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sunsents · 4 years ago

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Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

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

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

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

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

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

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

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

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

Five Years Later, 2003

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

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

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Auntie ____!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

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

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

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

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

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

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

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

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

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

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

“Wha-“

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

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

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

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

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

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

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

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

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

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

————————

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

Jambo’s no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolute blasphemy.

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

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

Of course your logic sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

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

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

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

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

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woah, down girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” he says softly.

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

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

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

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

“Eva!”

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

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

Fred winces. “Actually-”

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

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

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

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

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a you problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well what changed your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eva stutters, “What?”

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

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

“No, he won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

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

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

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred freezes - second time that night.

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

Fuck fuck fuck.

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

You almost swallow your tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Finally!” George yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____.”

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

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

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

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

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

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

“____.”

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

“____, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

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

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

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

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

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

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock Knock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

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

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

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

“I did.” you smile.

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

“Near what?” You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred, don-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too - oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well shit.”

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

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

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

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

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

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

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

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

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

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 years ago

Text

Wicked Romance

Chapter 1

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her.

Warning: Maybe bad writing? Hehehe forgive me. This is my first time write and posting my own fan fiction on tumblr.

############

If an outsider sees Steve, he got everything: looks, money, status. But for him, he lacks one thing; the right person to stand beside him.

But let’s talk about how Steve became the new mob leader.

Steve got raised by his mother Sarah Rogers, it was until he retired from the military he reconnected with his father again.

He thought his father, Joseph Rogers owns a security firm every time he visits him when he was a kid after his parents divorced. Until he reaches a certain age he realized his father actually is a mob boss. He found his childhood friend Bucky, they went to the army together, also working with his father after he got into an accident that cost his left arm.

He owes it to his father, but Joseph doesn’t need his son to pay his debt. He only wanted his son to stay with him. Joseph has everything, but he missing two things; his lovely wife and his son.

Joseph loves Sarah, but he forgot she doesn’t come from a mobster background. When they got married, she was overwhelmed. Looking at her husband coming home with blood on his hands or they need to stay at the safe house when she was 8 months pregnant and when Steve was baby the rival gang tried to hurt her and their son.

Sarah admitted to Joseph that she couldn’t live like this. In the end, she asks to separated but they never divorced. Joseph never sends the document to the court.

When Joseph retired, he decided to be honest. He went to chase his wife again. With a lot of effort the couple reunited again.

Their love story was so sweet that could make Steve’s teeth hurt. Joseph appointed Steve as the new leader while he enjoys his second honeymoon with his wife.

It’s been 5 years since Steve became the new mob boss, now he’s waiting for the one that could help him write a sweet story like his parents.

Right now around lunchtime at the fancy that owned by Rogers. Steve and others like Bucky and Sam are sitting at the bar. While Pietro is the bartender serving their drinks.

It's a usual day for them but it's a little bit different with Steve this time.

Steve head not looking at his food because notices someone seating near the window. She wearing a dress, not too sexy but he could see her legs. She is completely different from a woman who dressed less to get his attention. The reason is simple Steve is an attractive man, tall, broad shoulder, the expensive three-piece suit that wraps his muscles. He only sits for 3 minutes, few girls try to seduce him but he politely or in a sarcastic way to shoo them.

And the girl who he watched for a while won’t budge to turned around. It poked his ego a little bit. He quite used to with the flirt and attention.

“You still staring at her.”

Bucky’s words made Steve snap up from his trance.

Steve shook his head, he couldn’t help it because he wants to see the woman face who sitting alone.

“Pfft.”

Someone who holds his laughter. Three of them turn their gaze towards the bartender served their drink.

“Something funny Pietro?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just surprised my boss lose his game before approaching Miss Lilly.”

Steve tilts his head “You knew her name?”

Pietro nodded while whipping the glass with cloth “Yup, the gorgeous lady that always left a big tip.”

“She has become a regular?” Sam asks surprised.

“Perhaps, it’s difficult to forget her since the first time she came here.” Pietro is a sucker for a beautiful woman.

He put the clean glass on the shelf “The day she came here also the first day Peter Peter start his job.”

The alpha male grunted when Parker’s name mentioned. That kid is troublesome. He always late for his job and clumsy, but he’s the best chef assistant according to Wanda who the head chef at the restaurant.

“So she’s been our customer for 5 months. How come we never notice her?” Sam whispered asking. They always come here every day for lunch and dinner.

Pietro raised his shoulder “Usually she only stays for 10 minutes after buying one drink. Then she left. This is the first time she asks for a table.”

After hearing the info from Pietro, Steve looking at her back once again.

“Steve, if you don’t talk to her I will,” Sam said while moving from his seat.

Steve stop Sam by grabbing his shoulder “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

“Go get her punk.” Bucky raised his fist.

Steve nodded, he walks closer towards her table, he doesn’t understand why his heart beating so fast.

He already in his game, using his usual pick-up line and smile, but before his foot stops at her table, she turns her head towards him.

It felt like a slow-motion when he saw her looking at him.

The first moment he looked at her eyes, somehow the time stop and world in only both of them.

She looks at him with a friendly smile. ‘Her eyes,’ he couldn’t look away.

“Hi…” He couldn’t believe he almost squeaked his voice. Steve could feel his face turn red like tomatoes. How he wishes, the situation could change.

‘BANG’

The loud sound came from the gun sound. The door abruptly opened by a bunch of guys who wear suits, some of them holding guns, and baseball bat, and the one who leads them is Brock Rumlow.

Steve cursed, because of the annoying newcomer, he already lost the moment with her. But partly he blamed himself, earlier he wished to change the situation. Be careful what you wished for.

It must be his rival gang who crash his business again. This is the third time in one month. Since Brock became the new head after Pierce died.

“Damn it.” He saw Bucky and Sam already start kicking and punching.

He turned at her, he looks at her with puppy eyes “Forgive me for today’s distraction. You don’t have to pay. It’s free.”

Before she could reply, one guy holding a baseball bat, and swing at Steve but he able to stop it.

“Everyone leave this place !!!” He screamed his lungs out to alarm the guest who still shocked. All of them ran to save their lives.

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Pietro busy fighting their rival.

No wonder why he had bad feelings, today seems nothing could go wrong. He knew something bad will happen. Turn out it’s Rumlow.

“What do you want Rumlow?” Steve hissed at the uninvited guest.

Brock shrugged his shoulder “Oh nothing, I just want to say hi to my rival, since I became the boss now.”

‘Because of that reason?’ Steve inwardly thought. But he knew why Rumlow did this, he want everyone to know his name since he recently got this position. And this bastard choose his place at the wrong time and the wrong place.

Both of them punches at each other and destroyed the furniture.

Brock always sneaky, he prepares a hidden knife under his sleeves aka phantom blade.

He succeeded stab Steve’s shoulder.

“Urgh.” But because of his muscles, it didn’t go that deep.

Brock brings Steve to his shoulder and throws him to the ground.

Steve landed on the ground while Brock put on a mocking smile looking down at him.

“Boys~”

The seductive voice made both of them turn to see who it was.

Steve widened his eyes when he saw the girl who took his breath away standing in front of them.

When she stood, he could see she’s wearing a skirt that has a high cut on her left thigh. Steve and Brock were taken aback because under the fabric there’s a belt dagger.

She slightly pouted which made Steve thought for a second she looks adorable. But what the hell is she doing here when he already told everyone to leave this place.

She put her right hand on her left chest “It breaks my heart seeing my favorite restaurant destroyed like this.”

Steve somehow felt happy when he knew she like his work.

She grabs the dagger and throws it to Steve.

“I’m lending it to you.” She winked at him, and turn around to grab her coat. She headed to the exit door, easily avoided the fight.

“That’s one hot lady right there.”

“Yeah, she is.” Steve took the chance to give a butthead towards Brock. He doesn’t want this jerk to look at his ‘future date’.

Brock screamed while holding his broken nose “That’s was low, I was distracted.”

“Let’s get this over with. I can’t do this all day.” Steve finally let out his rage towards Rumlow.

####

Their fight is done with the result Steve side who won.

“I’ll get you next time,” Brock screamed angrily, his fingers broken by Steve. He got carried by the paramedic.

Steve wiped his bloody nose with a cloth while Bruce pressing his shoulder “Yeah yeah, just not in this place again.” He answered lazily.

He sighed because he’s getting tired of Rumlow childish fight. After his wound got treated by Bruce, Steve went back into the restaurant.

What he saw is a broken window, table, the custom leather chair that imported from Italy also ruined. There will be one person who will be crazy over this, Natasha who also his accountant, and Bucky’s wife.

His shoes step on the broken glass, his eyes locking to the table where she sat.

When he arrived he saw the book she read. Steve notice there is a bookmark inside of it. He doesn’t want to touch her touch without permission but he eager wants to see what inside.

Steve put his hand on his mouth and gasped “Oh f**k!”

“Language you punk!” Bucky and Sam appear from behind. Their face and hands also bruised because of the short fight.

“What’s wrong?”

They got no answer from Steve. He look like a statue still looking at his hands.

Bucky and Sam glanced at the bookmark on Steve’s hand. Both of them smirked.

’When the restaurant re-open, text me: (646)-xxxxxxxx’

Steve’s mind went back to the first time he saw her face and that beautiful smile, then the way she’s not afraid of the craziness that happens today, and she lent him a dagger so he can win.

He didn’t think it wasn’t a thing, but it happened to him.

He fell in love at the first sight.

“We totally lose him.” Sam waves his hand in front of Steve’s eyes.

They could see Steve on cloud nine right now.

“Good for him, maybe he could move on this time,” Bucky murmured.

Sam pointed one critical point “But first of all, we need to tell your wife about today.”

Bucky sighed “That’s the difficult part.”

While his friends busy thinking about how to coaxing Natasha so she won’t stun them with the lecture that could last for the whole day and make their ear hurts, Steve is planning how to renovate the restaurant fast so he could text her.

>>>CHAPTER 2

Taglist:

@cloudystevie

#mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #sam wilson #pietro maximov #peter parker #cs4kwritingchallenge #marvel au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine

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feelyourhearttakingroot · 4 years ago

Text

The Reader's Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm...

Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that...

Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.

Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.

Read on AO3.

Chapter One

The Fight

“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair's breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.

“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”

“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”

Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight.

Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.

“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.

“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”

“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”

“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”

“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dina called.

“To get another drink.”

Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over.

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

Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke.

Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.

Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate.

The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.

It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -

“Dee!”

Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.

“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”

“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”

Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right.

His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you.

What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?

“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.

“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe?

You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy.

Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.

“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.

“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.

The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.

The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”

Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:

“And I am so fucking yours.”

So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.

“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”

Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.

You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”

The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.

Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.

“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

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

The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behind you.

As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-

It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.

