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scavengedlegacy · 9 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Axis Investigations Office PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere and Natalia @scavengedlegacy. SUMMARY: Natalia finds out she's being tracked by Emilio and confronts him. He accuses her of doing the stalking. CONTENT WARNING: stalking, brief mention of family death

The night before, Natalia had been sitting across from an old client who was coming to make good on their part of their deal, and he had mentioned passing on her name to someone else. It was a normal event in her particular line of work, it wasn’t like she could publicly market stolen goods and secrets for trade. But when they described the man who had asked about her, it gave Natalia pause.

When he first moved into town, Natalia had clocked him as someone who she needed to watch. It was a gut instinct that had quickly proven to be right. He was a Cortez. And while her beating heart disqualified her from being his usual prey, knowing that he was looking for her made her uneasy. Was there a vampire that she had helped that he was looking for? Was the trinket the last one had traded to her something he wanted?

Standing with her back to the wall, just inside the office of Axis Investigations, Natalia crossed her arms and stayed far from the chair that a client would normally take. “Who hired you?” Her tone was less questioning and more accusatory. “I can’t for the life of me think of what you would want with the scavenger, so, someone had to hire you. I’ve gone through all the suspects in my head, just rotating through names, and they’re either too lazy to go looking, too tied up in their own fucking principles to decide the ‘best option’ let alone agree on who to hire — and none of them would hire outside their own groups.”

—

You saw all kinds of different cases in Emilio’s line of work. He got the feeling most of the ones you saw in Wicked’s Rest weren’t exactly standard for P.I.s in the rest of the world, but he’d gotten good at clocking them anyway. Missing people usually turned up in the stomach of something in the woods. Suspicious changes in behavior tended to find the subject with less of a heartbeat than they’d had before the shift. Stolen items were sometimes better off not returned when they were rediscovered in cursed shops. Emilio danced the line between detective and hunter pretty well for a guy who could only use one leg, and he was good at clocking which cases were supernatural and which weren’t pretty early on in the process.

But this one… This one could still go either way. The woman who’d hired him had been nervous. People who hired him usually were. No one ever really hired a private investigator because they were having a good day, after all. She’d told him someone was following her, and she was afraid it might have something to do with some illegal dealings she’d been a part of, so she couldn’t go to the police. Emilio didn’t care much about legality, especially not when it was for laws that didn’t matter, so he took the case without question. He did some digging, he found a name.

Natalia Moreno seemed to have her finger in a lot of pies throughout town. And just as Emilio had found her on his radar, she seemed to have put him on hers. It wasn’t entirely surprising to find her in his office; if anything, he was surprised she hadn’t shown up sooner. From what he’d found out about her, she probably wasn’t someone who liked people digging into her work. “I’m not going to tell you who hired me,” he replied flatly, leaning back in his chair and mimicking her stance, arms crossed over his chest. “Es una política de la empresa. I tell you, other people want me to tell them, it goes out of control. People want privacy. You should understand.”

—

It was company policy. The words could have made her sick if she let them sink in past the surface. Too much like her parents who stood in a room with a bunch of other aging Scribes, making decisions for everyone around them, damning them with their desire to remain hidden and ‘neutral.’ Natalia wrinkled her nose and then rolled her eyes, letting the words roll off her in the same movement.

“And yet, something tells me, Mr. Cortez, that if you were coming to me and asking me for information, you wouldn’t take ‘company policy’ and walk away, would you?” She watched him for a moment longer, a beat of silence before the blank look on her face cracked into something of a smile. Close to humor. She pushed off the wall and then pointed at the chair across the desk, “Can I sit here?” Natalia didn’t wait, she sat down and propped her feet up on the desk, making herself comfortable. If they were going to be posturing the entire time, she might as well do it where it looked like it was her office, instead of his.

“So then, explain this company policy to me, love to hear the full thing. Especially the ‘in the event someone’s life might be in danger’ part. Because unfortunately for people like us, company policy has to be flexible to some degree, doesn’t it?” Natalia tipped her head to the side, wondering what had been asked of him, if he was just there to find her and out her, or if he had been asked to do something more. (She wasn’t a vampire, she reminded herself. And for all accounts, she didn’t remember the Cortezs making a habit of killing humans.) “Unless this is about money?” She blinked a few times, letting the question breathe before she shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, you wouldn’t be the first to sell your morals for a couple bucks.” It had been a long time since Natalia had felt desperate. Longer still that she had to rely on someone else for the answers.

—

“Ah, I’m a bad example,” Emilio replied, waving a hand dismissively. She was right, of course; when met with ‘company policy’ that prevented him from doing his job, he had a habit of finding some way around it. Digging, or pushing, or threatening if he thought the person deserved it. But he felt differently when he was the one holding the cards… especially in a situation like this one. If Natalia was the person who’d been following his client, sharing the information of who’d hired him could put their life in danger. He had no idea if Natalia was dangerous or not; he’d prefer not to find out the answer to that question in a way that got his client hurt.

And if he explained that, there was a chance she’d understand. If she wasn’t a worst case scenario, if he let himself believe that she was a decent person. But… Emilio and trust issues went hand-in-hand, most of the time. He didn’t want to risk trusting someone who was going to screw him over and Natalia, for all he knew, was just waiting for her chance to do that. So he crossed his arms, he tilted his head up, said, “Sit wherever you want. I don’t care.”

He narrowed his eyes at her questions, irritation rising. “It isn’t about money,” he said flatly. Fuck knew if he was in this for the money, he’d be doing a shit job. Axis offered discounts to anyone Emilio found less annoying than the typical client, didn’t charge people he empathized with a little too much. “Try to think from my seat. Someone hires you. Says there is someone following them. Someone else comes in. Asks for information about this person. You see how this is a bad idea.” He leaned forward a little. “I don’t know you. I don’t know why you want to know what you want to know. I’m not putting my client at risk. Nothing you say will change that. If you want to waste your time, you can waste your time. I’m good at that. Or you can save us both a headache and fuck off.”

—

“A hypocrite, you mean.” As if Natalia didn’t wear that hat often when it suited her, pretending to do or believe in one thing as long as it fit the narrative she was trying to portray. The world was full of imperfect people: Scribes and hunters chief among them. She was curious, though, what had driven him to this line of work and why he was dealing with petty bullshit between humans. But a beat passed, and her mind opened up further, wondering, perhaps, if the person who had sent Emilio after her wasn’t human at all.

She tipped her foot on his desk, rolling it back and forth while she listened to his short rebuttals. Not caring about what she did or said in this situation, not caring if she wasted her own time and how happy he would be to waste Natalia’s if that was what she wanted. But before all that, he told an all too familiar story. Of a client walking in, saying someone was following them, likely begging for help. “Someone was following them?” She repeated, brows furrowed as she looked up from the tips of her shoes to his face. “They said someone was following them? Did they accuse me directly? Or…”

Sitting up straight, Natalia pulled her feet off the desk and threaded her fingers together on the surface of his desk. Janessa Hommel came to mind. “Let me… wager a guess as to who it was. Mid twenties? White? Blonde hair? Green eyes? Small scar under her left eye? Looks like she hasn’t slept in a week?” She sighed, working her jaw as she held eye contact. “My client looked like that. Said the same thing to me. Said someone was following her, she was sure of it.” What would have caused her to come running here as well? Had something escalated? Natalia ran through the last meeting she had with Janessa. “Did your client accuse the shadows? Say they were longer and darker than normal?” It had sounded absurd when Natalia had first been told, but there was often a shred of truth in the most outlandish claims in Wicked’s Rest. “Or we can just, you know, do this back and forth pissing match too instead, I like this part. It’s fun. Keeps the mind sharp.”

—

“If that’s what you want to call it.” He was self aware enough to know that it wasn’t an entirely unfair accusation. Hypocrisy was something Emilio wore well. Vengeance tended to be soaked in it, after all. He’d come to accept it a long time ago, allowed the word to drape itself around him like a blanket. It didn’t do much to keep him warm, but at least he could accept the truth when it was hurled at him. It made it a hell of a lot harder for anyone to weaponize against him.

He watched her now, the way she sat with herself. She was putting on a show, just like he was. Feigning apathy, pretending to care less than she did. It was interesting. You could tell a lot about a person just by watching them. It was something Emilio relied on heavily, especially after his move to the States. When you didn’t speak the verbal language well, fluency in body language became a necessity. Tense shoulders and narrowed eyes meant the same thing in Spanish as they did in English. That made it a lot easier. He watched her reaction to his revelation, tilted his head to the side slightly. Surprise, concern, thoughtfulness. It seemed genuine.

She described his client pretty well, but… that didn’t necessarily get her off the hook. There was a chance she knew what Janessa looked like because she had been following her, after all, so Emilio only crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. But then she went on, talking about the specifics of what his client had said when she’d hired him, and… There weren’t a lot of ways she could know that without speaking to her. The possibility that Janessa had been bugged was there, but if that were the case, why would Natalia be here? She wouldn’t waste time looking for information she already had, especially not if it meant exposing herself to a private investigator who might not know about her involvement. “She was paranoid,” he confirmed. “Afraid. Desperate, by the time she got to me. What was she working with you on? We both share what we know, this goes faster. Or I can toss you out in the snow and have a drink, then work this by myself. Up to you.”

—

Natalia tipped her head to the side, a smile coming too easily to her face. False, but present. “I think that’s what most people would call it. Hypocrisy, maybe even condescending? Depends on the tone and angle you want to take. Shades of gray, perhaps? But either way, you don’t do as you say. We both know you’d force the information out of someone if you thought it would help your cause.” There was a reputation that was attached to the Cortez name, one that Natalia wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, but perhaps, it was one that he was banking on people not knowing. From what she had heard, which was unfortunately very little, he hadn’t been making the same violent waves that the Cortez family was known for.

Then again, as far as she knew, he was the last of them.

The way he kept his distance from her, but there was an olive branch offered. One that Natalia knew better than to pass up. Information for information. She had no guarantee that he’d hold up his end of the bargain, but that was a risk worth taking, wasn’t it? Better than being on the shit side of a slayer. Turning her head slightly from Emilio, she pretended like there was something far more interesting on the far side of the wall. “She kept talking about the shadows last I saw her. Something was following her but she could never place what it was. She said…”

Closing her eyes, Natalia tried to recall the exact wording. “Something was trying to take her place.” It was a strange sentiment. Darker than what she would have imagined for a stalker, not that having a stalker was something to sneeze at, but the wording was… hard to shake. “Every time I saw her, she had a fresh wound bandaged up. I don’t know if it was paranoia causing her to accidently harm herself or if the harm was the cause?” Natalia thought outside before finally looking at Emilio again. “She missed our last meeting. Last night, the Wormhole. I keep a strict schedule with my clients.” It wasn’t much, but it was the truth. And she figured that was better than embellishing anything. Especially with him. “Your turn, what did she say that tipped you in my direction?”

—

“I’ve been called much worse.” He made no effort to deny any of it. Trying to do that would be an insult to them both. She was right, after all — Emilio could and would go to certain lengths to get information when he needed it. He had more limits than he used to, sure — these days, he only got information ‘the hard way’ from people who he knew had earned such methods — but he wasn’t so stupid as to think that he was a good man, and he wouldn’t pretend to be one. He did what he needed to do. She struck him as someone who did the same. But Emilio didn’t know if she had the same limits he did, and that was part of the problem. She was an unknown variable and, to him, that made her a threat.

But he knew enough to use even a threat to his advantage. He was learning — slowly, sure, but still — that you could solve things without a knife, sometimes. An exchange, an agreement… you could turn a threat into an ally with the right deal. He’d done it more than once now, and it hadn’t bit him in the ass too hard just yet. It would someday, he knew; that was inevitable. But until it did, he might as well keep using people to his advantage.

“Take her place?” That was an interesting tidbit. A stalker was one thing — it could be explained away in a thousand different ways. A human threat, or a vampire who liked to play with its food, or a fae looking for a constant source that they could snatch up and keep locked away somewhere. But something trying to replace someone? That narrowed the field a little. The wounds were another clue. “When was the last time you saw her? Did she seem… different at all?” His brow furrowed, gears turning in his mind. “She came to me, like I said. Told me she couldn’t go to the police because she was worried whoever was following her might have something to do with some… activities she was a part of that the police might not agree with. So I looked into her activities. Found your name through that. Thought maybe she’d missed a payment to you or something and you were trying a scare tactic. But you wouldn’t be here talking to me if that’s what it was.” If Natalia were responsible for this disappearance, she would have been more likely to kill Emilio than to talk to him. He knew that. “So I’m thinking… You and me are after the same thing here. On the same side, maybe.”

—

There was a smile at the corner of her lips when he admitted that. “Me too,” Natalia offered. It was almost a sign of friendship. Of kindred spirits meeting. If he was anything else like her, then this confrontation wasn’t going to be the deal breaker it would have been with anyone else. “But I am going to mark those statements as correct then, since you didn’t deny anything.” Raising her hand, Natalia made a checkmark in the air for dramatic effect.

He repeated the line and his immediate reply pulled Natalia’s attention away from the rocky start of their conversation. “She kept saying it, over and over again, every time I saw her.” Which had only been a handful of times, but the fact that Janessa had said it each time had stuck with her. It had to be important, otherwise why was it stuck so firmly in the front of her mind during their short meetings? “I was supposed to see her last night but she never showed up. Instead I got a little rumor about you looking me up.” She hadn’t even realized the two were connected until he had been accusing her of being the mysterious stalker. “But last time she did make our meeting, she looked like she hadn’t been sleeping. More paranoid than before.” Closing her eyes, Natalia tried to imagine what she looked like again. The dark circles under her eyes, her unbrushed hair, the desperation.

She said she had nothing to give me, had been Natalia’s initial reply, but she kept it behind closed teeth. The last thing she wanted was to point the finger back at herself and try to defend how she hadn’t charged Janessa anything because when she had first met her, she had seen that look of desperation in her eyes even back then. Natalia wasn’t usually someone’s first call in a stalker case, but she wasn’t about to make her exceptions public. “You didn’t beat the shit out of one of my clients for this info, did you?” She hoped it had just been a conversation, but that’s not exactly what the Cortezs were known for. Standing up from the chair, she looked him in the eyes, considering what he said, before nodding. “Better allies than enemies.” In this situation, at least. “But I take it if you got as far as me, you didn’t get any leads about who the real stalker might be, no?”

—

It didn’t bother him, the way she took his lack of denial as a confession. It kind of was one, after all. Emilio wouldn’t pretend that he wasn’t a hypocrite, or that he was never condescending. He was, beyond shadow of a doubt, both of those things. But… “I’m not a liar.” He had that going for him, at least. He was more than willing to admit to his flaws, more than ready to confess to being less than perfect. Wasn’t everyone?

Of course, there were far more important things to worry about here. If their shared client had found this fear large enough to repeat it every time she spoke to Natalia, it must have had something concrete behind it, right? It could have been simple paranoia, but it had clearly been a big concern. It wasn’t something Emilio thought someone would assume without reason. It was a big leap to make, a bigger one to admit to someone. So… there had to be something behind it. “Did she ever say why she thought that?” There had to be more to this story than someone paranoid that she was being stalked. Emilio got the feeling the stalker in question wasn’t the human sort. “She was… on edge when she met with me, too. Looked like you said — tired, paranoid. Felt bad for her.” Bad enough to give her a discount, though he wouldn’t advertise that. “Thought it might have been an ex-boyfriend at first, but doesn’t look that way. Then, I thought it might have something to do with you. Now, though…”

Odds were, the stalker they were looking for wasn’t the human sort. But what was it? Emilio would need to do more research to be sure. He might have had a near encyclopedic knowledge of the undead, but no one could know every supernatural creature out there. There were just too many to keep up with, especially in a town like this one where the rules seemed constantly broken. Snorting at Natalia’s question, Emilio raised a brow. “I have other tricks up my sleeves.” Namely, Javi. The bartender tended to know a lot more about other people’s business than anyone had any right to, and he was more than willing to share that knowledge with Emilio for a price. (A monetary price, now that Emilio wasn’t sleeping with him anymore. It was getting expensive.) “I don’t have anything… concrete,” he confirmed. “But with what you’ve told me, I think I know where to start.” He paused a moment. Then, “I don’t think we’re looking for something human here. I don’t know how much you know about this shit, but I’m not holding your hand through it if you’re clueless. There’s not time for that. Not if we want any hope of finding a person instead of a corpse.”

—

There was something about the way Emilio said so fully that he wasn’t a lair that brought a smile to Natalia’s face. “Good, I hate liars.” A pause. “But withholding the truth, that’s different, isn’t it?” It wasn’t the jab it could have been, if anything, there was too much humor in her words. Because she had skirted the truth a number of times, but that wasn’t the same as outright lying, was it? (Then again, even if she was a liar, a healthy dose of self-hatred wouldn’t be the worst thing.)

Her eyes shut as the question bounced around in her mind. Had there been any hints as to what it could have been that was following her? Were there any other clues other than her clear exhaustion and paranoia? No. Natalia’s brows furrowed, frustrated with herself. “Not that she said, and nothing that I noticed. I chalked it up to paranoia with her being stalked.” The word left a foul taste in her mouth. There had been too many cases of stalking on her college campus, too many times where she had heard women asking for help from anyone who would listen because the police couldn’t do anything — and now she was worried that she was part of the problem. Not acting fast enough, not solving it fast enough, and now she was missing. Likely dead.

Shaking her head and the feeling from her body, she looked up toward Emilio once more. “Glad we’re on the same page there, then. Last thing I needed was a Cortez on my ass.” He said it wasn’t human and Natalia, at first, nodded her head in agreement before offering him a smile. “I promise the stupid look on my face is just for show.” There were a thousand things that she didn’t know about in the world. The quakes in the sky could punctuate that point if it cared to rear its ugly head once more. “You won’t need to hold my hand. I can’t say I know everything there is about the supernatural, but I know a whole hell of a lot. Like I know your family was renown for being hunters. Specialized in vampires. Figured I didn’t hit the marks for you to be on my ass, but I guess the times are changing.” She stood up straighter. “I know about fae, not all of them or their subtypes, but enough to know that when I said I promise, had you been one, I could have been royally fucked. I know about werewolves and I know about..." She couldn't remember if Felix had ever put a word to what they were. “The cat people?”

She paused, shifting her weight. “If you have a name for what you think we’re after, I have access to some archives that might be useful to us. There are more like me. Human, not hunters, but still… knowing.”

—

“It’s not my job to tell everyone everything all the time,” he replied with a shrug. He didn’t tend to lie directly unless the situation called for it, but he had no problem leaving out important details. After all, there were things that people were better off knowing, and things you’d be killed for admitting aloud. “I’m sure you can agree with that.” He didn’t know her well — or at all, really — but he could tell she wasn’t the type to give more information than she had to. And he could respect that.

Paranoia. Emilio was an expert in that, wasn’t he? “Sometimes it’s… for a good reason. The paranoia. Can’t always write it off.” He was paranoid and he knew it, but given the amount of people out there who pretty specifically wanted him dead, he figured he had a right to be. And given the fact that the client he and Natalia shared was now missing, it seemed her paranoia had been pretty well-founded, too. But he could hardly blame Natalia for writing her off; plenty of times, Emilio had done the same. And plenty of times, it ended with someone dead. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case this time. For Natalia’s sake, for the client’s… This one, he thought, really needed a decent goddamn ending.

He tensed a little at the way she said his name, eyes darting down to his pocket where a knife was carefully stowed away. But she wasn’t undead, and most things with a heartbeat didn’t have a grudge worth having a conversation before killing him over. He hadn’t found anything in his brief dive into her that suggested she could have ties to anything he’d had his hands in. Maybe she was just… someone who knew more than she ought to. Still, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone when he spoke. “Then you’re lucky you only have one Cortez to worry about.” He watched her a little closer now, trying to gauge her reaction. Was she a threat? He’d decided she wasn’t before, but maybe he needed to reevaluate now. She confirmed she knew about his family, knew what they hunted. Nostrils flaring briefly with an anger he didn’t entirely understand, he leaned back in his chair. “My family killed vampires,” he agreed. “I kill anything that needs killing. As long as you don’t make that you, we won’t have a problem.” She seemed to have a decent grasp on things beyond that, though. Fae, werewolves, balam even if she didn’t know the right word for them. “And what are you? You know about me. Seems polite to return the favor.”

Archives? He thought of Arden, wondered if this was a situation like that. Should he ask her, he wondered? Would she know Natalia’s name if he said it? He made a note to test it out later. “I have a hunch,” he said. “I could be wrong, I don’t know. This isn’t exactly my area. But… Look in your archives, your books. See what you can find about doppelgangers. If I’m right, we go from there. If I’m wrong, we start from scratch. Sounds good?”

—

It was funny, in a way, that everything coming from Emilio’s mouth was something that Natalia would have said. In another life, perhaps they could have been friends. Folding her arms, a frown touched the corners of her mouth. “Paranoia is in frequent supply in this town. It’s not always something that requires action.” Which she had failed to tell the difference in this case, but she had a feeling he understood. After all, a private investigator in a town like this? There was no doubt in her mind that he had seen his fair share of people worried about all the wrong things. “I was wrong here, clearly.”

He tensed and there was this feeling of satisfaction in the back of her mind. Like she had won something here. His eyes darted toward his pocket and Natalia kept a straight face. Thankful, for a brief moment, that she had studied psychology and not art like she had wanted. Reading people was far more useful. “Oh, I know. But I’d rather not deal with any Cortez.” She hadn’t known them to hunt humans but the look in his eyes? And the confession that he killed anything that needed killing? He was one she’d have to watch out for. The last thing she wanted was a knife in her back. Or a stake. Who knew what his favored method would be? Family was a sore nerve, as she knew it would be, which was why she didn’t mention what had happened to his family or that she knew about the tragedy — she just wanted to give him enough so that he’d understand that she wasn’t some blind child walking into danger without knowing.

“A scavenger,” she offered at first, knowing that wasn’t what he had asked. “Human. I’d meet you at the 3 Daggers if that would prove it for you.” If he had any other questions, he could pay like anyone else. Natalia was sure he could afford to trade something for it. Or he could look it up himself, prove how good of an investigator he was.

“Doppelgangers?” The word took her by surprise, but Natalia nodded her head immediately after. Off the top of her head, no one she knew had interacted with any directly. But maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe they didn’t know. Or they had been replaced. Natalia’s mind fumbled around, thinking of anyone from the Scribes that defected over the years or had been acting odd — and outside of Natalia herself? No one came to mind. Not immediately, at least. “Agreed. If there’s anything to be found, I’ll get it.” That was a promise. And it had been too long since something went ‘missing’ from the Library. “I’ll be in touch.” She knocked on the desk before heading out the door. Doppelgangers. Natalia had a lot to think about.

#wickedswriting #emilio: among us #mortemoppetere #stalking tw #death mention tw

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mcc1334 · 1 year ago

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Just talking into the void at this point 😅 Anyone, if you see and want to talk, cool, but also feel free to ignore this post, I just need to vent a little.

To no one person in particular... sometimes 8 just cant stand people. I have had my project car for a little over a year and a half now, got it like May 2022. I was told by everyone that they coukd and would help me get it on the road, otherwise I would never have touched something so outside of my ability. Fast forward to now, Ocotber 2023. I have gotten about 2 things done to the car out of the probably like 50 things that need to be done before it is on the road again. About 3 weeks ago I finally got a confirmed "everyone is out" basically so here I am, no help, and an unfinished car. No problem, its all on me, fine. Then its time for everyone to PISS OFF. No advice, no suggestions, no 2 cents, you all had your chance, so get out of the fuckin' way.

I call around, talk to a few shops, find one I feel comfy with that has a guy over 50 who knows about older cars. Not some young 22 year old saying "I can look at your 1967 car!" 🙄 No junior, I am good, I will go with the mechanic who used to work on these when they started in the industry. Tenatively set up an appointment to drop off the car and have them give it a once over and tell me what it will take to be DRIVEABLE. I wanted to take the week and think about a few things and make a list of the issues I knew of with the car before saying a final "yes" to getting it looked at. (There is a post buried on my blog with a little more info on the car if curious. It does have some tags like 1967 dodge etc, I think?)

Anywho, here is where I make my mistake. I start to mention on Monday and Tuesday, in passing, to 2 of the people (the ones who were supposed to help me) about finally making progress with the car and bringing it to a shop. Friday I called and confirmed the appointment, hammer dropped. Car will go there, Tag, you are it, tell me what I need to get it running when I drop it off. Hand clap, I am done. Ahhh, bliss... Now, all weekend, everyone is texting me again offering advice (something I asked for and was basically given 🤷‍♂️ as the answer from everyone before they bowed out) and telling me what shop to bring it to, or "let me call so and so and see if they have any ideas" or "you really should do this BEFORE you get the car running as it could damage the engine if not" 😑😶 . . . Like what the F U C K. SERIOUSLY? 😶 Now, now, NOW is when everyone crawls out of the wood work and wants to second guess things that I had discussed, in detail with them, for them only now to say there is a possible problem with the order of things I was trying to get the work done in?? 😵‍💫🤯🥴 I was basically seething when the last person I clearly told "dont call anyone, I am all set, I do not need to owe anyone any favors or anything. I am good. Dont worry about it" That donkey told me today "oh, I reached out to that guy who doesnt do this any more, that you told me to leave alone, and I told him you asked me to reach out to him to see if he would be interested in helping." Literally do the thing he always tells eveyone he doesnt do anymore cuz it is a pain and he doesnt want to? Wow, thanks... after I told you NOT to? Sweet...

So, yeah, kinda bullshit at everyone who told me they were done with helping but now has all kinds of advice and shit. Piss off, donkeys, I really cant wait to have this beast on the road and just drive by knowing the only thing they all did was slow me down from driving her sooner. And to smash the gas and light up the tires while they sit their with their kids in the family minivans. 🖕🏻

Ok, I am doing ranting into the void. At least for this matter.

Again, not really looking for nor expecting comments or whatever. Just needed to vent

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rakka-kasahara · 3 days ago

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2024-11-9

Dream:

Had at least two. I remembered the first one pretty well when I woke up in the middle of the night, but then forgot it completely after the second dream. Though, a few bits managed to come back to me through sheer will.

In the first, I believe I have some PCB that I am putting together for someone else. That someone else being my high school wood shop teacher. The location of this dream is kind of weird. It may have been based on the area above the bleachers in high school where they had all the weight training equipment. Anyways, I go find him, and he is showing some guy how to use the chop saw. They are being super dangerous, though, and are using it to carve wood. It is running and they are holding the wood to it and getting their fingers way too close. Parts are a little blurry after this, but I am now working for my wood shop teacher, but he is a fair bit different now. We are in some dungeon or poorly kept up room. I find some girl unconscious on the ground. I think she is barefoot and I take pictures of her feet? He wants me to help him kidnap her, but I refuse and leave. I am walking in some bleachers at this point and there are several students there. I think I have to walk around a pool of puke in the bleachers. That is about all I remember.

