helping others rather than being vulnerable enough to admit that you needed some help yourself. Which is why you would spend hours each night, alone with your thoughts and dejection.

Tears rolled down your eyes as the events of the day came back to you.

It took everything you had just to get out of bed. Your dorm mate had tried to wake you up several times, but she eventually gave up and allowed you to rest a little longer. You rolled onto your side and stared at a picture that was hanging on the wall. It was a family picture from years ago, when you were just a little gap toothed girl. Your mom was holding you in her arms and your dad had his arm wrapped around your mom’s shoulder. There was only one other person in the picture, but it hurt your heart too much to look at the old man smiling down at little you.

After letting a few tears lose, you decided to start your day a couple hours late. You had a Potions exam that you needed to do well on, or else your dreams of becoming a Healer would be a lot harder to achieve.

You rolled out of bed and put on your uniform followed by fixing your hair and putting on some light makeup. You used to put a decent amount of effort into how you looked, wanting to practice your eyeliner skills and try out new hairstyles. But recently it just seemed like too much work for no reward. The bags under your eyes remained visible as you walked to your Potions class.

The day didn’t get better.

You skipped lunch and decided to take a nap instead. You curled up in your bed and shut your eyes tight, trying to calm the anxiety that was racing through your body. Your mind began to wander and you started wondering what your friends were doing at the moment, and if you were missing out on something fun. You wanted to join them and be a part of whatever was happening, but you just didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. It wasn’t until you were forced to get up for your next class that you left the silence of your room.

Transfiguration was a class you had with most of your friends, which made it difficult for you to avoid questioning.

“Y/N, where were you during lunch today?” your friend asked. She seemed concerned, but didn’t know what to say to the sulking mess who was usually so lively and energetic.

You shrugged and gave a forced smile. “Just tired, didn’t get much sleep last night.”

She nodded, not believing you but figuring that you weren’t going to tell her the truth any time soon.

You turned your attention to McGonagall’s lecture, but you were distracted almost immediately with a balled up piece of paper that landed on your lap. You looked around the room before making eye contact with Fred Weasley, who gestured for you to open the note.

You did and scoffed at the message scrawled in messy handwriting.

‘Hey love, you’re looking a little glum today. How about spending the night in my dorm and we’ll see if I can make you feel better? ;)’

Normally you would’ve playfully flirted back with the ginger troublemaker, but you weren’t in the mood today. You hadn’t been in the mood in months.

Shaking your head you crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the ground. It wasn’t long before another one landed on your desk.

You rolled your eyes and you opened this one.

‘C’mon, don’t be so grumpy. You know you want me.’

This letter you ripped up, letting the scraps dramatically spill all around you. If there was one thing Fred wasn’t good at, it was reading the room. You just wanted to focus on the lesson and spend the rest of your night alone in your dorm.

A third letter hit you in the back of your head. You almost turned around and screamed at Fred, but instead you picked up the note and sat in on your desk. You didn’t want to give Fred the satisfaction of opening the letter, but your curiosity got the best of you. And of course with your luck it all blew up in your face. Literally.

A small explosion came from the letter the second you opened to read it, painting your face a scorched black and singeing the ends of your hair. You didn’t even have time to react before you were being yelled at by your favorite teacher.

“Miss Y/L/N!” McGonagall was glaring at you down the bridge of her nose, giving you a look that she only reserved for the worst troublemakers. It made you feel like shit. “Detention, tomorrow night for disrupting my lesson. Please keep your antics to yourself next time.”

“But professor--” She interrupted you by putting her hand up.

“Don’t argue, Miss Y/L/N. Tomorrow night.”

Your face fell and you buried your head in your hands, trying to hold back sobs that were rising in your throat. As class ended you gathered your things and practically sprinted out of the room, ignoring the cries from your friend.

You didn’t get too far before you were spun around by large hands that gripped your shoulders. Fred was towering over you, a proud grin spreading across his face as if he had just won the lottery.

“You should’ve seen your face, darling, absolutely priceless.”

He reluctantly let go of you as you struggled in his hold, avoiding eye contact with the boy. “I don’t want to talk to you right now Fred, I just want to go to my room.”

“You’re in your room all the time!” he exclaimed. He wasn’t wrong. “Just lighten up a little and take a joke.”

You sighed and began to walk back to your dorm, ignoring his complaints.

“C’mon, Y/N, who died and made you all depressed?”

That was it.

You spun around and came storming back toward Fred, who now looked as though he regretted ever saying anything. “Do you really want to know Fred? Do you really feel the need to relentlessly bother me when it’s painfully obvious that I don’t want to talk to you?”

You had backed him into a wall and he was holding his hands up in defense.

“Today has been awful. I could barely get out of bed this morning, and the only reason I did was because I had a Potions test, which I likely failed! I have no motivation to do anything, which means I go to my room and miss out on everything fun, which only makes me more upset.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you screamed at Fred, all of your pent up anger finally coming out.

“And not that it’s any of your business, Frederick--” you poked his chest as you said his full name, something you only did when you were mad at him, “--but my grandpa died and made me all depressed. Three weeks ago. And I’ve felt like absolute shit ever since. So please, for the love of Godric just leave me alone for two fucking minutes!”

Fred’s face was adorned with a shocked expression, which softened immediately. You hadn’t told anyone about your grandpa, not wanting to deal with pitiful glances being thrown your way. Fred had no idea that you were going through so much, and seeing you finally break because of him broke his heart.

But you didn’t give him any time to respond before you turned on your heel and marched back to your room, feeling worse than you had ever felt in your life.

You knew it wasn’t Fred’s fault. You had chosen not to tell anyone about what you were going through, and you assumed he was only trying to lighten your spirits. However with everything that had been going on you needed some time to think and deal with your emotions on your own. It was the only way you knew how.

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone behind you clearing their throat. You turned your head to see the outline of a tall ginger boy, standing at the top of the astronomy tower stairs.

“What do you want Fred?” Your voice cracked as you spoke and you quickly turned to stare at the sky again, hoping your friend wouldn’t be able to see how upset you were.

When you didn’t hear a response you spared another glance behind you, but Fred was gone. You stood up and looked around. Surely he wouldn’t just appear out of nowhere and then disappear seconds later. You leaned against the railing of the tower, the only thing separating you from the endless night sky.

A scream erupted from your throat as something rose up to face you, hovering in the air. Fred was standing eye level with you, but he was...floating?

“How are you…”

You looked over the edge and gasped at the sight before you. Fred was standing on a large carpet that he must’ve snagged from the Gryffindor common room. From the looks of it, it had been enchanted to fly and it was doing a fine job of fulfilling its duties.

Fred laughed at your surprised expression as he reached a hand out. You stepped back, still wanting to be alone for the time being. But maybe you had been alone for long enough.

“What is this Fred? What’s going on?”

He didn’t respond, but rather moved closer and stretched his hand out a little farther. “Do you trust me?”

The whole scene reminded you of your favorite movie, which had just come out last year. You remembered watching Aladdin with your grandpa, memorizing every song and occasionally singing or humming the lyrics once you returned to Hogwarts. There was no way Fred’s actions were coincidental, he had to have planned this.

No matter how upset you were, you weren’t going to give up the chance to reenact one of your favorite movie scenes, so with hesitation you grabbed his hand and wobbled onto the magic carpet that was hovering hundreds of feet in the air.

“You ready, love?” Fred’s voice was calm and soothing, so unlike his normal persona. You gave him a tiny smile and nodded, holding onto the tassels of the rug for dear life.

Fred nodded back and scooted closer to you. “Hold on tight princess.” You grabbed his right arm and squeezed, letting him know you were ready to go.

With a flick of his wand the carpet took off and you were suddenly flying through the cool night air at racing speeds. You’d ridden on a broom before but this was something completely different. This time didn’t have to worry about working your core to stay on or try to ignore the uncomfortable position you were in. With this, you could just breathe and take in the moment.

Fred looked over at you and grinned as he saw your amazed face. You closed your eyes and put your hands out, letting yourself be overcome with the feeling of soaring through the air. Without warning the carpet jerked to one side, causing you to scream and grip back onto Fred’s arm.

“What was that for?” you exclaimed. He laughed and tried to pry your arms off of him, choosing to wrap his arm around your shoulder instead.

“Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. Now are you ready?”

You looked at him quizzically, wondering what else he could have in store for you. Fred cleared his throat and you saw a small blush appear on his face. He took in a deep breath and did something you never expected Fred Weasley to do.

He started singing.

“I can show you the world, shining shimmering--why are you laughing at me?!” You were bent over into his chest, heaving with laughter at his display. It’s not that he was a bad singer, on the contrary in fact. But you had definitely not expected him to start singing A Whole New World while you were flying across the Hogwarts grounds on a literal magic carpet.

“I’m--I’m s-sorry Freddie,” you choked out through laughs, “it’s v-very nice. Fantastic job!”

He could hear the sarcasm dripping from your voice and he put on a faux glare. “Y/N, I did not listen to you sing this bloody song every single day and memorize all of the words simply from paying attention to your voice for you to not be my Jasmine and sing back.” He crossed his arms and huffed and your giggles slowly died down.

You felt a blush appear on your face as you realized how much effort he had put into this. Memorizing the entire song from only your humming and occasional lyrics? The least you could do was humor the boy.

“Fine,” you said playfully, rolling your eyes, “go ahead again. I promise I won’t laugh.”

He gave you an unbelieving look.

“I promise I won’t laugh a lot.”

Fred nodded and cleared his throat once again. “I can show you the world, shining shimmering splendid!”

He cupped your chin in his hand and gave you a wink. “Tell me princess, now when did you last let your heart decide.”

The carpet dipped and you screamed as the two of you soared downwards before leveling out again.

“I can open your eyes,” he began once again. “Take you wonder by wonder. Over, sideways and under--” as he sang each word the carpet twisted to perform the respective move, “on a magic carpet ride. A whole new world!”

He sat on his knees and spread his arms to the sky, screaming the lyrics and letting the wind whip his ginger hair around his face. Although you were speeding through the clouds and any wrong move would likely end in you falling to your death, all you could focus on was him.

“A new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming…” Fred was looking back at you, holding his hands in yours. He leaned in to you and you sucked in a breath, leaning toward him as well. But what you had been assuming would happen did not, and Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“That’s your cue, love.” It took you a second to realize what he was saying but when you did you nodded fervently, hoping Fred didn’t notice you mistaking his actions for an attempt at a kiss. Before you could overthink everything and make it even more awkward you sat up and belted out your lines.

“A whole new world! A dazzling place I never knew.” You moved toward the front of the carpet and Fred grabbed your waist holding you up as you spread your arms and stared at the endless sky. “But when I’m way up here, it’s crystal clear, that now I’m in a whole new world…”

You hesitated before saying the next two words, suddenly very aware of the tight grip Fred’s rough hands had on your waist. “With you…”

You turned your head to see Fred beaming at you, and he moved you back so the two of you were once again sitting side by side. You sang the next verse as the two of you flew over the Forbidden Forest. The terrifying collection of dark trees and plants now seemed so small, so miniscule when you were soaring over it instead of walking through it.

It was almost time for the duet portion of the song, but before you could start you were cut off by Fred’s finger on your lips. “Alright, love, now we switch. I want to be Jasmine!”

You giggled at the child that was Fred Weasley, but it was his kiddish behavior that always drew you to him. “Well you have the body for it,” you teased, poking his stomach. He poked you back and it made you flinch, seeing as how he hit a ticklish spot. His eyes widened when he realized the opportunity he had, and his fingers attacked your sides while both of you tried to sing your new parts.

“A whole new world--”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes.” He covered his eyes as you sang this for effect and you had to use all of your strength to remove his hands from his face, which ended with you intertwining your fingers in his.

“A hundred thousand things to see--”

“Hold your breath it gets better.”

Fred finally halted his tickling as he belted his next line straight into your ear. “I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far, I can’t go back to where I used to be…”

You threw your legs over his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as the two of you giggled like schoolchildren. Something about laughing with Fred always made you feel carefree and young. Like you didn’t constantly have the entire world dragging you down. It was intoxicating.

You ruffled his hair and screamed the lyrics at the top of your lungs. “A whole new world!”