“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “... a creep.” you finished lamely.

When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.

He knew. He damn well knew.

Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.

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

Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.

The single empty chair.

Fucks sake.

Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass.

You’re fucking kidding me.

You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.

You’re fucking kidding me.

Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them.

He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.

Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.

But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.

Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

Forward and back. Forward and back.

This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.

Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.

Fuck off, you mouthed.

You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was -

As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.

For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.

Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.

Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.

Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t -

A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently -

Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh.

“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit.

“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.

The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.

“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”

You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.

A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup.

“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”

“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”

Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?

Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.

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

“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.”

“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”

His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down.

“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”

A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.

“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer.

“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”

“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”

“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”

A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly.

“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”

The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.”

Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer.

“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”

He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.

“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”

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

As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.

When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.

It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably.

A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn't go down too well anyway.

A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.

Benny was here.

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

Ringside seats were… certainly something.

The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch.

Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.

The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.

It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging.

You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.

Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him.

As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost.

“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.

“You see that?”

Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape.

“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.

“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”

He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and -

Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -

“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.

===> Chapter Two

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #fic #santiago garcia x ofc #benny miller x ofc #The Reader’s Guide to Avoiding Redfly #trgtar

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natbarzal · 4 years ago

Text

Connor McDavid - Until we’re gray and old

this was requested on my Wattpad and I think this fic turned out quite well so I thought I'd post it here too😊it's a little inspired by the songs 'Say you won't let go' by James Arthur and 'Love someone' by Lukas Graham

just wanna say, I don't know how exactly weddings go, so sorry if something doesn't make sense, and also, I of course know that Edmonton is in Alberta, but since Connor is from Ontario, I thought it they'd get married there :)

warnings: none

word count: 2.2k (my longest one here on Tumblr yay😂)

enjoy! 💜

_________________________________________

Y/n's pov:

I stood in front of the full length mirror, taking deep breaths while staring at the beautiful wedding dress I was wearing. Today was the day I was going to marry the love of my life, and no matter how excited I was to finally become Mrs. McDavid, I was also very nervous. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear the door of the room I was in open and close.

"You look very beautiful sweetie. Like a real princess." I turned around to see my mum admiring the dress with a light smile on her lips.

"Mom, I'm so nervous." I told her, my voice slightly shaky. She looked into my eyes before stepping closer to me and taking my hands into hers.

"That's completely normal, my dear. You should see how nervous I was before I married your father - I wasn't very far from running away." she said, laughing at the memory. I laughed too, feeling just a little more relaxed.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, looking at her curiously.

"I remembered how much I love your father and that there's absolutely no one in the world that I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Connor?" she asked, looking at me with soft eyes and squeezing my hands.

"Yes." I answered without hesitating for a second. "Yes, I am sure. But that's not what I'm nervous about.. what if- what if I fall while walking down the aisle? Or- or I mess up my vow or I drop the ring while slipping it on Connor's hand? Mom what if-" I rambled anxiously, becoming more and more nervous again but my mum cut me off.

"Alright, no more 'what if's, okay? Everything is going to go well." she said and I nodded, closing my eyes and taking another deep breath. That was when we heard light knocks on the door.

"Yes?" my mom called as we both turned to look at the door.

"It's me. Can I come in?" said my dad from the other side of the door.

"Yeah dad, go ahead."

He opened the door and his jaw dropped the moment he saw me. He closed the door behind himself and just looked at me for a moment, being at a loss of words. I let go of my mum's hands and twirled around before stopping and looking at dad.

"So how do I look?" I asked, a nervous smile present on my lips. He looked up from my dress and into my eyes and I saw that his were already filling with tears.

"Beautiful, my darling." he whispered, coming closer. "I can't believe my little princess is getting married. I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday and now? Where did the time go?" he asked and quickly wiped the tears that slipped out of his eyes.

"Please don't cry dad, or I will cry too." I said.

"Give me one last hug as a Y/l/n?" he asked and opened his arms for me. I smiled before stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck, his wrapping around my waist. We hugged tightly for a few moments before I pulled away and looked at mom whose eyes were a little watery now as well. I motioned for her to join us and she did. We all hugged for a little while longer before there was another knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called after pulling away from my parents and straightening out the dress. The door opened and my best friend and maid of honour, Celeste, poked her head into the room.

"Are you ready?" she asked me. I looked over at my parents once again before looking back at her and nodding my head yes.

"I'm ready." I said confidently. My mum came over to me and kissed my cheek, smiling at me before exiting the room. Celeste looked at me and gave me excited thumbs up before turning around and walking out as well. I reached up and pulled my veil over my face. My dad came closer to me and offered me his arm to take, which I did and we walked out of the room together just as 'All of Me' started to play.

Leon and Celeste were the first to walk down the aisle, then my mom, then my little cousins as flower girls and then finally my dad and I.

As we were walking, I smiled at some of the people we passed. It was a small wedding really, just our closest family and friends, around 50 people in total. We didn't need nor want a big wedding, being able to celebrate it with the ones that are closest to us is the most important.

Before I even noticed, we were at the end of the aisle and my eyes were met with Connor's blue ones for the first time today. Connor came closer and stretched out his hand. My dad went to place my hand into Connor's, but not before saying "Take care of her for me, son."

"I will. I promise." Connor said and my dad finally handed my hand to Connor, going to sit down in his chair. Connor helped me up to the altar and then we took our spots opposite from each other. Connor reached to throw my veil over my head, revealing my face. 'You look beautiful' I saw him mouth and blushed before he took my hands and we turned our attention to the priest.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Y/n Y/l/n and Connor McDavid in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife." he said, looking up at the guests.

"Y/n and Connor, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight." he recited. Connor and I were looking at each other the whole time and God bless whoever made waterproof mascara, because I felt my eyes slowly but surely filling with tears. God why do I have to be so emotional. Connor's eyes were a little glassy as well.

"Now it's time for your vows. Connor, you shall start." he said and everyone's looked to Connor. He took a deep breath, indicating he was just as nervous as I was before starting to talk.

"Y/n, I love you so much. When I saw you for the first time in that little café in Edmonton 3 years ago, my exact thoughts were 'Wow, that's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.' You can ask Leon, I told him about you almost immediately." everyone laughed at that a little and looked at Leon who nodded and chuckled at the memory.

"When I came to your table and asked you if I could sit with you and you smiled at me for the first time, I knew I had to get to know you. Then, when you agreed to go out with me, I was over the moon." he said, smiling big at me. I smiled back and carefully wiped the tear that threatened to slip from the corner of my eye.

"Then we went on our first date, and then on many more dates, and every single one was amazing. By the time you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was already madly in love with you. And with every passing second that we spend together, you make me fall for you more and more.

When you agreed to marry me, I felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world. There are days when I wake up and I pinch myself to assure myself that I'm not dreaming when I see you sleeping beside me.

You're perfect for me. You're everything I could ever want in a girl and more and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, trying to make you as happy as you make me. " he finished, looking at me with so much love. I smiled back at him, a wiping away the few tears that slipped down my cheeks before clearing my throat and starting my own vow.

"I love you too Connor. I remember when I came home after you asked me on that date, I was jumping around in excitement for at least 5 minutes, that's how happy I was." I said and everyone laughed a little again.

"When we started going on dates and everything went so well and then when you asked me to be your girlfriend.. I almost couldn't believe it. I never thought I'd have someone this interested in me.

I honestly thought I would never find 'the one' till I found you. You changed my life so much and I'm so grateful for that. You make me the happiest person in the world. Even on the worst days, the ones where everything goes wrong and I just want to give up, you manage to make me smile and thanks to you, I keep going. With you, every single one of my problems goes away. " I said but it was slowly getting harder to keep talking through the tears that were now flowing from my eyes. I saw a few tears slip down Connor's cheeks as well.

"I'm in love with you, more that I thought it would ever be possible for me to be in love with someone. You're my soulmate, my better half, and I want to stay with you until we're gray and old." I finished and and at this point, I think almost everyone here was crying. I reached my hand up to wipe my cheeks before the priest started speaking again.

"Do you, Connor McDavid, choose Y/n Y/l/n to be your partner in life, to support and respect her in her successes and as well her failures, to care for her in sickness and in health, to nurture her, and to grow with her throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." Connor said, looking at me with absolutely no hesitation present in his voice.

"Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, choose Connor McDavid to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and as well his failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, to nurture him, and to grow with him throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." I answered, looking straight into those beautiful eyes that I fell in love with 3 years ago.

"Now it's time to exchange your rings." the priest said. One of my little cousins, being the ring bearer, ran up to us with the rings on a tray and held them up for us. Connor took mine first and reached for my left hand.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be a faithful partner to you." he said as he slipped the golden ring on my finger. I smiled and took the other ring off the tray, taking his left hand into mine.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today, our wedding day." I said, slipping the ring onto his finger.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Ontario, Canada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." before the he could even finish the sentence, Connor had his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips were on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with all I had. Everyone started clapping and cheering, but in that moment, everything Connor and I were able to focus on was each other.

Everything was perfect.

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me

When I needed you the most

I'm gonna love you 'till

My lungs give out

I promise 'til death we part

Like in our vows

#connor mcdavid #hockey fic #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Riding On

Ch 8- Buns (And Cookies) In The Oven

Summary: Frank and Fliss attend Mary’s end of year fundraising gala at school, the Nursery is finally finished and plans are made regarding Mary’s adoption.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: LONG update here guys but a lot happens! First off, please bear with me if the legal terms are a little off- from my research they seem to be similar to the UK ones but if I get some things wrong…just go with it! Also the photo I used for the Nursery inspiration was found in another fic on Tumblr- I can’t for the life of me remember which one. I did, however, ages ago ask permission so if you recognise it that’s why.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

“You braved the outhouse yet?” Bill asked as he skimmed that last bit of the wall he had been working on, the trowel he was holding sliding in a large arc, spreading the plaster evenly.

“Had a brief glance but there’s all sorts of shit in there.” Frank said, dropping his tools onto the dust sheet as he stood back to admire their work. “Some larger pieces of wood and a few engine parts I had spotted that might come in handy but other than that think it’s all for the dump.”

“We can hit that this weekend if you want?” Bill added, hopping down from the step ladders.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind helping?” Frank looked at him and Bill shook his head. “No problem.” He said. “Still thinking about getting a boat?”

Frank gave a smile “I thought about getting one and doing it up. The garage is big enough to use as a workshop." "Well it’s good to have a hobby.” Bill nodded.

“Plus if I get one it will stop Lissy converting it into stables.” Frank said, looking around the room again. “She still wanting to expand?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, she’s talking about buying more of the land that surrounds the yard but…” Frank scratched at his chest “I told her to wait until Bean is here.”