In the second, I am in some alleyway checking out the dumpsters. They are absolutely overflowed, and the only thing of interest I see is an old gas container that is broken open. I think I am in the alley behind the public library back home. I get some sort of pop up with a coupon for $3 off a box of lead balls for muzzle loading guns. It was like a HUD for a game or something. I decide to enter the store in person instead to use my coupon and enter a door in the alley. This is a store for the Muzzle-Loaders company, and my Mom, Dad, and Brother N are there. The entry room is more like a small office. Also, I, for some reason, can tell we are now in New Jersey. There are a couple of carved, wooden bears in there. One had a rifle it is holding, but it is pointed right under its chin. I think my Dad is planning to buy something with my Mom's credit card. There is some lady behind the counter. She leaves a phone or something on the counter that I use to start browsing their catalog. Most things are too expensive for me. My brother and I go to the back of the store, which is just a hallway off to the left. There are some glass cases embedded in the walls with guns. Besides one is a rack of plastic handguns and holsters. I guess the idea is that you would use the plastic guns to help you find the correct sized holster? Further in the back and to the left, they have some shotguns. There is also a wooden door with metal reinforcements. It looked like something you would see in a castle. I figure that must be the attached shooting range. We turn around and go to the right this time, but it is just a long, empty hallway like a service tunnel or something. We return to the entryway, and I end up not buying anything. This is where it gets weird. We leave the store, but I am now in a 2D SNES style JRPG like Legend of Mana or something. I am on a small, circular island. The camera is zoomed out like it is the world map. There is a small diamond in the middle of the island, which is a fast travel point. The waters recede to reveal this island is the top of a large cliff. There is another diamond off to the left, so I walk off the island and fall down to catch it. The camera fades to black, and I am now in a forest area. It is still like a game at this point. I jump off a small ledge and go to the right. In this second part of the forest, there is a small ball or something. I inspect it and get a dialogue saying, "XXX is often tainted," but I don't remember what XXX was. I think it was some pretty large, made up word. I think there is another diamond fast travel point in this area, but I wake up pretty shortly after that.

Analysis:

For the first one, I have been doing several DIY hardware projects and have a few PCBs lying around. I had my wood shop teacher for several classes through out high school, so him showing up isn't too big of a surprise. The location of that dream is a little odd. I think it was inspired by the gymnasium bleachers and the area above the bleachers where the work out equipment was. There is also apparently a pool beneath the gym that is sealed off but can be visited through a corridor in the counseling center. I imagine it would be dark and dingy like the area I found that girl in. I did once vom in the hallway in high school, so maybe the puke puddle was a call back to that.

For the second, I do dumpster dive, so checking out the dumpsters made sense. I actually purchased a black powder revolve a month ago, so the other parts make some sense. However, the sudden change from real life to SNES game is a little odd. I guess I haven't been playing much games lately. One of my favorite ASMR roleplay channels was terminated a couple months back, so I was kind of depressed feeling over it. The game I was playing was also frustrating me. I think I need to start a new game.

#dream #dream interpretation #dreams #dreaming #dream journal #dream diary

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little-mouse-gardens · 2 years ago

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The midnight walk

just a little one-shot I wrote while working my Encanto wip, hope you enjoy.

“That’ll be twenty-seven ninety-nine” the cashier replied, bagging her groceries and sitting them on the counter “will there be anything else Mrs.?”

Charlotte looked away from the sunglasses stand and shook her head. Handing the man, a large wad of cash from her purse, “no” she replied, setting the wad of cash on the counter and grabbing the bag, “that's all. Thank you for your help”

The man was a bit stunned at the amount of cash the beautiful young woman had given. He just kept Looking at the money with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.

That had to be at least a hundred dollars on its own! She had handed him a wad of a hundred or more dollar bills just for a bag of groceries?!

He wasn’t the only one looking at the money, his other coworkers, boss and customers behind her stared at the amount in surprise.

None that came in and out of that store ever carried wads of hundred-dollar bills. It just hadn’t been seen before.

No one that was even close to being rich ever came to their store

so they were naturally curious and shocked that she just handed the guy who nearly broke the eggs she bought three different times and almost tripped her when he tried to grab something for her, a wad of a hundred dollar bills.

“Mrs! This has to be at least a couple hundred bucks! There is no need to give me so much!” he sputtered, a bit jittery as he held the bills in his hands.

She stopped as her gloved hand touched the doorknob. Adjusting her sunglasses and turning her head to look back at him. Her brown eyes hypnotizing him through her glasses.

“I must insist” she replied, her silky voice music to the ears, “Consider it a tip for helping a clumsy lady like me out”

With that finale note, Charlotte walked back out into the busy streets.

Leaving the people in the store to their thoughts.

Despite it being dark and a bit chilly, The streets were still bustling with activity.

The night markets and vendors were opened for business. The scent of steaming food and smoke from opened restraunts filled the air.

Men and women walked through the streets laughing and talking. Their voices fill the night air and drown out the quiet that was usually there most nights that she did go out.

Most were Coming from work, bars and shops that lined and filled in the old stone buildings and street corners

The occasional family could be spotted shopping in some of the department stores that were busy preparing for the holidays coming up and children ran through the markets with screams and laughter.

Charlotte usually ignored this.

She didn’t really care much for all the noise.

Much preferring the noises of the woods outside her cozy cottage than the noise that came from the city, and often chose to take a shortcut home.

however she kept her pace.

Walking through the crowd and quietly listening to their conversations and just enjoying the strings of flower themed lights being put up and the smells of fresh flowers being brought by the cart full.

The flower festival was one of her favorite times of year in brookcastle.

A time of fun and celebration of nature and the ways one could conserve it.

It warmed her heart to see their seaside town celebrating their home without having to damage it. to see that people could appreciate nature without finding some need to abuse it.

So she would endure the drunk men and women gawking at her expensive attire and the expensive pearls that hung around her neck and the whispers that followed.

Charlotte would endure the men and women trying to make passes at her if it meant she got to witness preparations for her beloved festival on her daily trip back home.

it was all worth it to see the community come together.

Turning the corner, Charlotte spotted a paper boy just up the street from her calling out about today's newest article.

normally, she wouldn’t have been interested. had it not been for what he called out

“Extra extra! Read all about it! His majesty seeks the aid to save the princess from the opposing side!’ he cried out, passing another set of papers.

Charlotte's interest piqued. Her curiosity about the capital taking over her urgency to get back to the comforts of her cottage.

She would have to look into this more as a possible job opportunity.

“Good evening, ma'am!” he said cheerfully, shooing away a couple stray racoon dogs that tried to dig into his bag back over to an alleyway as she approached him, “would you like to buy today's paper?”

Charlotte nodded, “Yes please, if it's not too much trouble?” Charlotte asked, digging through her purse to grab another bundle of cash.

The boy handed her paper and his gold eyes widened at the amount of money she placed in his hands. Which was way more than the single dollar that the paper was priced at. that had to be a hundred dollars at least that he was holding in his hands.

“Thank you so much” she said to him with a gentle smile, “there's a little extra in there you can keep for yourself. You have a good night now”

As she walked away from the completely flabbergasted boy, he couldn’t help but notice the raccoon dogs, who had scampered across the street to an alleyway, sudden change in behavior.

The moment they spotted her they stopped rummaging through the garbage bin. All three of them stood frozen in the alley.

No longer focusing on digging through a diner's trash, but more focused on the young woman's presence. Their tiny brown beady eyes remained focused on her every move.

Observing her and Remaining completely still until she started moving away.

The paper boy could only watch with curiosity and confusion as the racoons exited the alley to follow behind her.

Confused as to why the racoons deemed a random young woman more interesting than a feast of diner scraps.

However what caught him off guard was the ladies shadow.

It was different compared to herself for just a brief glimpse. Almost if it was trying to glitch or morph into something else.

Like it was struggling to maintain its shape.

Charlotte continued through the streets. Passing people by as she returned her focus on getting home. Which meant getting to the train station and taking the hour-long ride back to barnecomb.

A stretch of wood land and farmland that was a neighborhood for miners, farmers, and artisans who enjoyed the comforts of the forest and mountains.

Checking her silver watch, she was pleasantly surprised how early she was. Shopping would usually take her another hour at most.

However, since she only needed to restock a few things in her fridge and pantry, she would be home early enough to cook dinner and finish up that sewing project.

She was feeling pretty proud of herself and was quite confident that she could get home without another

Turning into the alleyway and walking down the cobblestone steps under the archway, Charlotte couldn’t help but feel her confidence shrink a little when she spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the train stations wooden benches.

Fedora covered half his face as he leaned back in the bench whistling annoyingly familiar tune.

God dammit it was Finn smith.

The mayor's son and a popular sea-pilot in the eastern seas of kirio. A rich and handsome young man with ebony hair, yellowish amber eyes, smooth onyx skin and a charming smile.

A bachelor who was quite popular with the ladies and gentlemen alike. Anybody would kill to have him, All except charlotte.

As a matter of fact, she couldn’t care less about him.

He seemed to have a particular interest in Charlotte, who wasn’t interested in him at all.

Charlotte thought of him as vain, arrogant, uncooperative, and bratty. He believed he could just win her over with gifts to hide the fact he was not at all loyal to his previous partners.

No matter what he did for her Charlotte refused to give him the time of day. She made it clear she wasn’t interested in him and to go bother someone else. Gifts and money wouldn’t disguise toxicity in her eyes.

Yet he persisted.

Much to Charlotte's displeasure.

So she had no choice but to ignore and avoid him at all costs.

Even on her daily commutes to and from home, be it night or day.

The feeling of something warm and fuzzy brushed up against her leg startled her.

The anger that was stewing in her was fading away when Charlotte looked down at her feet to find three little tanuki rubbing against her legs and pawing at her shoes. Each of them holding a small satchel of something in their mouths.

Charlotte smiled and bent down to them as a small sigh of relief escaped her.

“I was wondering where you little rascals ran off to!” she chuckled, rubbing them behind their ears “I'm glad you made it back safely. I was worried i would have to look all over town for you. thank gods i found you with the paper boy”

One of the raccoon dogs, the smallest of the three, dropped the petal patterned satchel in front of charlotte. Its fluffy tail wagged back and forth as it waited for her to inspect it.

The other two, the bigger two, dropped theirs as well. Standing back and waiting patiently for her to see their findings.

Charlotte looked at the satchels. Picking them up, her brownish green eyes examining their shape before gently untying each of them.

The pink satchel that petals brought her contained a couple dozen charms, commonly used in necklaces as protection or to add a magical effect, from flowers to animals and even a few rare ones like runes.

The lavender satchel that Willow brought her contained herbs like moon wisp bells, chamomile, raspberry leaves and a couple dozen types of tea leaves.

Then the blue satchel that poko brought her contained crystals such as quartz, black tourmaline, fluorite, sodalite and even an opal.

charlotte was quite pleased with what they had found.

“Good job guys!” Charlotte praised, placing the items into the satchels and into her purse before pulling out a small bag of apple slices and berries “I’m very proud of you three, you did a good job tonight!”

The three tanuki grew excited when they spotted the bag of treats. tails wagging and paws stamping the ground.

All three of them dug in on the small pile of fruits and berries the moment they hit the ground.

Charlotte always makes sure to carry her little friends treats whenever they would follow her into town. Not just as a snack, but as a reward for any little goodies they brought back to her.

She liked seeing them using and growing their skills and, as long as they didn’t put themselves in constant danger, she encouraged their exploring. it helped them a lot when they were in the wild.

Once they had finished, Charlotte remembered the small problem that still sat at the train station. Just waiting to try and woo her with gifts and false promises.

God all she wanted to do was get home now. Now that all the wonderful preparations of the festival were out of sight, she was quickly reminded of how exhausted she was.

“I’m too tired for this shit…” she sighed, brushing a strand of curly black hair behind her ear as she dug through her purse, “I ain’t wasting my breath on this fool tonight”

She pulled out a small glass orange bottle from her purse. It was filled with a smokey substance that was red. A little tool she carried on her and used if she wanted to avoid a small problem.

Hearing the sound of a train approaching in the distance, she quickly Twisted the cap to the right and popped the cap out of the bottle.

In the blink of an eye, the red smoke enveloped her and the tanuki.

Quickly carrying her over to the otherside of the train-station before Finn could even notice them.

Standing on the edge of the platform, her bags in hand and her little friends at her side. Charlotte noticed a young girl and her family sitting on one of the benches next to an old tree.

The little girl seemed a bit upset that the tree had died, after some jackass had burnt it, and couldn’t make any more flowers.

“I know sweetheart, i’m sorry” the girls father said, trying to comfort her and give her a hug “i know that was your favorite tree”

The train pulled into the station and the train doors opened up for her. Charlotte handed her tickets to the conductor, who greeted her with his usual tip of the hat and smile.

For a moment, the little one was distracted by the fluffy tanuki that climbed onto the train before charlotte. Curious as to why a bunch of fluffy racoon dogs were boarding the train with the woman.

Just before Charlotte boarded the train, she waved to the small girl before gesturing to look behind her.

When the little girl turned back to look at what Charlotte was pointing at, she was floored by what she saw.

The entire tree, which was once decayed and withered, was now covered in rainbow flowers. The same flowers she loved to collect. The bark was no longer burnt and the ground around it flourished with small white flowers.

When she gasped, her fathers turned and were amazed by what they saw as well. Neither of them bothered to pay attention to Charlotte, unlike their daughter.

She spotted Charlotte in one of the windows of the train.

Except she looked just a little different this time

She sat in her chair, Smiling down at them. three black cat-like tails swaying behind her and her brown eyes replaced with piercing green ones. Eyes that were intimidating yet beautiful at the same time.

There was another reason why Charlotte was eager to get home.

A half demon couldn’t keep up a disguise forever. The glamor would fade away the more you got tired. so, it wasn't worth the risk to stick around long.

The girl was left awe struck by the sight of her. Staring at Charlotte through the window as the train drove away.

The tanuki all sat in the opposite seat across from her, staring out the window. watching the world go by with curiosity while Charlotte tried to get comfortable for the hour long ride.

Charlotte felt good about what she did. Leaning back in her seat as a sigh of relief left her.

Finally she could relax. She could finally take off the fancy white heels and sunglasses.

she could finally relax her shoulders and just enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet.

Just the sounds of a train echoing in her ears.

The only thoughts that now filled her head were dinner, the newspaper that now laid across the table, and the potential chance to travel out of town for the week.

#fantasy #orginal #a bit of worldbuilding

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bubbles-art · 2 years ago

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Found a pine tree so I made a spoon ^-^

#i inhaled so much saw dust i feel like i have a cold now #and a nice girl from home Depot told me about her favorite knife thats always on sale at Walmart :)#scorp hooks are difficult to find in tiny sizes apparently?#some old guys at the wood shop helped me find something that worked just as well :)#moral of this story #wood people are pretty chill #spoon

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sunsents · 3 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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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years ago

Text

Running Away With You

*Image Credits to rightful owners*

Bang Chan x reader; non idol AU; established relationship; fluff; midly suggestive at places

Word Count: 4.25k

A/N: A huge thank you to @youn9racha, for this super cute request. I am as much a sucker for road trips as I am for Chan, so I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope you like it as much as I did.

"Do you ever just want to pack your bags and run away in the night, without telling anyone?," you ask your boyfriend, Chan, as you both lay in bed one night. "That's an interesting question," he says, playing with your hair, "Though first I'd like to know what made you think of that." "Pfft. It's nothing too complex, Christopher. It's just a random thought that popped into my head," you say, while rolling your eyes at his inquisitive nature.

"Y/N, I know you, and I can sense that you've got something bothering that pretty head of yours, and making you want to run away. So tell me, what is it?," Chan speaks in a soothing tone, making you snuggle into his chest even more, while letting out a sigh. "It's just, work has been so crazy these past few days, and the pressures of the real world are getting to me. You remember when we were back in college? Whenever things got too hard, we used to go on road trips to clear our heads. Even a couple days away from the harsh real life were enough to rejuvenate us. I guess I just miss those times, now that real life responsibilities are wearing us down."

Once you're done with your little rant, Chan pulls your head up a little, making you look at him. He softly says, "Aww baby, I'm so sorry I didn't realize you've been struggling these past few days. I guess I've been too busy with my own work tonoticee. I know we're no longer in college, but I promise to you, that whenever the going gets tough, I'll do everything in my ability to help your through." "I know Channie, I know. I have you, and it's more than enough."

You give in to sleep after a while, and so, you fail to notice that Chan takes a little longer to fall asleep that night. He keeps thinking back on what you said earlier, carrying out an internal debate with himself. "Y/N is right. Work and responsibilities have taken a toll on us, and a road trip may be just what we need. But can we really afford to just 'run away?' There are too many projects, too many commitments. And we owe it to our colleagues to tell them that we will be away for a few days," he thinks to himself, before slowly drifting off to dreamland.

The next morning brings with itself a fresh hustle, but your face doesn't betray any sign of the frustrations you let come to the surface last night. But Chan knows better, and, seeing his reflection while getting ready for work, he realizes that his own expression mirrors yours. A thin veil to hide the fact that it's getting too much. At his office that day, he can't seem to focus on his work, since his mind keeps drifting back to your words. By the time the evening rolls around, he has made up his mind. He's going to run away with you, for a week anyway.

But a road trip needs some planning, and Chan wants this vacation to be the perfect little surprise for you. So, on his way home, he stops by at the convenience store to buy some essentials. Instant noodles, a few bottles of beer, disposable utensils, rental DVDs, he collects quite a few things, being reminded of your college days with each item he adds to his cart. In a moment of impulse, he even purchases a tent fit for two, and once he's done shopping, he hides everything in the boot of his car. You don't need to know of his plan, yet.

The following day, he leaves his office early, calling in a week's leave of absence due to some made-up reason. Instead of going home, he first drops by at your office. Not to meet you, but to get a similar application for leave approved on your behalf.

He finally heads back home to pack and ready a couple of things for your trip. "Y/N wanted to run away in the middle of the night, and that is what we'll do," he smiles to himself. When you come home, he remains tight-lipped about his little surprise for you, even though his excitement is trying to get the best of him.

Once the clock strikes twelve, he brings you out to his car, without telling you the reason. "Just please, come on! Don't you trust me?," he says, pouting. On his way out of the house, he picks up your phone from the couch, along the house keys. You don't notice this, however, as you're busy pestering him with questions. "Chan, why are we going out so late at night? What's going on? Tell me!" "You wanted to run away, right? Well, how about running away...... to the convenience store?," he smiles cheekily, making you giggle. "Gosh you're such a cheesy idiot," you say, getting into the car, still blissfully unaware of his intentions.

"Yeah, but I'm your cheesy idiot," he laughs, pressing his foot on the accelerator.

It doesn't take you long to realize that instead of driving over to the 24/7 close to your house, Chan has pulled onto the highway. You turn to look at him, only to see him smiling brightly, his eyes trained ahead. "Chan, what are you doing?," you ask, though feel like you already know the answer. "Running away with you," he says, taking your hand in his his, and bringing it up to his lips.

"What? But that was just a random rant! And what about work? We can't just disappear like that," you exclaim, to which, he only replies by giving you a knowing look. "Let me guess, you already informed our offices?" "Yes, and no," he quips. When you look at him quizzically, he elaborates, "I submitted applications for leave, making up some random excuse. So we have a whole week to ourselves." "But, what about essentials and supplies? We don't have anything to eat," you try to reason. He counters, "Babe, I've been planning this for two days, and I already stocked up on all our favourite snacks, drinks, and movies. I even got us a tent for days we want to sleep out in the open. I've got it all set, so don't you worry. The only thing I need you to do is to promise me that for the next seven days, you won't check your phone. I've already downloaded tons of songs and created at least 20 different playlists. You won't be getting any work-related messages, since I've taken care of that as well, and for directions, we'll take the traditional way, and ask around."

"Directions? Where exactly are we going anyway?," is your next question. To your surprise, he simply shrugs, before telling you that he doesn't have any specific place in mind. "Let's just wander away, going wherever the road takes us," he says, rather poetically, to which, you can't help but laugh. You then let out a soft sigh, making him look at you. "Sounds like a plan to me. Chan and Y/N, running away together, with no destination in mind," you smile, before reaching over and kissing his cheek.

"Let's play some music, shall we?," you ask, before hitting shuffle on the first playlist that pops up on your phone. You both settle in a comfortable silence, and soon enough, you begin to get drowsy. Chan notices this, and tells you to rest your eyes for a bit. "Promise to wake me up in like, two hours, so that I can take over the wheel," you yawn. "Okay fine bub, now sleep." Chan continues driving, occasionally stealing glances at your sleeping form. "How did I get so lucky?," he wonders, just like he does every day.

Morning finds you to be the one behind the wheel, as Chan naps contently in the passenger seat. The brightness of the sun finally wakes him up, and he realizes that you've left the highway, and are now driving through what appears to be the countryside. "I wonder where we're headed," he says while yawning. "Well, a signboard I saw earlier told me that we are somewhere in Jeonju," you reply. Instead of words, Chan's reply comes as a grumbling from his stomach. "Hungry," you quip, making him nod his head vigorously. You hit the breaks, before preparing some instant ramen for breakfast.

You eventually continue on your trip, and after a few hours, you find yourself in the midst of traditional Korean buildings, which seem to be from the Joseon dynasty. "Is this perhaps a tourist location?," wonders Chan loudly, making you reply, "Only one way to find out." You both get out of the car and do some asking around. You find out that the place where you houses the residences of the noblemen of old, and has now been converted into a shooting-cum-tourist spot. "Tourists can get traditional hanboks from that store, to complete the experience," an old woman tells you.

You turn to look at Chan, your eyes shining. Twenty minutes later, you exit the store, dresses from head to toe in a light blue hanbok. Chan's eyes nearly pop out when he sees you, and when he tells you the same, you can't help but blush.

You continue to hang around the place little while longer, and have dinner at a small eatery nearby.

"I feel like I'm 20 again. Thank you Channie," you say, holding his hand across the table. "Anything for you love," he winks.

Evening eventually comes around, and you guys hit the road once again. Around dinner time, you notice that you are crossing by a wood and supplies shop, and an idea strikes your mind. "Let's buy some wood and grill our meat!," you say excitedly, making Chan coo at how adorable you are. "Great idea babe. Let me park."

You quickly exit the car and visit the shop to buy some wood, then get started on your mini bonfire. It proves to be more difficult than you had thought, given how inexperienced the both of you are. In the end, you manage to get the fire going enough for the meat to be grilled, and turn around to ask Chan to bring in the eatables, when you see his face. It's completely covered in soot from his failed attempts at lighting the flame, making you double over in laughter. "You look so funny," you say while gasping for air. "Wouldn't be so funny if I got this soot on your face now, will it?," he retorts, coming after you. You try to run, but it's obviously in vain, as Chan grabs hold of you in under a minute. You both laugh harder than you have in months, and when you finally calm down, you give your boyfriend a tight hug. He hugs you back, and whispers, "I love you." "I love you too, Channie," you say, "Now go and get the meat, I'm hungry." "Way to ruin the moment, Y/N," he grumbles as you push him away.

After dinner, you walk up to the shop owner to thank him, and ask his permission to camp nearby. "It rained a few days ago, so the ground is still wet, and will be uncomfortable. But you can rent a room here for the night if you'd like," he offers. "That'll be great sir, thank you for the help." Chan says, coming up behind you. The shop owner gives you the keys to a room, and before leaving, says something that leaves you both red at the ears. "No funny business here, please. I know you both are young, and controlling yourself is hard. But I'd rather you didn't 'play around' unnecessarily on my bed."

You get changed and climb into the bed, snuggling up to each other. "First day down, babe," you smile with your eyes closed. When Chan doesn't reply, you open them, only to find your man staring at you with love in his eyes. "This is pure healing for me, thank you for suggesting this trip, love," he says. You talk about anything and everything for a while, and then suddenly, you feel Chan's soft lips pressing against yours. He gives you a sweet kiss, and pulling away, says, "About what the old man said earlier.....," while smirking. You shove his chest, saying, "We shouldn't," making him pout. "Although, making out doesn't count as 'funny business,' does it?" And that's enough to make him press his lips back to yours, moving so as to hover over you.

You wrap your arms around his back, pulling you closer to him. He licks your lower lip, making you part your lips and allowing his tongue to enter. After a while, you break away, only to grab his T-shirt and take it off his body, before wrapping your hands around his bare back. Needless to say, the two of you didn't get much time to sleep that night.

You get started on your way again the next day, and around mid-day, you see a milestone telling you that you are entering Iksan. The small town seems a lifetime away from your hectic lives in Seoul, and you spend the day going from shop to shop, buying small trinkets and stuff that are reminiscent of the country life. The residents welcome you with open arms, and more than once, you find an old couple telling you how cute you look together.

"He's a keeper, that one. Don't let him go," a lady says to you, pointing at Chan, who can be seen playing with some kids. "I won't," you smile.

That night, you stay over at a family's house, who were nice enough to allow you to sleep on their futon. You have dinner with them, during which the kid's ask Chan, "Are you two married?," making him choke on his food. "I'm sorry for that, they are learning about families and marriage in school these days," says their mother. "It's all right," you smile, "But no, we aren't married." "But do you plan on getting married soon?," the kids persist.

You and Chan look at each other and smile, before saying in unison, "Yes. One day."

The next morning you take the wheel from Chan, and the both of you drive of in silence, as High School Musical plays on your dashboard screen. After a while, you say, "What is it, Channie? You've been staring at me," "It's just that, you seem way too quiet. You've been like that since last night, after dinner," he replies, "What's the matter? Are you okay?" "I'm fine, just been thinking." "About?" "About us," you begin, elaborating when you see him looking at you expectantly. "When those kids asked us if we were married, it got me thinking.....I love being with you, I love waking up next to you. We live together any way, and share all the burdens that come with it too. So I guess...getting married to you wouldn't be so bad after all," you say softly.

"Is this your way of proposing to me?," giggles your boyfriend. "What? No! I mean, I did say it would be nice to get married, but I don't have a ring right now. And I meant it when I said 'one day,' but it's not today," you hurriedly say. Chan bursts out laughing at this, "I know love, I'm not ready yet either. But yes, if I have to get married, I'd rather marry you than anyone else."

Around noon, you decide to set up camp in a forest clearing. It takes you a few hours to get the tent up and ready, as you keep getting delayed because you can't stop fooling around. Amid Chan getting himself wrapped with the tent instead of unwrapping it, and you assembling the rods the wrong way up, you spend some not-so-productive, but enjoyable quality time in each other's presence, something you didn't know you had been craving for.

Evening rolls by, and you have a light dinner with ramen, some roasted chicken, and beer, following which, you lay down on a picnic mat, with your head on Chan's arm. "The stars look so beautiful, don't they Channie?," you softly ask. "Not as beautiful as you," he says cheesily, making you hide your face into his side. "But yeah, you're right. I really wanted to go stargazing with you, but we never got the time," he sighs. "I'm so happy we came on this trip, love." You open your mouth to speak, but just then, you notice a star shooting across the sky. "Channie! Channie get up, it's a shooting star!," you squeal, before closing your eyes and praying. Once you open them, you notice Chan looking at you with a gaze full of love. "Didn't you wish for something?," you ask. "I did," he smiles. "But what about you? What did you wish for?"

"Come closer Mr. Bang, I'm not about to announce my wish to the whole world," you whisper slyly. He leans in closer to you, only to have you say, "You don't tell others what you wished for," before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He smiles into the kiss, before breaking away and hugging you tight.