Fred saw this as a competition, and he decided he just had to one up you in noise. “Every turn a surprise!”

“With new horizons to pursue!”

“Every moment red letter!”

At this point both of you were shouting as loud as you possibly could, so loud that you knew at least someone on the Hogwarts grounds would be able to hear you, but neither of you cared. He took his other hand in yours as you screeched the next words simultaneously.

“I’ll chase them everywhere, there’s time to spare, let me share this whole new world with you!” Fred steered the carpet downwards to a grove that you had never noticed before. He swept through the trees and swiftly grabbed an apple from a tree above before tossing it to you. It was something straight out of the movie and you had to wonder how in the world he had this so well prepared.

He pulled you in tighter by the waist and started to sing again, transitioning back to Aladdin’s part. His voice was much softer than it had been before, almost sweet and loving. “A whole new world…”

You lowered your voice to match his. “A whole new world…”

“That’s where we’ll be…”

“That’s where we’ll be…” You could tell that Fred was maneuvering the two of you back toward the grand Hogwarts castle but you didn’t want this moment to end so soon.

His thumb brushed your cheek. “A thrilling chase…”

Your hand moved to his chest, feeling his toned muscles underneath his infamous Weasley jumper. “A wondrous place…”

“For you and me…”

You stared into each other’s eyes, holding each other tightly and letting out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding as you finally finished the song. Neither of you said a word as Fred guided the carpet back to the astronomy tower and helped you down onto the floor. You slipped and fell into his chest, but he was quick to steady you and hold you tight in his arms.

Your eyes wandered up the tall redhead’s body, illuminated by the dim glow of the night stars. “What...what in the world was that?” you asked incredulously.

Fred only laughed and pulled you to sit down next to him, legs dangling off the side of the tower. “I guess that was my way of apologizing.”

“Not even an actual ‘I’m sorry’ is good enough for you Weasley?” you teased, making Fred give you a guilty look.

“I am really sorry, Y/N. I...I had no idea what was happening, and I was just getting tired of not seeing you ever. I guess I thought you were avoiding me and I wanted to get your attention, even if that meant being a complete arse.” His guilty look only grew as he confessed the reasoning behind his actions. “I’m really sorry, love. But I want you to know that I’m always here for you. You don’t have to go through things alone.”

You sighed heavily and leaned your head against his shoulder. His arm found its familiar place around your shoulder and you shuffled so that you were closer to him.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I don’t want people to pity me, or to think that I should try to get over it. I don’t want everyone to say that I should stop feeling like this when there are so many people that have it so much worse.” Your voice shook with every word that poured out of your mouth. You had never told anyone that before, always keeping your burdens to yourself and burying them deep inside.

Fred grabbed your shoulder with his other hand and brought you into a hug, letting you sob quietly into his chest. “Darling, you should never feel as though your feelings aren’t valid. You have every right to be upset, and I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.”

You hummed into his jumper, taking in the scent of cinnamon and gunpowder. It had grown to become one of your favorite smells. “You know, that movie was one of my grandpa’s favorites.”

Fred nodded but stayed quiet, trying to hide his joy that you were finally opening up to someone.

“We watched it nonstop last summer. He told me he loved princess Jasmine. Said she had spunk, just like--” your voice hitched in your throat, “--just like me.”

Your best friend began stroking your hair softly, occasionally twirling a strand in his long fingers. “I didn’t know,” he finally said. “I just knew you loved the movie, and I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it.”

You gave a small laugh at his words and he tilted your chin up so that you could see the concern in his eyes. “Hey, I’m serious. I love you, Y/N. You’re...you’re a great friend.”

The warm feeling inside your chest that had begun when Fred started talking had suddenly died down. You were friends. Just a great friend of his.

“I don’t know Freddie,” you teased, “the way you were singing to me out there made it seem like I was a little more than a friend to you.”

You were only joking, but Fred was immediately silent, turning to stare down at his hands. “I, uh, I may have gotten a little bit caught up in the moment,” he stuttered. His nervousness caught you off guard, as it was so unlike the confident prankster to be so tense.

“So you really memorized that song, recreated specific scenes from the movie, and took time to enchant a magic carpet to fly me across the skyline, just to make me feel better?”

He chuckled nervously, slightly embarrassed about all of the effort he put in. “When have I been known to be simple with these kinds of things, love?”

“Never,” you scoffed. Feeling a bit of a courage course through your veins you reached to grab his hand, intertwining it with yours. Fred squeezed your hand back and you moved to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the sweetest person I know, Freddie. You may be a little dumb and over the top sometimes, but you’re sweet.”

Fred smiled down at you and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently decided against it last minute. You decided to give this one more chance.

“Fred? Can I...can I kiss you?”

The words were barely out of your mouth when his lips gently touched yours, drawing you into the softest kiss you could imagine. Your lips moved in sync, slowly at first but quickly picking up a little speed. After what felt like an eternity you had to come up to catch your breath, tugging on his bottom lip as you moved away.

The two of you just stared at each other before you let out a small giggle. “Oi!” Fred exclaimed. “You think snogging me is funny? Wow, I think I’ll have to take those privileges away from you, you selfish girl.”

“Oh no, don’t deprive me of that Weasley, I couldn’t live without you.” He shoved your arm playfully and you spoke again. “I just think it’s funny that it took me cursing you out after class and an extravagant musical number for you to finally kiss me. And even then I had to initiate it! For a Gryffindor you really are a chicken sometimes.”

He responded by pressing his lips to yours again, this time in a shorter but just as passionate kiss. “I was getting around to it, I just didn’t want to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state,” he said as his excuse.

“Well I can tell you now, love,” you said, “this has nothing to do with my ‘vulnerable state.’ I’ve been in love with you forever, I was just too scared to say anything.”

“Ah, so you’re the real chicken then.”

You relented, not wanting this perfect moment to turn into another argument between you and the twin. “Yeah, I’m the chicken, and you can be the prince that swoops in and steals the chicken away on a magic carpet.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Only if the chicken turns into my beautiful princess by the end. Y/N, will you be my princess?”

You bit your lip trying to hold back a scream of pure happiness. Something you hadn’t felt in months. “Of course Freddie, I’m yours.”

#fredweasley #aladdin #disney #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred x reader #fredweasleyfluff #hogwarts #magic carpet

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alexandersimpleton · 8 months

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youtube

I like to think that Frederick and Blaine's relationship was something like this before the series. Frederick wasn't scared of Blaine like he was scared of Leland. Frederick loves Blaine.

Blaine told him the truth after all. Blaine always told him about how he was to small, to unmanly, how childish his little.. problem made him look (read: autism). Blaine was the reason Frederick actually believed all of it.

But when he started getting close with Gwen, he started to doubt it. Gwen was so nice to him, treated him like a person. And Frederick started to think, just maybe, he deserved it...

And then the CPC told him he was being dramatic and misinterpreting what Blaine was saying. In that moment, what Gwen told him about her loving him, what Syrah told him about his caring being what mattered.. he didn't believe that anymore.

Blaine said all those things because he cared. Blaine was cruel, but he was right. Frederick was a worthless loser, he was unlovable.

Slowly, over years of listening to Blaine, being told by the CPC that this was normal and that Blaine was right, the colors in the world that Frederick hadn't noticed getting brighter started going back. And everything turned grey. So, so grey

#cursed princess club #yeah turns put Blaine wasn't a good person before his redemption arc #Youtube

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

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Two Years

Pair: Fred Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Warnings: Swearing.

Notes: Reader is Draco's Cousin! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Complicated couldn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the Weasley’s.

For to start, you were related to the Malfoys which automatically meant it was rocky. You were Draco’s cousin. Your family didn’t believe in the same ideology as Lucius and Narcissa, leading to family feuds being normal during literally any time of the year. Your family didn’t exactly want the attention of the Malfoys or the Dark Lord once the war reared its ugly head, so your family fled to America, dragging you with them. They wanted to get as far from the war as possible.

And two, well, you were Fred’s partner before the war broke out. Since your family was absolutely dedicated to being hidden, you lost communication with him when your family decided to just get up and go. You didn’t even have time to tell him goodbye or really anyone and it hurt. You knew you hurt him too and no matter how you begged, your parents wouldn’t let you see him, let alone send him a letter. Owls couldn’t travel across whole seas and you were basically in lock down, even if you were a grown adult.

You stayed up most nights because of nightmares. You’d wake up in a cold sweat more times than you could count on both hands. After these tear jerking visions from hell, you’d usually climb from your bedroom window to the room, gazing out at the moon like a love struck teenager, hoping maybe even praying Fred was gazing at the moon at the same time you were.. Most nights he actually was.

During the war, Fred had come into a.. Complication. He ended up fracturing his leg, resulting in a cane and physical therapy. George took up fixing and running the shop with Ron while he was borderline trapped between surviving at the Burrow and physical therapy.

Fred spent most of his free time sketching out ideas of products to tire his mind long enough to ignore the stupid nightmares and gazing out the window, hoping you’d apperate across the field and come comfort him, but you never came. Everyone in the Burrow avoided mentioning your name around Fred, anyway.

When the time came, Fred went straight back to work with his twin, spewing out ideas about different treats, potions, trinkets, anything and everything he came up with while bed ridden and they both got to work quickly.

It was nice, relaxing, normal again. Everything was normal to Fred but a piece of him was missing. You were across the world and you held a piece of his heart and he hated you never gave it back.

No matter how badly he missed you or longed for you to hold his hand, he wasn’t ready to face you when you entered their shop. He literally wasn’t ready to face you. He turned around when the bell went off, ready to say the shop wasn’t open yet but dropped the box he was holding. He ignored the sound of shattering glass and immediately booked it back into the room, where he nearly knocked over his brother.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, swiftly setting the box he was holding down on the shelf. “Are you going into another attack? Do you need to go upsta-” He was silenced when Fred's hand covered his mouth.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out, causing George's eyebrows to furrow before his eyes grew wide. Fred moved his hand, using it to slowly shut the storage room door, making sure to turn the handle so it shut silently. The separation allowed the twins to whisper to each other in peace.

“Isn't that-”

“Yeah.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“..You’re not ready? Blimey, Fred, it’s been 2 years since he left.” George ran a hand down his face, the other landing on his hip sassily. “What do you mean you're not ready? You always talked about how you missed him but now you aren't ready?”

“You wouldn’t understand-”

“Don’t even give me that, Freddie. Talk to me.” George smiled, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. “I know you're older by like, 1/4 a second, but you don’t have to be a rock. Come on, don’t bottle it up.”

Fred let out a sigh, his eyes casting downward before he let out the smallest of chuckles. His hand came to rub the back of his neck.

“Fine.”

George almost squealed with joy when his brother decided to open up to him. He wanted to clap his hands and jump around like a child, but opted for not compromising their position.

Fred went on to tell George about how you left, how you didn’t even leave a note, how he didn’t know how to ask if you two were still together and if you loved him anymore. George has already known all of this, causing his face to melt into an unamused expression.

“.. You realize you're being ridiculous, right?”

“Gee, thanks George. I will most definitely come back to you when I have emotional turmoil.”

“No, no, mate, listen.” George wrapped his arm around his older brother's shoulder, gently guiding him away from the wall. “Listen, ok? You’re such a top notch guy, not as handsome as me,” George smiled wider when his brother snorted, “but you’re trying! So why not at least talk to the bloke, yeah? You guys were snogging before he left, so why not try to snog after?”

“I just told you why I can’t.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Fredrick Weasley?” George put the back of his hand across his forehead, being the dramatic shit he is.

“Don’t call me that, you prat-”

“I thought I knew you! Confidence was your middle name! Frederick Confident Gideon Weasley!” The youngest twin only became cockier when the older one groaned and covered his face. “Oh, Frederick, where did you go?” He wrapped his free arm tighter around his brother and dragged him out the door, ignoring his protests and grabby hands reaching to hold onto the door frame.

“George, wait!” Fred’s hushed whisper floated in the air, completely ignored by the other red-head.

“Fredrick! Where did you go, Freddie?!” He called out, knowing damn well you were still in the shop. Neither of the twins heard the shops bell ring a second tie, indication your departure.

“George?” Your voice echoed in the closed shop, leading George to dramatically turn to his brother and smirk at him. “Is that you?”