“Good plan.” Bill smiled, before he turned to Frank “Speaking of Boston Bean, any ideas on names?”

Frank smiled “We had a few but we need to give it some proper thought. Mary wants us to call him Theodore.” “Theodore?” Bill arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Teddy for short. Something she saw on TV.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not going on the list, trust me.”

The two of them cleared away their tools, tipped the pots of water down the sink in the main bathroom before Frank quickly cleaned up after himself, heading back into the nursery where Bill was taking a look at a patch on the wall. Deciding it was ok he turned and nodded and the two men made their way downstairs and into the main area at the back of the house.

Frank opened the door to their kitchen living area and the smell of baking hit the pair of them immediately, but it was the view that made Frank stop in the doorway. Mary was stood on a chair at the kitchen counter, mixing something in a bowl. To her left Verity was supervising, nodding when Mary showed her whatever it was she was mixing, and to Mary's right, Fliss was wiping the surface down, one hand resting on her belly. It was the sight of his girl stood there, in that gorgeous blue and white checked sundress, all barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, with her mother and Mary that had him feeling suddenly quite emotional. Mary giggled and looked at Fliss who smiled at her, reaching out and brushing her cheek with the back of her fingers. Nanna, Mom and Daughter, a matriarchal trio Frank never imagined he would ever get to see Mary part of. And it was beautiful. "You OK lad?" Bill looked at him and Frank blinked and turned to face him, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah, sorry. Was miles away" "I noticed." His future father in law smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder before he loudly asked if there was any chance of beer before he died of thirst. "You know where the fridge is." Fliss shot back. "I just spent all afternoon with Frank plastering the walls in that Nursery and that's the thanks I get?" Bill shook his head as Frank chuckled and walked to the fridge. He opened it, grabbed 2 beers and once he popped the tops off he passed one to Bill. "All finished?" Fliss turned to look at Frank as he gave her a soft peck on the lips. "Yeah." He smiled as she rubbed her hands up his arms to his shoulders "Once its dried out which should take a day or so we can paint." Flies smiled and was about to say something when they heard Mary and Verity yelling, their shouts punctuated by Bill's loud guffaws as he jumped back, a freshly baked cookie in his hand as he ran away from Verity who was swatting at him with the tea towel. "There's like a hundred of them!" Bill sniggered shoving the cookie into his mouth. "You can spare one." "We actually made extra." Mary looked at him, hands on her hips "Because Fliss and Nanny V said you and Frank would both walk in and rob some." Frank looked at Fliss, his eyebrow raising as she grinned before he glanced at Mary who smirked back. "Well in that case..." he mumbled before he grabbed Mary easily, hooking the arm that held his beer round her midriff, swinging her off the chair as he snatched a cookie with the other, taking a huge bite. Mary's giggles died down as he set her on the floor and made an appreciative noise. "These are good." "You sound surprised Francis..." Verity pointed the wooden spoon she was holding at him and he shook his head. "You know what I think of your cooking V..." he flashed her a wink and she rolled her eyes and turned back to whatever it was in the bowl. "OK Mary, this frosting is ready so you wanna do the cupcakes?" She nodded and the two of them moved, Verity handing Mary a little spatula so she could start to dish out the yellow frosting. "Shall I ring through to The Shack and order us a burger each?" Frank asked, and everyone made appreciative noises. Already knowing his, Mary and Fliss' order by heart, he ordered what Bill and Verity wanted before the two men strode out to Bill's car to pick up their food.

“You sure you’re alright, Frank?” Bill asked, and he turned to him, smiling.

“Yeah, honestly I’m fine.” Frank smiled. Bill looked at him before he turned his head back to the road.

“It’s overwhelming isn’t it.” The older man said gently and Frank looked at his hand, shaking his head as he gave a soft laugh.

“You can say that again.” He said “Doesn’t seem five minutes since our first date and here we are. Our own home, weeks away from our baby being born and me taking a weeks’ worth of annual leave to finish the decorating.” “You’ve done it once.” Bill said gently. “The baby thing I mean, not the decorating…although we did do that once too…”

Frank chuckled before he took a deep breath “Not like this.” Frank shook his head “Never done the first 6 months. Not really. I mean I helped Diane but…” “Well you got us to help out.” Bill spoke again, taking a right turn “I know Verity can’t wait. Another grandkid for her to spoil.” “I do appreciate everything you’ve both done for us Bill.” Frank looked at him. “I mean the money, helping out with the decorating, everything you do for Mary.”

“I know son.” Bill smiled, “And it’s our pleasure.” Frank smiled and looked back out of the window.

“What else is on your mind?” Bill probed gently and Frank looked at him, giving a little scoff.

“You’re just like Fliss.” He said with a chuckle and Bill grinned.

“Well you’ve been a little quiet all afternoon.” Bill said.

Frank studied him for a moment, and then realised that he actually had a perfect opportunity here to talk to someone who had been through something a little similar to what he was struggling with. And he trusted and loved Bill, like a father.

“We had an incident with Mary, last week at school.” He took a deep breath he explained to Bill what had happened and the decision he and Fliss had come to about the adoption. “We were planning on asking her at some point but…well, the time hasn’t bene right you know. We don’t want her to think it’s a reaction to what happened at school.” Bill looked at him before he slowed the car to a halt at a red light. “That makes sense.” He said gently “But I’m getting the impression you’re not so sure.” “It’s not that I’m unsure as such…” Frank sighed, “I just…Oh I don’t know Bill, the whole thing just seems so fucking shitty and complicated. How did you know it was the right thing to do? With Fliss and Steve I mean?”

“I just did.” Bill shrugged. “Our circumstances were slightly different thought. I met V when Fliss was 2. Steve's mother, my first wife, Andrea, she died when Steve was 3. Brain tumour. I never thought I'd love anyone again but then when I met Verity one evening 2 years later through friends she blew me away.” Bill smiled and Frank watched as his face went softer before he continued “We dated for 3 months before we met each other’s kids and the first time I saw Lissy she was fast asleep in the car seat in the back of Vs battered old fiesta and...” Bill sighed “I loved her from the minute I laid eyes on her. So did Steve.”

He set the car into drive again and they continued down the road as Bill spoke again.

“She started calling me dad on her 4th birthday. I’d been with V just over 2 years then and it was at her birthday party and we told her to make a wish. She blew her candles out and then later that night I was tucking her in and she said to me that she knew she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what her wish was, but if she didn’t tell me then it wouldn’t come true.”

To Frank’s surprise the man’s eyes misted over and his voice became a little bit croaky.

“She’d made a wish that she was my daughter.” Bill shook his head “That she wanted to call me dad. So I told her I didn’t have a problem with that as long as she didn’t and…” he smiled “But I get that your situation is different. Fliss’ shitbag father walked out on Verity before Fliss was even born. You’ve got a whole other scenario you’re dealing with.” “Mary told me months ago she wishes I was her real dad.” Franks sighed “You know I explained to her that a label doesn’t matter and then the whole thing with the kid at school kicked it off again and she broke her heart to Lissy that evening. It got me thinking that I’d bene so wrapped up in my own worries about Diane and whether it would be right to allow Mary to refer to me as her dad that I hadn’t really given much consideration about how my refusal to do so was affecting her.” Bill pondered something for a moment. “You know I had the same concerns over Steve. I know that sounds hypocritical because I was over the moon when Lissy first called me dad but, well Steve was

3 when his mum died and had a few vague memories of her. I was worried that by letting him refer to V as his mum those memories would fade and it would in some ways disrespect her, you know? Almost like it would invalidate who she had been.”

“But you did it anyway?” Frank asked.

“With Steve it just happened.” Bill said, “He started naturally slipping into calling Verity Mum, and we just decided not to make a big deal out of it and let him do what he felt was right for him. Even now he alternates sometimes, calls her Verity instead of mum but I know it doesn’t change a thing. He loves her like she is his mother, and she loves him like he’s her son, which he is anyway of course as she adopted him too.” “And that felt right?”

Bill nodded “It did to us, but the most important thing was it did to Steve and Fiss too. So we floated the idea a year or so before we got married. Fliss...well she had no reservations at all. Burst into tears and hugged me saying she couldn't wait for me to be her proper dad and have the same surname but Steve was a little more subdued, I suppose, is the word. We assured him if he didn't want V to then she wouldn't be offended. He took his time to think about it. Came to his conclusion a week or so later and announced over dinner he wanted to do it. So that was that.” Bill pulled up outside the shack and cut the engine, turning to Frank. “I guess what I'm trying to say is Mary will let you know if she's not happy. From the sounds of it I don't think you'll have any problems, but the important thing is like Titch said, you give her the choice...” “I know.” Frank nodded, “Liss and I discussed this. I don't want to make her call us mom and dad either it she doesn’t want to. To be honest, I'm still not 100% sure how I feel about that but I suppose if we do adopt her then…” “You still worried about how it would make your sister feel?” “A little.” Frank smiled softly. “I'm sure she would be happy Frank.” Bill said gently “This is the same internal debate I had about Ange. But you have to remember, she left that little girl with you for a reason. If you ask me, the very fact we're having this conversation proves she was right. I think this is exactly why she chose you, because she knew that whatever decisions you make regarding Mary are done with love and care, and this is the best outcome she could have hoped for.”

Frank felt the lump in his throat again and Bill gently reached over and grabbed his shoulder.

“Thanks Bill.” Frank smiled at him.

“Any time, now let’s go get this food, I’m starving.”

It wasn’t long before they were all sat outside back at home, eating happily as Mary filled them all in on what she was going to be doing at the gala the next day. Frank watched her, smiling to himself at how excited she was. Such a contrast to the sullen, obstinate 7 year old that he’d had argument over argument with about going to school. But then again their entire circumstances had changed, dramatically, and for the better he may add.

His heart to heart with Bill had made him feel a little more at peace with everything. If truth be told, since Mary’s little breakdown last week he’d been worried about a lot of things. Worried he was making a mess of things with her, worried he was going to do the same with Bean. But he realised now he wasn’t doing it on his own anymore. He had Fliss and her family to help him, and even his Mother too if he so required. Whatever bump in the road the encountered in the future then they would face it as a family, and this eased that nagging, gnawing anxious feeling a hell of a lot.

At just before 8 Mary was dismissed to bed, despite protests, and a little after 10pm Bill and Verity also decided to head home. Frank thanked them both for their help, Verity for giving up her entire afternoon by shopping, picking up Mary and then baking enough treats to feed a small army, an Bill…well, for just about everything he’d done that day.

They stood on the porch area of their home, waving the two of them off and Fliss turned to Frank.

“I can almost hear your mind whirring from here, Sailor.”