The next day turns out to be the last before you have to turn back homeward, and so, Chan suggests you make the best of it. "From what I know about the country's geography, we should be close to a beach somewhere here," he says, making you look at him with your eyes shining. "Too bad we're not going to get help from the GPS, but I'm really enjoying the phone detox," you smirk. "Who needs GPS when we've got people? Look there, we're gonna enter a city soon, so let's ask our way around," he replies. An hour and a half later, you come across a milestone that tells you the beach is a mile away. Once there, you look for a deserted spread of sand, keen on not getting stuck in an unnecessary crowd. "We face enough of that in the city, I just want to be alone with you," you whisper, taking his hand in his.

When you finally succeed in finding such a place, Chan giggles, "Good thing I packed our swimming gear as well, right?" "You did well sweetie," you say, booping his nose softly. After getting changed, you spend the next few hours playing in the water. Suddenly, Chan pulls you flush into his chest, and whispers in your ear, "You look so hot wearing that, and with water dripping down your body, I'm really finding it hard to stay away." "Then don't," you say, biting your lip. One thing leads to another, and you're thankful for the changing shack nearby.

By the time the sun starts to set, Chan has pulled you out of the water, and is making you dance with him on the sand, after bringing your phones and portable speaker from the car. Waltzing to the music, you shyly say, "I love you Channie," making him blush and reply with an "I love you too, my cute baby."

After dinner you climb atop the roof of your car, talking about your younger days. "You remember when we got into a huge fight once, back in college? And I was about to break up with you, only to have you whisk me away on a road trip, just like you did this time," you say, laying your head on his shoulder. "It did get you to stick around with me though," he replies, laying his chin on your head. "And you remember how we first met? You spilled your latte all over my T-shirt, and then took me to the infirmary to check for any burns," he reminds you, making you throw your head back in laughter. "You kept whining for a year over how you missed out on being the 'campus heartthrob' because of that incident, when in reality, you still were the most popular freshman," you jab a finger at his chest, smiling.

"Okay, I've got a secret. I wasn't actually sad about the campus heartthrob thing, since I already knew everyone was head over heels for me," he grins, making you punch his arm. "Hey! Let me finish first. I knew everyone loved me, but I only had eyes for you. And whining was just a tactic to get you to feel sorry for me and go on a date with me." You fake gasp at this, exclaiming, "Treachery! And here I thought you were genuinely sulky about that. do you have any idea how guilty I felt that whole year?!" When he simply states at you, unamused, you add through a pout, "I'm planning on revoking your cuddle privileges."

All of a sudden, you realize that Chan is moving over to lay on top of you, trapping you between him and the roof. "You know you can't resist me, babe. So don't even try," he says. "You are right about that," you say, pulling him for a kiss.

You both end up remaining awake till dawn the next day, and decide to start on your journey home around mid-way, after having napped inside the car for a few hours. You get started on your way just after noon, with Chan behind the wheel, and you eating (and feeding him) from a packet of gummy bears in the passenger seat. You re-enter the city you had seen earlier the previous day, and decide to spend some time roaming around. It's a fairly big city, but still much quieter and more peaceful than Seoul. You pass on visiting the mall, reasoning that you do so too frequently back home.

Soon enough though, you come across a store that displays a signboard saying, "Free wine tasting session for couples." You both look at each other, and with a smirk, Chan says what is on your mind. "Can't pass up on sophisticated wine for free now, can we?" You giggle and say, "Nope, absolutely not." And so, in you go. The session proves to be equal parts fun and educational. From the Chardonnay to the Pinot Noir, you go through with the tasting of at least 20 different types of wines. While you actually stick to the literal meaning of the word "tasting," drinking no more than a sip per drink, Chan goes all out, and not too long after, he's totally drunk. "Hey there beautiful, mind telling me your name?," he tries to act smooth with you, making you facepalm as you say, "I still get surprised about how low your alcohol tolerance is for your size," you shake your head.

Once you leave the tasting, half dragging, half carrying a wasted Chan who continuously tries to flirt with you, you decide to take the wheel and hit the road to the outskirts of the city, and cover the remainder of the trip once you're fully sober. When you cross over the city's borders and re-enter the road in the wilderness, you hit the brakes. You let Chan sleep, knowing that waking him up will only give him a hangover. Getting out of the car, you get yourself something to eat from the boot, and once you're full, you snuggle up to him, throwing a blanket over the both of you.

You wake up around nine at night, and as you had predicted, you see Chan holding his head in agony. You nurse him for while, before putting him back to sleep, then continue down the road. You keep sneaking glances at his sleeping form, smiling to yourself when you notice how peaceful he seems, something he hasn't looked like in ages. "We really needed this. Thank you for always knowing what I need, and for always taking care of me. I love you," you thank him silently.

When he finally wakes the next morning, he sees you huddled up in the driver's seat, and he can feel his heart swell with love for you. He gets out of the car, then picks you up and softly places you on the backseat so that you can rest well. Looking at your expression, he can easily see how content and truly happy you are. You are his reason to keep going, and if this little getaway idea of his could help you find your reason to keep going (unbeknownst to him, he himself is your reason to endure too), his heart is at ease. Sure, your week off is going to end soon, but he's positive that you will have rejuvenated yourself and would have gathered enough beautiful memories to last you a while.

Sure, going back to Seoul would mean going back to the hustle and bustle of your lives, but hey, he knows that that you by his side, he'd be ready to run away from home again any day, because his home is with you. But even more than that, he knows that with you by his side, life will be just a tad bit easier. Because you will always be there to remind him of who he was back in college. You will keep the young, carefree boy who loved you to bits, alive in him. And he'll do the same for you. And with that thought, he drives off into the distance, back to where you started from, with a smile on his face.

Because at the end of the day, you both have each other, and that's all that matters.

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atlafan · 4 years ago

Text

And They Were Roommates - One Shot

a/n: I’ve had this idea for a long time, and I’m glad it’s finally come together. I love friends to lovers fics, they make my stomach twist in the best possible way, so I hope you all enjoy these two! Feedback and reblogs are always helpful. (not proofread)

Warnings: two idiots refusing to just get together until they do, SMUT, mentions of Only Fans (which I truthfully know nothing about, but I wanted to make things saucy)

Words: 11.3K

“We just need to be quiet in case my roommate’s home.” You say to your date, Jeremy, as you key into your flat. He nods with a grin as you enter.

“Hey, lovie, how was the-“ Harry smirks when he sees you come in with your date. “I see it went well, never mind.”

You roll your eyes at him. He was sitting on the couch in some sweat pants, and that was it, watching some romantic comedy.

“Harry, this is Jeremy, Jeremy this is my roommate Harry.”

“I’m her best friend too, but I can see she clearly hasn’t brought me up all night. M’a little offended, pet.”

“Okay, well, I’ll try to be more courteous.” You shake your head at him, and tug Jeremy along to your bedroom. “Sorry about him. He usually goes out on Friday nights, but lately he’s been staying in more.”

“You…you live with that guy?”

“Sure.” You shrug and then wrap your arms around his neck. “We’ve been friends for years, and we’re in the same grad program, so it just made sense to split a flat.”

“Listen…uh, I was excited that you invited me up, but I can’t fuck you with that guy sitting out there.”

“What?” You frown and step back. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll just think you’re thinking of him the whole time. He’s…like…perfect! I can’t compete with that.”

“Jeremy, you’re being silly, just clear your head, we can-“

“Sorry, Y/N.”

Jeremy opens your door and leaves you standing in your room. You were in shock. Jeremy walks quickly back out into the main area, and sees Harry still sitting and watching his movie.

“Oi, that was quick, mate. Hope you left my girl satisfied.” Harry grins at a disgruntled Jeremy, and he leaves.

“You know it’s comments like that…” You sniffle as you stand there in your pretty dress and heels. “That make guys just up and leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He took one look at you sitting there like that and ran off!”

“So, I can’t even sit in the comfort of my own living room without some douche feeling emasculated? Are you sure you want someone like that fucking you, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to hook up! Christ, now I have to go take care of it myself.” You groan.

“Well, when you’re done, come join me. We can watch My Best Friend’s Wedding.” He leans forward and smiles. “You look really nice tonight, I’m sorry he was an idiot.”

“Thanks.” You wipe your finger under your nose. “Would you make some popcorn or something?”

“On it.”

Alright, some explanation is probably needed here. See, you and Harry met your sophomore year of uni, no, not drunk at some party, in class, actually. You both were education majors, so you ended up having a lot of classes together once you really dove into your major courses. You got paired up on a project together, and there was no separation between the two of you after that.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t have been the type of guy you’d be friends with. To be honest, he dressed like a douchebag when you first met him. You wondered why he’d want to be a teacher. He had floppy curls, wore a snapback with every outfit, and you didn’t think he owned a pair of jeans that didn’t have any rips in them. Although, you did enjoy his Chelsea boots, his sweaters, and his nail polish and rings.

You were innocent, and sort of preppy while he was loud mouthed and scruffy. Your friend groups never merged, but your best friend knew about your friendship with Harry. She’d constantly poke fun and say you had a crush on him. You didn’t. Harry was hot as fuck, anyone with eyes could see that, but you weren’t into him in that way. That was one of the reasons he liked hanging out with you so much. Most girls that tried to be his friend were just trying to fuck, and that could be fun, but sometimes he genuinely wanted to meet up for coffee and have a conversation without it leading to screwing on an extra-long twin bed.

Harry’s friends knew you well. As the years went on, you’d often be the one he’d bring back to his place drunk. You started off by sleeping on the floor, and then one night you realized you both adults and could sleep in the same bed. His friends would give him an equally tough time about you. Sometimes you’d come over and wait in his room for him while he was out with another girl. To some that may have been weird, but nothing was better than drunk platonic cuddles.

There was one night, your senior year, you had woken up with him spooning you. In all the nights spent together, you two never fell asleep or woke up like that. You didn’t shift when you felt his morning wood poking you. His arm was draped loosely over you. You almost wanted to see if he’d make a move, so you pretended to stay asleep a little longer. His hand had slid to your hip and squeezed it, but that was the extent of the interaction. He rolled onto his back, and you did the same. You looked up at him and started giggling.

“It’s not funny.” He groaned, putting his forearm over his eyes.

“Didn’t know I did it for you, Har.” You poked the dimple forming on his face as he smiled.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, happens to every guy in the morning.” He peered down at you and you rolled your eyes.

You had never spoken about it afterwards. You didn’t want to embarrass him. When you both talked about grad school, and got into the same university, he asked you to be his flat-mate.

“You don’t wanna live with Niall and Louis anymore?”

“They’re getting real jobs, they won’t wanna listen to me complain about school. I’ve found a great two bedroom place. I think it could be fun for us. Dontcha wanna live with me, baby?” He pouted at you and you nudged his shoulder and laughed.

“Christ, I hate it when you start getting all beggy. Alright, we can live together.”

He took you in his arms and hugged you. You were both extremely excited. Sometimes it seemed like you and Harry knew everything about each other, but that was not the case. After you moved in and got settled, it was time you revealed something to him. You called him into your bedroom to talk.

“Is everything okay? You’re not having doubts, are you?”

“No! Not at all, I’m glad we’re doing this. I feel safe with you here, and I’m glad we still have classes together. I…I just need to tell you something. Um, I don’t know what you do to...like, when you’re alone, I don’t know what you use, but I know things can pop up geographically, so I just wanted to warn you.” You bit your bottom lip, and turned your laptop around to show him your Only Fans page. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head.

“This is a joke, right? You made a fake website.”

“It’s not fake…” You muttered. “I don’t do lives, I don’t get naked, and I don’t show my face.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I was a dance minor, as you may recall.” He nodded yes at you. “So I make little strip tease videos and blur my face. Sometimes I take lingerie photos too. It’s a wonder what people will pay for.”

“How’d you get into this?” There was no judgement in his voice, he was genuinely curious.

“It started as a joke between Jenna and I, but then we started making money, and it’s enough that I can pay all my bills and live comfortably. I’ve already paid off one of my student loans thanks to this. I don’t even know if you use Only Fans, but I knew you’d probably recognize me or something if you stumbled across it so…I just wanted to warn you.”

“You know…the coffee shop I work at is hiring if you don’t feel like doing this kind of stuff.” He smirked.

“I actually don’t mind it. I essentially work for myself.”

“So you don’t sit in front of your camera and get yourself off with little bunny ears on?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just videos of me dancing in some intricate lighting, and saucy photos.”

“Can I see?”

“What?!”

“Not one of the videos, show me some pictures.”

“Harry…”

“Come on. I’ve seen you dressed to the nines before, but I’m having trouble believing you would take any provocative photos.”

“Fine.” You clicked through the various photos, and find a mostly decent one. “Here, you can look at this one.”

His eyes widen again as he scans it over. You could only see your face from the lips down. You had a lollypop pressed to them, and some of the juice from it was dripping down your chin. You were laying on your bed in a pink lace bodysuit, and if he squinted he could probably see your nipples, but he chose against it. Your legs were up against the headboard, crossed at the ankle.

“Well?” You asked.

“It’s, uh, it’s very tasteful.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for telling me…I…I mean I definitely look at porn sometimes, so…uh…definitely wouldn’t have wanted to accidentally wanked it to you.”

“I doubt you would have even stayed on my page for long. You probably like to watch the really freaky shit.” You grinned and closed your laptop.

“I don’t know, there’s something sort of sexy about someone looking so innocent.”

“And that’s exactly what my viewers seem to say in the comments.”

Harry never brought up your page after that. You didn’t make him promise not to go searching for it, you just figured he wouldn’t. With all that aside, your living situation was working out perfectly. Sometimes Harry would bring home the day old muffins or bagels from the coffee shop, and you both had all the free coffee you could drink.

When you first moved in he was like his old self. He went out on dates almost every weekend. Normally he wouldn’t bring someone back, but once in a while he would. You never minded, you’d bring people back too, but you started to notice a pattern. Most guys either would have a tough time fucking you if he was home, or would end up leaving the way Jeremy did. You weren’t sure why they felt so threatened by Harry.

You supposed Jeremy could have been taken aback by seeing Harry shirtless. He was muscular, but not quite skinny. Buff in a way. He could hurt someone if he really wanted to. Once you’ve changed into some comfy pj’s, you plop down on the couch with Harry, and dive into the bowl of popcorn he made so you could watch your movie.

“So, I take it you’re not gonna take care of things yourself?”

“I’m too annoyed now.” You sigh. “It’s fine. I’ll try my luck with some random when we go out tomorrow night.”

“Good idea.” He throws his arm around you, and you both settle as the opening credits start.

Harry had to be up early for his shift at the coffee shop. After getting some schoolwork done, you took the opportunity to get some other work done. You had to be dressed for the club tonight anyways, so you got dolled up, and took some new photos for your page. You always got comments about your lips, so you’d use blow-pops to kiss against, or to rub against. You got some really great shots in, and got dressed in your regular clothes before Harry got home.

“Got your evening makeup on already? It’ll be hours before we leave, love.” He says as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re not the only one that worked today.” You wink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You know, if I didn’t have all my tattoos I could be doing the same thing you’re doing.”

“Plenty of people with tattoos have pages.”

“The last thing I need is to start working at some school, and have a parent recognize me for the wrong reasons.”

“True.” You nod and go into the fridge. “I’m gonna make some stirfry, are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Alright.”

You didn’t necessarily mind that you’re dating life was a little tricky. You had all the domesticity you could need with Harry, however, you were certainly hoping to meet someone tonight at the club. You just wanted to have a meaningless hookup.

After dinner, and having a couple of drinks at home, you and Harry meet up with Niall and Louis at the club. Louis and Harry were laughing over something, so you decide to pay Niall a little attention. You always thought he was cute and funny. He was always nice to you too, as was Louis.

“How are things with your classes?” He asks. “Sort of wish I was doing the grad school thing.”

“Oh, but your job is so cool! Data analysis is riveting.” You giggle against the rim of your drink and he shakes his head. “Classes are good. I’m more so just excited to start teaching, but I have a while for that yet. Practicum last year was such a tease.”

“I bet you’d be a fun teacher, you’d certainly have no problem keeping my attention.” He slings one of his arms around the back of the booth you were sitting in and he inches closer. You smile at him and take a sip of your drink.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You put your hand on his shoulder and twirl the material of his shirt around your finger.

“Your voice for one thing. It’s smooth, soothing. Your smile is sweet, so that helps too.”

You blush a little from his compliments, and finish your drink.

“Need another, babe?” Harry asks, breaking you and Niall from your little chat.

“I can get it.” Niall says. “Vodka tonic?”

“Please.” You smile and watch him go up to the bar. Louis and Harry look at you. “What?”

“Are you trying to fuck Niall?” Louis asks.

“Of course she’s no-“ Harry says, but he’s cut off by you.

“So what if I am?” She scoffs. “It’s safer than trying to get some guy I don’t know, right?”

“If that’s the case, why not just fuck Harry?” Louis smirks.

Harry death glares Louis as your face scrunches.

“It’s a little cliché, isn’t it?” You say. “Fucking your roommate and best friend? I’ll pass. That’s a load of drama we don’t need.”

“So, what you’re saying is, if Harry wasn’t your roommate or your best friend, you’d fuck him?”

“Hmm…” You tap your chin playfully and look Harry up and down. Before you can answer, Niall returns with your drink, and another round for the guys. “Thank you.” You say to him, and he sits down closely next to you.

“You wouldn’t wanna dance, would you?” Niall asks you.

“I’d love to!”

You both get up and make your way over to the dancefloor. Harry sulks while he plays with the straw in his drink.

“What are you all mopey for, huh?” Louis asks him.

“I don’t really like the idea of them hooking up. Could change the dynamic of things for all of us.”

“Instead of worrying about that, why don’t we try to go meet some ladies of our own, hm?” Louis smiles at Harry, and Harry nods in agreement.

You were having a lot of fun dancing with Niall, and his laugh was infectious tonight. You told him you needed to use the ladies room, and when you came back he was acting like a completely different person.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask him over the blaring music.

“No! I just…” He looks over at Harry and Louis and then back to you. “We really shouldn’t be messing around like this.”

“We were just dancing.”

“But it was going to lead to something more, no?”

“Did you want it to?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my friend, and…I wouldn’t want to make anything weird between us.”

“So…you don’t wanna go into the single stall bathroom and have me suck you off?” You bat your lashes at him and his eyes widen.

“Shit.” He says under his breath. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, and leads you through the crowd of people. You both go into the bathroom without a single thought and lock the door. You could hear the music faintly as you looked at each other.

“You seemed pretty sure of things before.” You say to him.

“I…I wigged out for a second. I really want this.”

You smile and step forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands go to your hips, and he squeezes you. He tasted like the tequila he had been drinking, and you smile against him. You kiss across his jaw, and to his neck while your hands work to undo his belt.

“You’re okay with this?” You ask him.

“Yeah, go for it. Would it be easier if I sat up on the counter?”

“No, I don’t mind getting on my knees, thanks.” You smirk at him and sink down, tugging his pants and boxers down just enough for his hard dick to spring out. You look up at him, impressed.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“Sorry.” You chuckle. “Good for you, though, honestly.”

You kiss his tip and he jerks slightly towards you. You wrap your lips around him, and suck on him. His hands move your hair back, and you close your eyes as you work him over. You pump what you can’t fit, or what you don’t feel like fitting, and you hear him panting. This is all you wanted, you just wanted to make someone feel good.

“Y/N, I’m gonna come.” He warns you, and you give his thigh a squeeze to let him know it’s okay.

He comes into your mouth, and you swallow it to not make a mess. He helps you stand up, and then you help him zip his pants. After rinsing your mouth out he grabs you and kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed as he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Would you finger me?” You ask him just above a whisper against your lips.

“I’ll do anything you want.”

Louis was off making out with some girl while Harry was at the bar, brooding. You and Niall come back from the bathroom with flushed cheeks. Harry looks at you, and then looks at Niall. Niall just rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

“Y/N, are you ready to go home?” Harry asks her.

“Um…I was hoping to have another drink, but if you wanna leave we can.”

“I’d like to, yeah.”

You both say goodnight to Niall, and head out. He doesn’t say anything to in the back of the cab, and he’s quiet as you both go inside your flat. He fills two glasses of water and hands one to you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him.

“Why’d you have to fuck my friend? Of all the guys in there, it had to be Niall?”

“I’m going to bed, I’m not having this conversation with you.” You start to walk away from him.

“So if I took Rachel into the bathroom at club and fucked her, you’d be fine with it?”

“Rachel’s a lesbian, so that’s a moot point.”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I wouldn’t care, Harry. Also, you make it seem like Niall isn’t my friend, when he is. And not that it’s any of your business, but we didn’t do more than diddle each other. I sucked him off, and then I let him finger me, that was it.”

“You know, if you just needed to get off, I’m sure your own hand would have sufficed.” He huffs.

“Sometimes you just wanna feel someone else’s hand.” You say quietly.

“So Niall’s a good enough friend to diddle you, but I’m not? I’m extremely offended.”

“Harry…I don’t have to see Niall every day. It would get weird between us, and you know it.”

“I’m just saying, if you needed some help-“

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Go put yourself to bed, I’m gonna go wash up.”

“I’m assuming no cuddles tonight then?”

“You’ve assumed correctly, goodnight.”

Harry emerges from his room around ten the next morning, thankful he had the day off from work. You were sitting on the couch in the living room, coffee cup in hand while reading one of your textbooks. He sees you’ve made coffee, and he pours himself a cup.

“Morning.” He yawns as he sits next to you.

“Morning.” You say without looking at him.

“Are you mad at me for some reason? Usually you come to my room after we’ve been out like that, and you didn’t…”

“Harry, do you seriously not remember what happened last night?” He shakes his head no at you. “It just wasn’t a good night for drunk cuddles, okay? Can we leave it at that?”

“Alright.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Do you feel like going to the campus library with me in a bit? I’ve got a paper to work on, and a change of scenery would do be some good.”

“Sure! I have some mock lesson plans I need to work on so that sounds good.”

He watches you get up and go into your room so you can get ready. He sighs to himself, feeling bad for lying to you. He takes his phone out to text Niall.

Harry: I’m sorry about last night…I know I can’t control what you do and who you do it with, and clearly what I said to you didn’t matter anyways

Niall: I was going to listen…but she really wanted it, mate, I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything serious, just two friends helping each other out, alright?

Harry: alright

Niall: are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?

Harry: I just don’t think it’s smart for our little circle to comingle like that, that’s all

Niall: whatever you say

“Harry, go get dressed, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and watch a movie.”

“Right.” He says with a smile and gets up.

Harry fucked up one night. He didn’t feel like trolling on Tinder for a lay, so he found himself on Only Fans. There were a couple of pages he was subscribed to, but they just weren’t doing it for him tonight. He wanted something a little different, so, against his better judgement…he went to your page. Sometimes he’d check it out just to make sure no one was leaving you any sick comments, he never really went there to ogle you. But because you didn’t use your face, he could use his imagination a little bit. He puts his headphones in, and clicks on one of your free videos.

He smiles when he hears one of your favorite songs playing in the background. You were a skilled video editor, hoping to teach that media arts. The video fades in, and there you are, completely clothed. You start dancing, it wasn’t over sexy, but you had a way about taking your clothes off. You were doing a chair dance, one of your specialties. The video ends with you just about to take your shirt off, and then it fades out with a smirk on your lips.

“Oh, she’s good.” He says to himself.

Leaving people wanting more was certainly key on this site. He sighs, and clicks through a couple of the other free things you had on your page, and then eventually he pays to subscribe. You’d never know it was him, it’s not like he used his real name. He was more curious than anything to see what else you could have on there. He clicks through some of your photos. His jaw drops when he sees you licking a lollypop.

There’s a knock on his door, and he nearly throws his laptop across the room. He exits out of his all his tabs and closes his laptop.

“Come in!”

“Hey.” You say, leaning against the door frame.

“What’s up?” He was sweating. Had you seen that you had a new subscriber? Had you somehow figured out it was him?

“I have cramps, can I come lay with you?”

“Oh.” He sighs with relief. “Sure.” He makes some room for you on his bed, and climb on, laying on your stomach.

“What were you up to?”

“Looking for some porn to watch, to be honest with you.” He chuckles as he rubs at your lower back.

“Oh, Christ.” You laugh and nudge his leg. “You didn’t need to let me in.”

“It’s alright, you’re more interesting anyways. How was your day? Feel like I barely saw you?”

“It was good. I had a lot of work to get done so I was at the library, and then I met up with Rach for dinner.”

“How’s she?”

“Good. She’s finally starting to make some friends at work.” You sit up and move to sit on your bum. “I have a cheeky idea. Let’s find a really bad porn to watch.”

“Together?”

“Yeah! We could find a cheesy one from the seventies or something, stuff our faces with ice cream and have a good laugh.”

“I’ll go get the ice cream, you find one to watch.” He slides his laptop over to you, and gets up.

You knew his password, so you enter it in. You open up his browser, and go on incognito mode. He comes back shortly with a gallon of ice cream and two spoons.

“Okay, I think I’ve found one. Major bush on this woman, and the guy.”

“Incredible.” He laughs and hands you a spoon. “Let’s see how they did it back then. Who knows, I may learn something new.”

“God, porn back then was only made for men.” You scoff, and take a bite of the ice cream. “I mean, these women just lay there and take it! What’s the fun in that?”

“I know, I like it when the girl’s a little more involved instead of just starfishing.”

“I’m all for a guy being on top, but you really shouldn’t just lay there. There’s still plenty a girl can do. Although, I have to say, when I’m not super into it, I just lay there until the guy comes.”

“Why not just speak up and tell him to do something else?”

“At that point there’s no coming back. Besides, you know how fragile the male ego is.” You smirk at him.

“True…although, I think it’s really hot when a girl is vocal in the bedroom. If she’s telling me how she likes it then I know she knows her body, and that image alone is so satisfying.” He takes a slow bite of the ice cream to watch your face.

“It doesn’t get frustrating?”

“Not for me.” He shrugs. “I mean, I’m usually able to figure it out without much help, but I always make sure to ask if it feels good.”

“What a gentleman.” You poke his cheek and he swats it away. “I like it when a guy is vocal too, like, isn’t afraid to moan, that kind of stuff.”

“I never understood why guys are so afraid to moan. If it feels good, let it out.”

“Exactly!”

You both completely forgot you had an old porn on in the background until you heard an extremely fake moan rip through the speaker. You both laugh hysterically.

“This must’ve been before boobs jobs got popular, those are as natural as they get.” Harry laughs.

“Jesus, I know, look at those things bounce!” You laugh, and then look down at yourself, frowning.

“What?”

“Well….I have, like, bowling ball tits, like when you go candle pin bowling, is it attractive to watch big, heavy boobs like that?” You point to the screen. “And mine are kinda saggy, and-“

“Please, stop talking about yourself like that. Don’t you have, like, thousands of subscribers on your Only Fans? People clearly like the way you look.”

“They’ve never seen me naked.”

“Still.” He looks down at your covered chest. You were wearing a sweatshirt. “You…not to sound creepy, but you’ve got a great set on you. I’ve always thought so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just never said anything because I didn’t want you knowing I was checking you out.” He smirks and throw one of his pillows at him. “It’s hard not to with some of the shirts or dresses you wear to the clubs sometimes. You really know how to make yourself look sexy.”

“Oh, and I’m not sexy right now?” You chuckle.

“No, you are, it’s just a different kind of sexy. Like, you more cute than anything else, but still totally fuckable.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes and take another bite of ice cream. “Mm, we picked a really good flavor this week.”

“I know, way better than last week.”

“I’ve been having fun trying new flavors with you. Gives me something fun to look forward to. Is this twenty-two? Getting excited over ice cream flavors?”