“Why yes, my dear friend! How are you?” George let go of his twin, allowing him to scurry off to the side and hide behind one of their many filled shelves. You walked up to him just after Fred hid, much to his delight and George’s dismay. George’s smile faltered ever so slightly when he took in your appearance.

Your hair was a nest fit for Scabbers, the bags under your eyes would need to be checked with baggage at any muggle airport and your clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with a hoodie and sweatpants, but it was summer for fucks sake. He could see the sweat across his brow and wondered if he should turn the AC on.

“I’m as well as I can be, I guess..” You fiddled with a stray strand hanging from your hoodie. George noted the fraying hand made thumb holes and his eyebrow raised in confusion. “I um-” You ran a hand through your hair, “I wanted to talk to Fred, do you know where he is?” While your eyes were darting across the top level of the shop, George’s eyes flashed to his brother.

The shop owner shot his brother a glare when he shook his head back and forth fast enough to make anyone dizzy.

“Um, no.. I haven't.” George grumbled out, his hands going to his pockets. He looked down at the floor deciding it would be better than the disappointed expression on your face. “Um, do you want me to give him a message for something?”

“No, yeah, if that’s ok?” You went back to fiddling with the stray thread. You didn’t notice Fred peaking at you through the products lined on the shelves. “Just um- Could you tell him I’m sorry for me? I’m sure he’ll know what I mean..”

“Yeah, sure thing, (Y/n/n). Anything for you.” George ran a hand through his hair after you turned on your heel and mumbled a thank you before exiting the shop. “You owe me.” The red-head turned to his identical and sighed when he saw the longing expression. “Merlin’s left tit, you’re fucked, mate.”

“I should’ve-” Fred hit his forehead against the wood of one of the shelves, a yell of frustration leaving his throat.

“Say it.” “..You were right. I should’ve talked to him.”

“Damn right I was. Now, go get your bloke before he cries in the street or worse, goes to Malfoy for romantic help.” George faked a shudder at the idea. George watched his brother turn, slamming his back into the shelf and slide to the floor. “Ok, Fred, seriously, this is getting kind of sad.”

“I can’t go talk to him, George!” Fred was pulling at his own ginger locks, his knees coming up to his chest. “I- No, I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it?” George’s voice was soft. He plopped himself on the dusty floor right next to his brother. “I can talk to him as you? See what all of this is about?”

“I don’t know, Georgie..” Fred’s voice was softer than his twins. He looked at his brother with a hopeless expression and glossy eyes. George figured from this it would be best to tackle the problem tomorrow so he just pulled his brother into his side and held him for a good while.

The next day was easier for Fred. The store was bustling, as it was Monday, morning and all the happy customers provided a great distraction. He took over the register while George focused more on the floor work: answering customer questions, restocking shelves. It was a lot for two twins to handle, but they managed, especially when Ginny or Ron offered their free days to come down and help.

Fred had just finished closing the drawer, handing a youngster his change back when the bell above the shop's door caught his attention. He shifted on his feet when Draco was practically dragging you into the shop wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The red-head was starting to wonder if you were ok.

“(Y/n)!” George yanked you into a hug before you could even blink, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that left Fred absolutely yearning to have you by his side again.

“Hey Geo!” You briefly hugged him back before pulling away, causing his attention to shift to your cousin.

“Malfoy.” George looked the blonde up and down. He’d throw hands if he had too, even in his own shop.

“Hey, be nice. He’s on our side now.” You punched the tall suited man lightly in the arm before shoving your hands in your pockets.

“It’s unfortunate but true. Most birds did appreciate my bad boy ages.” Draco ran a hand dramatically through his hair while George snorted. “But that isn’t why we’re here. Is your brother around?”

“He’s at the til, why?”

“I’m just here to make sure (Y/n) actually talks to him like he promised too.” Draco put a hand on your back and gently pushed you forward. “But how is business, Weasley?”

While George went on to talk about statistics and boring old shit, you slowly walked over to the red-head who was trying to distract himself by restocking some of the knickknacks in the class case beneath the counter. You cleared your throat, clearly scaring him. He let out a squeak and hit his head on the underside of the glass case.

“I-I’m sorry, Freddie! Are you ok?” you asked, your hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of you as the male stood up and rubbed the back of his head. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and check his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He had his eyes squinted so tight he could see stars flashing behind his lids. He couldn’t look at you yet. You’d looked like a kicked puppy yesterday when you left and it pained him so much.

“Did, um.. Did you get my message from Geo?” You were fiddling with the string again. Fred opened his eyes slowly, nodding to you while he played with the product in his hand.

“I.. Look, I don’t wanna beat around the bush, but I-”

“I already know.” Fred spoke up quickly, louder than intended. “I know, it’s fine.”

“S.. So it’s fine then?” You looked around, a tiny bit confused. Fred wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, but it seemed his legs weren’t tired yet.

“Yeah.”

“So, I just wanna be sure we’re on the same page, you know my family dragged me to America?”

“Uh-”

“And basically put me under house arrest so I couldn’t see you or message you or leave or really live? And I haven’t forgotten you and my feelings for you haven’t changed and Godric, Fred, I miss you so much.” Tears pricked your tired eyes as you glanced at him. You cleared your throat over the awkward silence you felt was your fault. Fred was replaying your words like a record stuttering on a player and the bloke was still confused.

“.. Come again?” The red-head blinked stupidly, subconsciously leaning over the counter. Maybe he wasn’t hearing you right over the noise of the shop. You couldn’t help but release a borderline silent chuckle that bubbled into your throat.

“I still love you, Freddie bear.” You twiddled with your fingers, your eyes glancing down to his lips before looking back into his sparkling eyes.

“You do?” The co-owner was trying to keep his joy nestled deep down in his chest.

You nodded your head.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Wha- Ah! FRED-”

The male had all but jumped over the glass counter, dramatically picking you up by your waist and slamming his lips to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, while your hands gripped to his shoulders like your life depended on it. You immediately fell under the spell of his kiss and didn’t even hear your cousin and your boyfriend's twin brother whooping/gagging.

Fred soon set you down, his usual cocky grin spread across his face until his knee buckled. The strain of his dumb ass jumping over the counter and picking you off your feet like you were a feather was finally catching up with him.

“Ah, ow, ow.” Fred groaned out, bending over to hold his right knee. You put a hand on his shoulder, worry etched across his face. “Ah, so um.. I should probably explain-”

“We both have a lot to explain, Freddie. Two years is a lot of time to be apart.”

#fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #hp imagine #hp x male reader #male reader #george weasley #draco malfoy #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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natromanxoff · 4 years

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Daily Mirror - November 28, 1991

FREDDIE, I'LL LOVE YOU ALWAYS

Elton's tearful farewell

By Geoff Sutton and Suzanne O'Shea

Grieving Elton John said a tearful farewell to fellow superstar Freddie Mercury yesterday with the words: "I will love you always."

Elton's message was pinned to a massive wreath of pink roses shaped as a heart. The note added: "Thank you for being my friend."

But the emotional tribute could not reflect the true loss felt by red-eyed Elton as he left AIDS victim Freddie's funeral.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he walked forlornly to his green Bentley before being driven off.

Freddie's Queen comrades were equally distraught.

And as they filed away, it was announced that the band's best-known hit Bohemian Rhapsody would be re-released next month to

[...]

Freddie sends his last moving message in a song

You’ve got a friend..

By Geoff Sutton and Suzanne O’Shea

Tragic Freddie Mercury sent a last message to his closest pals yesterday as the moving ballad You’ve Got A Friend was played to mourners at his funeral.

Soul star Aretha Franklin’s version of the classic song rang out as the Queen singer’s coffin was taken into a crematorium chapel.

AIDS victim Freddie had planned the funeral himself before his death. And those who came to remember him responded to his theme with tears, flowers and prayers for their good friend.

The ceremony, attended by fewer than 40 mourners, reflected the bizarre mixture of Freddie’s two worlds.

It was conducted by white-robed priests according to his family’s ancient Zoroastrian religion. Yet among those at West London Crematorium were modern rock giants Elton John, Queen comrades Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon, and 60s drummer Dave Clark - who was alone with Freddie when he died aged 45 on Sunday.

His grief-stricken parents Bomi and Jer Bulsara - strict Zoroastrians - had to be supported by friends.

Roots

And one-time girlfriend Mary Austin, who stayed close to the singer throughout his string of gay affairs, wept through most of the 25-minute service.

Flamboyant Freddie, born Frederick Bulsara in Zanzibar, went back to his roots in death.

In accordance with age old Zoroastrian rites, Parsee priests in muslin robes and caps chanted prayers over the star’s silk-lined oak coffin, which had a single red rose on its lid.

They kept to the Avestan language, first used in Persia 3,500 years ago. The only English spoken was when mourners were told to stand or sit.

Their prayers were supposed to help Freddie make his final journey to Garothman Behest - the prophet Zoroaster’s “eternal heaven”.

But Freddie did not stick to tradition entirely.

As mourners filed out after his body was cremated, an operatic aria by Verdi was played.

It was sung by Spanish soprano Montserrat Caballe - Freddie’s duet partner in the dramatic song Barcelona.

A carpet of 1,000 wreaths covered the ground outside.

Dave Clark tried to comfort Mary, who is pregnant by an interior designer, as she studied messages from David Bowie, Gary Glitter, U2 and hundreds of fans.

Gary’s white carnation wreath was shaped like the huge star Freddie was.

Freddie’s parents sent white dahlias and lilies with the words: “To our very beloved son Freddie. We love you always. Mum and Dad”.

Brian May - with girlfriend Anita Dobson - wiped away a tear.

Elton John gave John Deacon a hug and kissed Roger Taylor.

Fans walked away crying - left only with the now so poignant lyrics of Freddie’s anthem We Are The Champions.

“I’ve taken my bows. And my curtain calls. You bought me fame and fortune and everything that goes with it. I thank you all.”

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen scans #daily mirror november 1991

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charlettebffxiv · 3 years

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Prompt #5 Persimmon (Extra Credit)

Picking fruit was not exactly tiring work. It’s not hard on the limbs, it does not ask much of your muscles, and it isn’t going to make you run malms upon malms. What it is, though, is time consuming. Little actions, over and over, in the heat of a summer sun for bells on end will wear anyone down. It does not matter how tall, how wide, how thick or how lithe you are. It will wear you down eventually. The grate of bark on your fingers will become cutting, the weight on the straps will pull down harder on your shoulders, the sensation of sweat trickling down your neck, back and between unmentionables will awaken a chafing you couldn’t imagine. This sun Charlette was reminded of that fact and the nostalgic shine of it would reveal itself to be almost completely untarnished by it. Almost.