Frank chuckled as Thor headed back up the path, having given up chasing the car down the drive. “Yeah, I had a moment before. But your dad set me straight.” “Moment? About Mary or-“ “To be honest about everything.” Frank looked at her as they headed back inside, closing the door “Mary, Bean, about not fucking everything up.” Fliss looked at him before she shook her head “Baby that’s not gonna happen.” “I know.” He smiled “I just had my worries, that’s all.” “You don’t think I worry at times too?” she asked him gently “I’m fucking petrified about him arriving and how I’m gonna cope with a baby but…” she stepped forward and took his hands “I know that as long as we stick together an work through whatever we face together, we’ll be fine.” “Yeah, we will.” He smiled, bending down to give her a soft kiss. “Wanna sit outside?”

She nodded and together, Thor padding behind, they made their way out to the back garden. Fliss dropped heavily onto the wicker garden sofa and Frank lifted her feet up setting them in his lap. He expertly ran his thumb up the arch of her right foot and she gave a little groan of satisfaction.

“Back still sore?” he asked glancing over at her and she shrugged a little.

“A little, nothing major though.” She sighed “I’d kill to get in the hot tub though, unwind a little. So not fair I can’t.” “There’s always the pool.” Frank suggested and she looked at him.

“How is going in the pool going to help me unwind?” she looked at him and he grinned, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re a bad, bad man.” She snorted as she swung her legs off his lap and moved to straddle him.

“And?” he smirked as his hands ran up the side of her thighs, creeping under the hem of her dress which had ridden up.

“Just pointing it out.” she grinned, leaning down to kiss him. His hands came to a rest on her hips, squeezing gently as his mouth moved from hers to find that spot just below her ear. With a sigh, Fliss tilted her head back as he continued to nibble gently at her skin, her fingers tangling in his hair. She gave a soft pull, tugging his head back so she could kiss him again, pushing down on his lap as he thrust his hips up to meet her, the pair of them giving a little groan at the contact. And that was it. Hormones raging, sending a fire through her entire body, Fliss stood up, slipped off her panties and then reached to Frank’s jeans, undoing the button.

“Ok, so no foreplay then?” he asked as he lifted his hips so she could slide his jeans and boxers down, his already hard cock springing free.

“Less talking, more fucking…” she reached down, wrapping her hand around him. Frank let out a hiss as she gave him a few tugs before she straddled him and lining him up sunk straight down, letting out a groan as he tilted his pelvis upwards, filling her as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, Lissy…” his voice was gravelly, his head falling back against the rear cushions of the garden furniture, hands on her hips as she rolled them forward, finding a rhythm that was soft, deep and perfect for the quiet, late summer evening.

Despite the fact they were outside and Fliss’ earlier demand, there was no rush to any of their love making. It was slow, gentle and sweet. Frank’s thrust’s upwards weren’t measured, he hardly put much effort into moving, keeping in synch with the rolls of her pelvis, rocking them together as Fliss leaned over, capturing his mouth again. The gentle breeze from the night air ruffled through her hair whipping it around her face and Frank moved his hands, brushing it away as he cradled her face, his nose brushing against hers. After a particularly deep push upwards Fliss let out a shaky moan into his mouth, tightening her fingers in his hair as she felt him striking her spot again and again. Her bump was causing her to lean forward slightly, which meant he was hitting her as deep as he possibly could and the feeling was intense, her toes curling slightly as she could feel the heat in her belly burning, the slick from between her legs rubbing off on his thighs slightly which was driving Frank wild.

“So wet baby girl…” he mumbled as she slid a hand between her legs, his fingers gently teasing her clit.

“Who needs a pool?” she manged to quip between her gasps, and Frank smirked a little, watching her face intently as her eyes locked onto his. His fingers never once quickened, his touches light and teasing, and their pace continued on to that very end, until with a breathy gasp and a shudder it became too much and she surrendered to the inevitable bliss that washed over her entire body as she came hard. Her hips stilled and Frank moved his hands back to her hips, pulling her down onto him as he bucked upwards, his thrusts now quickening as he chased his own end, spilling into her with a loud groan before his eyes flickered shut, his head falling backwards.

Fliss leaned forward, peppering soft kisses up his neck to his jawline and he let out a smile as she dropped her mouth on his, biting his bottom lip softly his hands rubbing at the base of her back.

“How was that for un-winding?” he asked, opening his eyes to see her smiling at him. She bit her lip and smiled, kissing him again.

****** “Where do you want all these?” Fliss asked Bonnie as her and Frank walked across the school yard, Frank’s arms laden with the various boxes of baked goods.

“How much did you bake?” Bonnie snorted as Frank set them down on the wooden tables that Bonnie indicated

“My mum does nothing by halves” Fliss smirked as she glanced around. Mary was stood showing Frank something on a chalk a-board, Rosie interjecting here and there.

“Hey Stack.” Fliss stepped over to her “All set?”

“Yeah we were just working out the pricing and what best to charge if we wanna make a certain percent profit.” Mary said.

“You suss it?” Frank asked, “Although that’s a stupid question…” “Yeah, it is.” Mary shot back, causing Frank to smirk a little as he glanced at Fliss “Bo-I mean miss Stevens we thought a dollar a cookie, or 3 for 2 and then 2 dollars a cupcake or brownie, and 3 for 5” “I think that’s fair.” Bonnie nodded.

“Ok, cool… “ Mary grinned standing the board up and giving Rosie a high five.

Bonnie and Fliss helped set up the cakes on the stall and Frank found himself getting roped into helping one of the male teachers set up the field where a few events and fun races were going to take place, the man thanking him profoundly when he headed over, spotting him struggling to set the soccer nets up.

“We had someone due to help but…well, most parents shy away from this stuff.” He sighed “They want their kids to enjoy and experience it but don’t wanna help us out.” Frank smiled “Well, to be honest I’m happy to be here. This is the first one Mary’s taken part in.”

The teacher smiled “Yes, she was a bit of an enigma when she started but she’s come out of her shell recently. Lovely girl too Mr Adler, always polite. You must be very proud.”

Frank beamed and turned back to where Mary was behind the stall, Fliss talking to her with Bonnie and Rosie both listening and nodding before he turned back to the man and smiled “It’s not all down to me but…yeah, yeah I am.”

Hour or so later more people had arrived and Frank and Fliss wandered around a bit. They chatted to Rosie’s mom and dad, a dark haired, bespectacled man called Phil and a smaller, red haired woman called Melissa, and the couple invited them over for dinner in a week or so which they both accepted. Whilst Mary and Rosie were close, Frank’s interaction with her parents had been minimal simply because Fliss had fallen into that role of being the one that set up the girls’ little togethers, and he was keen to get to know the couple simply because Mary seemed to be taken so much with their kid. They were inseparable at school, and Mary had already said that over the summer she wanted Rosie to come for a sleep over which, given her previous position on such things had knocked Frank for 6. Of course they had said it was ok, and Fliss had simply told her that Rosie was welcome at any time over the holidays, even saying she’d arrange for them to do something with one of the riding school ponies.

As Frank was mid conversation with Phil about a boat he was currently repairing, Fliss excused herself to go to the toilet. On the way back she decided to detour to the cake stall to see how Mary, Bonnie and Rosie were getting along, and as she passed 2 women stood a little way away, deep in conversation, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks.

“Child prodigy, apparently.” One of the women was saying.

“Well whichever way you dress it up I feel sorry for her.” The other sniffed, flicking her blonde hair behind her shoulder, the ridiculous sized ring on her left hand catching the sun as she did so “I mean, her Dad, sorry, Uncle is a total fuck boy and only went and got his new girlfriend pregnant a year or so after they got together…no wonder the kid’s apparently a screw up. Did you know a when she first started here she broke a boy’s nose?”

“Excuse me?” Fliss blurted out, her neck and cheeks flushed with anger. Both women spun to face her, the blonde one looking at her “Who the fuck are you calling a screw up?”

“Erm, private conversation…” The woman looked at her and Fliss snorted

“Yeah well maybe you should keep your shitty opinions to yourself, just in-case that Fuck Boy’s pregnant fiancée overhears you.” She shot back, and the woman’s face slipped a little as she suddenly realised who Fliss was. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Frank, meanwhile, had finished up talking to Rosie’s parents and was now looking around for Fliss. He spotted her pale green maxi dress in the crowd as she stood talking to two women, and then frowned as he realised she wasn’t talking as much as angrily ranting, her hands flying out to her side before she pointed at one of them directly. He had no idea what the fuck had sparked her off, but he jogged quickly over, catching the end of the rant.

“I don’t see any of your kids going to university 2 days a week or being asked to run a stall handling money because they can do sums in their head like that.” Fliss snarled, clicking her fingers “So keep your shitty, horrible comments about my family to yourself.”

“Hey, hey…” Frank gently grabbed her arm. “Honey…come on.” “You know nothing about us. Any of us.” Fliss shot at her as Frank looked at the women, realising instantly he recognised one. With a groan he moved himself in front of Fliss his back to them and looked at her.

“Stop.” He said firmly but calmly and she looked at him, her eyes blazing with an anger he had never seen before. “Come on.”

She shot a glare at the women before she turned and allowed him to steer her away. He dropped an arm round her shoulder and gave her a squeeze “What the hell set you off into momma bear mode?”

“Her!” Fliss seethed as she shot a final glare over her shoulder at the bitch "She was making shitty comments about you getting me pregnant and saying it was no wonder Mary was a screw up…I mean who the fuck does she think she? I swear to god if I wasn’t pregnant I’d kick her ass." "Don't let her get to you honey." Frank said softly, kissing her temple.

“Does it not bother you?” “Only because it’s got you so wound up. I’m not going to let the opinions of two Stepford Wives bother me. They clearly have no idea what they’re talking about.” "Bet she's called Karen." Fliss spat. "Carly, actually." Frank replied without thinking and Fliss stopped to look at him. "How the hell do you-" she groaned "tell me you haven't!" "It was a drunk night a very long time ago!" He began to protest and Fliss shook her head making a noise of disgust.

“Well suddenly that makes a little more sense.” She said, before she snorted "Is there anyone in this State you haven't shagged?" "I love it when you swear in British." He grinned before sighing as his attempts at humour fell flat. "Oh Lissy come on...it was years ago. I was a total fuck up till I met you." "Was she married back then?" "I don't know!" He shrugged "not exactly a great topic for pillow talk is it?" "You're disgusting." She rolled her eyes before she stepped away from him and headed over the stall that had been or original destination, leaving Frank wondering what the fuck just happened. With a sigh he followed her over and smiled at Verity who had just arrived with Bill, who was at that moment teasing Mary, trying to haggle with her over the price of the Brownies.

“Hey…” he tugged on Fliss’ elbow “Are you seriously pissed at me?” She looked at him, pushing her shades up off her eyes “I just don’t like being reminded of your Four F stage.” “My what?” he looked at her, blankly. He had no idea what she was talking about.