“Pretty soon we’ll be excited over buying a new vacuum, or a dishrack.”

“Oh, I love a good dishrack.”

Harry bursts out laughing, and so do you. You ended up falling asleep with him in his bed, your head cradled to his chest. Harry was always the perfect cure to cramps.

“Oh…hello.” A girl says to you some random Wednesday morning. You were stood in your kitchen making some toast before class.

“Um, hi?”

“Oh, god, he has a girlfriend doesn’t he.” She whines.

“No! I’m Harry’s roommate. Did you spend the night, would you like some coffee?”

“Got scared for a second there. No, I’m all set thank you. Um, have a good one!” She says and leaves the flat.

“Is…is she gone?” Harry whispers from around the corner and you chuckle.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Thank god.” He sighs.

“Since when do you bring someone home with you on a Tuesday night?”

“I was working late at the coffee shop, and she was there doing homework, and one thing lead to another.” He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“And it was no good?”

“Terrible, I didn’t even ask for her number.”

“What made it so terrible?”

“She just…she wasn’t…doing it for me, I don’t know. There was no connection, Y/N.” He sighs.

“Maybe it’s time you start actually dating and work your way up to fucking someone.”

“That would involve me having to get to know someone, and I can’t stand people.” He pouts.

“Good thing you’re going to be a fucking teacher then.” You laugh. “Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late for class.”

Harry gets ready, and you both walk to campus for your K-12 instructors class. You were thankful to have class with Harry, you weren’t sure what you’d do without him. Just having someone to make eye contact with when someone said something stupid, or if the professor did something cringey.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hey, Daniel.” You smile up at him. “What’s up?”

“Well, I…I was wondering if you had plans this weekend? On Saturday?”

You look at Harry and he shakes his head no.

“Not that I can think of, no.”

“Great, uh, would you like to go to the movies? We could grab dinner as well.”

“I…I’d like that a lot, um, here.” You take your phone out to hand it to him. He puts his number and texts himself.

“Cool, I’ll text you later.” He moves to go sit down a few rows behind you. You look at Harry with a grin on your face.

“See, dating, it’s sorta fun.” You say to him.

“Wining and dining someone sure is a lot of effort. Don’t think I quite have it in me, but you have yourself a good time, pet.”

You have a wonderful time with Daniel on Saturday night. He took you to Panera, and then to see a comedy. He let you pick the movie, and you were delighted. You shared a lot of laughs, and made out with him in his car before he took you home.

“I ha d a lot of fun.” You tell him.

“Me too.” He says. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that.” You smile and get out of his car. When you get up to your flat, you can’t wait to dish with Harry about how your night went.

“Hola chica.” He says to you from the kitchen.

“Late night tacvos, my favorite. Save me any?”

“Course, grab what you like. How was your date?”

“Really good. Daniel’s super sweet.”

“Not sweet enough to bring home?”

“I’m taking my own advice and giving dating a try. He asked me if I wanted to go out again sometime and I said yes. We did kiss for a bit, it was nice.” You shove a taco into your mouth. “Mm, you make the best tacos, Har.”

“Don’t I know it? So…so you kissed, but nothing else?” He mutters as he finishes his food.

“Nope.”

“Did you want to?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug.

“Then you shouldn’t go out with him again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you didn’t wanna rip his clothes off, it’s probably not gonna last.”

“Lust doesn’t make a relationship.”

“No, but it should be passionate. Even if you’re respectful and wait, you should still wanna fuck the person.”

“Sometimes you have to work up to feeling that way.”

“Nah, when you know, you know.” He winks at you and goes over to the couch. “I was about to watch-“

“Oh my god!” You screech.

“What?!”

“Did you not check the mail earlier?! Kevin and Ashley are getting married! This is their save the date. Holy fucking shit.”

“Makes sense, they’ve been together forever.”

“Well, we have to go, Harry.”

“Okay.” He hears you suck your teeth. “What?”

“No plus ones…”

“So? We’d just go together anyways. We can save money on a hotel room too.”

“That’s true. I just…wow, I couldn’t imagine getting married right now.”

“Like I said, when you know, you know.” He plops down onto the couch and turns the TV on. You sit down next to him. You look at him for a moment, and then turn your attention to the TV. Nothing else really needed to be said.

You hated it when Harry was right. Daniel was nice, but there was no spark. You went on four dates with him, and you didn’t want to fuck him.

“Hey, I was looking on the hotel website for the wedding, the room with the king sized bed is actually cheaper than the one with the two queens. That work for you?” He asks you as he comes into your room holding his laptop.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just tell me how much I need to Venmo you.”

“Will do, it’s not terribly expensive. I’ll only need a hundred bucks from you.”

“Perfect.” You take your phone and send him the money. “Thanks for booking it.”

“No problemo.” He comes in and sits on your bed. “What are you up to, babydoll?”

“Just putting some mock lesson plans together.” You sigh. “Could definitely use a break, though.” He lays down on your bed and pats the spot next to him. You roll your eyes at him, and he pouts. “Ugh, fine.” You get onto your bed with him. “Happy now?”

“Very…although….”

“What?”

“Well, you get to lay your head on my chest all the time. I’d like to do the same. Or…okay, there’s this trend on Tik Tok…could I lay down between your legs?”

“Um…like…with your head in my crotch?” You laugh. “I can put a pillow there and you can lay down if you like.”

“Okay.” You grab a pillow for him, and he gets on his back, resting his head, and looking up at you. You run your fingers through his curls and his eyes flutter closed. “I love it when you play with my hair.” He sighs.

“I knew you were coming in here with a motive. Booking the hotel room to get something out of it, huh?”

“Your nails just feel so good, and you know it.”

“Well, you better return the favor. I like getting my hair played with too.”

“I’ll touch you wherever you want me to, alright?” He yawns. “Just don’t stop for a bit.”

You brush off his crude comment, and does as he says. You liked playing with Harry’s hair, so it wasn’t a burden, and you liked when you two would just get cozy together like this. There weren’t many people you felt this comfortable with.

“Y/N, we need to get going down to the ceremony.” Harry calls from the bedroom of the hotel.

“Well, I wouldn’t be running behind if someone hadn’t taken twice as long as they said they would in the bathroom!”

“Can’t rush perfection, darling.” He smirks to himself.

“Mhm, so what does that make me?” You ask as you walk out of the bathroom. His mouth nearly falls open.

You had gotten your hair into a loose, low bun, with plenty of hair in the front to frame your face. You had a strapless purple dress on with black tights and black heels.

“Um…stunning, you look stunning.”

“Thanks.” You smile and grab your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” You wink at him and head out.

You both were blubbering messes during the ceremony. Rachel made sure to make fun you both for it. Once the cocktail hour hit, you were good to go. You found your table and sat down. You talked with some other friends and explained how grad school was going. You make it through the speeches and dinner, and then it’s time to dance.

Being at something like this reminded you of being at an old uni party, only more upscale. Ashley and Kevin’s families were around, so the music wasn’t exactly what you’d normally get down to, but there was an open bar that you were able to take advantage of. Partying with Harry was one of your favorite things. He always used to bring you to the best ones. A slow song starts to play, and you giggle as he bows and extends his hand to you.

“You’re an idiot.” You say as you take his hand and he pulls you close to him.

“Ah, but you’re still choosing to dance with me, babe.”

“Only cause I’m too lazy to find someone else.”

“Ha! That’ll be us someday reading vows at our won wedding. I was too lazy to find someone else, so I settled for my best friend.” He smirks at you and swat his shoulder.

“Would you be quiet? Enough of the people here think something’s going on between us as it is.”

“True.” He looks around at a few people’s wandering eyes. “Should we give them a bit of a show?” He slides his hands further down your back, getting dangerously close to your bum.

“Harry!” You squeal and giggle. “Stop it.” You grab his hands put them to their previous spot. “Just dance with me, would you?”

He chuckles and sways around with you. You both got pretty plastered. You couldn’t stop giggling with him all the way up to your room. You sigh once you get your heels off.

“Okay, I’m using the bathroom first.” You say to him.

“Fine.” He sighs and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.

You head into the bathroom, and use the toilet. You get your tights all the way off and groan when you can’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Ugh, Harry!” You call for him. “I need your help!”

“Yeah?” He says, stepping into the bathroom in only his boxers. Nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“My zipper.”

“Oh.” He places a hand on your shoulder, and the other grips the zipper, slowly dragging it down. You clutch the front of it. “You’re not…uh…no bra?”

“No, there’s one built into the dress.” You turn around to face him. “I just need to grab my pj’s and then I’ll need a couple minutes to take my hair out.” You brush by him to go into your suitcase. He takes the opportunity to use the toilet and brush his teeth.

“Need help with anything else?” He asks as you step back into the bathroom.

“Nope, think I can handle the rest, thanks.” You giggle. “Wouldn’t mind some head scratches once I get into bed though.”

Harry gets into bed and waits for you. You come out with your hair a mess, your makeup smeared from rinsing it, and he furrows his brows at you.

“That’s my shirt.” He says as you knee onto the bed.

“Mhm, well, that’s what happens when you ask me to do your laundry for you. I steal your shirts as compensation.”

“Fair enough I suppose. Come here.”

You smile and lay on his chest so he can run his fingers through your hair. You moan softly from it as you relax into him.

“Feels so nice.” You mumble into his chest.

“I can tell.” One of his hands moves to rub your back. He mimics your moaning and you punch him in the arm. “Oi! I won’t love on you if you do that.”

“M’not asking you to love on me, I just wanted me head scratched. Be grateful you get to hear me make those noises, not everyone does.”

“Bet you’d make thousands if you posted something like that on your Only Fans.” He mutters and you move to look at him. “What?”

“Do you…ever look at my page?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I check your comments to see if anyone’s being rude.”

“Oh…” You swallow. “I make enough doing what I’m doing. I…I’d be too shy to do the really explicate stuff. I also just feel, like, I don’t want just anyone to see me naked, you know? That’s why I don’t go live, everyone would just ask me to take my clothes off.”

“I get that. Wanna keep it private for someone special.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’ve talked about this with you before, but there are plenty of people that are into what I post.”

“You certainly leave them wanting more.”

“You’ve…watched?”

“I’ve checked out some of the free videos you’ve posted, yeah.” He admits shamelessly. “You’re a very good dancer.” He smiles at you.

“I’m going to sleep.” You yawn and turn over. “Goodnight.” You look over your shoulder at him. “If you behave you can spoon me if you want.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Slide my prick between your ass cheeks? Grow up.” He says as he wraps his arm around you. You can’t help but laugh. “However, if I get hard while I’m sleeping you can’t get mad.”

“Suppose it’s not my fault I have such a fat, juicy ass, hm?”

“Go to sleep.” He laughs, and presses his chest to your back.

“Mm, you’re so cozy, Harry.”

“I know I am. Go to sleep, lovie.” He coos, and rubs at your side.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” He sighs and nestles into the back of your head.

“So…you let him spoon you all night, and nothing happened?” Rachel whispers to you at breakfast the next morning.

“Happens more often than not, it’s not a big deal.”

“You two are so fucking weird! I’ve literally never met two people who were close that do what you do. Why not just make the jump? Neither one of you can manage to make another relationship work.”

“I don’t know…I…I just don’t see him like that, and I know Harry. If he really liked me like that he’d go for it.”

“Maybe he’s just scared to fuck it up with you.”

“Exactly, so, let’s just not fuck it up and try anything.”

“What are you two hens clucking about, hm?” Harry says as he sits down, putting a cinnamon roll in front of you. “Had you favorite.”

“I’m trying to watch the carbs…” You mutter.

“Please.” He scoffs. “Would you just eat the fucking pastry? It’s good for you.”

“How is that thing good for me?” You laugh.

“It makes you happy when you eat it. You always hum and smile when you eat a cinnamon roll.”

“How sweet of you to notice.” Rachel remarks. “You’re practically her boyfriend.”

“Rachel.” You seethe, and take a bite of the pastry. You hum softly. “Why do these bloody things taste so good, huh?”

Harry chuckles and rubs the back of your neck briefly as he eats his own breakfast. He and Rachel share a glance, but that’s the extent of that interaction.

“Hey, Harry?” You tap on the outside of his door frame.

“Yeah, babe?” He says, taking his headphones out. It was a Friday evening and you both were doing homework. His eyes widen when he looks at you. “Your face is all flushed, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I just…could you come look at something for me?”

“Sure.” He follows you to your room and sits with you on your bed.

“Um...could I…could I show you some new photos I took yesterday? I just finished editing them…and I’m feeling a little self-conscious.”

“Aw, why? You’re so beautiful.” He keeps your cheek and rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. “Course I’ll look ‘em over for you.”

“Thanks.” You swallow and put your laptop on his lap. “So…like usual, they’re not overly explicit, but I feel like my boobs look weird. I should have gotten something with more support.” You blush and point to the photo.

“They’re perfect, you look perfect, Y/N.” You suck your teeth at him. “You do! What else do you want me to say?”

“Okay, what about this one?”

“Perfect.”

“This one?”

“Perfect.”

“But what about this one?”

“Perfect, they’re all perfect. I don’t know why you don’t think so.” He frowns and sets your laptop down on your desk. He turns to look at you. “What’s really going on?”

“It’s just…I have all these people leaving comments saying they wish they could know me, date, fuck me…and…like I don’t know any of them! All they know about me is that I can dance, and I look cute sucking on a lollypop. I…if I wasn’t making the money I that I am I’d stop doing it because I just want someone real to say all of those things to me, you know?”

“Y/N…” Harry sighs. “I know you, I wanna date you, and I certainly want to fuck you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s so cliché it’s disgusting, isn’t it?” He smirks. “But it’s how I feel. I’m sick of tip toeing around it.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Can’t really pinpoint it, I don’t think it’s been long, but it doesn’t feel new either.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and he puts his hand back on your cheek. You lean into it. You felt deeply confused.

“I just never thought we’d…like…I just didn’t think you were into my like that.”

“Well, I am, so…what do you think? We already get along great. We like spending time together. I truthfully can’t stand other people. I think you’re the only person’s day I actually like hearing about. Have you really never thought about it?”

“I don’t know! You never made a move when we were in undergrad, with all those nights we slept next to each other, you never did anything…”

“Yeah, because you were asleep, Y/N.” He deadpans. “What did you want me to do? Feel you up while you were unconscious? Or better yet, make a move while we were both intoxicated?”

“No, of course not.” You shake your head. “I…I don’t know what I wanted. I just felt lucky that I had such a good friend.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighs. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, this doesn’t need to be weird. Just know if you wanted to give it a try, I’d be down.”

“You’re genuinely attracted to me, like, physically?”

“Yes.” He chuckles. “And I like what you got going on up here too.” He taps your forehead with his index finger. “But you knew that already. What about me, are you physically attracted to me?”

“Well…yeah, you know you’re hot.”

“I didn’t ask you what I know.” He smirks.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve always thought you were handsome, but you used to really be a douchebag, it turned me off. Made it easier to just be your friend.” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes.

“M’not like that anymore.” He inches closer to you. You could feel his minty breath fanning over you.

“I know.” You say just above a whisper. The mood had changed immensely. The dim lighting in your room was creating an atmosphere you had never really felt with him before.

“So…I guess the only thing left to figure out is if there’s any real heat between us.” You nod at him as his hand goes back to cradle your cheek once more. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

You move towards each other slowly, your lips gracefully pressing against each other’s. You felt scared as your eyes pinched closed. It was scary to kiss your best friend, and what was scarier was that fact that it felt so natural and seamless. He pulls away, just to see if you’ll chase him, and you do, kissing him again. You do the same to him, and he comes chasing after your soft lips.

“Harry.” You whisper as you press your forehead to his.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“I…I wanna have sex with you.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He cups both of your cheeks and pulls your lips back to his. His tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. He runs his lips back and forth over yours, and you open up for him. Your tongues meet, and you lick against each other, eliciting a moan from the both of you. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lets you lift it off. Your run your hands up and down his stomach as you continue to explore each other’s mouths, lips getting puffy and swollen. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth while he unzips the sweatshirt you’re wearing. He pushes it off your shoulders, and you shimmy it the rest of the way off. He’s met with your bare breasts, and he licks his lips as he looks at them.

Harry pulls you closer to him, and his lips press against your neck. You cling to his biceps as he works his mouth down your chest. He looks up at you as he sucks on one of your nipples, rolling it between your teeth. You can’t help your head from falling back. He slides down to the floor as he continues to kiss on you. Your mouth falls open as he nips and sucks on your stomach, and his fingers hook into your leggings. He looks up at you and you nod. He tugs your leggings and underwear down your legs and gets them all the way off.

“Y/N, you’re sure?”

“Yes, I want you to, please.”

You open your legs for him, and he just about loses it from your confidence. He leans forward and kisses each of your hips. You think he’s about to go for your center, but he sucks on your inner thigh. You flinch from the sensitivity, but it feels good. You make sure to sit up on your elbows so you can watch him. He looks up at you and licks a flat stripe between your folds. He sucks on each of your lips before spreading you apart with his thumbs to focus on your clit. He sucks on it at first, harshly, and you gasp. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth against it. He runs his hands along your thighs to keep you open for him. You were clenching around nothing. His tongue was warm and wet, and everything you needed.

Your body starts to feel warm all over, you can feel your orgasm start to bubble up from within your lower belly. You let yourself fall back against the bed as you start to pant. Your voice cracks as louder moans begin to rip through your throat. He was sucking and slurping on your cunt, noises you had never heard before while someone was going down on you. And to really push you over the edge, he was moaning into you. Not little whimpers or grunts, genuine moans that were vibrating into you.

“Oh my god!” You cry out. A few tears roll down your cheeks as he continues to lap around you, helping you come down.

He kisses back up your body until he’s hovering over you. He smears his lips over yours, and you grunt, pulling him closer to you. It was the filthiest kiss of your life, completely tasting yourself on him, but you didn’t care. He just made you feel better than anyone ever did. You push him so he’ll on his back, and this time you’re the one to sink onto the floor. You get his jeans and boxers down his legs. Your eyes bug out when you see his large prick slap back against his stomach.

“Christ, Harry.”

“As if you didn’t already know.” He smirks.

“I mean, I had an idea.”

You spit into your hand and wrap it around his length. He grits his teeth as you start to slowly pump him up and down. You run his tip along your lips, and his mouth falls open. Your tongue presses over his slit and you wrap your lips around him. You suckle his tip, eliciting a moan from him. You hollow your cheeks and sink almost all the way down on him. You just wanted to feel him down your throat. You breathe your nose and just hold him there.

“Y/N.” He stutters.

You slowly pull off of him, a string of spit keeping you connected. You suck in a breath before sinking back down on him, not quite as much as you took before, and you bob up and down his length. You cup his balls and massage them as you make a mess of his prick. There was spit, drool, and precome dripping down your chin. Harry was a panting mess on the bed. His hands were gripping at the sheets, and the sight of him doing that causes you to moan. To see his veins popping out the way they were was enough to make you come again.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You moan around him as his come spurts into your mouth. You swallow it all and suck him dry. He pulls you up to him, dumbfounded that you just did what you did.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He breathes.

“I do, I’ve heard you have pretty good stamina.” You peck his lips. “I’m sure you’ll get hard again soon.”

He groans and shifts his thighs between your legs, making you gasp. He grips your hips and starts moving you back and forth along his tiger tattoo. Your nails dig into his chest as you work to grind against him.

“H-Harry.” You mewl.

“Yeah, ride my fucking leg, baby, show me how you do it.”

“God.”

“I want you so bad, I wanna fuck you so bad, Y/N.”

“Oh, oh!” You come undone on his thigh. You lean down and press your lips to his, licking into his mouth. Before you know it he’s moving you up his body, turning you around, and licking back into your cunt. “Shit!”

He’s relentless with you, fucking you with his tongue, telling you to bounce up and down on him, and you listen. He sucks on your clit again, and you fall forward, head resting on his thigh. You watch as his cock bloats back up. You’d never know someone to enjoy doing this so much. You kiss on his thigh because you just needed to do something with your mouth. He makes you come again, and he lifts you off of his face.

“Think you can keep going?” He smirks as your head falls back against your pillows.

He grabs your legs and pushes them back so your knees press against the bed. He lifts your bum enough to rest on his thighs, and he dips his tongue back into your cunt. This was some serious teasing. You watch as his tongue goes in and out of you, deeper each time. He reaches forward with one of his hands to rub your clit. It was throbbing for him.

“Harry, please.”

“What, no good?”

“No, it’s amazing, but…I really wanna feel your dick now, please, I know you’re hard again.”

“You just taste so good.” He brings his mouth down to your cunt and sucks on it.

“This won’t be the only time I’ll let your head between my legs, I promise.” You let your legs drop back to lay normally. He sits back as you look at each other. “When was the last time you were tested? I…I’m clean, and if you are too, I’d prefer not to use a condom if you feel comfortable with that.”

“STD test came back negative a month ago when I went in for a checkup. You’re on the pill?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down to kiss you, and then he pulls back to paint his cock with your wetness that was uncontrollably leaking out of you for him. He presses his tip against your clit, and slides it down your slit. He pushes inside you slowly. He fills you to the hilt, and waits. For a moment he just wants to enjoy how tight and snug you are around him. You push your hips up and start rocking against him.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Because I’m moving myself on you?” You giggle.

“I just think it’s cute that you’re so goddamn impatient.”

“Would you just shut up and show what you can do with this thing? Or am I gonna have to do all of this myself?”

He accepts the challenge, pulling his hips back, and snapping them forward. You reach behind yourself to press against the headboard so your head doesn’t smack against it. He drives it into you fast and deep. He pushes you to the brink of coming, but he pulls all the way out of you. Before you can complain he flips you over, and grabs your hips. He pulls you back to him and slips back inside. You moan out from the new angle, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours makes your eyes roll back. He gives your bum a light smack and you grunt.

“You can do that a little harder, a little.” You didn’t want him to fully spank you, you weren’t into that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind feeling it a little more. He delivers a harsher smack and you groan again.

“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen.” He smacks you again and you grip onto the pillows. He grips the back of your neck to get a steadier pace going, and he uses his other hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re so attentive.” You manage to say. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna ruin you for any other guy.”

“Don’t want any other guy.” You admit. “I don’t want anyone else to fuck me.”

“Christ.” He moans.

His fingers move faster on your clit, and his tip pounds against your g-spot, and you’re coming. You’re coming hard around him. He pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You look up at him, completely frazzled.

“I want you ride me.”

“Okay.” You breathe. You shuffle around and swing your leg over him. You line him up with yourself and sink down on him.

He fondles your breasts as you move up and down on him. He kisses on your chest as you get a rhythm going. He leans back just to watch your tits bounce up and down. He looks up at you and grips you by the back of your neck to pull your mouth down to his. You breathe each other in and out as you moan and gasp. He takes control by gripping your hips, and you cling to him to let him just do what he wanted with you. You tighten around him and his head falls back for a moment.

“Where can I come?” He asks.

“Where do you want to come?”

“Inside you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grunts.

You cry out as he does when he comes. You don’t think you had ever felt so full in your life. He kisses you as you both catch your breaths. You tug at his hair, and grind against him. You were close to coming again. He takes the hint and snakes his hand between you both and rubs your clit. Your orgasm rips through you, and you moan into his neck.

“I’m so fucking sweaty.” You whisper.

“Do you wanna take a shower?”

“Yeah.” You look up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do I still have legs? Because I can’t feel them.”

He puffs out some air as he laughs, smoothing some hair away from your face.

“Yes, you still have legs, Y/N. Should I carry you to the bathroom?”

“Please, I really need to pee.”

He kisses your forehead and slowly lifts you off of him. You clench so nothing falls out. You didn’t want to make a bigger mess of your bed.

“We can sleep in my room and wash your sheets tomorrow, don’t worry about that.” He says as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom.

He sets you down on the toilet and steps out to give you some privacy. Once he hears the water for the shower start he comes back in. He splays a hand on your back and gives you a gentle rub before you both step in. You felt overwhelmed. You just had the best sex of your life with your very best friend. As he reaches for his body wash you swat his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Would you…would you just hold me?” Your bottom lip quivers, and he pulls you into his chest.

You nestle into him, and just stand under the warm water with him. He cradles your head and lets you cry into him. He starts to cry too, although he’s not really sure why.

“I don’t want anything to get fucked up between us, Harry.” You look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I love you so much, and I don’t want something bad to happen that’ll make us hate each other.”

“M’not gonna let that happen.” He wipes your tears away, and then wipes away his own. “We’re gonna do this right. We’ll go out on dates, and we’ll see where it goes, and I hope it goes well because I love you too, and I value so many of the things we have with each other.”

You each take turns scrubbing each other down, getting clean. It’s soothing, and calming. You both relax, and get wrapped up into some towels. You run the blow dryer through your hair quickly just so it’s not sopping wet. He gives you one of his bed shirts to wear, and you crawl into bed with him. Being immersed in his scent was exactly what you needed. You rest your head on his chest, and he throws his arm around you.

“When was the last time you actually dated someone?” You ask softly.

“Um…think I was sixteen to be honest with you.”

“Ah, so a while.” You chuckle.

“You literally know my entire sexual history, and I know yours, let’s not pretend we’re both experts with all this.”

“So…we’ll just make this up as we go? I mean, I like that we sleep together sometimes, but I wanna keep my room, I don’t wanna move into the same room.”

“Christ, slow down, we just got together and you’re already talking about moving into the same bedroom?” You swat at his chest and he laughs, kissing the top of your head. “In all seriousness, I feel the same way, I think we should still have our separate spaces. You get pissed off with me easily.”

“Maybe you should try not to piss me off then.”

“Well, now that I know you enjoy a good tonguing, I’m not really worried about it. God, we can make up from a fight with sex instead of watching Dirty Dancing, it’s gonna be incredible.”

“Can…can we not do both?” You look up at him. “I love singing Hungry Eyes with you.”

“Yeah, both is good.”

“And I wanna make sure we clarify what are dates, and what’s just hanging out. I want dates to feel…special, I don’t know.”

“Can do. I think study dates at the library are gonna be my favorite.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I can rile you up. I’ll sit across from you to play footsie, and then I’ll run my foot up your leg. I’ll make eyes at you. You’ll end up blowing me in the bathroom, it’ll be great.”

“Mm, yes, well, what if my leg’s the one doing the rubbing? I could probably make you come in your pants from my foot on your crotch alone.”

“Okay, no study dates. You know what I would really like, though?”

“What?”

“Sometimes…sometimes I really miss you when I work double shifts at work, and then I feel bad because you’re here all by yourself…so maybe you could come to the coffee shop more? Hang out, do homework, I’ll give you free food.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me.” You bite your bottom lip. “You’re not gonna ask me to give up my Only Fans are you?”

“What? No, why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know…you’re the jealous type, Harry.”

“True…but if that’s what you wanna do for work, I don’t have a problem with it. Can I tell you a dirty secret?”

“Always.”

“I’m subscribed to your page.”

“You are?!”

“Yeah…I’ve never wanked to your stuff because I feel like that would be creepy, but I do keep up with what you post.”

“I’m not gonna do it forever, once I get a real job I won’t need it…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, babe. Even if you were doing the really filthy stuff, I wouldn’t care. That’s your business.”

“God, if I wasn’t so tired I’d hop on your dick again.”

He chuckles at that and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so. Although, I’m not looking forward to telling Rachel. The it’s about time or I told you so is not gonna be fun.”