“Twelve above, I could drown someone in the sweat collecting in my linens. Are persimmons really worth this much toil? Is old Lodden unwittingly guilty of torture and callous mistreatment of the young? Of child labour? You used to pick his crops when you were young, right Charlette?” Maxim’s whining had been noise in the background, another buzzing pair of wings to join the chorus of summer hatchlings finding their nectar. Hearing her name though, brought it roaring back into her ears sadly. “When I was young, Maxim? You are two twelvemoons older than me.” The Wildwood was leaning against the trunk of a particularly bent tree, lounging really, in the crook formed by the winding body of the old growth. He waved a hand at Charlette, swatting away her words like flies. “Yes, yes. You know what I meant. When you were a child! I bet you were a dhalmel back then already. Is that why Lodden took you on? Could you reach all the way to the top even in your tenth season?” Charlette tossed an over-ripe persimmon at him, it missed, hit the tree and squirted its fermented juices far enough to stain a sleeve. Maxim was quick to escape his perch, holding the drenched fabric from his arm and scowling at the stink now stuck to him. “Aww! C’mon! That’s going to stain! Not that it matters, but it smells too! And I was not even wrong, was I!” but Charlette had returned to her picking, not even paying him the slightest bit of attention. Well, not obviously. Fat, heavy, ripe Persimmons were being dropped into the woven baskets that sat at the base of each tree. Baskets that would be hauled back by chocobo cart once they reached this section. The fuller the collection, the more pride Charlette felt. It was simple work, and she felt drenched to the hind quarters, weary with the repetition, but just so simply satisfied with a visible measure of progress. It was so good, beholding the burgeoning baskets, for the moment it was allowed before Maxim whipped his sleeve against Charlette’s cheek. “Ack! Maxim!” “I’m sharing.” “It stinks! Oh- hurrk!” Charlette gagged, a hand shooting up to wipe the sticky leavings away. But nothing will remove that smell from the inside of her nose, nothing but time and retching. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. You’ve smelled worse in the green houses, hells you’ve probably tasted worse too! How does it compare to mite ichor?” The reminder of that only made her turn away, the dirty look she was shooting ruined by the sudden flex of her throat and loud “Guurh!” that escaped her. His reminder of that foul taste, and texture, only made the entire moment that much harder to handle. “Shut up! You deserved that.” “I don’t think so. I think you deserved that. To wear my new scent, ‘Essence of Orchid Garbage’. I think it’ll be big in Ishgard.” He struck a pose, hip cocked out, hand on waist, the other holding his stained sleeve out with a pinky raised. He looked cultured, in a stupid kind of way. She hated that it made her laugh, partly because she gagged in the middle and tasted acid in her mouth. Maxim took a deep sniff of his new cologne, noise raising up in such a lordly manner you’d think he was King of the Gabage Grove, and joined Charlette in her tortured choking. “Woof! Oh dear, huurp! That’s a stench! Hah!” His enjoyment of the process, though, irritated her. She was leaning on fence post and trying to pull in deep breaths of fresh, summer air when a voice called out. “Still can’t handle it, can she?” Charlette had not heard that tone in so long. The comforting pitch, the annoying confidence, the cocksure suggestion that it belonged to someone who just knew her, and knew what had happened to her. “Nope!” Maxim responded with far too much glee, the shit. “But she did ask for it, so don’t feel bad, or try to help. It’s not how penance is supposed to work. Instead, tell me how you’ve been Chloe.” Charlette’s sister was a few ilms shorter in height, white in hair, several shades darker in skin, and inhabited all the self-assured confidence someone needed to both be incredibly likable, and hateable, at the same time. Maxim had already draped his arm around her, Chloe equipped in her best picking overalls, which is to say she wore the same blue, worn, badly-fitting but sturdy kind that Charlette and Maxim did. Borrowed from Lodden, and smelling of one thing: farm. “Penance? Oh good, I’m glad the eldest still gets to spend time doing her favourite thing.” Charlette looked to Chloe, and made a hand-gesture that made Maxim gasp, and Chloe smile. It was very out of character. “I thought you weren’t going to make it this season. Weren’t you in Limsa? Or Doma?” She stepped to them and drew herself to full height, Charlette let the two shorter Elezen look up to her. No need for sharp words when she literally always had the high ground. “Yes! And I made a special effort to come through this season. I’d heard you were back home, and I missed you so very much I just had to come and see you again.” Maxim’s face turned between the two, his mouth drawn tight and remaining shut, a rarity for the man. “Mmhm. Well if you are done lying, we were about to start on the next tree. Come along.” and Charlette turned in a sweep, her nose held high in the air, long and determined steps carrying her away from the two. “She’s happy to see me.” Chloe said as she followed from behind. “That so? Did I just witness a pair of Bellamy’s hugging? Y’know, if I think about it, that makes sense. It’s very polite, cold enough to ice tea, and no one would have any idea it’d happened unless told.” A very fake scoff had left Chloe as she pantomimed offense. In all the years Charlette had known her sister, she knew she was incapable of two things: Shame, and seriousness. “How dare you! What you describe is far more intimate than a hug, to suggest my dear sister and I would embrace in such a way in public is positively scandalous.” Charlette glared back over her shoulder at the pair, but they couldn’t see it. Chloe and Maxim had started up a series of bows to each other. Maxim with one hand behind his back and bending low at the waist as far as he could while they walked. “My deepest apologies Lady Bellamy!” Chloe gripped the baggy edges of her overalls and pulled them out in a shallow curtsey. “Fret not Ser Flowerman, all is forgiven for such a gentleman of culture!” Maxim’s chuckle was loud, hearty, his smooth tone a little bit of a liar in its suggestion that he’s a smooth man. “Ser Flowerman, that’s going on my headstone when I pop off this mortal coil.” “You’re very welcome. It suits you.” They couldn’t reach that next tree soon enough. Charlette picked her harvest in silence while the other two continued to cajole each other into further impressions and comedic takes on, well, just about everything. It was very distracting, Charlette thought. But it was also very nice, as it reminded her of a similar time, out here in this old orchid. The three of them younger, nevermind what Maxim thinks. Only it was not with Maxim. No, back then it was Frederick who was helping distract Chloe and the others. Who was her sister’s companion in gently teasing her, or tossing the fallen, rotted persimmons at the others. He always managed to get poor Alistair on the back of the head, knew just when Brianne had him distracted enough to… “Charlette? Yoohoo, you there?” a charcoal-skinned hand waved in front of Charlette’s face, the sudden silence that had been lost on her came back. Maxim had stepped away, or perhaps been sent away? Why? Charlette looked down at Chloe’s face, which was suddenly serious. What a surprise. “I thought you couldn’t do that.” She asked. “Do what?” Chloe looked confused, perhaps even worried. How dare she. “Nothing. Did you need something?” “I asked if you are okay. You didn’t say anything, you were off with your books again I think. Dreaming of the library?” just a little curl of her lips came out. Hah! See, not a serious bone in Chloe’s body. Charlette looked at her little sister, perhaps staring for a bit too long. Then reached out, pulled her into a gentle hug that Chloe returned as easily as slipping into fresh sheets on a newly made bed. “No. No I’m not okay.” And just then, for the first time since Charlette had been pulled back home, it felt okay to be that way. Goodness, picking fruit was tiring work.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #ffxiv roleplay #duskwight #elezen

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antidrumpfs · 4 years

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We're tentatively starting to emerge from the four year-long national nightmare of Donald Trump's presidency, but the reckoning of what the nation endured will take years to really understand. Trump was terrible in so many ways that it's hard to catalog them all: His sociopathic lack of regard for others.

His towering narcissism. His utter ease with lying. His cruelty and sadism. The glee he took in cheating and stomping on anything good and decent. His misogyny and racism. His love of encouraging violence, only equaled by his personal cowardice.

But of all the repulsive character traits in a man so wholly lacking in any redeemable qualities, perhaps the most perplexing to his opponents was Trump's incredible stupidity. On one hand, it was maddening that a man so painfully dumb, a man who clearly could barely read — even on those rare occasions when he deigned to wear glasses — still had the low cunning necessary to take over the Republican Party and then the White House.

On the other hand, it was the one aspect of Trump's personality that kept hope alive. Surely a man so stupid, his opponents believed, will one day blunder so badly he can't be saved, even by his most powerful sycophants. That has proved to be the case as Trump fumbles his way through a failed coup, unable and unwilling to see that stealing the election from Joe Biden is a lost cause.

Trump's unparalleled idiocy gave us a few laughs along the way, which we sorely needed in those troubled times. With that in mind, here's a list of the 10 most jaw-droppingly stupid moments of Trump's White House tenure.

1) That time Trump suggested injecting household cleaners into people's lungs to cure them of the coronavirus. Even for connoisseurs of Trumpian idiocy, it was a shocker when, after hearing that bleach and Lysol can kill the coronavirus on surfaces, got behind the podium in the White House briefing room and declared, "I see the disinfectant, where it knocks it out in a minute, one minute. ... Is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside, or almost a cleaning, because, you see, it gets in the lungs, and it does a tremendous number on the lungs?"

He then pointed at his head, and said, "I'm, like, a person who has a good you-know-what."

The situation was only made worse because this nitwit said this during the daily coronavirus "press briefing," during that surreal period of the spring and early summer in which he held forth daily, often for hours, presenting himself as not just a leader but an expert. Never has a man believed he knew so much while knowing so little.

2) That time he looked at a solar eclipse without eye protection — after everyone was repeatedly told not to look at the eclipse without eye protection.

It was at this moment that I realized that Trump voters must like it that he's an stone cold idiot, if only because they enjoy the way it triggers the liberals.

3) That time he couldn't admit he was wrong when he tweeted that Hurricane Dorian was going to hit Alabama, and so he drew on a weather map with a Sharpie to make it seem like he was right.

Again, what really elevates some of the best dumbass-Trump moments is when his stupidity combines with his massive ego to create a dunderhead singularity.

4) That time he threw paper towels at people in Puerto Rico who had just endured Hurricane Maria.

Trump's ego plus Trump's stupidity is just sublime. But when his stupidity combined with racism, the effect was often more chilling than funny.

5) That time he asked members of the National Security Council if they could nuke hurricanes rather than letting them hit the U.S.

Hurricanes drew out Trump's fatuousness like a good cheese draws out the notes in fine wine.

6) That time Trump was told to talk about Frederick Douglass at a Black History Month event, clearly had no idea who that was, and while trying to bullshit his way through the talk, implied that Douglass was still alive.

"Douglass is an example of somebody who's done an amazing job and is being recognized more and more, I notice," Trump said, using the same strategy that a sixth-grader who hasn't read the book might employ to bluff through a book report. There was a piece of paper in front of Trump that likely had more information about the author and abolitionist who was born enslaved died in 1895 as one of the most famous Americans, but Trump, as ever too vain to wear his glasses in public, probably couldn't read it.

7) That time he suggested that his much-desired border wall could just maybe be buttressed with alligator moats.

This one was fondly remembered by the Salon staff as an iconic example of the way Trump's racism amplifies his imbecility in an almost exponential fashion

8) That time he asked Canada's prime minister, Justin Trudeau, "Didn't you guys burn down the White House?"

At this point one almost wants to give him half-credit for remembering that the White House was burned down at one point — by the British in the War of 1812. But then one remembers that Trump has declared himself the protector and savior of American history, so much so that he's created the "1776 Commission" in a supposed effort to preserve what he considers the proper teaching of history. All he means by that, of course, is teaching kids that the blatant racism of the past was noble and just, and not so much actual facts, let alone actual history.

9) That time Trump "liked" a tweet praising Rihanna. This is a deep cut, but a personal favorite of mine, mostly because Ashley Feinberg at Slate did a detailed exploration of this topic and demonstrated it was almost certainly the result of stupidity, horniness and Trump's short and stubby fingers. It started when Trump liked — and then unliked — a tweet by a woman named Heben Nigatu declaring, "Every new Rihanna interview makes me grow stronger. We stan a work/life balance queen!!!"As Feinberg noted, Rihanna's name was trending on Twitter the night of the weird "like." If users clicked that trending topic, they saw a photo of Rihanna lounging on a couch in a see-through leotard. As "our president is furiously, pathologically horny," Feinberg concludes, he likely "clicked on this photo of Rihanna while making a series of steamboat noises and sweating profusely," which led him to a list of tweets mentioning Rihanna — including Nigatu's tweet. At which point his fingers, which are too small to be controlled with any grace, likely slid unconsciously over the "like" button. As further evidence, Feinberg points out Trump had, in the past, done the same to a sexy photo of Katy Perry.

10) When he called the Second Epistle to the Corinthians "Two Corinthians."

This is another personal favorite, because, like many other of Trump's dumber moments — such as when he tried to put money on a communion platter, or when he held a Bible as if he were afraid it might bite him, or when he seemed confused by the idea that he should ask God for forgiveness — it was a fun reminder that Trump's professed Christianity is not just an act, but an act he can barely be bothered to keep going. It's delicious because it's a twofer, not just exposing Trump's stupidity, but the absolute shamelessness of the Christian right leaders who backed him. (For those who may be unclear: This book of the Bible is abbreviated as "2 Corinthians" but always called "Second Corinthians.")

Every time Trump fumbled in this way, and the Trump-friendly evangelists kept on acting like he was God's emissary on earth, it was further evidence that most of these supposedl devout Christians don't really care about faith or God or Jesus or any of that that stuff — they care about power. As with their beloved president, dramatic performance of public piety by so many right-wing Christian leaders is little more than a dog-and-pony show put on to sucker the rubes.

So there's your top 10, with the caveat that it was hard — perhaps impossible — to narrow down that number in a satisfying manner, since Trump has done unbelievably stupid crap virtually every single day for four years. But that's why the internet gods invented social media and comment sections, so you can add your own to the list!