“The Friday Fergs Fuckboi Frank stage” And at that Frank snorted, shaking his head.

“Ok, well, I can categorically tell you that now I’m in a double F stage.” “What?” it was her turn to look puzzled.

“Yeah, the Fliss’ Frank stage” He flashed her a cheeky grin and she blinked before she snorted and shook her head.

“I hate you.” She mumbled as he pulled her in for a hug, giving her head a quick kiss, the chuckles vibrating from his body to hers.

*****

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. Mary broke up for summer on the Friday and Frank finished the painting and the wallpapering in the attic. On the Saturday he got 3 out of 4 of the walls in the Nursey painted, leaving just the feature one for Sunday, which he was ridiculously excited about. However, his plans of an early start were derailed when he slept in a little later than he had anticipated. Fliss was still out for the count when he climbed out of bed, and he dressed as quietly as he could, dropping a kiss to her cheek before he headed down to the kitchen and was joined by Mary a few minutes later. For whatever reasons she was in a particularly raucous mood, probably because she had realised she didn’t have to go to school on Monday, bouncing around the kitchen telling Frank loudly what she was going to do that afternoon which involved riding Monty and swimming in the pool until it went dark. Then, apparently she was going to watch a load of movies and stay up all night…Frank didn’t bother to tell her there was no chance, as both he and Fliss still had to go to work. As with the previous Summer, Roberta was looking after her Monday to Wednesday, and Verity and Bill had her on Thursday and Friday, which meant she was basically going to be up the same time as normal every day so he could drop her off.

However, that was an argument for later. Right now he was simply trying to get her to calm down.

“Mary, for the last time, be quiet!” Frank groaned “Fliss is still asleep.”

“But it’s almost 10 am.” Mary whined.

“It’s Sunday and she’s cooking another person, she can sleep however long she wants” he replied “Now come on, we got painting to do.”

Mary looked at him and let out a groan. “I’m 9. Making me paint this house is child labour”

“You wanted to help with the nursery.”

Mary glared at him “He ain’t even gonna be here for another like 7 weeks or whatever.”

“Yeah, and the rate you’re going it’s gonna take us that long to sort it. Come on it’s the last wall.” He cajoled as she bit into her toast “We did your room first, then the attic. I even let you pick that horse wall paper for up there.” Mary shoved the last of her toast in her mouth and hopped down off the stool “Fine…” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ll go change into my painting stuff.” He watched her go, tossing the crust from his toast to Thor who caught it expertly, before he headed upstairs. Fliss wandered out of the bedroom and onto the landing, still in her sleep set, yawning.

“Hey…” she smiled at him and he beamed back as she shuffled to him for a hug.

“Did Mary wake you?” he asked and Fliss shook her head.

“No, I was just dozing.” .

“Ok, well we’re finish painting the nursery.” He smiled and she pulled back grinning. “Want me to get you breakfast first?” “I’m good.” She smiled “I’ll sort myself out and then come help”

Pressing a kiss to her head he stepped back and watched as she headed down the stairs before he walked into the Nursery, joined shortly by Mary. All bar one of the walls were painted a cream colour, and he checked the paint for patches, happy that it looked ok before he looked pulled the print out of the theme they’d looked at on Pinterest and handed it to Mary once he’d taken a look at it. Grabbing the stepladders he set about marking squares out on the wall where the crib was going to lie against with tape. Then with a pencil he supervised as Mary checked the photo and wrote a letter in each square to signal what colour they were going to be painted to make a block pattern of different greens, browns and blue.

Once the squares were marked out he handed Mary a paint brush and told her to keep between the lines. He knew he might have to go over a few patches on the areas she did, but even that was quicker than him doing it all himself and it was important to both of them she felt involved, even if it was under duress.

Half an hour or so later Fliss joined them and the 3 of them finished the wall in little over 2 hours, standing back to admire their handy work. Fliss beamed as Mary nodded in satisfaction.

“Can I go see Monty now?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’ll head over.” Fliss nodded.

“I’ll get the furniture up whilst you’re gone.” Frank smiled.

“Sure you can manage?” Fliss teased. “We’re supposed to be at my mum and dad’s in 4 hours.”

Frank shot her a look and she grinned cheekily before she headed out of the room to change into her stable gear.

With the radio on, Frank unwrapped the packaging to the crib and got to work, humming gently to himself as he powered through, following the instructions. It was fairly easy all things considered, and he had the crib fully assembled and in position in 45 minutes. Smiling to himself the chest of drawers were next, then the little wardrobe and the changing unit. Then he fixed the blind to the window and added the stencil he’d bought over the top. All in all it took him just under 2 hours until he jumped down from the little step ladder and looked around.

Now it looked like a nursery.

He took the cardboard boxes and wrap down to the garage and slung them on the pile of other garbage that needed slinging during the week and then back into the nursery, removing the dust sheets from the new carpet and then he set about unpacking the various bags and items of things they’d bought for bean. He placed the blankets in the crib, the lamp on the table, shuffled the rocking chair around and then stepped back to admire his work.

“Oh my God…” He jumped a little and turned to see Fliss blinking. He’d been that wrapped up in everything he hadn’t heard her come in.

“Frank, you did everything...”

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, cursing himself. “I got carried away. I didn’t think. Did you want to do the accessories or…” “No, I mean yeah, but…” she shook her head, stepping into the room “It doesn’t matter. Sailor, it looks great!” She slid her arm round his waist as he dropped a kiss to her head, her eyes scanning the room. She stopped and frowned at the stencil above the window blind. Frank swallowed a little nervously, that was one thing she hadn’t seen before. He watched her profile as she read the cursive writing, which spelt out the words ‘All because two people fell in love’, and she turned to look up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Frankie…”

He smiled at her, his own eyes threatening to fill up again as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s true.”

She turned back round to look once more at the room, her hand falling to her bump as they simply looked around the bedroom that would soon enough house their little baby boy.

“It’s perfect.” Fliss said, and Frank smiled, his arms wrapping around her from behind, his hands cupping her bump as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

After the usual Sunday roast Verity’s which was filled with the normal laughter, teasing and also some cooing from Verity over the photos of the nursery which Fliss had taken they headed home and after breaking the news to Mary that she was up early, which resulted in a mini- melt down until Frank threatened to send Monty to the dog-food factory if she didn’t stop right away.

“Whatever Frank, Fliss will never let you do that.” She glared at him, hands on her hips.

“Fliss won’t have a say in the matter.” He shot back, “Bed, now Mary. Don’t make me count to three.” “You know, I really don’t like you right now.” She glared at him.

“Well that suits me fine, because right now I’m not your biggest fan either.”

With a filthy look she turned on her heels, stomping from the room and muttering something under her breath, from which Frank made out the words Uncle and douchebag.

“I might be getting older but I can still HEAR YOU!” he yelled after her.

“GOOD!” came the shout back before the stairs thudded under her feet and her bedroom door slammed shut.

Frank exhaled, ran a hand through his hair and then checked all the doors were locked before he headed upstairs. “What was all that about?” Fliss asked as she emerged from the en-suite dressed for bed.

“Her being a pain in the ass about going to bed.” He grumbled, face planting onto the bed with a groan “Do we really want another one?”

“Too late for that now Sailor.” She chuckled. “She called me a douchebag.” He said, rolling over onto his back and Fliss let out a laugh.

“No comment.” “Hey.” He pouted, a hurt expression on his face. Fliss stuck her tongue out at him before he sat up with a heave and stripped off ready for bed.

They lay awake for a couple of hours, chatting, and talk turned to baby names after Bill had teased them over dinner that they still hadn’t decided on one. They had discounted a few, but had yet to settle on any that really grabbed their attention.

"What about Max?" Frank asked. He raised his head from where he was led, nose pressed against the curve of Fliss' belly as his hand gently tracked the movements his son was making. Boston Bean was being fairly active considering it was past 11. Fliss, who was sat propped up by a mound of pillows against the headboard looked down at him, her hand pausing where it has been raking through his now very fluffy hair and she wrinkled her nose. "Mmm not keen" she mumbled. "Although I like the X. The way it melts into Adler." Frank blinked before he snorted and Fliss laughed "God you talk some shit" he chuckled and she swatted at his head as he moved back to where he had been before, nose brushing her skin. "Benjamin..." he offered again, "Benjamin Billy. Then we can keep calling him BB" "That's actually kinda cute." Fliss said. "And its after my dad, although he's William." "William." Frank rolled the name around a little "I like that." "Could be a middle name." Fliss said "I don't really like Will, which is what it will no doubt end up shortened to and Bill...no, that's dad. And an old man's name" "I'll tell him you said that." Frank smiled and she shrugged. "I tell him he is an old git all the time" she retorted. Frank's hand stopped as Bean gave a particularly harsh kick and Fliss jumped a little. "Jesus..." she groaned. "Looks like we got a future footballer on our hands. You gonna be the next Tom Brady huh buddy?" Frank chuckled talking to her bump before he stilled "hey, what about-" "No." Fliss said, shutting that suggestion down immediately "We are not calling him Tom or Brady. Besides, that abomination you refer to is not football..." "Excuse me." Frank scoffed "It’s better than that damned shit you Brits play! Soccer." He muttered the word, shaking his head. "No, THAT’S football!" Fliss said indignantly. "Soccer" "Football!" Fliss repeated "it's a ball you kick with your foot! We invented it, we named it!" "Okay, okay!" Frank chuckled "Calm down before you go into labour!" She swatted playfully at his head as she grinned. "You know I would have loved you to have met my granddad and had this debate with him. He'd be spinning in his grave if he could hear us. You know he was actually a professional at one point?" "No kidding?" Frank askes and Fliss gave a hum. "Way before I met him, obviously" Fliss sighed "he played right back for Preston North End but had to retire early when he broke his leg. Never recovered from the injury. Dad said he had a pretty mean right peg on him. I mean leg..." she corrected her slang. "He was their designated Penalty taker. In the 10 years he played he took 60 penalties and missed a total of 2" "That's pretty cool." Frank admitted. "OK, so maybe if he grows up playing soccer that wouldn't be so bad..." "Alex Gallagher." Fliss chuckled "not quite as famous around here as Tom Brady...but still the GOAT. Well, in my eyes anyway." And then she took a deep breath. Frank paused, his hand staying still as he looked up at her smiling softly. "Alexander." They both said at the same time, Fliss' mouth curling into a little smile, her hand falling on top of his. "Alexander William Adler." She beamed down at him and Frank nodded, his own smile growing wider. "Yeah. Yeah I like that." He leaned up to give her a gentle peck, smiling against her lips "I really like it. Alex for short..." She smiled at him as he gently cupped her face. "Alex Adler it is." She nodded, her eyes misting up slightly before he kissed her again. ***** The next morning they packed Mary off to Roberta’s. She wasn’t in quite as bad a mood with Frank as she had been the previous evening. She was talkative enough to ask who had been on the phone when she had walked into the kitchen and why it meant Fliss had ended up re-jigging her morning around. The told her they had some stuff to sort for Bean, but in truth they were heading to see Greg who had called following Frank’s text message to say he could fit them in to talk about Mary’s adoption before his first appointment that morning.