“Same with Niall and Louis. We just gotta rip the band aid.”

You hum your response and get a little cozier by putting one of your legs over his. It was easy enough to fall asleep. You talked, so you weren’t worried about your friendship ending. If anything, it was all going to get better. Being able to kiss and touch on top of how you were with each other already was just the cherry on top. It didn’t happen over drinks, it didn’t happen in a club, and it didn’t happen by mistake. This was on purpose. He was the person you were supposed to be with, and he felt the same way.

#and they were roommates #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #jealous!Harry #bestfriend!Harry #roommate!Harry #roommate!reader

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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No Returns or Exchanges - Fred Weasley

Title: No Returns or Exchanges Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N get to start their happily ever after A/N: this is for @mrs-fredweasley. I usually do my requests in the order I receive them, but she asked for some fluff with Fred and the reader getting married and having kids for her birthday, and since she’s my birthday twin I couldn’t resist! Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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“There you are, Mrs. Weasley,” Fred greets as he sneaks up behind Y/N and wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not Mrs. Weasley quite yet, Freddie,” Y/N teases as she turns around in his embrace. Her arms wind around Fred’s neck and she pulls him in for a brief kiss. “You’re about twelve hours too early.”

Fred starts to slowly sway them back and forth, humming quietly to the music drifting through the air from the large tent behind them. Fred and Y/N aren’t getting married until tomorrow, but Ginny, Y/N’s maid of honor, insisted on mixing some muggle wedding traditions in alongside the regular wizard ones. Tonight, had been what Ginny referred to as the rehearsal dinner, where the wedding party and their close family went through the ceremony that will take place tomorrow, before having a mini celebration together.

“Do I really have to go home without you?” Fred pouts. Another muggle tradition Ginny insisted on was that Y/N and Fred would not be allowed to see each other until Y/N was heading down the aisle towards him.

Y/N giggles and kisses Fred’s pout away. “I think it’ll be romantic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that what they say?” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully when Fred frowns at her. “Oh, come on, Freddie. It’s only one night apart.”

“When’s the last time we spent more than 1 hour apart outside of work?” Fred ask, looking down at Y/N expectantly. When she doesn’t answer he smiles. “Exactly. One night is going to feel like an eternity.”

“Okay so maybe it’ll be a bit hard,” Y/N concedes. “But after tomorrow we’ll get to spend every day for the rest of eternity together, that’s gotta be worth it, isn’t it? And have you forgotten that we’ll be spending the next two weeks completely alone together in a cabin in the woods.”

“How can I forget about that?” Fred muses. “Just me, you, and as little clothing as possible for two weeks straight. That’s the only kind of honeymoon I want.” Most of their friends and family were surprised that Fred and Y/N didn’t want to go on some adventurous honeymoon but wanted to just relax together in some secluded forest. But for them that seemed like the only option. It’s only been 13 months since the war ended, and after Fred’s near-death experience he and Y/N decided to take life slow for a bit.

“So that’s why you wanted to go somewhere secluded,” Y/N says, realization washing over her.

Fred laughs. “I may have had ulterior motives when I convinced you to book the cabin in the woods over the beach house.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly. “You’re a bit of a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah but I’m your menace. And you’re way past the return or exchange date so you’re stuck with me,” he jokes, leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“Oi, lover boy!” George calls from behind them. Y/N and Fred break apart so they can look at him. “Ginny says it’s time to go, and she’s already wacked me over the head once so get your arse over here before she does it again.”

“See you tomorrow?” Fred asks as he leans down to kiss Y/N briefly.

“Meet you at the altar,” she confirms with a smile.

“You sure you wanna marry my brother?” Ginny teases as they get ready to walk down the aisle. “Because I could cause a distraction if you wanna slip out the front door and run away.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and grabs the bouquet Ginny hands her. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Gin.”

Ginny beams at her before taking her place in line. Y/N takes a deep breath as the music starts, silently regretting that she chose to not have her dad walk her down the aisle. A few months ago, she had bashed the archaic notion of someone giving her away to Fred as if she were a piece of property, but as nerves start to bubble in her stomach she wishes she had someone by her side to calm her down. Everyone in front of her starts to slowly head towards the alter, and she fixes her dress one last time before she follows behind Ginny.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Fred whispers as she takes his hands at the altar. There are tears in his eyes, and a few leak down his cheeks. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

Y/N blushes, trying to blink away her own tears as to not ruin her makeup. “You clean up quite nice as well, Freddie.”

Fred smiles down at her, maintaining eye contact as the official from the ministry starts the ceremony. Fred squeezes Y/N’s hands tightly as he talks, only half paying attention to what he’s saying. His thoughts are completely consumed with Y/N and how breathtakingly beautiful she is. The dress she picked out compliments all of her best features, and the veil cascading down her shoulders makes her look like a goddess. Fred has imagined this day over a dozen times since he proposed last year, but everything he thought of pales in comparison to how beautiful Y/N looks right now.

“Can I have the rings?” the officiant asks, pulling Fred’s thoughts fully to the ceremony. George digs around in his pocket for a moment before handing the delicate silver rings to the man. He hands the smaller one to Fred. “Now it’s my understanding that the bride and groom have prepared their own vows?” When Fred and Y/N nod, he smiles and motions for Fred to start.

“Y/N, I’ve been enamored with you since I was 11 years old, when you made your cauldron blow up and covered Snape head to toe in the worst smelling goo I’ve ever encountered – and that’s saying something,” Fred pauses as everyone chuckles, and he starts to slide the ring down Y/N’s finger. “When you agreed to accompany me to Hogsmeade during third year I felt like the luckiest guy in the world and I still do. I was so nervous, I had no idea how I managed to convince the pretties girl in school to go out with me, and all these years later I have no idea how I convinced you to marry me. But like I said last night, there’s no returns or exchanges you’re stuck with me for good now.”

Fred slides the ring down Y/N’s finger until it meets her engagement ring. “You’ve stuck by me through every risk I’ve taken and every dumb idea that’s popped into my mind. You were one of the first people to support my dream of opening the joke shop with George, and you were there to support me every step of the way. Every late-night George and I had planning things out or developing products you were right there with me, usually you were asleep, but it was still nice to have you there. You were always the first person to volunteer to test out a product and you were always there for me to vent to when something didn’t work out. You pushed me to leave school early with George, and once you moved in with us you were always there to snuggle with me after a long day.”

Fred takes a deep breath and brings one of his hands up to wipe away the tears Y/N has started to shed. “You gave up so much of your life to be there for me after I was crushed by that wall. No matter how hard I tried to get you to go back to work or just leave the house in general. You’ve always shown me unconditional love and support, and that’s what I’m promising to show you for the rest of our lives. No matter how crazy or hard or scary life gets, I’ll be there by your side, loving you and helping you through it.”

By the time the officiant is pronouncing them husband and wife, both Fred and Y/N are openly crying, but as they share their first kiss as husband and wife, neither of them really cares.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Fred greets with a smile as Y/N pushes the door to his office open. He pushes away from his desk slightly and pats his lap.

“Me too, I hate throwing up,” Y/N responds, taking a seat on Fred’s lap. She settles in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “How’s work going today, husband?” she asks with a giggle. They’ve been married for just over two months, and it still gives Y/N butterflies every time she refers to Fred as her husband.

Fred rolls his eyes and grabs Y/N’s face so he can press a kiss to her lips. “It’s been quite busy today wife. The restock of the new whizbang line already sold out.” Fred settles his hands on Y/N’s hips and kisses her again. “What about you? What have you been getting up to on your day off?”

“I had breakfast with Ginny and Hermione. Did some shopping,” she says casually pointing towards the bags she dropped near the door. “Nothing too crazy or exciting.”

Fred’s eyes light up at the sight of the bags. “Shopping, hm? Did you happen to pick up a present for your lovely, adorable, adoring husband while you were out?” he asks hopefully.

“Maybe,” Y/N muses with a wink. “You’ll have to wait until after work to find out.” Y/N giggles as Fred frowns and she kisses him one last time before standing up.

“You’re such a tease,” he scolds as Y/N gathers the bags in her hand.

“I know.” She waves at Fred and blows him a kiss before heading back into the joke shop and upstairs to their flat. They’re still living with George for the time being as they save up for a house, and as Y/N places her shopping bags on the bed she starts to wonder if they’ll have to start looking for one sooner rather than later.

Y/N sticks her hand in one of the bags and fumbles around a bit, humming as her hands closes around a rectangular cardboard box. Her hand shakes slightly as she pulls the pregnancy test out and starts to familiarize herself with the instructions. While her and Fred have already come to the conclusion that they both want a house full of children someday, she never imagined that they may be starting their family so soon after their wedding.

“Now or never,” Y/N mutters to herself as she heads towards the bathroom. Y/N thought they had been careful while on their honeymoon, she knows there were a few times they had forgotten to use the contraceptive charm in the heat of the moment, but she figured it would be okay. However, when her period never came she began to suspect that they weren’t in fact okay, and the random nausea spells she’s been having for the past week seemed to only solidify that fact.

After she’s closed and locked the door behind her, Y/N does what she needs to do and sets the pregnancy test on the counter face down. “Who knew three minutes could feel like a lifetime?” she asks to no one as she watches the time go by on her watch. When the three minutes is finally up Y/N’s hand starts to shake again as she reaches for the stick. She shuts her eyes tightly as she flips it over, and after a few deep breaths she finally takes a peek.

Pregnant.

Y/N starts to cry as a whirlwind of emotions flow through her. On one hand she’s so overwhelmingly happy, being a mother is something she’s always wanted and to be doing it with Fred makes her heart burst with joy. But she can’t help but also feel an intense bout of worry flowing through her. She and Fred are only 21, and they haven’t even been married six months yet. Y/N knows that Fred wants to be a dad, but she can’t help but worry that he’ll think this is a bad thing and that it’s far too soon for them to become parents.

“Hey, love. You left one of your bags downstairs,” Fred calls out as he walks through the door.

Y/N furiously wipes away her tears and sticks the pregnancy test in the back pocket of her jeans. She takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door, jumping slightly when she sees Fred. “You scared me, Freddie. I didn’t hear you come down the hall.”

Fred frowns at her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” When Y/N nods he gives her a look. “Were you throwing up again? You’re all pale, love. Are you sure we shouldn’t go see a muggle doctor or a healer or something?”

“I’m fine, love,” Y/N reassures, pushing past Fred. She starts to head down the hall when she feels Fred’s hand brush her ass. “What are you- oh,” she gasps, turning around to face Fred. He’s staring down at the pregnancy test in his hands. “Fred,” Y/N starts, not really sure what to say.

“Is this what I think it is?” Fred murmurs, looking up at Y/N. He grips the test in his hand tightly, tears starting to form in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”

Y/N nods slowly as she bites her lip. “Yeah, I am.” Fred falls to his knees and brings Y/N close to him, shoving her shirt up a little. He starts to pepper kisses all over her warm skin, laughing as Y/N starts to giggle and squirm. “Fred! Fred stop that tickles!”

Fred presses one final kiss to her stomach before he stands up and kisses Y/N passionately. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby.” Fred lets go of Y/N and starts to head towards the door. “I have to go tell George.”

“Freddie, wait,” Y/N calls with a laugh, chasing after him. She closes her hand around his wrist and pulls him back towards her. “You’re not mad? Or upset?”

Fred gives Y/N a look like she’s crazy. “Upset? Mad? Why would I be any of those things? You know I want to be a dad, love. We’ve talked about this before.”

“I dunno,” Y/N shrugs. “We’re young and we haven’t been married for that long. I just thought you wouldn’t think it’s the right time.”

Fred sighs and comes back towards Y/N, wrapping her up in a hug. “Love I don’t care about any of that. So, what we’ve only been married for two months? We’ve been as good as married since we were 18 when you first moved in here.” Fred presses a kiss to her forehead and smiles down at her. “Besides if we’re gonna have enough kids to fill a quidditch team we need to have them young, I can’t be an old man teaching my kids how to fly,” he jokes with a laugh.

“A whole quidditch team?” Y/N asks. When Fred gives her a wink Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you Fred Weasley.”

“Fred what are you doing?” Y/N murmurs around a yawn. She started to wake up after a warm heavy weight rested on her stomach, and when she finally opened her eyes she saw Fred half hanging off the bed as he laid on his front. He’d pushed her shirt up and his head is hovering over the swell of her stomach while his hand strokes it lightly.

“Talking to the baby,” he responds, as if the answer is obvious.

Y/N shifts so she’s laying on her elbows so that she can look down at him properly. “At 2 am?”

Fred nods, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I couldn’t sleep. And I read in that muggle book Hermione gave us last week that the baby can hear things now, so I figured I’d try it out.”

Y/N chuckles brings a hand up to rub her stomach. “Well I think the baby likes the sound of your voice, they’ve been moving like crazy.” Early last week Y/N had started to feel the baby move around inside of her. The first time it happened it scared the shit out of her, but now she’s started to miss it when the baby is still.

“Really?” Fred asks, his eyes lighting up. The movements Y/N has been feeling are still far too light for Fred to feel from the outside, but every night he spends hours rubbing her bump to try and feel something.

“Yeah, really. My ribs have become a punching bag.” Y/N smiles as the baby lands a few kicks to her stomach. “Here, gimme your hand.

Fred gives Y/N the hand that isn’t already on her stomach, watching as she places it on the side of her bump. She presses his hand into her skin, and he holds his breath, hoping to feel something. “Holy shit,” he gasps as the skin beneath his hand moves ever so slightly. Fred watches his hand in awe, smiling as it moves lightly with each movement. “That’s so cool.”

Y/N laughs and lets go of Fred’s hand so she can run her hand through his hair. “Innit? Though it does feel kinda weird that it’s like, coming from inside of me. But it’s nice. Like I’m never alone.”

“Hey little one,” Fred coos against Y/N’s skin, pressing down against her stomach as he feels the baby kick him in response. “I’m your Daddy, and I can’t wait to meet you.” Fred presses a kiss to Y/N’s skin and tears form in his eyes when he feels a small movement against his mouth. “I know your Mummy is doing such an amazing job of growing you in there but hurry up and get out of there so I can hold you and play with you and kiss you and cuddle you.” Fred tears his eyes away from Y/N’s bump so he can wink at his wife. “Plus, the sooner you get out of there the sooner Daddy can give you a sibling.”

Y/N scoffs and flicks Fred on the forehead. “Can we finish making this one before you start planning the next?”

“What? There’s no harm in planning ahead,” he teases, crawling up the bed to kiss Y/N sweetly.

“Hi there little bug,” Fred coos, gently rocking his newborn daughter. She’s only a few hours old, and her big eyes are bright as she blinks up at Fred. “I’m your Daddy and I love you so much Miss Ellie belly.” Her actual name is Electra, but Fred has settled on calling her Ellie. Y/N had found her name in a baby book Hermione dropped off, and they both instantly fell in love with it. It means bright one, and after the dark times Fred and Y/N had survived in order to bring her into the world it seemed like the perfect fit.

Fred presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart melting as she makes a little noise. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers. “Just don’t tell Mummy I said that.”

“Maybe you should check to make sure Mummy is asleep before you start spilling your secrets,” Y/N responds with a laugh.

Fred turns around, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, love. I figured you’d be a goner after the past few days you’ve had.”

Y/N moves over to make room for Fred and pats the space next to her. “I was only in labor for what 36 hours? That’s nothing,” she says with a laugh.

Fred comes over and sits next to Y/N, cradling Ellie tightly against his chest. “Don’t downplay yourself, love. You’re an absolute superhero.” He begrudgingly passes the baby back to Y/N and wraps an arm around her, his other hand coming up to grab Ellie’s foot through the blanket she’s wrapped up in. “We wouldn’t have our perfect little angel without you.”

Y/N blushes, looking over at Fred. “You helped a little bit. And I did nearly break your hand while I was pushing.”

“Aw, Y/N. You flatter me,” Fred teases. He presses a kiss to her temple and takes a moment to just watch as Y/N cuddles Ellie close. “I didn’t know I could love something this much,” Fred says quietly, crying slightly for the second time that day. The first had been when the doctor placed Ellie in his arms for the first time. “But every time I look at her my heart feels like it’s going to burst from how much love is in it.”

“I know, right? Every time I look at her I feel like crying. She’s just so tiny and perfect and ours.” Y/N leans down and presses a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “I almost can’t believe that we made her. I don’t know how you and I could make something so beautiful.”

Fred gently grabs Y/N’s chin and turns her head so he can kiss her passionately. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, so it is no surprise that our daughter is the most beautiful little girl in the world.” Fred kisses Y/N again briefly, before letting go of her chin so he can stroke Ellie’s cheek. “How are you feeling, love? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m alright, Freddie, thank you,” Y/N says softly, looking back down at their daughter. “I actually feel really good. To be honest your Mum scared me a bit, I thought it would be way worse.”

Fred chuckles, melting as Ellie’s eyes flutter closed. “I think Healers have revolutionized childbirth in the twenty years it’s been since she had a baby.” He bites his lip, nudging Y/N so she’ll look at him. “So now that this one’s out, when can we start trying for number 2?”

“Y/N love, I’m home!” Fred calls, stepping out of their fireplace and into the living room. He dusts the ashes from his suit, frowning when his wife doesn’t answer him immediately. But it turns into a smile when he spots his daughter peering at him over top of her play pen.

“Ellie,” he coos, heading over to her. “Look at you, standing up on your own!” he praises, lifting her out and up into the air. He tosses her up gently, laughing as she giggles madly at him. “Where’s your Mummy?” he asks, settling the infant on his hip. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his stomach turning to mush when she cuddles into his chest. “Let’s go find her then, hm?”

Fred starts to explore the house, grinning as Ellie babbles baby nonsense into his skin. He can’t believe how fast the past 8 months have gone, and while he loves watching Ellie grow and learn new things, he misses the baby stage already. “What do you think Mummy’s doing?” he asks, nodding along to her babbles as if she’s actually answering him. “I think she might be hiding to scare Daddy. What do you think?”

After checking their downstairs Fred starts to head up the stairs, his fingers lightly digging into Ellie’s belly to tickle her. She shrieks with laughter, and it sounds like music in Fred’s ears. “Daddy misses you while he’s at work, Miss Ellie belly. I think I should take you with me tomorrow. What do you think? Do you wanna spend the day with Daddy and Uncle George at the joke shop?”

Fred peppers kisses to Ellie’s head as he walks down the hallway. The door to his and Y/N’s room is shut and as he goes to grab the doorknob it swings open and Y/N practically runs into him.

“Oh, Fred,” she gasps, holding something to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in, love.” Fred eyes her wearily as Y/N leans forward to tickle Ellie’s stomach with her free hand and press kisses to her chubby cheeks. “Is your Daddy home, Miss Ellie? Did Daddy finally come home to see you?” she asks, laughing as Ellie giggles at her.

“What’s in your hand?” Fred asks.

Y/N looks up at him, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “Nothing,” she responds, showing him the hand that was on Ellie’s stomach.

Fred rolls his eyes playfully. “The other one, gorgeous.”

“Oh, um,” Y/N blushes and looks away from Fred as she takes her hand from her chest and opens her palm. A positive pregnancy test is laying in her hand, staring up at Fred.

Fred gasps. “Another one?”

Y/N nods and snuggles into Fred’s chest as he pulls her into a hug with his free hand. “Dunno why you’re so surprised, you’ve been trying to get me pregnant since Ellie was born.”

Fred laughs and leans down to kiss Y/N deeply. “Guess it’s time to start thinking about the next one then,” he teases.

Y/N glares at Fred. “Are you sure it’s not too late to return or exchange you?”

“Sorry love, I burned the receipt long ago,” Fred responds with a laugh, kissing Y/N again.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fluff #Fred Weasley fanfiction #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n #fw #golden

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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cattivo fino all'osso.

summary. | He’s bad to the bone, sick as a dog. But he knows that you like him a lot.

warnings. | Dubcon (dubious consent), dark themes, thievery, malicious intentions, smut, slight angst, unprotected sex, naivety, manipulation, gas lighting, obsessive behaviourism, Daddy kink, spoiling, major age gap (she’s twenty, he’s nearly touching forty), face fucking, corruption kink, virginity loss, overstimulation, grooming, step dad/step daughter relationship, cheating, infidelity, fingering, finger sucking, smoking, spanking, use of a hitachi wand, thigh riding, slight mean!dom!charles, soft dom!charles, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, slight violence + more. 18+, DARK FIC

word count. | 15,433 words.

pairings. | Dark!Step Dad!Charles Blackwood x Innocent!Step Daughter!Reader.

authors note. | thank you so fucking much for 4.8k!! i’ll forever be grateful to everyone who supports and follows me, i love you all so fucking much. i wish everyone good in life and i hope you’re all happy and doing well. if you ever wanna talk i’m always here, no matter what! (unless i’m asleep or a bit busy.) i’m so sorry for the long wait, please enjoy. <33 also in this fic, hitachi wands exist so yeah! thank you so much @mypoisonedvine and @bbbbearr for being amazing betas! love you guys!

Fine wool that comes from Italy tailors his suit, only the best of the best. He barely remembers how he met her, as certain memories might as well be forgotten. The ceremony is small, only her and the priest. He doesn’t mind — he rather prefers it, actually. He doesn’t know much about his wife — other than the fact that she has a daughter and is quite wealthy. His best bet is that the daughter is some bratty five year old. A clandestine jewel slips onto her old finger whereas an expensive gold ring adorns his. He looks down at it, watching his 24 karat reflection stare back at him and he just can’t help but smirk. “You may now kiss the bride.” The priest says cheerfully, and Charles has no choice but to hold back a devastating sigh. He leans in for a kiss hesitantly, ready to convince her to do all kinds of things. The wedding ends with a small cake, gifts sent from family members that weren’t invited and aching limbs.

“Honey, you’re too tired for us to have fun… We’ll save it all for tomorrow, okay?” He says, pressing a lame kiss to her forehead. She simply hums and drifts off into dreamland, leaving Charles behind. He waits for her breathing to slow down and then starts planning his next move. A glass of whiskey sits in his hands and he’s leaned back in an expensive leather chair, plush velvet pillows comforting him. Tones of beiges and browns compliment his caramel twisted hair perfectly, all falling under the same colour palette that would have an artist drooling in awe. He looks around the house — admiring the fact that portraits of her father and rare paintings are decorating the house. Not one photo though, no. They’re too ostentatious for photographs — photographs wouldn’t flatter their ego like portraits do.

He loathes it all, that big green monster known as jealousy peering over his shoulder. He wants the glory, he wants the richness, he wants it all… and in due time, it’ll come. It’s a mix of jealousy, envy, anger and frustration. He downs the rest of the amber liquid, exhaling as it burns his throat. He sets the glass down and stands up, shoving his hands in his pocket. His feet pad against the expensive floors, and he wanders about the house. He pulls drawers open, empties different vases and boxes and he even takes down those paintings and portraits. His eyes go wide as he marvels at the sight behind one of the portraits, a safe. It’s almost laughable, an heiress who’s worth millions of dollars has a measly, pathetic way of hiding her safe keepings and valuables. He carefully hangs the painting back up, remembering it very well for another time.

He wonders where else there could be hidden in the large castle-like mansion. Jewels, money, papers for properties… god — he nearly swoons at the thought of it all. He decides to retire to bed, knowing he’ll need enough rest for his shenanigans that’ll soon begin the next day. He slips into a silky set of pyjamas, before slipping under the cashmere blankets and turning on his side. He shuts his eyes but occasionally opens them up every now and then, far too excited and nervous to get some shut eye. Sleep sleep sleep… His mind chants, begging for some rest after tiresome spinning like a spindle with devious schemes. Soon, though, the liquid amber takes him over and he eventually shuts his eyes, not at all prepared for the true treasure he is going to find.

The day starts early for the newlyweds, butlers pulling open the lavish curtains that decked out the grand windows. Sunlight fills the room and blinds Charles at the same time. His wife is long gone, off to do some pre-honeymoon treatments and shopping trips. He shoos them away and gets up from the bed eagerly, his caramel laced locks are twisted in knots. He threads his fingers through his hair and waltzes into the lavish bathroom — admiring his reflection in the spotless, large mirror. The bathroom alone was more opulent than anything Charles had ever laid his eyes on. He felt like a newly crowned king, getting ready to sit atop his diamond throne. Charles chuckles at the absurd thought, before reaching for the toothbrush that was laid out for him. After numerous minutes of self-pampering and whistling, Charles was finally ready.

He walks with a bounce in each of his steps, a cheerful smile on his face and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. His breezy, light linen shirt perfectly frames him and he doesn’t care about anything menial anymore. The enticing smell of breakfast fills his nostrils and his stomach sounds with a loud grumble, demanding food. He sighs and thanks one of the butlers as they pull out a chair. He sits at the head of the lengthy oak table that had numerous engravings on the legs. He politely asks the butlers to serve him two waffles with syrup and blueberries on top. “Thank you, kind sir.” He smiles at the older man who simply keeps quiet and nods — already working his way onto Charles’s list of who to be wary of.

Charles moans at the sweet, delectable taste of his breakfast. The noise makes everyone in the room shy and they quickly leave him alone — ready to keep the house in shape. He scarfs it all down with ease and tops it off with a glass of earl grey tea with some honey drizzled in. It soothes his throat and calms him down. He leaves his dishes on the table and starts to wander again -- through the kitchen and other rooms in the house. The mansion is no different to something like a palace. “Hey, you! Come here.” He calls out to a maid who was silently dusting one of the many fireplaces. “Yes, Mr. Blackwood?” She sheepishly asks, bowing her head as she looks at the floor. “I want you to get everyone here, right now.” He ordered.

“E- Everyone, sir?” She squeaks out in shock. He grumbles because he absolutely hates repeating himself. “Mhm, and if you don’t get them in the next two minutes, you won’t see the inside of this house again.” He growled, sending her off. He watches as she leaves and picks up a box that had his name on it. Along with it were many more gifts that were sent from almost every high society blue blooded person there was in America. He opened it up and pulled out a pipe — a beautiful one to be exact. The wood has speckles of the finest gold in it and a gold band wrapped around the bowl of it. He lights it up and takes a drag from it, before pulling it away from his mouth and puffing the grey smoke away like it is a habit of his. “The staff, Mr. Blackwood.” One of the butlers says, making Charles turn around.

About two dozen people stand in front of him, all of them wearing simple cotton shirts as their uniform. “I want you all to go home and do whatever you miserable people do, only come back when I tell you to.” He orders, before taking another drag from the pipe. “But Sir-” One of them speaks up, their voice quiet. He quickly shuts them up with a death-like glare and he dismisses them. Hushed voices whisper on and on about him but he doesn’t care — no, why would he? He just became a member of one of America’s most richest families. He knows people are bound to talk, he’s known that all his life. Charles puts out his pipe and lets out one last puff of smoke. He opens up more gifts, scoffs at the fake well wishes and moves onto the next thing that he lays his eyes on.

The clicking of heels grabs his attention. “I said to go home!” He yells out, before looking back to his pile of gifts. “Well, I mean… This is my home.” You shyly say, clasping your sweaty hands together. Charles turns around abruptly and god, he’s breathless. Innocent beauty fills his eyes and you’re the only thing he can focus on. “You must be Charles, my new dad!” You cheer, walking up to him. He only nods his head, not able to find any words to even cultivate a simple phrase. “I’m your step daughter!” You say, before giving him your name. He repeats it and you can’t help but smile at the way it rolls off his tongue. “It’s nice, very beautiful.” He compliments, placing his hands on his hips.