Source: Raw Story - Commentary by Amanda Marcotte

EXCELLENT!!! I have to agree attempting to the catalog the top 10 tRUMP absurdities is pretty much impossible. Even narrowing it down to the top 100 would be a difficult task, but this was a great and noble effort.

#impotus #bunkerboy #cadet bone spurs #liarinchief #covfefe

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

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duet | golden

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: fred loves to tease his twin. more importantly, he loves to tease his twin about you. so when the opportunity arrises to invite you for summer holiday and keep it from george, fred takes it. and george, stunned at your appearance in the entrance of his house, is flabbergasted and nervous. but maybe, just maybe, it’s the perfect time to tell you -- maybe it’s the perfect time to tell you just exactly how he’s been feeling.

a/n: hi! i don’t even know what number leeann and i are up too with these installments! leeann and i love these two little goofballs so much. i'm so grateful she approached me a few weeks ago asking to do this collab. also i knoooow the summer before the trio’s 5th year they’re supposed to be at headquarters but whatever just indulge me okay? also yes she’s in hufflepuff but let’s pretend the houses can pack together and hang together in their common rooms OKAY!

word count: 3.8k sorry

warnings: naaaah

“It’s going to be our final year! Aren’t you sad, Freddie?”

You were adding the last of your things to the top of your trunk -- your clean quills, your neatly folded socks, your straight, unwrinkled ribbons, and of course, the letters. The letters that kept coming. From your secret admirer.

“Not really,” Fred grinned brightly. He was sprawled out on the couch in the empty Gryffindor common room, his trunk on the floor next to him. The two of you were alone. Most everyone was now down in the Great Hall, getting ready to leave. How was it summer holiday already?

You noticed the ends of Fred’s shirts sticking out of the sides of his trunk and you rolled your eyes. Silly boy. You reckoned he needed a lesson in folding. Properly. Had he not learned a thing from his mother?

“Not really?” you barked, shooting him a very angry gaze. Blood was rushing to your face out of pure resentment. “Bloody hell, Fred, it’s our last year at school. You can’t tell me you don’t really care, do you?”

He closed his eyes and placed his hands behind his head, relaxing at the thought of almost being out of Hogwarts for good. “I dunno, Y/N, I’m rather excited about it, actually. What’s got your wand in a knot?”

You huffed dramatically. Why didn’t anyone understand you? You sat down on your closed trunk and grumpily began to tie your shoes. “Because! It’s almost over! And we’ve got to spend as much time together as we can, don’t we, Fred? George, too. So no running off all the time next school term, yeah? Not to mention we’ve got this summer holiday now -- can’t believe we won’t see one another until September...”

“Right,” Fred replied. His eyes opened with a jolt and he sat upright rather quickly and grabbed you by the shoulders, frightening you. You brought your hand to your chest in surprise.

“Merlin, Fred!”

“What would you say, Y/N,” he began, his face in a tight-lipped, cheeky grin, “if I say you should come to the Burrow this summer?”

Your eyes widened -- both in delight and in nerves. The Burrow? Their home? You’d heard such wonderful things -- the way George had talked about it had made it seem like the most wonderful, cozy place. He knew you loved cozy things. He knew how much you’d enjoy the idea of his mum sitting by the fire, knitting away, with a cup of tea on the table next to her. It’s what he imagined you’d do too, if you were there.

“R-really?” you asked Fred now, hoping that for this one moment, he’d place his teasing aside, because you could not afford to get your hopes up again. Not now. Not after the disaster that was the Yule Ball. The almost-kiss. The night that wasn’t.

“Yeah, really,” Fred made it absolute, taking your hands in his. “C’mon! Mum and Dad won’t mind -- pretty sure Harry and Hermione might be coming for a bit, as well. You’d love it, I know you would. Not to mention George will be there, obviously--”

You swatted him playfully with the end of your shirt sleeve, your face glowing the same shade of red as the common room carpet. You ignored that statement; it was rather rude of him, actually, especially when the ball, even though it was months ago, was still fresh in your mind. Ever-present. That silly cheek kiss. The twirling in your dress. The giggles that echoed in your ears. It was all still there, painfully and excitingly so.

But the prospect of hanging around the Burrow with your very best friends was inviting. How could you not, when the offer was right in front of you? How could you possibly decline? Hadn’t you just said you wanted to spend as much time together as you could? A small grin lifted your cheeks and your eyes brightened at the thought. “Okay then, Freddie. Count me in.”

He smiled and placed a hand to your knee. “Atta girl.”

“Ooh! I’ve got to go and tell George!”

Before you could grab your trunk and make your way through the portrait hole, Fred jumped to his feet and ran toward the exit. He placed his hand on his chest. “No, no -- let me, alright? Besides, miss,” he pointed to your spellbooks lying in a heap next to your feet, “you’ve still got packing to do.”

And before you could fight him on it, he winked at you and hopped into the corridor, vanishing before your eyes. You scoffed and looked down at your spellbooks and began placing them into your bag. What was that look in Fred’s eyes just before he’d left? Exuberance? Delight? ...mischief? Why couldn’t you shake the feeling that Fred Weasley was definitely up to something?

________________

The Burrow was glowing underneath the summer sunlight. George, Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were hovering in the sky on their broomsticks, playing a bit of Quidditch in the sweltering heat. George, annoyed that his twin had made him play Keeper, of all positions, wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead.

“You’re a right git, Fred!” George called as the elder twin threw the Quaffle right passed his head. George, in an attempt to block it, flipped completely upside down, nearly falling off of his broom. Ginny squealed with laughter alongside Ron. A natural Chaser, Fred was. He reckoned he’d play that position if he wasn’t such a bloody brilliant Beater. But George -- a Keeper? He wasn’t the greatest.

Molly was rummaging around the kitchen. Straightening up. You’d be arriving soon, wouldn’t you? She had a pot of tea on. All of the children flooded into the house. “Don’t make a mess!” Molly huffed, “I’ve just tidied up!”

“Mum, why on Earth have you got tea on? It’s bloody blazing outside!” George asked. He dipped his head under the sink and ran cold water over his head. Molly swatted him with her rag.

“Oh, George, get out from under there, won’t you? Straighten yourself up.” She pulled at his sweaty shirt, ran a hand through his very askew hair to try and straighten it, and wiped a bit of sweat from his face, just like she had when he was a little boy. Then she turned to Fred, Ron, and the others. “You lot, as well! She’ll be here soon!”

“Sorry,” George asked, noting the very bright grin spreading across Fred’s face. “But.. who will be here soon?”

There was a quiet knock at the door. Nervously, you stepped across the threshold -- a bag slung over your shoulder, your hair pulled into a neat side ponytail, a pale yellow tee shirt beneath your overalls. “Erm -- don’t mean to bother --”

“Oh!” Molly squealed. She immediately rushed toward the door and pulled you into an incredibly tight embrace. She smelled of rosemary and lavender. She cupped your face in her hands and peered down at you with the most warm and welcoming smile. “We’re so happy to have you, Y/N. Come! I’ve just set a pot of tea!”

You hadn’t even had time to thank Molly for letting you stay before Fred was tugging you into his arms. He was yucky -- all sweaty from being outside, but he didn’t let go. In fact, he just squeezed you harder, the sweat from his head dripping onto your clothes. Ick. “Bloody finally, was wondering when the hell you were going to show up,”

“Language, Frederick!” Molly barked.

You grinned excitedly at Fred and made your rounds. The Burrow was even more beautiful than you’d imagined, more beautiful than their stories. Several stories high, swallowed fully in cozy autumn colors. You could see now, as you peered at every single crevice of the home, why the Weasleys loved it so much. You wanted to live here, too.

“So happy you were able to come,” Ginny told you as she grasped your arms. It seemed that everyone was incredibly elated to have you join for the remainder of the summer. Everyone, that is, except for George.

He was standing on the other end of the kitchen, frozen solid, as if his feet had been cemented into the ground. He had half a glass of water placed right to his lips, but he wasn’t drinking. His whole entire body was rigid. His eyes wide with wonder. What on Earth were you doing here? In his house?

“Y/N,” he said, finally finding his voice. A bit croaky. He was trying not to stare, he really was, but he was finding it difficult. He genuinely could not peel his eyes off of you. Maybe it was the way your eyes were glistening. Maybe it was the way your dimples appeared as your lazy grin grew on your face. Perhaps, he thought, it was the very bright magenta colored ribbon in your hair, tied perfectly into a small bow at the top of your head. It was a color he’d never seen before, but one, he realized, he wanted to learn all about. “I--I didn’t know you were coming.”

“You didn’t?”

You peered at George quizzically, the two of you standing across from each other, not moving. The entire scene was rather dramatic, actually -- Fred, behind you, stifling a bit of laughter and snorting -- Molly, flushed and confused, because how could her son not know you were coming for a visit? Surely he’d heard them all discussing it the last few days? Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, giggling slightly at the sight of a very flustered, very nervous, very obvious George.

“Freddie,” you said, whirling around to face the elder twin. “I thought you said you were going to tell him?”

A cheeky, mischievous grin appeared on Fred’s lips. “Whoops -- must’ve forgotten.”

“I’m sorry --” George started, placing his hands on the counter, trying his best not to grin like an idiot. “How long have you two been planning this?”

“Since the last day of term!” you said, finally moving forward and pulling him into a tight hug. It was very difficult for George to not melt completely into you. He did anyway, though. It’d been weeks since an embrace from you, one he’d been yearning for. Dreaming of. He’d been positively woebegone when he’d hugged you goodbye on the platform at King’s Cross. Can’t wait to see you soon! You’d said, your grin large and eyes sparkling. George had just thought you meant the new school term come September. He had no bloody idea --

Your body molded perfectly into his, and he breathed in the smell of your hair -- strawberries, he reckoned. With a dash of mint. You continued, pulling back, “I can’t believe Fred didn’t tell you!”

George, a bit woozy from the sight of you, straightened himself up and ran a hand quickly through his hair. He then cleared his throat and spoke, trying to sound casual. “I know! But, even so. Happy to have you here,” he told you, grinning at the sight of your exuberance. “More than.”

“Me too, Georgie.”

George’s happiness didn’t stop him from shooting a very scathing look at his cackling twin in the corner.

________________

You were there. Just a few floors away. You were there -- in his house, in the middle of summer holiday, for four weeks! A whole bloody month!

“I’m going to absolutely kick your arse, Fred.”

“Feeling a bit hostile, are we, Georgie? None of that in this house. Mum will have your head, I reckon.”

Fred laughed to himself as he slid into his bed and propped himself up on his pillows. He gazed at the ceiling and then at his half unpacked trunk in the corner of the room. He waited for the younger twin across the room to speak.

“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I reckon because I get a right kick out of seeing you get all high strung and edgy at the mere sight of her, mate.”

George scoffed. “I could’ve used a bit more preparation, you know.”

“Mhmm.”

“She was perfect -- with that ribbon and those overalls and everything. She smelled like strawberries, Fred. Strawberries. And there I was, disgusting from your bloody Quidditch match. I’ve probably scared her off.”

Fred wanted to tell his brother how dramatic he was being, but instead, he snorted this time and threw his pillow directly at George, who groaned beneath it when it landed on his face.

“Think this is funny, do you?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

And George tried to hold back his laughter when Fred started on again, he really did, but he had to admit -- it was kind of funny.

He was happy. Over the bloody moon, actually. You were here, weren’t you? And you both had an entire month to do whatever you pleased. He stared through the darkness in his room, wide-eyed, the prospect of the rest of the holiday laid out in front of him like a map. He could show you the village, he could show you where he and Fred used to play as kids, his favorite shops! He could take you across the hills outside the Burrow and you two could spend the day outside under the summer sun and maybe, just maybe, his heart willing, he’d tell you. He’d tell you how his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of you in your dress at the ball. How the butterflies had danced around his stomach the entire night he spent twirling you. How he’d kept on joking just to hear you laugh. How he’d nearly short-circuited at the feeling of your lips on his cheek, just barely -- so close to his own. How he didn’t sleep that night, because all he could think about was you. Beautiful, perfect, golden -- ever-the-innocent. Ever-the-wonder.