"Hi guys!" Greg strode out of his office greeting the pair of them with a smile "Damned girl you getting bigger by the day?" He teased, gesturing to her bump. "Bloody well feels that way." She grumbled. Frank placed a hand on the bottom of her back and guided her into the room where they both took a seat at one side of Greg’s desk.

“So…” he smiled “Tell me then, what’s sparked this off?” Frank briefly explained about the school and how he’d been thinking about it for some time as Greg smiled, pausing only to thank his PA who walked in with two coffees and an apple juice. Once Frank had finished Greg leaned back, a finger trailing over his mouth before he smiled.

"So the process you’ll go through, if you decide to go through with it is called Kinship adoption." Greg repeated "In general, the procedure of adopting a family member’s child is considerably simpler than other types of adoption because some parts of the domestic adoption process will not apply ergo it is normally easier and faster. And given the fact that you already have legal guardian status this negates any requirement for home studies, nor will there be any need for a supervision period post an initial care placement period as she is already in your care." "So what do we need to do?" Fliss asked. "First off we need to obtain permission from Polland." Greg said "He needs to surrender his legal parental rights by law." Fliss frowned and Greg looked at her before he began to expand on his explanation. "A child can’t have more than two legal parents at a time." Greg looked at her "So as you both would be Mary's legal parents via adoption, it means that Polland's legal rights to her will be completely severed." "I thought they were already terminated?" Fliss looked at Frank who shook his head. "We discussed petitioning for it but it would have prolonged the whole hearing process." Frank looked at her. "I just wanted Mary to settle and legally be allowed to stay, and, well to be honest, it didn’t feel right to sever him completely whilst she was so young, even though he is a total dick. Mary could have changed her mind down the line about all sorts of things so…” he trailed off.

“So all that means that technically he still has the right to apply for visitation if he so wishes." Greg looked at Fliss “But an adoption would stop that." "What if he objects?" Frank asked, the thought suddenly springing into his mind. "Then we would file to the court to have his objection overruled, and request they sever his rights regardless of what he says." Greg said "And given the history with this case, I think there's a pretty good chance we would win." Frank nodded "Ok, so rights removed one way or another. Then what?" "Then we petition the court, file the paperwork, all the boring stuff like the welfare checks will happen, which, will predominantly focus on you Fliss as Frank went through all of this already. They may want to meet your family but I wouldn't worry about it at all. It’s a safe, stable and loving environment that Mary has. That's clear to anyone." Frank gently took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he gave her a smile. "And then, once that's over you’ll attend a finalisation hearing where you’ll be granted legal parental status." Greg says. "It sounds complicated but it’s fairly straight forward because, as I keep saying, she's been with you for a while now and she's a relative." "So how long would it take?" Fliss asked. Greg wrinkled his nose "if Polland doesn't object I'd be surprised if it took longer than 3 months. Given that Bean is due to arrive in just under two, you might wanna hang off until things have settled down a little. Maybe kick it off at the end of September, give you both time to get to grips with the fact you have a new baby. Leave it with me, I’ll speak to one of the guys at the Welfare department, see exactly what parts of the process they will need to do and then we’ll take it from there.” “Sounds like a plan.” Frank smiled, as Fliss squeezed his hand.

*****

"I prefer Theodore" Mary shrugged when they told her over dinner about the name they had settled on. "But William is cool, after Bill." "Well when you grow up and have your own kid, and by grown up I mean 35 on account that you won't allowed to date until you're at least 30..." Frank pointed his fork at her "...you can call your own kid that." "I might have a girl" Mary shrugged, the towel she was wrapped in slipping from her shoulders slightly. "Theodora then" Fliss said, shoving another fork full of chicken into her mouth. Mary pondered this for a second before she shrugged and Frank simply arched an eyebrow as he looked at Fliss who leaned back in the whicker chair and grinned. "So why can't I tell anyone the name?" Mary asked after she swallowed more of her dinner. "Because we want something to stay a surprise Stack" Frank explained "everyone already knows he's a boy. We just wanna keep a little something to ourselves for the 5 weeks or we have before he arrives." "But we wanted you to know." Fliss smiled. Mary grinned "Ok. Secret's safe." She placed her fork down on her empty plate "I'm finished, can I go back in the pool?" "Give it 5 minutes for your food to settle yeah?' Frank looked at Fliss who nodded at him and he cleared his throat slightly. "And while you're waiting, there's something else we wanted to talk to you about." "Ok..." Mary looked at him. "You know how you asked us where we were going this morning?" He looked at her, his hand dropping to Fliss’ knee under the table and she tangled her fingers with his, giving them an encouraging squeeze. "Yeah" “And I said it was to do with Bean?”

“Yeah…” "Well, it was actually to see Greg. And it was about you." Her eyes widened and she swallowed her food with a gulp. “They're not taking me away again are they?" "No, no nothing like that." Fliss soothed her quickly, "In fact...kinda the opposite." "I don't understand" she frowned. "We went to see Greg to ask him about how, if you want us to, we can start the process to adopt you." Frank looked at her. Mary blinked and she looked at Frank who held her gaze before she turned to Fliss. "Adopt me" she whispered. Frank nodded. "But only if that's what you want. It won't mean anything will change, not on a day to day basis anyway, it just means that me and Fliss will both have full-“ He was cut off as Mary jumped up out of her seat and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms round him, pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck as she began to sob. Fliss watched them both, a lump forming in her throat as Frank glanced at her, his eyes glassy. "I'm hoping they're happy tears." He said, clearing his throat. Fliss smiled gently as he simply sat rocking Mary slightly till she calmed down enough to sit back, her hands reaching up, fingers threading into his beard. "So..." she sniffed "you would be my mom and dad?" "Baby we already are." Fliss leaned forward as much as she could to gently rub her back. "I told you that a few weeks ago." "But legally?" "Yeah." Frank nodded. "It will take a little while but Greg says that it will be quicker than usual considering its something called a Kinship Adoption." "What does that mean?" Mary asked quietly. "Basically because you're a relative to me and you've been living with me for so long, some of the process may not be needed." Frank explained. He hesitated for a moment, debating how honest to be before he decides to explain fully to her. She had to understand, she deserved to. "What it does mean, however, is that to allow both Fliss and I to become your parents, they have to completely cut your father off. Which means he has no rights to see you at all going forward. He might refuse our application because of that." "He could refuse?" Mary frowned. "Yeah, but I don't think he will." Frank shook his head "And even if he does we can fight it." Mary nodded, her head bowed a little "He never wanted me anyway..." "Well we do." Fliss said firmly. “And he’s a jackass for not wanting anything to do with you Mary.” "If he does refuse will I have to go live with him?" she looked up her eyes wide. "No." Fliss shook her head "it just means things stay the same as they are now." "That's not so bad." Mary shrugged and Frank gave a huff of a laugh. "Glad to hear it." Frank raised an eyebrow as Mary began fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt "Now, we're going to need to wait until after Alex is born as things are gonna be busy for us all when he arrives but we wanted to give you chance to think about it and make sure it’s what you want. And whatever you decide it doesn't change a thing, ok? You'll stay here and we will still love you no matter what." Mary swallowed and looked at Frank earnestly "I do want. I know already. I don't need to think about it." Frank smiled and brushed her hair back off her face which was getting rather long now and she beamed back at him. "Will I still need to call you Frank?" Frank took a deep breath "that’s up to you. Why don't you see how you feel OK?" She nodded and reached up to kiss his cheek before she hopped down and turned towards Fliss. She chambered onto her knee as best she could and wrapped her arms around her neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so happy." She sniffed and Fliss let out a little noise that was half laugh, half sob and she held her back tightly. Frank wiped his eyes, sniffing a little as he fought to keep it together. He had expected an emotional response from Mary, but it still hadn't prepared him in the slightest for how he was going to feel. For so long he had resisted being referred to as her father and now here he was about to embrace it, and make it 'legal'. Whilst he still had that tiny little bit of guilt regarding Diane, he was pleased to find he didn't feel a shred of doubt, nor after all the soul searching and conversations with Bill last week, and then his mother this afternoon who had, rather emotionally, told him she thought it was a ‘wonderful’ idea, even stating that if Polland did object, she was ready to go onto battle alongside him. Greg was convinced they would have a great chance of winning if it came to it, and even if they didn't, like Fliss said, nothing would change. But for now, he pushed all that to the back of his mind, focusing on the here and now as Mary sat on Fliss lap, her hand skating over her bump as they both giggled, Mary pulling her arm away and squealing. "He just kicked real big!" She looked at Frank, drawing out the word real as he smiled. "Clearly he likes the idea too." He quipped as he stood up "and you know what I like the sound of?" He whipped off his t-shirt and in a flash plucked Mary off Fliss' lap and ran full pelt to the pool with her in his arms as she shrieked and swatted at his back playfully, Thor running behind them, his loud barks booming around the garden. With a huge jump Frank propelled them straight off the side and under the surface of the cool water. They both emerged a second or so later, Mary spluttering as she splashed him causing him to reach out and grab her leg, pulling her back under. "I’m going to be living with 3 children Bean." Fliss patted her bump, just as Thor gave one final frustrated wine before he launched himself into the pool too. Mary let out a huge laugh and pointed to him and Frank grinned as she chambered onto his back. "Hey Frank look..." she giggled loudly "doggy paddle" Frank found that far more funny than he should.

**** Chapter 9

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years ago

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19 Parents Share What Their Kid Remembered About Their ‘Last’ Life

1. He showed us his grave

When my brother was about 2 or 3 he told us his name used to be Austin. One day we were picnicking right along side a cemetery, when my brother took off running towards the gravestones, my dad and I followed him and found him touching a large headstone that simply read “Here Lies Austin” no name, no date. My brother did not learn to read until he was 6 and this headstone wasn’t even right out visible from where we were, yet he ran right to it

2. We don’t watch firefighter things

my son told me a few months ago he “used to be a firefighter, and we got called to a fire. There wasn’t any family inside the house, so we just put the fire out. Then the fire truck caught on fire and I died”. A few nights later, he elaborated he was taken to a hospital, where he died. We don’t watch firefighter things.