“Like you.”

You can’t hold back the strong smile that creeps onto your face and neither can he. “Your mother never mentioned your age.” He adds and you look down at the floor. “I… It’s a thing… usually, when she tries to remarry, nobody wants to marry someone who has a twenty year old daughter already.” You explain, your voice a bit sad. “I’m sure it hurts, right?” He pokes and prods, testing to see how far you could handle him and his intrusive questions. “Never really thought about that, to be honest.” You confess bluntly. But you have, and boy does it hurt. “My mom told me all about you!” You exclaim after a few moments of awkward silence. “Really, huh?” He baits, raising his eyebrows. “Mhm, she’s so whipped! She always lights up whenever I bring you up, it’s so sweet.” You admit, pulling at the sleeves of your knitted cardigan.

He smirks, knowing that his own charming ways have successfully worked it’s magic. “Anywho, enjoy your gifts! I look forward to getting to know you.” You quickly bid, before scurrying off. Charles’s eyes follow you, until you’re out of his sight. His tongue pushes at his cheek and he can’t help but to chuckle to himself. He rewinds the interaction like it’s his favourite film and it replays in his mind. He can’t forget the way you fail to look him in the eyes, the way you were shy and oh, he could just tell you were an innocent little thing. A poor girl who has the luck of not being corrupted by the nasty world that turns saints into sinners. He then realizes that out of all the money, out of all the jewels and out of all the gifts there were �� you were the most precious one of them all.

You don’t know what to do, truly. These… tingles aren’t rare for you. They were quite common, actually. You never knew what to do about them, hell, you don’t know what they are and you’re too scared to ask anyone. But they’ve never been this strong. You like Charles, and those few minutes of interaction only have you confused about how you like him. You rub your thighs together and it does nothing but worsens the feeling, making you let out a loud whine. You decide to ignore it, but you can’t help but to notice the pooling slickness in your panties. It’s a lot and for a second you’re worried, but then you get used to it. You already had your period for the month, so you just leave it as it is. You groan as you realize what you forgot to tell Charles.

You rush out from your bedroom and walk slowly to the foyer. Each step made you whimper, the slight friction to your pussy teasing you. “Charles?” You call out before you’re greeted by him sitting in a chair whilst he has his new pipe in his mouth. You frown at the smell of smoke and tobacco, hating how disgusting it was. But the sight of him was delicious. You bit your lips and admired his hands, his lips, his face, just everything about him. “Charles?” You called out quietly before looking down at your feet. “Yes, babydoll?” He looks at you, exhaling one last puff of smoke before putting the pipe out. “I- I forgot to tell you, my mom is going to be coming home tomorrow night — she gave me this note to give to you.” You tell him, handing him the folded up piece of paper.

Charles silently celebrates, hoping that your mother would have to push whatever spontaneous trip she went on forward. He silently nods at you, “Thank you, babydoll.” You let out a small whimper and rub your thighs together at the nickname. “What’s wrong, baby? Hm?” He asks, beckoning you towards him. “N- Nothing, Charles.” You lie, trying to disregard the very obvious tingles in your core. “Now, now… I hate it when people lie to me, okay? And don’t call me Charles.” He growls and it goes straight to your pussy. You whimper again, only this time it's louder. The overly debauched sound makes Charles’s cock stir to life, throbbing in his expensive boxers.

“I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what’s happening… It’s really weird and plus, I don’t know you that well.” You shamefully squeak out after apologizing to him. “Hmm…” Charles’s mind travels to the deepest, darkest parts ever. Such a soft, innocent, sweet, docile little doll I have all for myself… “What should I call you?” You ask, inching closer to him. He rakes his blue-grey eyes up and down your beautiful body, only now realizing how short your dress is and how strong your arousal was. The bitter scent of it fills the air and he lets out a hum of both satisfaction and delight. “...” He ponders in silence and gets distracted every now and then by you, before he comes up with the perfect name.

“Call me daddy, babydoll.” He smirks.

“Ok, Daddy…” You sheepishly smile. “Good girl, now come here.” He orders and pats his lap. You sat on his lap gently, figuring that this was normal — it felt normal, right? He grabs your thighs and slides his hands up and down your bare, caressing you softly. He inches closer and closer to your soft panties and soon pulls them down, making you gasp and nearly jump off his lap. He growls and grabs your hips harshly, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t be scared, baby… Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? I just wanna help my babydoll out.” He says softly, rubbing small circles on your skin. “Uhm, well…” You didn’t know how to explain the weird feeling to him. You had so many questions about it too, but you were scared that he would judge you.

“It’s my job to take care of you now, okay? And if you don’t tell Daddy what’s wrong, how can I help you?” He reasons. You nod your head and realize he makes a good point — but you’re still hesitant. Seconds that are almost silent soon pass by — the only sounds being your heaving chests and your thrumming hearts. His grip on you tightens and you whimper, the slight pain being too much for your sensitive body. “I have these uh… these tingles?” You say, sounding so unsure of yourself. Charles can’t help but coo at you, you really were an innocent little girl. “They started when I was a wee thing, or a uh, a teenager! Sorry…” You ramble adorably.

“Tell me more, dove.” He probes, daring himself to inch his hands to an intimate part of your body. “Oh, uh, okay!” You chew at your lip as you think about what to say. “Spit it out, dove… I hate waiting, and I’d hate to force it out of that pretty mouth of yours.” He growls as he quickly grows impatient with your shy ways. You gently grab one of his hands and settle it above your core, but it isn’t touching your mound. Charles so desperately wants to inch his hands into your panties but he knows that he has to be patient, he has to wait. “Sometimes they’re not too strong, and sometimes they’re so unbearable and- and I just don’t know what to do! Is it normal? Am- Am I weird?” You prattle.

“It’s not weird at all, baby. It’s completely normal…” He trails off, thinking about what you said. “I just don’t know what to do!” Charles looks at the times and notices that it was almost lunch, and he wasn’t going to miss out on eating expensive food. “Well, since it’s almost lunch time, we need to eat! Can you cook?” He asks, pulling you off his lap. He throws one of his arms around your shoulders and leads you to the kitchen. “Mhm…?” You sound so unsure — because you are. One minute ago he was touching in places your mother told you that no boy your age should be and was demanding you to tell him a secret of yours. But the next, he treats you like you’re nothing more than a friend.

He stands behind you and follows you around like a shadow as you do your dance around the grand kitchen. You feel like prey and he’s the predator, just waiting to pounce on you whenever he wants. You light the stove up and heat up some leftovers biscuits from yesterday's lunch. “I uh, I made these yesterday…” You say and the crackle of fire coming to life fills your ears. “I love biscuits, they may be basic but they’re still one of my favourites!” He joins in, standing right behind you. Gently, he settles both of his hands on to your waist in a calming manner, making you sigh in delight. His touch sends shivers to both your spine and core and you furrow your eyebrows together.

“What’s wrong, hm?” He poses his question with a playful squeeze to your waist and you giggle with pure innocence. “When you- Actually… nevermind.” You trail off, thinking he’ll be disgusted with you. He squeezes your waist again and rests his chin on your shoulder before leaning close to your ear. “Hmm, maybe I should tell your dearest mother that she raised her daughter to be disobedient…” He threatens out loud and you quickly shout out in protest. “No! Please don't, ‘m sorry!” You plead. Your mother is quite strict, and god forbid that you’d ever disobey her or anyone. “When you t- touched me, more tingles came…” You tell him, staring at the biscuits. “Aw… Well if you bear up with them just for a few more days then I could help you out!” He exclaims, turning down the fire for you.

“Really? You’d really help me out?” You ask enthusiastically, your eyes lighting up with disbelief. Charles raises his eyebrows and smirks as he nods his head in conformation. You squeal like a little child on their third birthday, wrapping your arms around the conniving man who is your step father and you push your head into the crook of his neck. He hugs you back and presses a kiss to your cheek, making you smile. You pull away and take the biscuits off the stove before ushering Charles to sit down. “Hmm… How about we eat outside?” He asks, opening the door to the lavish backyard. “Anything you want, Daddy.”

Your leg bounces as you become increasingly nervous. Ever since Charles came, your tingles have grown to worsen. You remind yourself constantly that it’s normal, and that he’ll help you out. You’ve begun to be weary, though. So here you sit, in Charles’s bedroom, waiting for him to finish his bath. You flop back into his soft bed and your dress rides up your thighs, scrunching up at your hips. You hear him whistle an Ella Fitzgerald tune, and you can’t help but to sway your head in rhythm. Charles continues to whistle as he steps out of the tub and drains it before wrapping his lower half with a cotton terry cloth towel. He swings the door open and the calming tune stops abruptly, and you frown like a brat.

Charles’s eyes went straight to your bare thighs that he would just adore to have wrapped around his head. He catches a glimpse of your soaking panties and clicks his tongue. The sound itself isn’t too loud but it’s enough to snap you out of your hazy daydreams of paradises and false promises. You sit up and don’t bother pulling down your skirt. “Uhm, hi?” You squeak out, waving at him. He disregards your greeting and stalks closer and closer to you, a dangerous scowl on his sculpted face that all but terrifies you. Drops of water cascade down his body and you eye him with no shame at all. You look back up at him and stifle a whimper and you feel your tingles come back.

“Didn’t I tell you to be patient?” He asks with a menacing growl that rumbles in his chest. You nod silently, too scared to even dare to utter a single word to him. “Words, doll, or else you won’t like what’ll happen next.” He threatens, leaning down to trap you under him. You gulp thickly and your bottom lip trembles in fear. “Yes, daddy…” You whisper quietly, bowing your head down in disgrace. He grabs your arms roughly and pulls you closer to his frowning face and his eyes are blown out with both anger and lust. “So then why can’t you wait? Hm? Are you that Goddamn desperate?” He queries, and you can’t hold back the sudden flinch that jerks your body. “N- No! I’m sorry, I really am!” You apologize to him softly.

Once again, the slightly bitter yet sweet scent of your arousal fills the air and dwindles there. “Fuck, so damn needy.” He curses under his breath -- the scandalous, foul word making you gasp. “I think you’ve been a bit of a bad girl, hm?” He ponders out loud but leaves no room for you to speak. He sits down on the bed and pulls you with him, laying you across his lap. “Daddy? Are you gonna hurt me? Are you gonna tell my mom?” You ask him innocently — your voice filled with worry and curiosity. You squirm in his lap and furrow your eyebrows when something touches your stomach. It’s long and as hard as a rock. “Not if you tell her, princess. Everything we do is our secret, okay? And you don’t reveal secrets, ever.” He reassures you before pulling up the skirt of your dress.

Cool air hits your scantily clad butt and you giggle at the feeling. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t even realize that he dodges your first question as you are too distracted by him. His large, warm hand caresses your ass and your eyes flutter shut. It’s soothing in its own way and you realize that nobody’s ever touched you the way he does. He pulls his hand away and your bottom lip juts out in a bratty, needy pout. His hand returns to your ass, smacking it harshly and brutally. “Ow!” You cry out in pain, choking on a gut wrenching sob that would make the bullies at your school call you a cry baby.

“Shh, it’s okay angel…” He soothes, gently rubbing the irritated skin. Your chest tightens at the pain and Charles can’t help but pity you. “It’ll be over soon, baby, don’t worry.” He lulls to you, making you nod your head. “O- Okay, Daddy…” You whisper out, trusting him. He pulls his hand away and spanks your other cheeks with a sounding pop that reverberates throughout the room. The thing touching your stomach is even harder now, slightly throbbing under your soft skin. He does the same to the next cheek, delivering an even harder blow that makes your whimper louder than before. The tears have started ages ago and they stream down your face quicker than the way rivers flow. They soak into Charles’s left thigh and he lets out a “sh” to soothe you.

He continues to spank you until his hand hurts, until his skin is aching but not as much as you are in pain; and even then he didn’t want to stop. He feels your arousal leaking out of you like a waterfall, slickness coating your inner thighs and his towel. He can’t deny the fact that he’s so aroused that his cock hurts. It throbs and weeps, pre-cum leaking from the tip and the clear fluid stains his blue towel. “Shh, it’s okay now, baby. I’m all done now, Daddy’s finished.” He lifts you up with ease -- large muscles bulging -- and he settles you onto his lap. You wrap your legs around his well-built torso and the squelching sounds from your pussy makes you furrow your eyebrows. Your wet pussy rests right on top of his hard cock and the tingles are stronger than they’ve ever been.

You push your tear-soaked face into the crook of his neck, sobbing at the immense pain that radiated from your butt. He runs his hands over the bruised skin and whispers sweet nothings to you -- they aren’t nothing to you, though. You soon calm down and your pain dwindles down to nothing as you choose to ignore it. You look up at Charles and he looks at you, smirking at the love in your eyes. “Such a good girl, took your punishment so well.” He praises and you can’t help but to giggle at his words. Your face flushes with heat and you shy away from him. Involuntarily, your hips buck against Charles’s cock and you both let out lewd sounds. You moan softly and whimper, but Charles growls ferociously like a starved animal. Your pussy throbs at the sound and you whine loudly, clenching around nothing.

“What’s wrong baby? Hm? Tell Daddy what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.” He slurs slightly, moving your head from the crook of his neck. “The tingles…” You tell him, your voice small and weak. “Aw… Poor baby, you want Daddy to make your tingles go away?” He asks, pinching the bruised skin of your ass. You groan at the pain and your clit thrums under your panties. He fondles with the skirt of your dress and finds the zipper with his broad fingers. Slowly, he teasingly pulls it down and passes the soft fabric over your ass and down your beautiful legs. He throws the now pointless fabric onto the floor and admires the way your breasts bounce as they’re freed. He wants nothing more than to suck one of your hardened nipples into his mouth whilst he fucks you into oblivion.

But he has to wait, he needs to be patient.

He watches as goosebumps crawl all over your skin and he listens intently to the breathy moan you let out. Your nipples twist into harder peaks and they ache in such a way that you’re desperate to do anything so that you’re relieved of your tingles. Charles hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and he pulls them down, softly apologizing when you let out a whimper as the fabric passes over your bruised ass. You’re bare in front of him and you feel shy, slightly insecure under his gaze. You move the hands that were wrapped around him and you use them to cover up your naked body.

“No, no… Don’t do that baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He husks, roughly pushing your hands away from your body. “Daddy? I have a question…” You tell him, pure wonder and curiosity laced in your gentle voice. “Tell Daddy, go ahead baby.” He ushers, pressing a few kisses along your collarbone. “What that pointy, hard, big thingy there?” You ask innocently and Charles nearly chokes. What a fucking jackpot. “This, baby?” He asks, bringing your hand to wear his hard cock is. “Mhm! It’s very, very big… What’s it supposed to do?” Your words make Charles blush and you’ve truly flattered him. “That’s my cock, baby.” He tells you, and you can’t help but to repeat after him. “Your cock…” You whisper back and he nods.

“And it’s all yours baby, but you wanna know what isn’t yours?” He insinuates, and you nod desperately. One of his hands cups your bare, wet pussy and you moan at his touch. “This is mine, you’re mine.” He growls, unable to control the ferocious animal inside him. You nod in agreement and buck your hips against his hand, grinding yourself on him. “Shit… So slutty, hm? Just can’t help yourself, can you baby?” He degrades, groaning at the way your slick covers his hand. You gasp at the insult but also furrow your eyebrows with confusion at his second sentence. It then dawns on you as to what he means so you decide to nod in agreement and he chuckles at you.

He flips you over abruptly and you’re amazed at his strength -- even though you’ve ogled at his large muscles quite a bit beforehand. He crawls in between your legs and slots himself there. You’re forced to keep your legs open, even though you’re skeptical. It felt wrong… Maybe it was? “D- Daddy, is this wrong? I mean, it feels wrong…” You ask, looking down to your barren legs. “No baby, you’re doing great!” He answers incorrectly and you shake your head. “N- No… Not like that…” You whisper, scared to look at the burly man that knows you better than yourself.

“Baby… Do you think I’d let you do something bad? Hm? Never, this isn’t wrong… Everything I do is right!” He explains and then it dawns you. Everything he says is true and god, how dare you not believe him? He’s older, wiser and he knows better than you. “‘M sorry, Daddy!” You apologize, voice sincere and you’re ready to repent for all your sins. “It’s okay baby, just lay back and Daddy will make those tingles go away…” He whispers and you eagerly obey him. “Do you ever get tingles?” You ask him, parting your legs even wider than before. “Of course… I have tingles right now.” He tells you, his patience ebbing away at the edges. “Can I make them go away?” You follow up, your eyes brightening with interest and intrigue.

Charles lets out a coo, and he revels at how innocent and adorable you are. “Yeah, you wanna make my tingles go away?” He asks, his cock throbbing as millions of lewd, obscene thoughts run through his already twisted mind. “Yes please! Please Daddy?” You beg him desperately and he chuckles. “Such a needy little slut, aren’t you? You want my cock so bad…” He degrades and the words send a wave of neediness throughout you. A spark of confidence ignites in you and even though you don’t know much of what he said, you still choose to repeat them all after him. “Mhm, I’m such a needy slut for you, Daddy!” You squeal, and Charles can’t help but moan.

Suddenly, he wraps his large hand around your throat and squeezes the sides. You don’t know what succubus has possessed you but you let out a wanton, salacious moan anyways. He pulls you close to his face -- which was flushed red -- and he stares into your eyes. His beautiful, steel blue orbs are now blown out with lust but the feral look he gives you is just as good as the rest. “Such a dirty mouth, should I wash it out with soap? Or stuff it full with my cock?” He growls and smashes his lips against yours. The kiss is messy… It’s sloppy and you have no idea as to what you’re doing. You try to keep up with him and you easily let him dominate you.

His tongue explores your mouth and you try to do the same to him, but you just can’t. You whimper against his mouth and slick drenches your thighs. Years of pent up arousal only now coming back at ten-fold and the dam just breaks. He pulls away and puts you on your knees. You look up at him like a kicked puppy and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. Both of your chests heave and you’re face to face with his cock. He pulls the towel away and you gasp, earning a chuckle from Charles.”Daddy… It’s so big…” You tell him and he’s flattered. “Thank you, baby. I’m truly flattered, do you want to touch it?” He says, smiling down at you. “Yes please! But- but, how?” You ask him, a bit nervous but also excited.

He takes your hand and brings it up to his cock. His other hand plays with your fingers until they’re wrapped around him. It was hard and hot under your soft touch. It throbs and thrums, veins trailing the sides and his aching tip weeps with pearls of pre-cum. The slick stickiness of it rolls down his cock and soaks your hand. You can barely fit him in your hand, his cock being impossibly thick. He groans under your touch and he places his hands on the back of your head. Roughly, he guides your mouth towards his cock and shoves it past your spit covered lips. You gag and try to push against him -- a silent way of telling him “no, it’s too much.”

But he only just pushes your hands away and thrusts his cock deeper into your mouth. His manly flavour fills your mouth -- soaks in your tongue and you find yourself falling in love with it. Lewd gags and chokes reverberate around the room and they’re music to Charles’s ears. His cock is all the way down your throat and you’re struggling to breath, but that doesn’t matter. He moans loudly and then abruptly pulls his cock out from your mouth. You gasp for air and take in a deep breath before smiling up at him. His cock glistens with spit and you’re ready to take him again. Your jaw already hurts but it’s okay. “Shit, so good. You look so fucking gorgeous with my cock stuffing your mouth, can’t wait to see you covered with my cum.” He groans, holding your chin up.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, not understanding one of the words. “You see, baby, when you make the tingles go away just like that then something will fill up your mouth -- and you’re going to have to swallow it, okay? Can you be a good girl and do that?” He tells you and you immediately nod your head. “Good.” He nods, before squeezing your jaw open with one of his strong hands. Your mouth pops open and is soon filled with his cock once again -- your gags spurring him on. Saliva and drool leaks from your mouth in waterfalls, and so does your tears. He bobs your head up and down his cock, moaning loudly and cursing under his breath. “Oh fuck, yes yes, your mouth feels so good!” He shouts loudly, the praise going straight to your aching pussy.

“C’mon baby, suck my cock like one of those cherry popsicles I bought you, use your tongue.” He orders and you obey. You hollow your cheeks out to the best of your ability -- not knowing what you’re doing. Your tongue weakly drags along underneath of his cock and it bumps up a few throbbing veins every now and then. You spread your legs and sway your hips back and forth against the bed and you don’t even realize what you’re doing -- but Charles does. The head of his cock bumps up against the back of your throat and you let out a moan, sending him closer and closer to his release. Spit travels everywhere and strings of it are leaking down to your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum… And you’re going to swallow it all up, right? That’s all you’re good for, just a cocksleeve for me to use- fuck, just to make Daddy feel good.” He growls like an animal, thrusting his hips into your mouth.

He fucks your mouth at a brutal pace, his heavy, swollen balls slapping your spit-soaked chin. He grips your head tightly and then his hips still. His balls tighten up and a groan rumbles in his chest. “Oh fuck, yes yes yes!” He moans as he hits his climax. Warmth fills your mouth and his cock spurts out thick, white ropes of cum. His cum slips down your throat but also fills up your mouth. The copious amounts of his cream leaks out of your mouth and drips down to your chest. Charles thrusts his cock into your mouth a few more times, dragging out his orgasm until he’s almost on the brink of being overstimulated. He slowly pulls it out of your mouth and your jaw aches immensely.

He reaches up and softly massages your face, easing the pain away. “Thank you, Daddy…” You whisper out, your voice all hoarse yet still so soft. “You’re welcome, baby.” He smirks down at your tired face. “I like that a lot, Daddy… I like making your tingles go away!” You shyly admit -- flustered and even more aroused than ever. “That’s the point my dumb little baby, you’re supposed to like pleasing Daddy!” He tells you and you let out a gasp of realization at his words. “Now lay back, kitten, Daddy needs to make your tingles go away.” He pushes you back against the soft bed and spreads your legs wide open. Your slick has leaked everywhere -- all over your thighs, on the bed sheets and down to your butt too.

He rubs your glistening folds with his fingers and your wetness nearly drowns his digits. A searing, hot, burning feeling comes alive in your pussy and you let out a loud moan. Your body heats up at the pleasure and you’re hot to the touch. He teases you, fingers running through your folds, dancing around your clit and they also prod at your incredibly tight hole. “Daddy… That feels so good!” You moan out loudly, your doe eyes rolling back into your skull. “Yeah it does, just wait until I fuck you -- God it’s going to be amazing.” He groans, rubbing your clit in soft circles. More slick drools out of your hole as he plays with your sensitive pearl of nerves. Pleasure shoots up your spin and you’re unable to describe what the feeling is like, but you’re sure it’s something sent from heaven.

You can’t stop moaning as his fingers bring you closer and closer to your release. “D- Daddy? I feel like I uh, like I need to use the bathroom!” You sheepishly tell him, and he lets out a coo. “No you don’t, it’s going to make the tingles go away baby, you’re going to like this a lot.” He growls, rubbing your clit even harder and faster. A searing flame spears through your stomach and the knot that inside your tightens up. Your moans of pleasure grow loud, maybe a bit too loud for Charles’s taste. He shoves his other fingers into your mouth to quiet you, and you immediately suck them just as if they're his cock. The sight makes Charles even harder than before, as he hadn’t become flaccid yet. Your back arches off the bed and your eyes shut tightly as you cum for the first time ever.

“Oh Daddy!” You shriek behind his fingers, the knot inside you bursting. More stronger tingles pierce through your poor spent body and your clit is throbbing. Slightly creamy, almost clear cum leaks out of you and the feeling becomes too much for you. He continues to rub your button, and your body squirms immensely. You feel like you should tell him to stop but you know you shouldn’t. “There you go, my slutty little baby… You liked that a lot? I know you did.” He coos, making you heat up from his attention. Your cunt is coated with your cum and it drips everywhere, the sight makes Charles go feral. You clench around nothing, pulsing with pleasure. He soaks his fingers with your cum, absolutely drenching them until your pussy is a bit more cleaner than before.

He brings those same digits up to his mouth and sucks your delicious, sweet cum off. He moans around his fingers and stares at you dead in your doe eyes. You whimper and feel more wetness gush out of you, your tingles coming back once again. You spread your legs a bit wider and Charles already knows that you want him to help out. “What do you want, baby? Hm? You gotta tell me, or else I can’t help you out.” He husks salaciously after pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a sounding ‘pop’. “I have more tingles, Daddy… Can you make them go away?” You shy ask, slightly ashamed yet so goddamn barren. Your words are mumbled and garbled, as his fingers still occupy your mouth.

“Of course my little whore, anything for you.” He grins at you, his pearly whites making you giggle with butterflies in your stomach. His fingers are now spit soaked, adding onto the slick that pours out of you. This time, prods at your tight hole and your whimper. “D- Daddy, that feels funny… Kinda like that, that thing that happened… Why did stuff come out of me? Is it good?” You ask behind his digits that are soon pulled out. Wet fingers caress your beautiful, innocent face and he simply chuckles. “It felt good though, right? That’s supposed to happen, and that wet stuff is perfectly normal… It’s like sweet syrup, okay?” He shuts down your pondering mind and you nod your head.

He pushes two fingers into your spasming cunt, making you unexpectedly shriek. “Oh!” You moan deliciously as Charles quickly finds your sweet spot. Your entire body is filled with immense pleasure and Charles begins to pull his finger out. You squeeze him tightly and all he can think about is stretching you out with his thick cock. “Felt full…” You whisper to yourself, and he quickly pushes two digits into you. You let out whimpers of pain and pleasure from the stretch and he scissors you open slightly. You don’t know what to do with your empty, sweaty hands except for gripping the bed with them. Beneath your fingers is crumpled cloth and your arch your back off of it.

He pushes his fingers deeper, filling you up to the hilt. They're pressed up against your g-spot and he begins to thrust his fingers at a rapid pace. His palm rubs your little clit and you can’t control your loud moans. The obscene, wet sounds of your pussy makes a flush of blood flow to Charles’s cock. It swells with arousal and he can’t take it anymore. His other hand goes up to his cock and he begins to stroke himself at the same pace as his fingers. Your silky walls squeeze his fingers and sticky wetness coats them. Charles groans as you clamp down on his long digits. The hand on his cock speeds up and you watch him as he chases his release. It’s a sight that you just can’t tear your eyes away from. You feel that intense build up again — impending fireworks ready to burst in the sky. Broken pleas leave your mouth, litanies of please please please and Daddy Daddy Daddy.

He speeds up both his hands and you’re soon creaming around his fingers. You cum with a scream of euphoria, “Daddy!” You clench down on him tightly and your cum leaks everywhere. Your pussy throbs and he fucks you with his fingers until you’re overstimulated. You unconsciously grind against his hand and your clit is overwrought from the two powerful orgasms. Your heart pounds heavily and your chest heaves as you try to come down from your high. He takes his fingers out of your worn out cunt and shoves them in your mouth. “Suck them, yeah, just like my cock!” He growls, speeding up his hand on his cock. His foreskin peels back and forth, and beads of cum and pre-cum drip onto you. With a shout and growl, white strokes of hot, sticky cum lands on your skin. You moan at the lovely feeling and he just admires the sight of you covered in cum. Beautiful.