Maybe he’d find a way to pluck up the courage. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, you’d tell him you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

________________

“That’s where Fred and I got our love of pranks,”

George pointed to a shop in the middle of the village. It was bright and vibrant and inviting. He watched as your eyes lit up at the sight of it. You were breathless. “How old were you when you first went there?”

“Four or five, maybe?”

It was overcast today, a bit cloudy, but it wasn’t going to stop George from bringing you into the village -- especially since he was finally alone with you. He’d finally lost his family in the crowd, thank Merlin. It was a bit cool, too, and George watched as you pulled your purple cardigan tighter around you. He reached out and touched your shoulder.

“And that there,” he pointed to a small little shop off the beaten path -- quiet and gray, a bit lonely -- “that’s mum’s favorite tea shop.”

“I’m so happy you took me here, George.”

“Are you?”

“Yes!” you squealed excitedly. You pulled a bit on his shirt and stopped short in the middle of the crowded street. “I love this, all of it. Wish I’d grown up here. Wish I’d known you when we were younger.”

George felt his insides twist into a very tight knot at the thought.

“Which reminds me,” your eyes brightened as you clapped your hands together. “Your mum promised me tonight she’d show me your baby photos!”

Yep, the knot had quickly tightened even more and shot straight into his throat. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in his own home. “Erm -- dunno if that’s such a good idea.”

“Come on -- I want to see how cute you were!”

He grinned a bit and watched as horror took over your face.

“Not--not that you’re not cute now. Not that I’m looking at you that way! I mean, you are cute, Georgie -- I mean -- I just --” you sighed dramatically. George watched as your cheeks went pink. “I just want to see you as a kid,”

He couldn’t stop laughing. How much more adorable could you get? How much more beautiful? he thought. His musings must’ve called out a signal to the universe, because a very large storm cloud appeared in the sky directly over the tiny little village and opened up almost immediately.

Before you knew it, you were both soaked from head to toe. “Come on!” he yelled over the shouts of the crowd and grabbed your hand. But you pulled him back and stayed put. Your hair was now separated in fat, wet strands -- half of it plastered to the sides of your face. Your cardigan was soaked. Your shoes muddy. Your makeup streaky. And yet, as you danced around and splashed in the puddles, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

The rain had stopped almost as quickly as it had started, and George noticed you were the only two in the middle of the street now. Surely, everyone else had run inside to escape the impactful -- albeit quick -- rainstorm. You jumped dramatically in the puddle in front of him, splashing the bottoms of his jeans and his shoes, and he said to you, warmth overtaking him despite his cold, rain soaked clothes, “You’re a wonder, you are. Like a little kid.”

Normally a comment like that would bother you. A little kid? You? How rude! You were perfectly capable of acting like an adult, thank you very much. But the way George said it, the way the words so effortlessly escaped from his lips -- it was more of a compliment than anything else. You wondered if, maybe, possibly, somehow, he’d love you in spite of it. No, no, because of it. Your innocence. “Why? You giggled, reaching out and touching his arm. You watched as the raindrops fell from his eyelashes every time he blinked. “Because I like to splash in puddles, Georgie?”

“Yes,” he replied breathlessly and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “because you like to splash in puddles.”

This is the moment, he thought. Your eyes were softer than they ever had been. He was almost certain he could hear the pounding of your heart. Perhaps it was his. Either way, there was something different about you now -- something different about the look in your eye, as soon as he’d reached out to touch you. Fondness. He was going to tell you, in the middle of this desolate street, underneath the overcast sky, just how overwhelming his feelings have been, ever since that day. Ever since you noticed him. Ever since he’d made you laugh, that time, in Charms. How he’d wanted to make you laugh ever since. How he wanted to make you smile the largest of smiles. I’m the one who’s been sending you those gifts. It’s me. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. The words were on the tip of his tongue --

“Oi! What’re you two doing out here?”

George grimaced at the sound of Ron’s voice; bloody hell, they’d found you. Easy, now, since the crowd had dispersed. George relished the thought of pulling you into an empty store to escape his family yet again, but it was too late. They’d noticed you. Good Godric, how much longer was he going to hold this in? It’s not very often feelings of bravery about you overtake him --

“Been playing in the rain again, Y/N, haven’t you?”

“Perhaps I was, Freddie. Something you ought to try sometime, I reckon.”

“Let’s get home!” Molly called to you all. She tutted at the sight of your soaked clothes and wrapped her shawl around your shoulders. “Oh, dear -- come, then, the Burrow awaits. I’ve got nice bowls of soup to warm you all up.”

George just stood where he was as Hermione and Ginny tugged you along to head back to the Burrow, staring at the spot you had been in front of him -- moon-eyed and shivering from the rain. Soft and close to him. Just inches away.

He felt an arm drape across his shoulder. “I can see why you fancy her so much, son.”

Arthur pulled George along, a few feet behind the rest of the crowd. George was moving forward, but wasn’t sure how. He couldn’t feel his legs or his feet. “W-what? Dad, I dunno what you’re on about.”

“Always have been a right awful liar, you have!” Arthur’s haughty laughter echoed through the street, now filling with people. “It’s why I was always able to catch you and Fred when you were younger -- you wear your heart right here!” he pointed to George’s sleeve.

“Dad,” George said through gritted teeth, both embarrassed and relieved that someone, anyone, other than Fred knew of his feelings. He swallowed his nerves and just went for it. “Nobody’s told her, have they?”

“And revealed the very best of you? No, son, I reckon your mother would have their heads.” Arthur replied. George pulled at his red hair, a carbon copy of his father’s when he was George’s age.

And suddenly, George felt a bolt of confidence race through his veins. “I was going to tell her. Right before you lot showed up. How I feel, I mean. You reckon I should? Or would I look like a prat?”

George had never really fancied discussing girls with his father -- or with anyone, for that matter, except for Fred. He’d always felt awkward about it. Being open. Being vulnerable. Letting people into his heart. But now, standing here with his father, watching the girl he’s loved for so many years -- the girl he hoped, one day, would become his wife -- he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could open his heart a bit more.

Arthur laughed again and squeezed George’s shoulder. “Not a prat, son. A brave man. You tell her when you’re ready. We’ll all be waiting.”

George, stunned, turned to look at his dad now, wide-eyed and confused. “What do you mean ‘we’ll all be waiting’?”

“Well we all love her, don’t we?” Arthur prodded on. The Burrow was in view now. George watched as you and Ginny began to do cartwheels across the hills, Ron and Fred and Hermione and Harry laughing at it all. He felt a smile lift his cheeks. Arthur continued, “Your mum adores her, you know, as does everyone else.” You turned around and raised a hand to them both before going into another cartwheel, landing in the wet grass, earning yourself laughs from your friends. You -- not poised in the slightest, but still the cutest thing he’d ever seen -- golden against the now cotton candy colored sky, and him -- desperately in love, heart on his sleeve, his feelings nearly pouring out of him. Without a shred of doubt -- he knew what being in love meant. This was being in love. George couldn’t help but laugh at his father’s next words: “And son, did you know? She knows all about these Muggle contraptions! Hope you don’t mind, but, she’s promised to tell me all about some of them after supper. Merlin’s beard!”

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 4]

<- Part 3

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only! Suicidal thoughts. Nonconsensual blowjob, dubcon smut with reader (gender-neutral). None of the smut in this chapter is healthy! Two messed up people falling in love, only one is a lot more abusive than the other (Chilton. It’s Chilton). Reader is not in the healthiest of mind states to interpret their relationship. Everyone more or less gets what they deserve by the end.

6,400 words

Red morning light flooded into the bedroom through expansive panoramic windows that gave a spectacular view over the bay. Dr. Chilton—no, Frederick—was still beside you, rolled onto his back, snoring lightly. The bed was warm and smelled like him. A spicy, timeless fragrance. Expensive and a little off-putting at first whiff, until it melted into something complex and beautiful.

You felt hollow. Numb. Like you could float away or sink to the bottom of the ocean and never claw your way back out again. But calmer, at least. The impulse to hurt yourself was gone.

The negativity that had been devouring you from within had been washed away by a flood of tears and joy—crying until your eyes burned and your throat was hoarse, fucking your boss, going home with him, and then falling asleep crying again while he held you.

This morning, you had nothing left except static.

And there was Frederick Chilton, asleep beside you like a dreaming titan—the silhouette of his body beautiful and ominous. You resisted the urge to cuddle up next to him. He reacted badly to being touched without warning, and besides, you dreaded waking him up. What if he wasn’t happy? What if everything from last night was a mistake?

It all seemed surreal. That he had wanted you all along was too good to be true. Now that he had you, you were certain to be a disappointment. Your chest heaved unexpectedly, and you bit back a fresh sob. Suddenly your face was wet again.

Your nerves were so raw.

The peaceful static buzzing through your mind was fragile. Any sudden movement or loud thought might set you spiraling back down that hole again. You’re just going to screw this up, just like you screw everything up. Maybe it would have been better if you’d just gone through with it—saved everyone the inevitable heartache.

But if you had gone through with it, you never would have found out that Frederick returned your feelings. That knowledge—that something wonderful happened after your planned date of expiration—was reason enough not to try again. Sometimes good things happened. Things could change. Things could get better, and you could be happy again. You had to believe that.

So you moved slowly, and thought quietly. You listened to Frederick’s breathing in and out, and remained wrapped in the warm cocoon of blankets.

***

On the spectrum of touch aversion, Frederick Chilton was hardly a dramatic case. There was a Mr. Walton in his custody at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane who was imprisoned for murdering his four-year-old daughter because she would not stop hugging his calves as he walked by. Restraining the man for treatment required four muscular orderlies prepared for him to kick and bite at the slightest grazing of his skin.

That was touch aversion. Dr. Chilton considered himself perfectly normal by comparison.

He was able to shake hands with an acquaintance, hug a close friend or relative when social normalcy dictated he offer one, and even engage in sexual intercourse when his libido overrode his discomfort. As a man with a very high libido and next to no dating life, sex won out at every opportunity.

Yesterday, the hasty, frantic encounter with you in the medicine storage closet had been almost fully clothed. His hands explored your body as he rutted into you, but yours were braced against the tile wall, passive.

It was impersonal, and he was in control.

This morning, he awoke wrapped in the warmth of your body heat after you spent the night in his bed. In his home. He fell asleep watching you and awoke to you watching him thrashing out of a nightmare, your eyes full of so much emasculating pity that he lunged forward at once to kiss the look off your face.

Fuck—he did not know what he was thinking. A muffled noise of surprise escaped your crushed lips and then melted into a moan as you reciprocated. You opened compliantly to allow his tongue entrance. He meant to bully away your perception of his weakness with the aggressive kiss—he had not expected you to coil your fingers deep into his hair and pull him closer. Your leg pushed between his, and as he pulled back, panting, you quickly closed the gap and kissed him again.

Your bright floral scent was everywhere, surrounding him, invading the familiarity of his sheets. Your hands were pulling at him, softly caressing up and down his back.

It was intimate.

And he was terrified.

You saw him freezing up, and your hands stopped grabbing at him. Some of his tension evaporated as soon as you gave him space. A worried smile thinned your lips.

“Sorry. I forgot,” you murmured. “Is this better?”

You remembered. This was usually where his bedmate would call him too cold, or roll their eyes in annoyance. There was the usual guilt trip: if he was attracted to them, he would want to be crowded with physical affection. But you asked if he wanted to stop—asked him what he needed. No one had ever done that for him before.

“I am fine,” he swore to your skeptical frown, and it almost wasn’t a lie.

Knowing that you would stop put him at ease. The sunny persona you used at work may have been a forgery, but your gentle kindness was not. With you, he almost was fine.

He kissed you again, this time as tenderly as he had while you were sleeping. Felt you breathe in as his lips met yours, and then melt into him as you breathed out. He caressed your hair, and when your eyes opened again, taking him in, his heart felt full.

***

As a general rule of thumb, it is not a good idea to fuck your boss. This rule goes double when you are in the middle of a mental health crisis, and increases geometrically when said crisis was precipitated by your boss’s callous, condescending, cruel behavior in the first place. Or—that is to say—when your boss is Dr. Frederick Chilton.

But when you wake up in your boss’s bed having already fucked him, he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and the twitching of his erection against your thigh makes you feel alive again, you might as well accept you’re in too deep and go for it.