3. Her “other” mother’s name was Sally

I was talking to my four year old when she began to freak me out. She was telling me a story about her “other mother” and that she “died a long time ago on a Thursday.” I tried to brush it off, you know, whatever, shes a kid, they have wild imaginations… but then she started to go further into detail about the death of her “other mother,” whose name was apparently Sally. She has never met anyone named Sally, and I can’t recall any shows on TV she watches where “Sally” is a character. She told me that she was playing with her father’s gun that she found and accidentally shot and killed Sally while she was walking upstairs. It’s pretty weird. There are no guns in this house, I haven’t even really told her what guns are all about and how they can hurt or kill someone, shes only four! I think I am beginning to understand now why when I try to tell her when someone dies, they go away forever, she tells me that, that is not true. “We come back, mommy!” I’m only 23, I had my daughter very young and despite not being prepared, I don’t think I could have ever prepared for a conversation like that!

4. “When she lived before she was born”

My daughter did the same thing at the same age. She told me about her life “when she lived before she was born” and described herself as a woman with long hair who lived in an apartment with a long flight of stairs outside of it. She drove a VW Bug and wore long skirts. She then told me that she fell down the stairs and died. Her stories were startlingly vivid and always consistent. Quite spooky. She is now 19 and doesnt remember it. My advice would be write down everything your daughter tells you on the subject. Everything! Record her stories if you can.

5. Roanoke?

I would tell my older sister about my death. I told her my husband was captured and fire was everywhere. I took my young son and ran. I told her my son couldn’t run fast enough. I knew we would get killed and I had my husbands knife on me, I wanted to leave a clue. I wrote in capitals “CROATOAN” I told her we were caught and how my son was killed before I was killed. I told her how I was stabbed in the stomach with a knife. Then, I went about playing with dolls. I can still picture the scene and my son to this day.

6. “She used to come visit me”

my son says he remember his great grandmother (my grandmother) and can describe her in perfect detail (how she looks, how she acted, even what brand of cigarettes she smoked) , although she died 11 days before he was born. He says that she used to come visit him in his dreams.

7. Conchon

Apparently beginning around the time my friend could form sentences until he was little more than 2, he would go on and on about how he was a Native American named Conchon and that after his wife and son got sick and died, he moved to a mountain to live by himself with his horse. He died of a broken neck when he fell into a ravine.

8. “My real mom and dad were killed when the bad men came.”

when I was 2 or 3 I was talking to my grandmother and told her that my mom and dad weren’t my real mom and dad. My grandmother, knowing this wasn’t true, said they were. I calmly explained that no, my real mom and dad were killed when the bad men came. I had lived because my mom hid me behind a rock. I then went on to describe white men with guns and us “dark” people with long hair. When I was done, I went back to eating my ice cream.

9. Jesus

My cousin, approximately 3 years old and riding in the car with my mum and dad, pointed out a random house that they went past and declared “I died there”.

10. Included because, WHAT?

I did something sort of similar I guess. When I was about 3 my mum and I were driving over a bridge on which there’d recently been a major accident that resulted in a car bursting into flames and the driver dying. Anyway, I asked my mum who the man in the front seat was and when she told me to describe him I said, “Well he’s on fire and he keeps looking back at me.”

11. I drowned

My mother told me about a story I told her when I was 2 or 3. I told her she was the best mommy I ever had, to which she replied, “I’m the only mommy you’ve ever had.” “nu-uh, I had another mommy.” I said that my older sister and I went out to a pond in the woods behind my house. Around the pond, all of the trees were the same type: skinny with white paper-like bark. (I had never seen a poplar tree before in this life.) We put some logs together to make a raft, and put it into the water to play boat captain and climbed aboard. The raft fell apart, and I didn’t know how to swim. I tried to grab a log, but my hand slipped off. I could see my sister freaking out from underwater. I drowned.

12. My war memories

one of 6 hopping out of a helicopter into a field, it’s hot as shit, humid, daytime, two house/buildings smoking and heavily burning straight in front of me (to the side of the chopper), and there’s firing from the woods and field to my right. It’s chaotic a noisy, lots of firing and helicopters, my guys are firing back crouched next to the back building, one guy runs out of the other building with a kid he pushes forward and yells at to run, the kid gets shot from out of nowhere, and drops. I see a few of my guys advancing from another chopper behind me duck down in the grass as their chopper leaves, I crouch in tall grass about 10 feet from my chopper, fire my rifle twice from just above the grass line, and my chopper starts to take off, and is taking fire. I get up to move forward, panicky, and am shot dead – I feel a hard thunk, see part my chest explode, fall forward go black, and zoom out above my body. I also drew this later (still have pics, mom saved them). To me, it’s clear as day, still. Mom said some of my first chatter was about “heavy fire” “zip em boys” (don’t know what that means) and I would ask “Where are the hueys?” I was born in the early 70s, and my family was NOT military (very anti, actually). I err on the side of thinking it’s media (news footage?) I absorbed at some point from the Viet Nam war, but I also wonder if it’s not a past-life dream.

13. “That’s why I don’t like water now”

When my kid was 4, we were watching a docu on the Titanic. The scene was a picture of the schematics of the boiler room and the camera panned from left to right over the plans. He pointed at the tv and said, “That’s wrong. The boilers were on the Other side. And I was right here.” And he pointed to a small space in the boiler room. “That’s where I was. And that’s why I don’t like water now.”

14. My family’s farm, burning

When I was younger I would have dreams of living in colonial american. I remember bits very vividly and only when I was older did I realize what they were about and how accurate they were. Most of the dreams consisted of me being in my late teen years and centered around my family’s farm being set on fire during the night. I never dreamed past that night, nothing about the aftermath of the fire, and I haven’t had one in years.

15. “Nobody scroofs me there”

Getting my two and a half year old daughter out of the bath one night, my wife and I were briefing her on how important it was she kept her privates clean. She casually replied “Oh, nobody ‘scroofs’ me there. They tried one night. They kicked the door in and tried but I fought back. I died and now I’m here.” She said this like it was nothing. My wife and I were catatonic.

16. Nope

“Before I was born here, I had a sister, right? Her and my other Mom are so old now. They were ok when the car was on fire, but I sure wasn’t!”

17. “Their screams are keeping me up”

I was in my room on the computer at about 11, which is late for my sister to be awake even now. I was thinking about bed, but then my sister knocks on the door. She was maybe 10 at the time, so not so young that she doesn’t know when she’s dreaming. She wanted to sleep in my room because she was sad and scared. I asked her why, and she said, “I watched your sons burn up in the fire. Their screams are keeping me up.”

18. Role reversal

My three year old said, “Remember when I was the grown-up and you were the little boy?” to his Dad.

19. When he was a grown up

My father used to hate policemen when he was a kid, he used to tell my grandmother that they came to his house and shot him when he was a grown up.

19 Parents Share What Their Kid Remembered About Their ‘Last’ Life paranormal ghost and hauntings

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May 26th, 2019

SEE MORE POSTS LIKE THIS ON TUMBLR

#paranormal #ghost and hauntings

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19 Parents Share What Their Kid Remembered About Their ‘Last’ Life1. He showed us his grave

When my brother was about 2 or 3 he told us his name used to be Austin. One day we were picnicking right along side a cemetery, when my brother took off...

19 Parents Share What Their Kid Remembered About Their ‘Last’ Life

1. He showed us his grave

2. We don’t watch firefighter things

3. Her “other” mother’s name was Sally

4. “When she lived before she was born”

5. Roanoke?

6. “She used to come visit me”

7. Conchon

8. “My real mom and dad were killed when the bad men came.”

9. Jesus

My cousin, approximately 3 years old and riding in the car with my mum and dad, pointed out a random house that they went past and declared “I died there”.

10. Included because, WHAT?

11. I drowned

12. My war memories

13. “That’s why I don’t like water now”

14. My family’s farm, burning

15. “Nobody scroofs me there”

16. Nope

“Before I was born here, I had a sister, right? Her and my other Mom are so old now. They were ok when the car was on fire, but I sure wasn’t!”

17. “Their screams are keeping me up”

18. Role reversal

My three year old said, “Remember when I was the grown-up and you were the little boy?” to his Dad.

19. When he was a grown up

My father used to hate policemen when he was a kid, he used to tell my grandmother that they came to his house and shot him when he was a grown up.

#19 Parents Share What Their Kid Remembered About Their ‘Last’ Life #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #ghoststories

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sineala · 4 years ago

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Hey! I know you've received asks about long distance relationships before but I hope you don't mind if I ask, too :) The thing is a bit complicated and I need some advice, and your story is just so beautiful I'm like, "please adopt me!!" There's this person on tumblr whom I have a crush on, sort of: we've never actually interacted because I don't have a tumblr account but she posts a lot of things I love and info on herself too, so I feel like I know her. 1/2

2/2 I'm ace and never dated, which is a problem because I don't really know what to do, and I'm also very shy, but... the question is... what can I do? i can't just send her a message and say, "I have a crush on you, but you don't know anything of me. Can we try to date?" But on the other hand I really don't know how to start talking to her... :( sorry, I'm just an awkward human being... and thank you for listening to my problems! But of course feel free to ignore me. Take care ❤️

Okay. Wow. This is a lot, anon. I had to think for a while about how to say this as nicely as I possibly can, but: I don't think you should do what you're asking me how to do. At all. I don't think your feelings are bad or wrong or invalid, and I get why you feel the way you do, but there's really not a good, kind, or fair way to get the outcome that you want. You can try to make friends with her if you legitimately want to be friends with her, but you can't be friends with her for the purpose of dating her.

I have more to say under the Read More.

You might find it helpful to read something about the concept of parasocial relationships. The tl;dr version is that parasocial relationships are relationships that an audience experiences with people like celebrities or performers. You, the audience member, don't actually interact personally with the person you have this parasocial relationship with -- everything you know about them is because you actually know the persona they are adopting for public consumption, rather than the person themselves -- but you feel like you know them anyway.

I'm not saying that parasocial relationships are bad. They can be good! They can be positive! I'm pretty sure we all have them. Heck, media fandom is basically us having massive numbers of parasocial relationships with fictional characters! Parasocial relationships can be great and inspiring! Having a favorite character or a favorite celebrity can make you really happy! Do I have parasocial relationships too? Yeah, sure, you bet. The Goodreads review I have that has garnered the most likes is the one that is approximately 50% me explaining that I have a giant crush on Rachel Maddow. I have never met Rachel Maddow. I obviously do not know the real Rachel Maddow, and I would not want to actually for-real date her even if both of us were single. I can just be happy reading her books and watching her TV show. There's a video game I like to play, Slay The Spire, and I have a favorite Slay The Spire streamer on Twitch, and at this point I have probably watched hundreds of hours of this dude playing video games, and because of that, I know a lot of random facts about this guy's life. Does he seem like he'd be cool to hang out with? Yeah, sure. Have I ever interacted with him in any way other than subscribing to his YouTube channel? Nope! I don't even have a Twitch account! Do I know him as a person? Absolutely not.