Days pass and you’re on the edge, but so is Charles. He can barely control himself from jerking off almost everyday ever since that afternoon after the bath. The sight of you sucking his cock and fingers, hearing you moan, watching you cum and oh the innocence you still have makes him harder than a rock. You’re no better, though. Ever since then you’ve been insatiable. You linger around Charles all the time, following him around like a shadow of his. The tingles haven’t ceased either, no. They’ve come back even more and you want your Daddy to make them go away. You want him to make you feel good and you want to return the favour so fucking badly. “Daddy… I have tingles!” You whine needily, dragging your feet behind you as if you’ve been raised with no manners. “I know baby, but you gotta shut the mouth of yours up and let me do my work!” He growls, the ever impending arrival of your mother being today.

You flinch at his tone but your panties slicken up at it too. You continue to waddle behind him, not even paying attention to how he was searching for all your treasured goods. “Please, Daddy? Please, please, please? I have so many tingles! Do you have any tingles? If you do, can I make you feel good? I think I got better at sucking my cherry popsicles, can I please suck your uh- your thing? I’ll be good at it, I swear-” You ramble on and on until Charles cuts you off with his booming voice. “I said that’s enough! Not another goddamn word!” He yells at you so harshly that you’re on the verge of crying on the spot. His cheeks are shaking with anger and frustration and his face is flushed with heat.

You open your mouth to apologize to him but the hand that is now wrapped around your neck stops you from doing so. “Are you too much of a dumb slut to understand? So desperate for attention, and you just wanna cum so bad… Tsk tsk, such a whore. You want Daddy’s cock so bad, you don’t care if he’s busy, right? Aw, don’t cry now… Daddy wants to see you cry when you’re choking on his big fat cock, I want to see you cry while you’re cumming over, and over, over…” He ferociously whispers in your ear, making you gulp in fear. He squeezes your throat even tighter and you gently wrap your hands around his wrist. You struggle to breath but you also can’t help but to enjoy the feeling of him choking you. You whimper at his words and rub your thighs, thinking about how he can make you feel good. “Nuh uh, none of that.” He wedges a thigh between your legs and rests your cunt on it.

He moves his thigh back and forth, clenching the muscles in it to make the friction increase and a breathy moan catches in your throat. You whimper and instinctively, you grind yourself against his well-built thigh. Pleasure blossoms from through your core and Charles stops moving his thigh — leaving you as a whining, needy mess. “No, Daddy’s not going to let you cum at all, and don’t even think about trying to convince me. You’re a bad, slutty little whore — And you need to be punished. Go to your room, and if I hear you crying then I’m going to bruise your ass.” He snarls, ending his long string of words with a sharp spankl to your butt — a warning. He lets go of your neck and you bolt past him, locking yourself in your quaint yet luxurious room until your mother comes home.

Your mother comes home — chaotic and stressed out. Being a large person in the highest of society was tough. She locks her lips against Charles and jealousy’s big, ugly, green head rears itself from behind you. You watch through the cracked door and your mother hurries to get ready for drinking with Mrs. Dubois and Mrs. Caroline -- two of her many rich friends. You feel hurt when she doesn’t search for you, a pang in your sweet heart but you ignore it. You want to step out of your room to go visit her, but you don’t want to upset Charles again. You remind yourself that he’s your step father, and your mind wanders to all sorts of doubts. Was this wrong? Sometimes it felt wrong… But Charles would never do anything wrong! You giggle away at your silly mind, oh how it would come up with the most absurd things.

You watch her leave and sigh heavily to yourself before plopping down on your bed. Swinging your legs back and forth, your tingles still there in your pussy. Your tits ache and you kick yourself for poking at Charles. A knock on the door startles you —two raps that are harsh. You hesitate from getting up to open the door, but after two more raps you decide that it’s for the best. “Baby? Open up, Daddy’s ready to play now.” he calls out from the other side, a devil luring you to commit sin after sin. You giggle with both glee and excitement, ready for playtime with him. You open the door with a smile on your face and then you gasp at the large stack of gifts that Charles was holding in his arms. “Hi, Cha- Daddy…” You say breathlessly, meeting your eyes with his silver-blue ones. They’re blown out — just like how they usually are whenever you see him.

They hold a certain darkness that you’ve never seen before, a sort of storminess that you’d love to revel in. “Hi, baby… Let me in now, I have the rest of the night planned out for us and I’d hate to have to punish you for bad manners.” He says with a sweet baritone, but his threat is bitter. You’re easily charmed, though and you don’t even pay attention to his warning. You let him in and shut the door behind yourself. “I’m so sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry I was annoying you- I just had tingles and I wanted you to help out, that’s all!” You apologize, wrapping your arms around him before he could say anything. You nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck and he urges you to sit on his lap — your favourite seat ever. “Mhm, I know you’re sorry baby, thank you for apologizing so nicely. As much as I like seeing you in pain, I just can’t do that to my sweet little girl.” He whispers in your ear, before kissing your cheeks.

“Do you forgive me, Daddy? Are you still mad at me?” You pull away and look him in the eyes, demanding honesty. “Of course I forgive you, baby… You’re such a good girl! Look at what I got you, I bought you some gifts.” He smiles at you sweetly and your insides flip with happiness. You squeal and immediately thank him, before trying to give him a kiss on the cheek just like how he did to you. He hands you a box and you immediately unwrap the floral wrapping paper. Your furrow your eyebrows in confusion but are grateful nevertheless. “D- Daddy, what’s this?” You ask him, handing him the box. Inside is something that resembles a microphone. It is a pastel pink and has a few buttons. “This is a magic wand, baby! Like the ones that fairies have, and this one can make you feel really good.” He explains, and hands you another small box. Inside are batteries — something that your mother told you not to mess with. You whimper and gasp before handing them to him. You wiggle yourself further into his lap and wait for him to set up your wand.

He hands it to you and it’s quite weighty, but you take it anyways. “Whenever you get tingles, Daddy can use this on your little button — okay? But we’ll save this for another time. You like Daddy’s thighs, don’t you?” He asks, taking the wand away from you. You sheepishly nod and wiggle in his lap again. He grips your waist tightly and squeezes, before moving you so that you’d straddle his left thigh. He clenches the muscles in his thigh and the already stiff muscle becomes even harder. Charles’s large cock bulges through his pants, all hard and aching already. “You like that, baby?” He asks again, reaching his hands up your dress and tearing away your cotton panties. “Mhm!” You nod harshly, your cunt sopping and drooling. He drags you back and forth slowly and the arms that are wrapped around him squeeze even tighter.

Your clit grinds against the rough material of his pants and he moves you back and forth. He bounces the same thigh slightly and a series of moans rumble through you. “O- Oh my… Daddy, that feels s- so, hng, good.” You whisper, moans cutting through almost every word you utter. “Look at you, a dripping mess all over my thigh. Can’t help it, hm? Just feels so good, only Daddy can make you so slutty.” He groans in your ear, before sucking a few hickies across the bare skin on your neck. Your eyes roll back into your skull at the euphoric feeling. “Look at you, all dumb and stupid, just drooling at the thought of being my slut.” He chides, smearing the saliva that leaks from your mouth. “Daddy, I have lots of tingles now!” You squeal as he presses you further down on his thigh. A burning feeling spreads across your pussy and abdomen and your drooling hole clenches around nothing.

“Yeah, baby, I bet it feels so good, right?” He purrs, moving one of his strong hands to your ass. He gives you a few spanks, pushing you closer to your release. “I think that thing is happening again… Those fireworks!” You tell you, gasping and moaning at the pain and pleasure. “Fuck, got me so hard right now.” He groans, roughly grabbing one of your hands to palm his cock. “Feel that, baby? That’s all for you and your slutty pussy. All yours- God, fuck” He swears after you accidentally rub your hand over his cock and squeeze it. You let out an extremely loud moan, not even caring if anyone was home. The staff was gone and so was your mother, so who are you to care? “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” You cry out as your beautiful face frowns in pleasure.

You can feel that high building up and Charles grinds his clothed cock into your hand. “Go on, cum, cum all over my thigh like the needy little baby you are. God, everyone in this damn town would be so ashamed to know you’re such a whore for your Daddy’s cock. And I bet you don’t care, do you? You just can’t get enough of me, cumming all the time, making a mess of that pussy of yours…” He growls at you, his words making you gasp and moan. He continues to rub your pussy against his thigh even though you’re pushing at him slightly. “Daddy, the tingles are too much,” you whine desperately, trying to writhe and push away from him but only worsening the tingles. “Shh…” Charles sibilates, holding you still even though your fussing didn’t stop.

Tremors claim your body and Charles drags your pussy against his thigh even harder. You fall against his chest and the fight in you leaves your body. A lewd, guttural moan leaves your mouth and you’re cumming all over his thigh. “Oh Daddy!” You squeal as pleasure overtakes your body. Your cunt throbs and you’ve soaked his pants completely. Charles gets harder at the sight of you cumming all over him. Your cunt gushes all over his pants and you’re moaning loudly. “Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy!” He praises, smiling at your writing form. You gasp as he continues to rub your pussy on his thigh, letting you ride out your orgasm and slightly overstimulating you. You babble like a baby and your grip on him is flimsy at this point. Your chest heaves and he lifts you off his thigh.

Suddenly, you’re kneeling on the ground and he’s freeing his cock from the confinements of his pants. It’s leaking, crying fat beads of clear pre-cum and suddenly you remember his husky, mainly taste on your tongue. “It’s your c- c…” You’re not sure whether or not you should say it, so you decide to keep your mouth shut. He laughs at you and his cock is a raging red, almost purple. He brings you a little closer to his cock and your face to face with it. Your mouth salivates at the sight of it and you want nothing more than to suck him off. He slaps his heavy cock against your cheek, once, twice, three times. You moan at the delicious pain and it sends a rush of blood to his cock again. He begins to stroke himself in front of you, knowing that you crave him in your mouth so desperately. “Look at me, baby. Watch Daddy jerk himself off, yeah, just like that. You want my cock so bad, don’t you? In due time baby, don’t worry.” He tells you in between moans.

You feel more tingles building up in your pussy and more wetness leaking out of you. You impulsively open your mouth up, ready to welcome his cock. But instead he shoves two fingers into your mouth and you take them delightfully. His digits are soon covered in spit and his pre-cum has been smeared all over his cock. He begins to pump his hand up and down -- base to tip. His thumb occasionally swipes over his leaking tip and he moans throatily. “Can I help you out, Daddy? Please?” You beg with puppy eyes, and he just can’t resist. Though your words are garbled, he still knows what you need. He keeps his two fingers in your mouth and takes his hand off of his cock. It bounces up and slaps against his stomach, weighty and thick. He grabs one of your hands and guides it until it’s wrapped around his cock.

It’s heavy in your hands but God, are you grateful to have it all for yourself. You try to mimic his movements, moving your hand up and down even though you don’t have a good grip on him. He moans loudly as your thumb accidentally swipes over his red tip. He further pushes his fingers into your mouth until you’re choking on his digits. “Oh, god, yes…” He groans, and your mind rewinds to the times where the priest from church always told you that anything involving private parts is wrong. The memory makes you stutter and your morals are now conflicted. He takes notice to the slowly disappearing eagerness you had. “Oh baby, do you think Daddy’ll ever let you do something bad? Never, everything they tell you... it’s all lies, okay? Daddy knows what’s best, and you should listen to Daddy. Now stroke me just like how I was, okay?” He tells you, pushing his fingers against your gag reflex.

You once again mirror his movements, enjoying the fact that you’re the reason as to why his tingles would go away. You quicken up your movements on his cock, and he asks, no, he orders you to tighten your hand and you’re trying your hardest. “Now twist your hand a bit, baby, and move a bit quicker.” He gruffs, and you try to do as you’re told. Your hand moves in corkscrew-like motions and Charles begins to grind into your palm. His cock throbs and twitches under your touch and his balls are slowly beginning to tighten up. His fingers swirl in your mouth and your other hand comes up to cradle his swollen, heavy balls. He lets out a guttural moan and more pre-cum drips from his tip and stains your soft skin. “Oh god…” He groans and he hits his release. Hot spurts of thick cum drips from his tip and copious amounts of it leaks everywhere. You continue to stroke him until he tells you to stop, and even then you don’t want to.

He takes his hand out of your mouth and guides you to his cock. “Clean Daddy up, yeah… That’s it, lick up all my cum... Tastes so good right? Swallow it all like a good girl.” He commands and you greedily lap up all his cum. You’re addicted to the taste, even though it’s slightly peculiar. Salty yet sweet, manly and husky. You try your best to clean him up until he’s satisfied, You smile up at him shyly, staying in your place on your knees as you wait for your next order. You watch as his cock slowly begins to soften and as he shoves it into his boxers. Your gaze lands on the gigantic wet spot on his grey linen pants and your eyes bulge out in shock. He looks down to his thigh and back to you before chuckling in such a swooning way. “Look at the mess you made, baby!” He cooes, reminding you of the way you were grinding on his thigh like it was a normal thing to do. You’re flustered and you shy away from him, embarrassed with all the attention. “Aw, don’t be coy now; you were just riding my thigh like a bitch in heat, and now you wanna be innocent?”

The blunt scent of smoke fills the room with ease. Charles sighs in delight, knowing that his plan was taking place at the very moment. You sit between his feet, re-reading the letter that Charles has given you. “She’s gone already? Didn’t she just come back, Daddy? We haven’t even spent time as a family yet!” You cry out in both distress and sadness as Charles continues to take a drag from his pipe. He smoothes a soothing hand over your hair and tears begin to fall from your eyes. She’s gone for two darn months? There’s no way you’ll be able to handle that! You stifle your sobs to your best ability and oh how Charles’s cock throbs at both the sound and the sight of you crying. “Don’t you feel sad, Daddy?” You ask through your tears, hiccuping and sobbing.

“No, baby. Do you wanna know why? It’s because I support whatever your mother wants to do… And you should too, baby. Now stop being a crybaby and let me take your mind off it, Daddy has some things to tell you.” He shuts you up and puts out his pipe before pulling you onto his lap. You gladly let him do so and he wipes your tears away for you. He lets out a breathy chuckle and smiles, before kissing the tip of your nose. “If I see you crying then I’ll put you over my knee, okay? None of that right now.” He orders, and you sheepishly nod. You hate being over his knee just as much as he loves it. You quickly blink away any forthcoming tears before your bottom is bruised up. “Have you ever been to Italy? It’s quite the beauty, to be frank.” He begins and your ears perk up.

“I have, and it’s quite lovely. There’s nothing as beautiful as the sunset in Florence from the top of the dorm room… It’s the most exquisite sight, I’ll take you some day.” He reminisces, staring at nothing as he recalls the lovely trip. “Oh, to bask in that lovely sunlight again would be delightful, and to drive down the streets as it rains…” He sighs blissfully and you let your imagination run wild. Images of you in Charles’s car brings you joy and you can’t help but to hum in agreement. “Mother always tells me about Italy, mostly about the stores and beautiful men but I’ve always liked the scenery.” You tell him, and he nods as he listens to you speak. You continue, “I’ve seen paintings, and photographs! I have a few cousins that live there too, I love it whenever they phone us and tell me about their home.” You giggle to yourself as you remember all those times.

Charles grabs your chin gently and makes you face him. You look into his eyes and then to his lips. They’re plump and pink and all you’d like to do is to press your own against them. You’ve always liked his kisses, no matter what. The ones on your hands, legs, shoulders but god do you love the ones he leaves on the inside of your thighs. You shiver at the memory of him kneeling down and spreading your legs wide open. As if he could read your mind, his other hand begins to run up and down your thigh. You’re both insatiable -- addictive and you can’t get enough of each other. “Are you close with your cousins, baby?” He asks out of the blue. You clear your throat before responding. “Ahem, uh, we were before Mother married for the third time, I think they should let her be!” He’s told. Your cute lips have formed and slight pout and all he wants to do is bite and suck on them until you’d tell him to stop.

“So you don’t talk to anyone else in your family?” He questions you, raising his eyebrows high up to the sky. “No…” You sigh and start playing with Charles’s fingers. “Uh huh…” He nods, letting your words sink in. You trace little invisible shapes on his hand, slightly ticking the brooding man. “Can you take me to Italy, Daddy? I would truly love to visit!” You ask suddenly, pouting at him. “Sure, baby, but you have to let me do a few things to you first, okay?” He negotiates, and you easily agree to whatever conditions he has for you. “Of course, I’ll do anything for you, Daddy!” You exclaim, accidentally putting an emphasis on ‘anything’. He smirks and cracks his knuckles. The pops make you cringe and squeem in his lap, earning yourself a slap to your thigh.

“Go get the gift I have for you, and be quick, you know I don’t like waiting for too long.” He warns you warily. You quickly dash up to your room, bare feet pattering against the hardwood floors like rain falling on an umbrella. You ravage through your closet and pull out the box before running back downstairs. Your dress gets caught on a piece of stray wood that had been broken from when the butlers were bringing in the new furniture and you huff in annoyance. You impatient yank the cloth from the wood and wince as it rips. You turn on your heels and continue to rush back to the smoke room where Charles was. You pant heavily and struggle to form any words, making Charles chuckle. “What happened to your dress, baby?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You look down and suck in a sharp breath, not realizing that the rip was that bad.

“It had gotten caught on some broken wood…” You admit under your breath. “Hm?” He asks again, not hearing what you said. “It had gotten caught on some broken wood, Daddy… I’m sorry!” You repeat a bit louder, adding an apology at the end. Truth be told, you’re slightly terrified of Charles as anyone would be. “Aw, you’re so clumsy and stupid aren’t you? Just destroying your clothes as a dumb baby would.” He tuts, taunting you and your accident. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy is going to take care of you and that stupid cunt of yours.” He growls, making you gulp. You don’t even think about the overwhelming tingles that have taken your core -- no, instead you think about what he could possibly do next. He pulls the left strap of your dress down, revealing your bare breast. He is closer to you than before and you can’t even remember when he had gotten up from his seat.

He smiles down and you and you look up at him with your lips slightly parted. He does the same to the other strap and exposes your chest for himself and himself only. Cool air hits your tits and your peaks turn rock hard. They twist up painfully and ache for him and his delightful touch. You lose your breath for a few seconds and he pinches your nipples and plays with them -- and you accidentally end up dropping the box. He tuts at you again and you’re quick to pick it up before he takes it away from you. “Such a stupid baby, you need Daddy to help you out because you can’t do anything right, hm? Other than sucking my cock, of course.” He degrades, making you whimper. He guides you to the throne-like chair and makes you sit down. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and tilt your head at him as he gets down on his knees.

He places the box next to him and spreads your bare legs far apart from each other. He hikes up your dress to your waist and lets out a coo as he spots the evident wetness that has soaked through your panties. The light beige cloth is tarnished and he’s the reason why. “Daddy… What are you doing?” You nervously ask him as you crane your head down to look at him. He looks up at you with an almost devilish smirk and hooks his fingers into your panties before pulling them down your legs. He admires the healed cuts and bruises that probably came from your childhood. He throws your panties behind him and places your legs onto his strong shoulders. You’re not sure what he’s about to do and millions of questions run through your mind.

“Daddy, wh- what are you doing?” You question him, watching as his tongue runs over his plump pink lips. His nips at your thighs -- biting, kissing, and bruising the skin. Arousal leaks from you and smears onto your pussy. He inches his face closer and closer to your pussy before finally answering your question. “I’m going to taste your cute little cunt, baby.” He bluntly tells you before licking a fat stripe up your cunt. “Hu- Oh!” You let out a lewd moan and tangle your fingers in his fluffy caramel hair. The feeling is overwhelming as Charles laps up your wetness even though each lick makes more leak from your drooling hole. He drinks up everything you have to offer like an animal, wanting more and more from you. His tongue travels through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit and you’re writhing above him.

The lewd sounds of his mouth on your pussy echo throughout the rooms but are soon drowned out by your moans. Suddenly, he latches his lips onto your swollen clit and sucks hard. Stars fill your vision at the unfamiliar feeling and you accidentally buck your hips up. He growls in your pussy and slams your hips back down before laying a heavy hand on your lower abdomen. His tongue swirls around your bud and flicks over your clit. You feel dizzy and his tongue and lips continue to send you into oblivion. You slightly tug on his hair and another growl rumbles from Charles, pushing you closer to your release. The fireworks aren’t sparking as much as you’d like them to and you feel empty. Under Charles’s strong arm, you wiggle your hips as you spew alphabetical nonsense.

“Daddy…” You moan out, your voice soft and sweet. He knows what you want but god -- seeing you all needy and desperate makes him even harder than a rock. He relents his sucking on your clit and you whine until he runs his middle finger through your wet cunt. He lightly flicks your clit with his tongue as he suddenly pushes his long digit into your cunt. He quickly finds your g-spot and the build up inside you hits its limit. You cum with a guttural shriek and he continues to abuse your poor cunt with his mouth and finger. Your pussy clenches around his finger and your clit throbs under his tongue as cum gushes out of you. He drinks it all up and stares right at you as he does so. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he craves you even more -- but his cock is far too hard for him to do anything else.

He pulls his head away from your pussy and looks up at you again. He watches you as he pulls his cum-coated finger out of you and he shoves said finger past your lips. Your taste fills your mouth -- sweet yet a little bitter. It’s a stark contrast from his taste as it was more husky and manly. His finger leaves your mouth with a distinct ‘pop!’ and you look up at him with a face that just begs to him. He latches his lips onto yours and kisses you ferociously. Charles lifts you up from the chair and your sensitive pussy presses against him by accident. You whimper at the unexpected feeling and cry out against his lips. “Daddy! D- Daddy…” You try to keep up with his lips but you can’t, so you decide to give up. His tongue searches your mouth and he occasionally sucks on yours. He’s so experienced, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how to make you easily submit to him, he knows when to nip at your swollen lips and he knows exactly what you need.

He carries you to your bedroom, each step of his adding friction to your pussy. You’re sopping wet and you’re so damn needy for him. You whine against his lips and he pulls away as he climbs the steps. Strong, veiny hands squeeze your ass roughly and his marriage ring digs into your skin. You look ruined -- dress torn and your tits exposed, lips plump and hair disheveled and your cunt is rubbing against Charles. He enters your room and throws you on the bed. You look up at him and he rips your dress off of your body roughly. He pulls the pink wand out from the pocket of his pants and you realize you had forgotten about it. He sets it on the bed and quickly undresses himself, desperate to relieve his ache. You watch him intently, spreading your legs out of instinct and you can feel more wetness dripping out of you.

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, the sight so enticing. Bulging muscles and a beautifully sculpted face that you could look at forever. He crawls on top of you and puts his hands around your head. He’s left in only his boxers and you can see how hard he is. He’s huge, and sometimes when you think about his cock you can barely get the size right. “Daddy… What are we going to do now?” You ask sweetly, looking up at him. “Daddy’s going to take your innocence away, baby. I’m going to ruin you, turn you into my little minx.” He tells you bluntly, cutting right to the chase. You unconsciously moan at his words and your pussy clenches at the thought of him ruining you. What would that entail? He growls lowly in your ear before attaching his lips to the sweet spot of your neck.

He sucks a hickey onto your skin -- licking, biting, sucking like it’s a hobby of his. You moan at the sensation and he chuckles against your neck. “So sensitive… God, what am I going to do with you, baby?” He sighs, asking himself a question only he knows the answer to. “You can do whatever you want, Daddy! Anything you do is right!” You giggle, answering his question. He groans and a rush of blood heads straight to his cock. He pulls his boxers down, sliding them over his built thighs and past his legs. You watch carefully as his cock bounces up and slaps his lower abdomen -- a sight you’ll never get used to but always love. He grabs the base and spreads your legs even wider. He slaps the tip of his cock on your clit, earning a squeal from you.

“Do you like that, baby doll?” He questions, slapping your clit again. You mewl and nod your head feverishly. You stare up at him and he looks down at you with a Cheshire smirk. He runs his cockhead through your wet folds, smearing the few drops of pre-cum that leaked from his slit. The large, bulbous tip teases your pussy. It bumps up against your clit and as soon as it prods at your tight hole, you feel a bit of panic. Your mother had told you all sorts of horrid stories about those types of things, but you never thought much of it. “Daddy, what are you doing?” You ask him, scrambling to hold one of his hands for comfort. You lace your fingers with his and he coos at how innocent and docile you are. “I’m going to turn you into my own little angel, okay baby? What’s wrong, hm?” He questions, squeezing your hand tightly.

“I- I’m scared… Do I have to do it, Daddy? I mean I really wanna do it! I’m just unsure, I guess…” You ramble adorably, looking deep in his eyes. His features don’t soften, no, because he knows that deep down inside, you'll do anything for him. “Baby, you’ll make me the happiest man alive if you do this! Don’t you want to make me happy like you always do? C’mon, baby doll, don’t make Daddy upset… You’ve been such a good girl for me! And I know how much you absolutely love being my good girl.” He frowns slightly, beginning to pull away from you. You quickly pull him back to you and Charles smiles at you. “I’d like to still be your good girl, Daddy! I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear!” You beg and apologize, tears glossing over your eyes. He shushes you and your chest heaves in a panicking manner.

“Hold onto my shoulders, baby, but don’t hurt me. Okay?” He orders, placing your hands there for you. You nod your head and easily obey his orders without a single peep of objection. He wraps his left hand around your neck, and his right hand goes back to grip his cock. Charles drags the fat tip up and down your wet pussy against, bumping your sensitive clit with it and covering it with your juices. He slowly drags his tip down to your hole and begins to push in, enticing a slightly muffled shriek from you. He shuts you up by pressing his lips on yours and squeezing your throat slightly. His thick cock pushes into you, stretching you out painfully. The burn of the stretch makes you squeeze his shoulders tightly and you whimper loudly into his lips. Charles moans loudly as he sheathes his cock completely into your cunt.

The stretch turns into a dull ache and it’s soon pleasurable. Your wet velvet walls hug his cock tightly, perfectly, as if you’re made for him and him only. “God, so damn tight. Just squeezing my cock like a little slut.” He groans, pulling away from your lips. Both of your faces are frowning in pleasure. He digs his fingers into your hip as he fully bottoms out. It felt like it would never end, as if he would keep pushing into you. Charles swears under his breath and savours the feeling of your pulsing walls squeezing his hard cock. You writhe under him, growing desperate. “Daddy… Please, please, please…” You beg, eyes rolling into your skull out of desperation. “So needy for my cock, just begging for it already…” He tuts and you feel your cunt flutter at his words. He pulls his cock all the way out from your wet pussy and it glistens with your wetness. You feel too empty, far too empty for both yours and Charles’s liking.

He suddenly pushes back into you and begins to pump in and out of your cunt without any warning. You moan loudly, litanies of “Daddy” continuously leaving your mouth like a mantra. His cock practically splits you in half and he fucks into you with a carefree pace. The sounds of skin on skin are drowned out by your moans and groans. His cock hammers against your poor g-spot, pummeling in and out of you with no relent. “Oh Dio, che puttana per il mio cazzo, eh? La mia puttana, solo la mia. Ti rovinerà per ogni altro uomo — anche se sei mia e solo mia.” He groans loudly, the foreign language igniting those fireworks in your core. “Oh Daddy! Oh- oh my…” You cry out, your body jerking with each thrust of his. Charles deepens his thrusts and his cock pummels against your cervix, making you cry out. He whispers a soft apology even though he loves seeing you in pain. He pulls out of your cunt, leaving you a needy, desperate, pathetic slutty mess under him.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more, causing you to choke on your whines. He grabs the wand behind him and flicks it on, letting it come to life. Charles pinches the bottom of his cock to stave off his release, his balls swollen and heavy. He trails the wand on your inner thighs and watches as you let out a silent scream. “Pretty little angel, my angel… You’re so stupid for my cock, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you. He moves the hand that was on your throat down to his cock. He slaps the velvet tip on your pussy and runs it through your slit again. He pushes into you and continues to drag the wand along your body. The vibrations tease you and so do his slow thrusts. “P- Please, Daddy, it’s not enough for my tingles, please!” You beg, your hands still on his shoulders. He smiles down at you and lets out a coo, before turning off the wand and throwing it to the side.