Dr. Chilton’s cock was already slipping through the open fly of his pajamas, and your hand helped it the rest of the way out. You licked your lips, imagining the weight of him on your tongue, his salty taste filling your mouth. Bracing a hand on one of his thighs, you lowered yourself to the pink dome.

“N-no,” Frederick stammered. “You do not have to do that.”

“I want to,” you hummed, a seductive rumble to your voice.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward once in appreciation for your willingness, but his eyes kept a haunted dullness that told you there was more behind his refusal than politeness. There was a story there, and you knew better than to push it.

You couldn’t have known it was his conscience intruding.

Taking control, he pushed you back down onto the mattress. The sound of lube squeezing from a bottle shortly preceded a cold slickness spread between your legs. You reached for him instinctively, trying to make it romantic, but he pinned your hands down by your side. The crown of his cock pushed against your tight entrance, which burned at the penetration it was unprepared for. It was cold, rushed—but as he canted his hips forward, his fingers laced through yours.

“Oh god,” he moaned as if he were kneeling in prayer, whispering his sins in confession—guttural, yet barely a breath.

You grit your teeth to cage the pained cry that leaped in your throat, stifling it into what passed for a whimper of pleasure. The stretch of his unceremonious insertion was the punishment you deserved for being so dramatic and causing so much trouble yesterday. For making him bring you home, worry about you, feel like he had to take care of you. For being weak. For all the incompetent mistakes. You didn’t complain that your body screamed in protest at being forced open too fast by such a large implement. It wasn’t that bad, and the sensation was mixed with pleasure. Satisfaction of seeing the handsome doctor’s face contorting with lust warmed your stomach, and soon your body relaxed around his cock, warmth pooling and coiling in your lower back.

Chilton’s first thrusts were controlled, experimental, rocking forward by slow inches and then retreating until the crest of his cockhead was barely hanging on to the tight rim of your opening. Then he rocked forward again while his analytical green eyes studied your reaction.

After a few of these slow strokes, the pain was gone. Perhaps he had been cognizant of it, waiting until you were letting out soft moans, your pelvis tilting to meet his, before continuing. Then his leg muscles tightened, and his next thrust slammed his hips into yours, filling you completely. You cried out in unison—his a satisfied growl, and yours a wail like you’d been punched in the gut but got off on it.

He lost his thin facade of control after that, rutting into you with force, pressing sloppy wet kisses over your mouth, down your neck. Your fingers clenched his tightly, your knuckles turning white, and he gripped back just as hard. He only slowed to arch his back so he could tease your nipples into hardened peaks with his tongue, releasing new yelps and whimpers from your throat. A possessive bite drew a more resounding cry of pleasure and a dark bruise.

The only thing restrained about his performance was his voice. After his first shout of pleasure, he grew silent except for a few strained noises that told you how hard he was working to strangle back the others. You wondered what wild howls Dr. Chilton hid within him.

“I want to hear you,” you panted.

His face was a mask of effort, already covered in a sheen of sweat that betrayed his poor physical shape. He stared down at you like an enemy soldier in a trench—a spy picking at his weaknesses—and gave no reply.

A strange sort of bravery born of lust came over you. “I want to hear it when you come inside me,” you challenged.

The rhythmic motion of his hips stuttered, and a moan slipped past his defenses as if by your command.

“That’s good,” you purred. “That’s a good boy.”

Something shifted in his suspicious eyes at your praise. A wall came down. “Yes,” he rasped. “You want to hear it—” his voice was punctuated by a powerful snap of his hips and a wet sound of flesh “—when I fill you with my seed.”

“Fuck—yes. Please. Fill me, come inside me!” your voice shook as you moaned your assent. You were so hollow. You needed him—needed him to fill that emptiness inside. Needed his thick cock splitting you open, punishing you, claiming you.

“When I make you mine.” His eyes were wild, almost frightening in their focus upon you—perfect green tunnels into a soul as volatile as yours. He pounded into you deeper.

And he was loud. He had been loud yesterday when he took you fast and hard against the wall, but that encounter was a blur in your memory. Now his voice was the only music filling your head, replacing the static. He spoke continually in filthy promises and eloquent details of what he wanted to do to you, but his words were punctuated by inarticulate grunts and moans. An aching need built with each primal noise that was so unlike the repressed, cynical Dr. Chilton you knew at work.

Every trembling declaration of your name, every prayer to god that passed his lips sent a shock of arousal to your core, and when he half-begged, half-demanded, “Mine… you are mine,” you couldn’t help but agree.

“Yours!”

You were close, all of your senses lost to an overwhelming need. Chilton released one of your hands and slipped between your legs. Every nerve in your body came alive as he stroked you. Your back arched as you went rigid beneath him, crying out.

His head fell against your shoulder, hips bucking wildly, and he sobbed, “Oh god… yes… yes. Mine… mine… mmm—!”

He shuddered as his warmth flooded you. Though his hand became lazy as his own climax overtook him, you eked out an orgasm from the friction between your bodies. It was enough. Enough to leave a slippery mess on his bedsheets, and enough for the resulting crash.

Your emotional high popped like a soap bubble and left you just as hollow—somehow emptier than before—even with Dr. Chilton’s cock still inside you and his seed filling you. You felt wrong. Guilt churned in the place arousal had been occupying. You almost started to weep as he pulled out of you.

Chilton didn’t seem to notice, glowing with the opposite effect of his completion. He ducked between your legs, grabbed your thighs, and began sucking your overstimulated flesh with renewed enthusiasm.

“Ah! W-wait,” you squirmed in his grasp, but it was firm. “What are you doing? I-I already came!”

The sloppy wet noises paused. His chin was soaked and he took sadistic delight in your distraught whimpers. “Therapy,” he smirked. “I have a theory you have another one in you, and that it will benefit your health.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Be a good little subject for me and try,” he answered, “or we shall be here a long time.” Then he buried his face between your thighs.

It felt sickening at first, like swallowing a cup of sugar—too much of something good that becomes painful. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as his tongue worked mercilessly. Then his fingers pumped inside you, his slick cum serving as a lubricant, and that aching need began to return. Choked cries of misery dissolved into ones of pleasure. He didn’t stop until you came again in his mouth, legs quivering and bruised under his grip. This one was more powerful than the first—you could feel it through your entire body, in every limb, and when it finally passed and his mouth popped wetly off of you, your body was too leaden to move.

Chilton smiled, quite satisfied with himself, licking your release off his lips.

***

Work was less stressful when you returned to it on Monday. Dr. Chilton was suddenly understanding of your mistakes. Though you were terrified he would decide he was wrong about you—you were too much of an idiot and failure for a relationship—things at least improved to the point that you could pretend to be cheerful again. Fake it until you make it was your mantra.

Everyone could tell something had changed.

Shifts were rationed out fairly without the express aim of frustrating employees. Patients received actual treatment. Dr. Chilton’s mood was so much less spiteful that a new hire unironically called him nice.

“He must be getting laid,” was the rumor around the hospital, though no one could decide who in their right mind would sleep with him. Your grin dropped at an orderly’s suggestion it was a prostitute.

You were gathering up your keys and jacket from your personal locker in the staff room when the sound of expensive leather shoes clicking on the stone floor signaled the doctor’s approach. It no longer made you flinch.

Chilton glanced in from the hallway and, seeing you were not alone, politely said, “Good work today,” and continued on, his step lighter than usual.

“You didn’t,” Nurse Clerval said flatly.

“What?”

“You didn’t,” they repeated. A raised eyebrow caused worry wrinkles to erupt beneath a hairline steadily turning grey.

“Of course not!”

“Then what is all this about?”

Your entire body was shifted in the direction Dr. Chilton had gone as if straining to follow, and a tell-tale smile shaped your lips into a fawning curve. Oh, you were so busted.

“We happened to talk the other day, that’s all. In private.”

“How private?” Another brow raise.

Your cheeks burned. “It’s not like that! He’s shy. When we talked one-on-one, it turns out we get along. He apologized for always singling me out, and he’s just trying to be more supportive. As a management style.”

Clerval stared at you hard. Your chest puffed out, really proud of that lie. The older nurse had seen enough within the hospital walls to know the administrator suddenly adopting a kinder, gentler management style was horseshit. But their jaded heart had not lost all compassion. A young nurse caught fucking the boss would get ripped to pieces by the gossip mill in this vicious place.

“OK. Fine,” they surrendered. “Just don’t go around making googly eyes, or people will get the wrong idea.”

***

A timid knock sounded on Dr. Chilton’s door, although it was still open from his last meeting—a junior psychiatrist who hurried out fuming and near tears. Perhaps that was why the next appointment was hesitant to come in.

He looked up from his computer, and the crankiness entrenched in his bones shook off at the sight of your face. You were his eighth performance evaluation that day, somewhere in the middle of the pack, and he’d lost track. Now his demeanor shifted, and he did something he hadn’t done for the others by rising from his desk to greet you.

“Close the door, if you would,” he said before you got too far into the room.

The latch clicked shut.

You were nervous. Though you had been dating for months, you remained distant during the workweek to avoid scandal—if news of a relationship got back to the board, you might be transferred to another hospital. Alone in his office, it was unclear whether Dr. Chilton was your boss or your boyfriend. Letting you dangle in suspense sent a thrill of excitement up his spine.

“Take a seat. Let’s get started, shall we?” he said, sitting back down behind his computer.

His massive desk was known as “the moat” by his staff, and it created an impersonal distance between you. He eyeballed you from across the moat, tapping his fingers together as he sank into his tall-backed leather chair. You sat on a small wooden chair, feeling very much like a specimen, and focused on the space between his eyes.

“You have been late five times this year and had to have an ID card replaced,” he said in clipped syllables, launching right into the review with one “needs improvement” after another.

Your stomach twisted into a familiar knot, but you managed not to spiral into an attack of self-loathing and anxiety. If you were going to cry, you could hold it until later.

Talking to someone helped.

Even Chilton admitted it was unethical for your boyfriend to be your therapist, and recommended you to someone with more expertise. You had been seeing Dr. Bloom for three months, and the dark fog was slowly receding. She taught you how to beat it back. Finding another job, for example, was not an outrageous, impossible idea if your current one was making you miserable. And most of your mistakes were no worse than the mistakes of your coworkers whom you very much wanted to keep living. She started you on a bupropion prescription that helped stabilize your moods, and you found yourself able to focus better because of it, too.

It also helped not being bullied at work every day.

The more your self-esteem improved over the months, the more you came to resent the shameful way Frederick used to treat you. Yet, as those same months went by, his actions drifted further into the territory of Past Frederick. That man was a stranger now—you could hardly hold Present Frederick accountable for his actions. Present Frederick was attentive and warm, always surprising you with lavish meals from Baltimore’s finest restaurants, spa days, and quiet nights at home. And as your boss, he was aloof but polite whenever he had cause to speak with you.

Why was he acting so cold now?

Dr. Chilton’s green eyes bore into you over the top his computer screen. “Tsk tsk… I am afraid your performance has not been exceptional, nurse. Perhaps there is something you can do to improve what goes into my report…” A thin lecherous smile spread over his lips.

You weren’t sure what he meant until he beckoned you to his side of the moat, and his hand slid under your shirt.

“What are you willing to do for a better evaluation, my little pet?” He winked mischievously, a hint of playfulness lighting his eyes, though his desire was deadly serious.

“We said never at work.”

“Yes, but now we have reason to be locked in my office, alone. Nothing that would raise suspicion. You are all mine for the next twenty minutes.”

A gasp rushed from your lips as his fingers expertly found a nipple and pinched. Your skin prickled with need.

“In that case, doctor… what will it take? I’ll do anything!” You added a desperate tremble to your voice as you got into the role he wanted you to play.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to bend you over this desk?” Frederick growled with lust, his breath hot in your ear as he grabbed your arms and spun you to face it. It had been a fantasy for far longer than you had been dating. His erection pressed against your ass.

You twisted your neck to catch the side of his mouth in a sloppy kiss. He smirked against your tongue before shoving you down.

The flat of his hand trailed up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades to push your cheek into the polished mahogany.

“Good… very good,” he said. His breath shook with excitement.