I'm saying all this because social media is a place you can have parasocial relationships, and the relationship you have with this Tumblr user is parasocial. (Incidentally, the relationship you have with me is also parasocial; I mention this because I feel like you should know that asking me to adopt you is coming on a little too strong, as an opening interaction. I don't mean to make you feel bad about this, and I'm sorry if I have, but since you're asking about how to interact with people you've never spoken to before, you should probably know that.)

It basically comes down to this: you don't actually know this person, but you feel like you do because you've read her Tumblr. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. That's not a criticism. That's not a value judgment. I mean, technically, you don't know me either. That's just not the kind of relationship that I have with you, or that you have with her. It's parasocial, not reciprocal. And you really need to keep that in mind.

Can you form reciprocal relationships with people you have parasocial relationships with? I mean, yeah, maybe, depending on the person. And the answer to how you do that is basically the answer to the question "how do you make friends with people?" -- and it seems like you might like advice about that, since you said you were shy, You talk to someone about mutual interests that you both enjoy. You hang out. Maybe in RL in Better Times you meet up and go get lunch together. These days on the internet I make most of my internet friends by (1) squeeing back and forth at them about whatever fic they wrote and clogging up their AO3 comments until we take it to email, (2) yelling about fandom on Discord until we mutually discover we are like-minded enough to start yelling at each other in DMs directly, and (3) murdering them in games of Among Us and then lying about it. (Games are a bonding experience.)

You listen well, you share some things about yourself because that's what friends do and if the other person wants to be your friend they will share things back -- or maybe they will share things first, if they decide they want to be friends first. This is how we humans like to bond with each other. I feel like I am not very good at this friend-making thing, so I am not sure I am the best person to ask for tips. But that is basically how it works.

Can you be friends with this person? Maybe. I don't know. You can try. But what I do know is that you absolutely should not try to be friends with her with the intention of dating her. People don't like when they think someone is friends with them because they want something from them, and, generally, people really really don't like when someone is friends with them when the thing they want from them is a romantic relationship. You know how you hear people (usually straight guys) talk about being "friendzoned?" They're upset because they're friends with a woman they want to date and the woman sees them as only a friend. That is the realm your proposed interaction is adjacent to, and that is not a good place to be. Don't be like one of those guys.

I think you should ask yourself if you would be happy being friends with this person if there were zero possibility of romance with her. If you would be happy being just friends. And be honest with yourself. If, after some soul-searching, you decide that, yeah, you would feel 100% satisfied just being her friend if nothing else ever happened (and you have to honestly believe this), then and only then should you try talking to her.

What should you talk about? I don't know; you must have something in common. I have made friends with people because we both enjoyed Avengers volume 3 and classic Star Trek. I made friends with a bunch of people in college because we all liked to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Smallville. I have made friends with people because I told them I liked the book they were reading or the pins on their backpack. I have made friends with people because we both were in the same science-fiction online roleplaying group as teenagers and it turned out twenty years later we were sharing a fandom, we now lived in the same state, and we also liked the same folk music! I made friends with my wife because I wanted to complain to her about a Due South fanfic I was reading and she didn't like it either and then I was translating a text for class that was in Ancient Egyptian and the footnotes were in German and I didn't know German (and still don't) but I knew she did. At that point I had absolutely no clue there would be any romance involved there; I just thought she was really cool and she seemed to think I was cool and then we just kept talking.

So, y'know, maybe, if you just want to be her friend, you can try to do that. You can find out if you actually like her as an actual, real person. But you have to want to just be friends.

But if you think you'd be unhappy if you were just friends with her, you absolutely should not try to be friends with her, because that would be misrepresenting what you want and it would also be very unfair to her.

(Edited to add: I guess the other option is that you could, in fact, just be like, “Hey, I have a crush on you,” which would be both honest and forthright -- but I feel like that has a very, very low chance of working. Hence all the other advice.)

I hope that helps.

#Anonymous #replies

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melchron · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare Time Episode 2 Thoughts

But first, my brain right after it ended:

No no no NO NO NOPE

Idc what Nick says this isn't canon

THIS WAS SO GOOD

AAAAAHHHH

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

*nervous laughter*

Occasional squeals for every emotion

Me texting my mom it traumatized me

Me scrolling through tumblr up until right before I started typing this

I LOVE THIS

I HATE THIS

I'M CONFUSED

WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED

Ok thoughts now:

MARIAH AND ROBERT DUET!!!

Rob in a turtleneck had me concerned for a second

They sound amazing

These are the cutest vows

HIDGENS IS OFFICIATING? Wait that means he's legally a wedding officiant. Why is he a wedding officiant? What made him want to do this?

TED SHUT UP

BILL IS THERE

Is MIAH someone's friend or relative? I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHO!

So we have Emma droid and Paul clone know huh. I feel so bad for real Emma. Wait does she know Jane is dead? OH NO DROID TOOK HER PHONE WHEN TOM CALLED SO PROBABLY NOT! SHE REALLY SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN GUATEMALA!

Paul where did your brain cells go? Emma told you there is someone else out there that looks exactly like her and she stole the life of. I know she said other girl died but you didn't even consider the possibility? It took you seeing them together for you to get it. Paul I love you but you stupid.

Good job to the citizens of Hatchetfield for making sure real Emma was ok. Good job respecting women.

EMMA WHY ARE YOU SELLING YOUR DNA?!??! THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO MAKE MONEY SWEETIE!

OMG PAUL CALLED EMMA PET NAMES

Dang they are getting so much use out of Lauren's ring. Devin's video, Konk's proposal, and now this.

I now know that Dylan owns a beanie that says Daddy on it. Idk what to do with this information.

Lauren Lopez is an amazing actress! How do you play two characters that are essentially the same and also interact with each other and have it be this amazing?!?!? It makes no sense.

ALSO Jon did such a good job! Paul loved Emma so much and Jon made me believe it.

I believe 23 loves Emma just as much as 22 did.

Are they only cloning Paul? It seems weird to just choose him. Maybe others are getting cloned too. What if we have multiple Ted's because of time travel but we also had others that were clones!

Why did they continue to make clones? What was wrong with the first 22?

DROID EMMA CARES ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT I LOVE HER

Kim's voice is so angelic

Nick, Matt, can you please stop making me like Ted?

Ted is a jerk and a creep but he doesn't deserve all this

SPANKOVSKY

HIDGENS AND CHAD IS CONFIRMED

BILL HAS A NEW GIRLFRIEND!??!?!! I'M SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!! SYLVIA SEEMS NICE! I HOPE ALICE LIKES HER!! BILL DESERVES TO BE HAPPY WITH SOMEONE!!

So Ted is a jerk as a defense mechanism? Ted I'm sorry you got hurt but this isn't it. What you need is help. Go to therapy.

Ted really considers Paul to be his best friend huh. Well know I feel bad that he wasn't invited.

Omg he looked to happy during his blackout dream. Why do I like this? Why do I like happy Ted?

JEFF'S VOICE OMG THAT IS TERRIFYING

Really random but I wish my school made Rubik's Cubes

And Paul asked him to be a pal! Don't play with his feelings like that Paul! Say that if you really mean it!

So in the future everyone is a android? WAIT Emma droid said she was from the future. How did she get to the past? Did future ccrp teach her how to use the office as a time machine?

Lol Robert's face when he's calling security. He's not even mouthing words

JEFF WITH THE VOICE FILTER IS TERRIFYING!!

Lol Robert and Jaime using their phones as laser guns. And Jaime's is barely showing up because of the green screen.

TED DON'T BEAT UP COLLEGE KIDS 15 YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU!! HE LOOKED SO HAPPY AND SWEET TOO! GREAT TED YOU JUST RUINED HIS LIFE AND NOW HE WANTS TO KILL YOU!

Ted why don't you just tell your younger self what to do? Remember, you didn't travel back into your younger self. You're the same as how you came. Meaning that all Jenny will see is so gross pedo man trying to hit on her.

Jenny calling him Teddy is so cute

Ted is an idiot. Of course she doesn't want some horny jerk. Expect better of your friend. Also don't grab people when they're trying to get away from you. Especially not GIRLS 15 YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU!!

Jenny deserves better. We just met her and she's Spiderman-ing.

STOP MAKING MY FAVES TED!!! Homeless man was sweet man who deserves the world that I would give my bank account to. You know what screw it. I like Ted know. There I said it. I LIKE TED! I simultaneously want to hug him and get a restraining order on him. Nick, Matt, Joey, you're all buttheads and I love you.

This- this doll isn't cute. Like you made these available to buy I would still get one but I don't like him. Tinky can stay far away from me.

Ted is such a good friend trying to warn Paul about his droid gf. PAUL GIVE HIM SPARE CHANGE!! I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!

AND THEN THEY KILL HIM!!!! TED GETS MURDERED BY SOMEONE HE CONSIDERED HIS BEST FRIEND!!!! JUST EXPLAIN TO HOMELESS MAN THAT YOU'RE COOL WITH YOUR DROID WIFE, MAKE HIM PROMISE NOT TO TELL, GIVE HIM SPARE CHANGE (not as a bribe), AND MOVE ON

Joey is absolutely amazing!! He made me like Ted. TED!!! Of all the characters! Also those quick changes. Just amazing!!! Gosh these guys are so friggin talented.

MATT DAHAN IS AMAZING!!! I WAS FEELING ALL THE FEELS AND THEN MUSIC WAS ALWAYS PERFECT!! I HEARD THE SHOW ME YOUR HANDS THEME GO OFF!!!

Matt and Nick I swear looked up every au trope and decided the weirdest ones to mix together. And I have no idea how but it works.

AND THEN IT ENDS ON A SONG ABOUT PEANUTS!!??!? NOT NOW I'M EMOTIONAL!! ALSO PRETTY SURE THIS IS THE FIRST JOEY AND LAUREN DUET SINCE GRANGER DANGER!! AND PEANUTS CAN TALK NOW!!??! SCREW THIS!! SCREW HATCHETFIELD I'M DONE!! LITERALLY ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN I CAN'T!!! MY BRAIN WILL DIE IF YOU KEEP THIS UP!!!

#starkid #nightmare time #nightmare time spoilers #forever and always #time bastard #mel thinks thoughts #melchron the good book

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Riding On Ch8: A Bun (And Cookies) In The Oven

Summary: Frank and Fliss attend Mary’s end of year fundraising gala at school, the Nursery is finally finished and plans are made regarding Mary’s adoption.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

And it may take some time to patch me up inside, but I can't take it so I run away and hide. And I may find in time that you were always right, you're always right.