“Mia bella sgualdrina, ora mi prenderò cura io di te. Ma ti prenderò a bordo, ti prenderò in giro e ti porterò al tuo rilascio più e più volte, solo perché mi piace vederti tutto più profondo per me.” He husks in your ear, before dragging his cock in and out of you even quicker. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and fucks into you harshly. His swollen balls slap against your ass and his pelvis grinds against your clit — pushing you closer and closer to your release. He watches you fall apart under him, turning into a little whore just as he had planned. “Please, please, please, please, I want the fireworks so bad Daddy!” You beg, not even realizing that you’re talking. His cock throbs at your words and with one particularly hard thrust, you come undone. You bite back a scream as you cum all over his cock — coating it with your cum.

He looks down to where your bodies are connected and lets out a loud moan. The sight of your poor abused cunt being pounded by his cock makes him harder. He watches as your cunt clenches around him tightly and his grip on your hips becomes tighter. You squeeze his cock tightly and your chest heaves gravely and you’re overly sensitive. He snaps his hips into yours and occasionally grinds his cock into you, just to see you writhe. “You’re taking my big cock so fucking good, baby.” He husks in your ear, before letting out a moan that would make a nun blush. “I can hardly believe you’re taking it all, dove. I was so damn afraid it wouldn’t fit.” He groans, nudging his cock against your g-spot. Your eyes roll back into your skull. You nod your head, realizing that deep down you had thought the same thing. “Aw, too dumb to speak?” He asks tauntingly, bringing his hand to your clit.

He rubs your pearl of nerves that had been abused by his mouth. “I want to fill you up so bad, baby. I want to see you swell up with my seed… Want to see your belly grow with my baby, la mia piccola sgualdrinella.” He moans in your ear. His words set you off again and you arch your back off the bed as you hit your release for the third time in one day. You wriggle away from him as the fireworks become too much for you. You moan loudly and your pussy clamps down tightly on his cock. You squeeze him with all your might as you cream yourself around his cock. Charles shudders at the sights and swears in Italian under his breath. He rubs your clit even harder even though you’re shaking your head and trying to get away from his cock. “Don’t run away from me now, gattina… C’mon, I know you can’t handle my big fat cock, but don’t be like that…” He mopes before letting out his signature breathy chuckle.

You dig your nails into his shoulders as you continue to get railed by him. “Oh my god!” You squeal as you struggle to come down from your high. “C’mon dolce ragazza, give me one more…” He growls, making his thrusts slower and deeper. “Anything you w- want, Daddy.” You croak out between your pornographic moans. He swears he’s about to break you with how hard he’s gripping you, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. His cock head bumps up against your g-spot continuously and lewd, wet squelching sounds fill the room along with the smell of sex. A thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead and he’s panting non-stop. He grinds his cock into you, enticing a loud scream from you. He immediately clamps a hand over her mouth and presses his forehead to yours. “Shh, shh… Do it, cum on my cock, baby.” He growls, before letting out a loud moan.

You cum with a loud, incessant moan that’s muffled by his hand. Charles groans as his orgasm is triggered too. He pushes deep into your pussy and his cock stills. His balls tighten and your cunt clenches around him as you both cum at the same time. The feeling of his cum filling you up makes you moan pathetically. White, hot, stickiness coats your walls and fills you up to the brim, the never ending amount of it making you sigh is pleasure. Charles watches as some of his cum leaks past his cock and he’s instantly hard again. He waits until he fully comes down from his high before pulling out from your pussy. He’s not sure whether he should go for a second round or not, but you’ve already made up your mind. “Daddy… Can I have more, please? I love it so much, a- and I’d really like for you to help me with my tingles again!” You beg with puppy eyes and an irresistible pout.

He moans at your desperation and neediness before laughing breathlessly. “Oh la mia principessa, you’re already such a slut for my cock…” He smiles down at you and you just whine, making grabbing hands at him. He rolls you over and sits down with you straddling him. Charles’s cock is right against your used pussy and he drags the head through your soaking, cum-coated folds. “Please, please put your c- cock in me…” You beg in a hushed voice, falling onto his chest. He bucks his hips up and enters your pussy in one smooth thrust. One hand lifts you up slightly and the other wraps itself around your throat. “Oh please!” You beg even louder, your face all contorted in pleasure. A growl rumbles in his chest and he begins to fuck up into your pussy. You cry out, and feel tears stinging your eyes from the overwhelming feeling. Both yours and Charles’s cum leaks out of you and drips all over his cock and even leaks down to his balls.

“Cosi' dannatamente bisognoso, Dio. Non ne hai mai abbastanza del mio cazzo, eh? Voglio toccarti tutto il tempo, piccola, voglio vederti gonfiare con il mio sperma. Non vedo l'ora di vedere le tue tette riempirsi di latte, guardarle rimbalzare mentre ti scopo.” He moans softly, panting like a dog. You have no idea what he’s saying, but you just nod in agreement. He chuckles and squeezes your throat just to watch you squirm under his touch. “Oh my god, Daddy! That feels so good, please…” You whisper to him, and he moves his hand on your throat to your ass. He grabs the supple flesh before spanking you for fun, enjoying the way you whimper and clench around his cock. He spreads your butt cheeks and his ring finger dances over your puckered hole. He chuckles as you begin to panic, not even knowing what he’s doing.

He lets go and spanks your ass one more time before making sharper thrusts. He’s deeper than before and you can barely handle it. You dig your nails into his chest, leaving crescent shaped scars that he’ll look back on in the near future. Both of your moans become louder and more desperate, the fireworks in your cores intensifying slowly but surely. “You’re going to cum, aren’t you? Go ahead, do it, cum all over my big fat cock. I’ll fill you up again, don’t worry my little slut.” He smiles, ghosting his lips over yours. On command, you come undone around his cock again. You squeeze him tightly and grind down on his cock on instinct, earning a loud moan from Charles. He spanks your ass again and the delicious sting has you cumming harder. You coat his cock with your juices and tiredness takes you over. You let him rail into you non stop — even though there’s a tinge of blood mixed with your shared cum.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re done already, baby. Daddy’s not even finished with you, yet. We’ll have all the time in the world baby, don’t worry. I’m going to breed you with my seed once we get to Italy, gonna make you needy for my cock all the time; it’s going to be the only thing on your innocent mind.” Charles promises, and you only smile and nod at your Daddy. He groans under you and you can hear the rumbles of it in his chest. “Please f- fill me up, Daddy!” You beg, not even knowing what you’re asking him to do. He lets out a moan at your words and begins to bounce you up and down his long, thick cock. He drives his cock in and out of you incessantly, chasing his orgasm for the second time and you’re whining loudly.

“Oh god, I’m going to cum so fucking hard baby, I’m going to fill you up just like you want me to… Fuck yes!” He shouts, watching as your tits bounce with his each and every movement. He stills and brings you down on his cock, painting your walls with his sticky, copious amounts of cum. He watches as it leaks past his cock that is stuffed in your abused pussy. He rubs your overwrought clit just to see you in pain, before pulling his hand away. You both sigh and Charles rubs his nose against yours, making you bubble in giggles. “Daddy?” You call out to him after a few moments of peaceful silence. “Yes, baby?” He answers, smiling down at you wickedly. “I… I love you…” You whisper to him, before breaking out in a smile. He lets out a hearty chuckle that you’re all but used to.

“Oh princess, if only you knew.”

3K notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years ago

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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟ Please be warned.

Word Count: 14,637

Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able. Link in my bio & Masterlist.

A/N: “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs! This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic. Enjoy!

* * * * *

Effie. Her name was Effie. And everybody knew it.

Rachel was no more. Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there. Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused. Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet. Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own. Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.

Effie was new. Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future. Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse. Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her. Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own. Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.

That was how she liked it.

Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her. It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it. Matthew knew he could. She was more assertive…in her own way. She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore. She just asked. She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off. Her independence increased. She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her. She engaged in more conversation. She made jokes. She laughed at jokes. She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night. She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house. She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it. She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about. Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought. She was a feminist). Socialism. Communism. Democracy. Geneviève explained them all to her. She asked Geneviève about pants.

She wore pants.

It was weird at first, wearing pants. She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult. The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants. So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did. They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them. “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna. Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend. It would be Effie’s first time in a mall.

Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her. Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be. But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead. She worked through it. She did things in spite of the fear. She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.

That’s why she found herself walking now. Walking to Starbucks. Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores. Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it. And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.

“Chop it all off.”

“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair. “But your hair! It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”

“Please. I need you to cut it. I need you to—”

“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”

“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted. “I escaped a cult. I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ. This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s. I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”

The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying. Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors. “How much do you want off?” she asked.

Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist. “Like this,” she said. “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”

The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic. She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair. “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.

Effie nodded firmly. “Ready.”

***

Effie had six numbers stored on her phone. Levi. Jenna. Annica. Geneviève. Jacob Markstrom. Matthew Tkachuk.

“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.

His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Matthew? I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”

“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried. “Where are you?”

Effie didn’t even know. She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist. “What’s the address?”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.

Matthew was officially confused. “The Starbucks complex?”

“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.

“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”

***

Matthew was nervous. Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous. It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go. It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.

When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it. It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of. Abigail’s Hair Salon.

Matthew walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her. She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.

“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.

“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely. He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her. “You wanted it this short?”

Effie nodded her head.

“It suits you,” he nodded. “Did you pay?” Effie nodded her head. “Did you tip?”

Effie looked scared for a moment. “Tip?”

Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist. He turned to Effie without another word. “Wanna grab some lunch?”

“You—you’re not busy? I thought you would just drive me home.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. “Grab your jacket. What do you feel like eating?”

***

Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried. But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.

“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries. She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes. For Matthew, it was impressive. He knew she was trying to gain weight. He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head. “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you. What about your sister?”

“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”

Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows. “She can play sports and go to university? That’s a thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly. “She’s a great field hockey player. She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus. She’s going to school too, obviously. That’s the most important thing. But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”

Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said. Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève. But…women could play sports and go to university? Women could play sports for their university? That was new information. Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing. She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball. She had not been allowed to play sports. Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do. Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university. When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that. “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly. “To be able to do that. She’s very lucky.”

Matthew knew there was weight behind those words. They weren’t to be taken lightly. He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn. “She knows,” Matthew said. “Taryn’s a really smart girl. She knows she’s really lucky.”

“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.

Matthew shrugged. “If they even want kids at all. I know some of my friends back home don’t want them. Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.

Silence. Pure silence from Effie. He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face. When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy. He gulped. “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.

Matthew chose his words carefully. He should have known. He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth. Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically. The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it. Own up to his actions. Be the person he promised himself he would be around her. “So, like…women in modern society have the choice. They can choose not to have children. Some women don’t want to become mothers. It’s a personal choice. And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families. Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that. You can just…not want children.”

Effie had heard the word of God her entire life. It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory. Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head. Be fruitful and multiply. Be fruitful and multiply. Be fruitful and multiply. But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God. This was something else. This went against everything she knew. This went against everything she was brought up to believe. “Oh, okay,” she whispered.

Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation. And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening. Everything is new for her.’ The modern world was completely alien to her. She didn’t know anything. No women’s liberation. No women’s rights. No individuality. Voting. Elections. Doctors. Hospitals. Jeans. T-shirts. Wearing her hair however she wanted. Makeup. Cell phones. Instagram. Twitter. Snapchat. Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point. She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core. They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe. It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.

Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever. God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable. To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything. He was an idiot. He was such an idiot.

A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went. “Effie? Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.

When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face. Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down. “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him. Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.

She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears. There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse. “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.

He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her. “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.

“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.

“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it. “I…it’s not their fault. It can be a medical thing. I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children. And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.

“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can? Are…are they punished?” she asked.

“Why would they be punished? No,” he shook his head.

“Matthew…” she was apprehensive. “Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth. Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.” He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye. Shaking.

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time. It could have been years for all Matthew knew. But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him. He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were. She carried this with her every single day. Every. Single. Day.

“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered. He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again. So he settled on words, because words were his best option. “It’s not your fault.”

***

“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”

Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice. So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan. Maybe there were holes. But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason. The best reason. She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office. She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week. That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.

“Maybe,” he mumbled out. Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t. Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated. He was determined. “I need you tell me what I need to do. Tell me. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth. But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious. “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.

He knew what that meant. “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.

It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything. “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

Matthew leaned in. “Yes. That’s why I need you to help me. I want – I need to know how to help her.”

“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses. “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.

Matthew didn’t want this to become a session. It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie. “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

“Well, yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”

Dr. Barlow paused. “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her. “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped! At least according to her brother!” he defended himself. “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her. I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me. You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”

Dr. Barlow stayed silent. “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely. Matthew could read between the lines. So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought. “We should just leave it at that. I appreciate the effort, but—"

“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute. When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face. “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off. He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.

“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”

It was the first time the word had been said out loud. He didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere. He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real. It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life. He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I realize.”

“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced. Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely. “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates. I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her. Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you. I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do. You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”

“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”

“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said. “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress. It’s the mental progress we want to see. And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either. Just give her time, Matthew. Exercise patience with her.”

***

The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming. But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath. He collected himself. And he moved forward. He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it. He needed to make it right.

“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.

She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling. He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him. It was a relief. “Hi Matthew.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously. “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”

He saw something flash behind her eyes �� a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions. He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it. He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain. Matthew would never forgive himself if it did. “I’ve been good. Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly. “I read up on what we talked about. Geneviève helped me.”

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

Effie nodded. “It made me realize I never want children.”

Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t. Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them. It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise. “That’s good. Good that you can…you know, say that out loud. That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”

Effie nodded her head. “I knew it all along. I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me. And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on. I’m too scared to fall back into that. I’d have no idea how to raise a child. I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk. She looked up at him. There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom. Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes. She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior. “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.

“I should be the one apologizing—”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did. I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point. “But I know that your touch is nice.”

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

She took it upon herself to look at his hands. They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows. But they were there, exposed, for her to look at. They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.

He caught her looking. Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky. He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his. There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother. Then she moved her hand closer. Closer. Closer.

When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body. The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling. There were no words for it. No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile. A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.

Matthew smiled too.

***

“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair. The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted. “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”

“Less,” Annica giggled.

“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos. I was so scared I started crying. I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them. “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time. I think they look really nice.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested? You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.

Effie nodded her head emphatically. “Definitely. Definitely.”

“What is it? Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.

Effie shook her head. “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip. “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you? Doing this to my body?”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd. It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her. It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet. “It’s your body, remember? Your body, your choice.”

Effie nodded after a moment. “My body, my choice.”

***

“It’s still a bit red and itchy. Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.

“It’s alright. Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan. When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open. “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big. He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small. He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever. But it was big. It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm. The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite. It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful. He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself. “Can I?” he asked.

Effie nodded. “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.

Matthew brought his hand up slowly. He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately. It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was. “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow. What could be better than this?

She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin. Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it. ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.

Matthew smiled from ear to ear. “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time. He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life. “Do you love it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. “I love it so much. It’s mine. It’s mine.”

***

“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies. Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate. He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered. In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life. “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.

“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head. “Effie made those.”

Matthew’s brows rose. He gulped the bite of the cookie down. “Effie? Effie bakes?”

Levi smirked, side-eyeing him. “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch. She had to learn in the cult. She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife. But she enjoys baking the most. Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”

Matthew nodded nonchalantly. “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”

“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said. “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”

“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended. Levi could only chuckle. Matthew felt the need to cover. “Where? What—where? What’s she gonna do? How is she—I mean, why?”

“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she? If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”

“Effie’s moving out?!”

“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”

This was all news to Matthew, of course. He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had. The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him. He was just on the outside. He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all. But he still got nervous. Effie was still learning about a lot. And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe. A safe job. A safe apartment. “Where’s she looking?”

“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him. “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own. She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”

Hipster coffee shop. Online business certificate. New apartment. There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all. He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot. “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.

Levi let out a haughty laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

***

Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn. Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down. Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured. “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs. “You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered. “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”

Matthew chuckled. “Fat chance of that happening. Effie’s not coming.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”

Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people. Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand. Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”. Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge. The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.

Fuck.

When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress. He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her. “You made it! I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing. Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk. “Is this your first time in a place like this?”

“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously. “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”

“Are you kidding? The more the merrier! Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”

Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie. Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday. None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew. He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that. He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You came alone?” Andrew asked her. Effie nodded. “We’ll have to find you Matthew then. He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”

Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment. When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up. “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.

She went in for a hug.

Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back. Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick. Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her. He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her. “What brought you here?”

“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away. She took a look down at his drink. “Is that iced tea?”

“Whiskey.”

She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too. “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.

“Do you want to try some?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay. Do you want something to drink, then? Some water? I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”

“A virgin drink?”

“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly. “They’ll make you whatever you want.”

Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head. “I’m not thirsty yet. I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”

***

Effie didn’t dance. She didn’t drink. All she did was look.

By looking, she was learning. She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it. She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender. She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks. She watched people take shots and then ask for another. She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women. She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor. She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open. She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends. She watched girls move their hips seductively. She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.

“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered. He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late. He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.

Did he hear himself? Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?

Fuck.

Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water. Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Let me go for y—”

“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out. “I’ve watched. I know what I need to do. I can go.”

Matthew gulped. He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go. And all he did was look.

***

Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar. It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision. She’s never been in a place with so many people. Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion. Sundays were the worst. But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place. Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so. It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.

She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on. Effie admired their beauty. They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured. Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless. Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself. When they got their drinks, they began to move. One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down. “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.

After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders. Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks. She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same. After a few minutes, a bartender came. “What can I get you?”

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

Effie shook her head. “I don’t drive. I just don’t drink alcohol.”

“Do you want anything more exciting? I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”

Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered. “Okay. Ginger ale is good.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun. “Do you have a tab going?”

What was a tab? Effie shook her head. “What’s a tab?”

The bartender looked at her skeptically. “How are you paying, darling? Are you with a party?”

“Oh! I’m here for Andrew’s party! Andrew Mangiapane.”

“Got it,” the bartender winked. “Here you go, darling. Enjoy.”

Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw. It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it. Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her. A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space. He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face. “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.

Effie couldn’t tell. “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”

“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.

“A walking felon?” she repeating. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said. “A real drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine. I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.

Effie furrowed her brows. “Like what?”

The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had. “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her. At the same time, he was leaning his head down.

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s. Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man. Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her. “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.

“Dead, eh? So you get to touch her but I don’t?”

“Fuck off.”

Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice. She’d never seen or heard him so angry. She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting. Her body tensed up. “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.

Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her. As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie. “You don’t want to have some fun, girl? I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”

Matthew had had it. He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar. He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand. So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size. He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar. He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated. “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands. He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything. Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.

Effie turned around to get a good look at him. She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face. She got nervous – really nervous. “Matthew—”

“Did he touch you? He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded. He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared. All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness. “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you. I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”

He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly. “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what he wanted. But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”

Effie nodded. “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.

“Never, Effie. Never.”

***

Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was. Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch. “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained. “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”

“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle. “People want to know that about me?”

“I’d love to follow you on Instagram. I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said. “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.

“Everybody’s not doing it. That’s the point,” Annica said. “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it. It’s one big advertisement now.”

Effie considered what the girls were telling her. She trusted them both, which is why she asked. Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place. Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays). For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step. “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”

“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table. “We can do it after lunch.”

“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered. “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world. You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”

The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain. She nodded her head. “That’s what I’m gonna do. Let’s make a profile after lunch.”

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

That’s good! I will have to try some one day

When you get back from the road trip there will be something new. Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly. Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else. Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun. “I got the job!” she screamed.

Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms. Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind. “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear. “Look at you go!”

She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms. “That means I can get the apartment! That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program! That means…I…I’m just so excited!” She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.

She hugged him. She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too. “That’s amazing, Effie!”

“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside. April in Calgary was still cold. Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up. “I can’t even speak! I mean, this is—this is me getting to work! I get to work! I get to make my own living and make my own money!”

“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “And you get to do something you like to do! Not a lot of people get to say that.”

She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge. “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them. “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.

She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks. Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth. The second it hit his tongue, he groaned. “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews. “This is gonna be dangerous.”

“Is it good?”

“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie. Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.

“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry. “Monahan is just being a jackass!”

“Am not!”

They got the couch upstairs. They got the bedframe upstairs. They got the mattress upstairs. In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in. Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything. Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture. She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel. It was in the fridge waiting. Each of them would get a nice big slice.

Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen. And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order. Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together. Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet. Matthew stayed.

“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave. There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her. It was different when he was alone with her. With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about. With people gone, they could. He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home. He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.

“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge. “My course starts in June. It’s going to be really exciting.”

“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch. “It’s business, right?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically. “Business administration. Are you going to come try this pie or what?”

Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him. He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down. Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him. He watched as she carefully plated the slices.

Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew. “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.

He furrowed his brows slightly. “Of course.”

Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party. She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions. So she did it. She did what she wanted to do.

Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.

It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning. But she kissed him. With her eyes closed. And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up. When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy. When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham. Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body. She liked it that way. And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.

Matthew, for his part, was shocked. Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to. “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.

Effie nodded. “Of course it was. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”

Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him. “Do you think it—”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly. “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Effie looked down, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it. He’d kissed her back. He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back. He moved his lips too. That meant something, right? “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

“No, I mean do you…do you like me. Like how boys like girls sometimes.”

Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach. Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head. “Yeah, I do.”

Effie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment. But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her. “Even after everything that happened to me?”

Matthew’s heart broke. It always did when he spoke with Effie. “Of course,” he said simply. “You’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more than that, Effie.”

Effie nodded her head. She knew that. Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that. She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew. She couldn’t just assume them. “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper. “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you. I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing. Even just…you know, touching. I just want you to know that.”

Matthew nodded. This was huge. He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his. “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”

“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.

Matthew smiled. “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”

“No.”

Matthew chuckled to himself. Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything. She was in total control. “Fair enough.”

Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of. Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again. “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”

Matthew nodded his head. “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.

***

“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot. “Everybody loves fake plants.”

Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest. But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart. There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place. “Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter. Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on. He rejoined Effie.

“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti. Effie was trying out recipes. He was her unofficial-official taste-tester. The whole team was, really. And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand. So far, so good. “I love the almond flavour. It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”

He watched as Effie nodded her head. “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.

He knew what was coming.

She leaned forward and kissed him. His lips tasted like almonds.

***

“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.

“Very,” she nodded. Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic. Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear. A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at. The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to. “Matthew?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he looked down at her. He knew what was coming.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

It was always when the two of them were alone. It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games. It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna. Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it. “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”

It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. They were alone. They were usually doing something mundane. Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice. He’d look down at her. She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.

It was always initiated by her.

***

“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.

Effie looked shocked. Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary. “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind. “You know that I like you, Effie. I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”

Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell. She nodded slightly. “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused. He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously. “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”

“I figured as much.”

“I mean, I—even with Abraham. He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me. I told you that. But even before that. Women couldn’t date. Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”

“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly. “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to. But you know that I like you. And I know you like me too. It’s what people do when they like each other. So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something. Nothing too big or fancy. Just a dinner.”

If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past. She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices. She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life. It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive. She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”. She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her. Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”

Effie nodded her head. “I want to go out on a date with you.”

Matthew smiled bashfully. He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager. “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”

***

“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye. But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation. “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows. There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this. It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar. He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either. But then Mark remembered. “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”

“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.

Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips. Kids. He had to get to the bottom of this. It was in his nature. And as captain, he took his role seriously. He needed to make sure his teammates were okay. The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover. He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room. Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick. Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told. He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much. And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.

Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in. “Tell me what happened.”

Matthew took a deep breath. “I took her out on a date last night.”

“Effie.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly. “And it was nice. We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown. She was having so much fun. And she came back to my place and—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized. “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

Matthew shook his head. “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting. She sorta kept saying how tired she was. I told her she could stay over. And it was fine. We were just sleeping in the same bed.”

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled. “And then I moved.”

There was a pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.

The entire night had been lovely. She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal. The food was delicious. The walk through the park was magical. The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night. They hadn’t stopped talking. They’d gone back to his place. She was tired. He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind. She agreed. She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts. They’d fallen asleep in his bed. And it was lovely.

And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly. So she did the only thing she needed to do.

She punched him. Hard.

She hit between his eye and nose. A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom. Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed. When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain. It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew. It wasn’t Abraham.

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.

“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.

“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”

With his one clear eye, he looked at her. His chest was heaving. But he didn’t say anything. His shoulders slumped slightly. And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed. It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it. But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t have to repent for her sin. It didn’t have to be that way. Abraham wasn’t in bed with her. It was Matthew. Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.

She started crying. She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him. She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.

After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks. She lay her hand on his back. “Matthew—”

He flinched at her touch. She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast. Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.

Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched. He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her. He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.

When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.

***

Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else. Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home. He needed to talk to her. Needed to talk to her. But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.

Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone. He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

He shot his head up. For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car. He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care. All he cared about was that she was there. He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him. “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her. Her face was red and blotchy. He hated seeing it like that. It reminded him of the incident in the washroom. “What’s going on?”

“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted. He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him. He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place. He’d begged her to stay. She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face. “I wish you would stop saying that. I hit you. I gave you a black eye. Nothing about that is alright—”

“Effie—”

“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”

“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately. They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent. A wave of peace flowed throughout her body. He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched. His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared. His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had. She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time. He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face. His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man. Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies. Maybe it was something else. “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low. “I’m not soft.”

“Yes, you are. You are for me,” she clarified. “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt. I don’t want that to change.”

He realized what she meant now. It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie. “It won’t,” he asserted. “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage. “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk? Properly?”

Effie nodded her head.

***

Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes. When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately. He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was. Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment. But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.

He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word. Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs. He was still almost at eye level with her. Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table. He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What happened that night? After you punched Abraham?”

Effie was silent for a moment. “I…I—I got pregnant.”

The words stabbed Matthew in the heart. He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back. “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I scared you. And I promised I’d never do that. And it brought up bad memories…”

Effie was shaking her head. “You didn’t scare me. My mind did. My mind thought you were Abraham. But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that. You don’t scare me at all. Not even a bit. Not like Abraham scared me.”

Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying. To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while. It’d take him a while to get over it. “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to? Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever? Or did you actually want to?” he asked.

“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation. Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest. “I wanted to, and with you. Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk. “It was you. And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.

“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.

Effie nodded. “At least not yet. I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet. I’m not ready. And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for. There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”

Matthew nodded his head. He understood completely. “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.

“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world. She knew Matthew would never expect that of her. “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that. He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again. “You’re already a brand new person, Effie. When I come back you’ll just be wiser. Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”

Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now. “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.

This time, he looked up at her. He knew what was coming.

This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes. All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.

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