Pulling your scrubs down, he rubbed the thickness of his cock over your opening. You shuddered at the cold sensation of lubricant and moaned as he reached between your thighs to stroke you.

“You are always ready for me to take you whenever I want it. To do anything I ask. It is my favorite thing about you—did you know that, my needy little pet?”

His hips rocked, the blunt head of his cock circling, pushing at your tightness. You let out a strangled whimper that almost sounded like a, “Yes, Doctor Chilton.”

“Be quiet now, remember,” he chided as his strong fingers dug into your hips and drew them against his in one fluid motion.

A gasp erupted from your throat—you fought to comply as he stretched you open, biting down on your fist. You were so tight around his cock, but it was the rush of power that drove him into a frenzy. He felt so in control, gripping your hips as he pounded you against his large desk. The desk was his own furnishing, and he was proud of how substantial it was—too heavy to scrape across the floor even as he fucked you. No creaking to indicate cheap construction. The height of refinement. Silent. No one would know what was happening just behind the closed door of his office—his domain. He had control here. It was something he was desperate for after two near-fatal attacks left him weakened and helpless, and his office was one of the few places he could exert his will absolutely. His office was his safety. And you. You completed it.

“You’re mine,” he grunted. “So submissive for me, bent over… God, yes—”

The one thing Dr. Chilton desired in life more than control was to be adored, and you adored him. The most pleasant ray of sunshine to grace the BSHCI was secretly broken like him. Was secretly his. All his. He had everything he wanted—your obedience, your affection, your strangled cries as you fought to stay quiet, your body writhing in pleasure beneath him—

He shuddered and came.

He finished sooner than he intended, and awareness of being old and weak came flooding back as his release dripped out around his cock and dribbled down your thighs. Fuck. He fucked it all up. But you turned and wrapped your arms around him anyway, kissed him like you weren’t even disappointed, and made him forget he wasn’t good enough. God, he could get lost in you.

Every day, he was a little less self-conscious. More comfortable having you close. He learned to trust you.

After a life of suffering, you were his happy ending.

***

“I love you.”

You hadn’t said it yet, but you were going to today.

Frederick Chilton’s hand was always in yours wherever you went—under the dinner table, on your thigh in the car, on the couch while the other hand typed away on a laptop. Soon he wouldn’t be able to hide his affection at work. You already caught him nearly slipping up and calling you “pet” in front of another nurse. It wouldn’t be long before it all came out. And it would be alright.

You were already looking at jobs at other hospitals in Baltimore. Most even came with a pay increase. Then when your relationship went public, there would be no scandal, no dating your boss, just the two of you together. A real couple. He was going to invite you to move in with him so you could still see each other every day—you were sure of it. The thought sent thrills of goosebumps tingling up your arms.

For once, when you looked to the future, you saw something bright.

“Hey Clerval, have you seen Dr. Chilton? I tried his office, but…”

The old nurse sighed heavily. Swinging their feet off the breakroom table, they set aside the yogurt cup they were halfway through and gave you a tired look. You hadn’t exactly told Clerval about your secret relationship, but they knew, and so far, no one else did. Not that they approved. In fact, you had never seen Clerval so worn down as when the topic of you and Dr. Chilton came up.

“His schedule says he’s in his office, which means he’s probably in one of his ‘unorthodox therapy’ sessions.”

Your head cocked. “His what?”

Clerval pinched the bridge of their nose, giving yet another sigh at your naivety. (At this rate, they were going to run out of air.) “Experimental procedures. Things the good doctor doesn’t want on record.”

There was a bitter bite to their words, yet at the same time, resignation. This hospital sucked the soul out of everyone who entered it, and Henry Clerval had been a nurse here longer than anyone. Longer than Frederick Chilton had been a doctor.

“Oh,” you said. “Well,” you scuffed the white rubber sole of your sneaker on the stone floor. “I’m sure he has a good reason.”

“I always see those hypnotherapy lights flashing around Ward A when no one is scheduled for therapy. Try there,” Clerval suggested with defeat.

“Thank you!” you called, sneakers already running down the hall in the direction of the women’s ward.

“Are you sure you want to interrupt his session?”

“I want to surprise him! I’ve got something important to say!”

***

If anyone had been outside women’s wing cell 4B on any Wednesday around noon, they would have heard a wet choking sound, but the staff was too jaded to care. If the guards had any idea what was happening, they got off on it, and didn’t try to stop it.

“Am I good girl, daddy?”

“Yes… yes,” Dr. Chilton hissed between his teeth, biting his lower lip to keep his breath from exploding out in a tortured moan. “A good girl.”

It was an accident the first time a hypnotherapy session regressed Julianne back to a sexually abusive childhood. She grabbed for his belt, and he froze. He almost yelped out in terror and called for a guard, but then she had his cock in her warm, wet mouth, sucking it to fullness, and moaning for him (or rather, for the memory of the father and brother she eventually murdered).

This wasn’t therapy.

When you became a soft part of his life, he stopped trying to justify his actions as anything other than more exploitation in her long life of being exploited. He let it happen because he was lonely, and he continued doing it because he did not care who else got hurt. There were no possible therapeutic benefits for the patient. He himself noted an exacerbation of dissociative symptoms, if there was ever any doubt that he was not thinking of her care. He only wanted a warm mouth to service him, even if it was not the one he longed for.

Then you became more than a daydream, and he recognized how deeply he hated himself. Because he had you—not only your body, but your heart.

But he never stopped.

Every week, like clockwork, he continued the hypnotherapy sessions and left Julianne confused with the bitter taste of his ejaculation in her throat.

You could have been his happy ending.

It wasn’t too late. You filled his lonesome days with affection and understanding he never thought possible. You taught him that he wasn’t too old and broken to love. In forty-five miserable years, he hadn’t ruined things so badly he could never find happiness.

You could have been his epilogue if he only loved you as well as you loved him.

It was not your fault what happened next.

But of course, of all the nurses and orderlies, doctors and guards in the BSHCI, you were the only one kind enough to want to surprise him with lunch. The only one who would have a sinking feeling about the rhythmic squelching coming from cell 4B. Anyone else would have said it was someone else’s business and walked away before seeing something that might obligate them to fill out paperwork.

You were too kind for this place. Too kind for the scarred doctor whose heart died a long time ago.

He watched your eyes widen from the other side of the bars. Saw your face turn from confused to nauseous, then crumple into tears as an involuntary groan escaped his lips—Julianne kept sucking at an unwelcome, now painful pace.

Then you turned and ran.

Julianne never stopped until he finished, though he was no longer in the mood. He never touched her, but he tried to back up, wanted to run after you. She stayed with him. This time he broke his rule and placed a hand to her forehead to push her away. Grasping his thighs, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder. Blood hammered in his ears. If he ripped her away, she could become violent or wake from the hypnosis, and he did not know how much was she aware was real. What her reaction might be. She was surprisingly strong as she held on, teeth grazing threateningly along his shaft the more he struggled.

She never stopped until he finished.

He was trapped.

He whimpered, cock going soft even as she bobbed faster. He tried to close his eyes and think about you, but that was ruined. You were gone forever. There was nothing he could say to explain himself, unless he drugged you with the right cocktail of psychotropics to make you suggestible, your memory malleable…

Solutions he knew would never work raced through his mind as the throbbing between his legs became an agonizing burn devoid of pleasure.

Panic rose and tightened his chest.

***

An anonymous call was made to the board of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The subsequent investigation found “no conclusive evidence” of Dr. Chilton’s alleged breach of ethics, owing not to the lack of such evidence existing, but the board’s desire to sweep the incident under the rug. He was, however, summarily fired and replaced by Dr. Alana Bloom. A forward-thinking move—if the truth ever came out, the hospital would have a friendly feminist face for public relations.

He never went to jail. Never got what he deserved.

Within a month, his book Hannibal the Cannibal became a national best-seller, and he was on tour, raking in wealth and acclaim. He probably would have left his position at the hospital anyway.

There was only one thing he lost, and he used much of the book’s royalties hiring a private investigator to keep tabs on you. It was the only way he could be sure you were safe when you would not return any of his calls.

As much as he was terrified of you becoming suicidal again, the truth hurt more.

You were doing well.

You resigned from BSHCI. Within a month, you had a new job as a graphic designer of all things. He never knew you were an artist. There were so many things about you he never asked, and now he never would.

Every so often, he would drive by your house and slow down, trying to catch a glimpse of you. He imagined seeing you hanging a rope, and rescuing you just in time. A thousand versions of the confrontation played in his mind—you screaming, “Stay away from me!” with disgust. Tears streaming from your puffy red eyes. Him pleading, “Do not hurt yourself because of my mistake.” The bark of your sardonic laugh at the realization that he cared.

In a few, precious few, of these fantasies, you would throw yourself into his arms and forgive him.

But he never saw you in danger, and he rarely indulged dreams as unlikely as reconciliation.

Eventually, he didn’t even get to hear your voice directing him to leave a message—only an automated recording that the number has been disconnected. Sometimes, however, you were sitting on the couch in your living room near the window, and it was enough to justify the forty-minute detour through your neighborhood.

One day, your silhouette was not alone.

***

Nurse Clerval quit two days after you left.

They couldn’t forget the shock on your face when you burst into the breakroom and nearly collapsed. It was the most heartbreaking thing to see someone so innocent crushed.

“Ch-Chilton… he—”

Sobbing and stuttering, you told them what happened, and Clerval took care of it. You were in no state to get on the phone, be put on hold, and fill out the miles of paperwork that went with everything in a government-funded hospital. It was a pain in the ass, and nothing would get done anyway, which was why no one ever bothered… but they couldn’t ignore the look on your face.

“You’re going to get through this,” the nurse said when you hadn’t moved for a long time. “Just breathe. It’s going to be bad for awhile, but you just keep breathing, keep surviving, and one day you’ll wake up, and… you’ll be through it.”

You rubbed the tears from your eyes to look up at Clerval with new appreciation. The jaded nurse had been haunting these halls for too long and it hardened them, but they were always watching out for you.

When you tried to throw yourself at them, desperate for stability, they turned you down, patting your head like a child. “You’re not in a clear mental state.”

***

A brown paper takeout bag sat on your kitchen counter. You’d missed your own “congratulations on the new job” party, and Clerval got worried, hiding their relief when you answered the door. Your eyes were lifeless.

“I couldn’t face everyone. If any of them knew I was… seeing him”—you shuddered and avoided saying his name—“they wouldn’t be caught dead with me. How could I be so stupid?”

A calloused thumb wiped a tear from your cheek. “I miss your smile.”

They gave you a small, sad smile of their own. It was the first time you’d seen Clerval smile. Their face looked like it was made to smile, you decided—like it used to a long time ago, but forgot how.

“When you were dating Dr. Chilton... fuck that bastard, but you were happy. I loved coming to work and seeing you smile like that. It brightened up the gloom. I’d like to see you smile like that again someday.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked. “I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Suddenly you were wrapped in a hug, with a comforting voice in your ear. “You can. You will.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Shut up, I’m clair-fucking-voyant, and I goddamned know you will. Now go on and live your life like you believe it too. Don’t you dare turn into an old cynic like me.”

***

Frederick Chilton thought his lungs would burn through his ribcage—that his throat would close up, and he would die. Seeing you with someone else was more than he could stand, and he drove home with a death wish, gas pedal to the floor. He would rather be wrapped around a telephone pole than make it back to his empty, too-large house.

But the universe does not dole out fair consequences.

He deserved to die in a jealous rage. To be arrested. You should have thrown wine in his face in a dramatic public confrontation. Screamed at him. But you never did.

There was no satisfying comeuppance or divine punishment.

There was only the memory of your heart breaking, and knowing three things in that moment: You loved him. It was over. And it was his fault. There was a time in his life when he was happy. When he had you to hold in his arms, kiss away his nightmares, and fill his days with love.

And then he didn’t.

All he had left was the smell of you on his sheets and a hoodie you had forgotten. He laid it out on a pillow beside him and inhaled until even your scent was gone.

Years later, lying in his own charred remains inside an oxygen chamber, he wondered if you would visit and start to cry at the sight of him. Forgive him.

He never saw you again.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

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#Frederick Chilton x reader #darkfic #angst #gender-neutral reader

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